#so. any opportunity to do something I used to be good at.

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ cola ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ professor!cho sang-woo x student!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header! there is also a part one to this story, lolita!

˚ ༘♡ “you do understand that you are at risk of failing my course?”

˚ ༘♡ his words were severe, piercing through the tense air that had settled in his office. you stared at him, your gaze unfocused, the potency of his question sinking into your chest like a stone. seated in the small, uncomfortable chair across from his grand, imposing desk, you crossed one leg over the other, attempting to appear composed. your white leather handbag rested neatly against the chair’s legs, pristine and pale as a dove’s feather.

˚ ༘♡ it had been over a month since the two of you reached an agreement, a fragile truce cloaked in professionalism. the night you’d spent together was supposed to be a foolish mistake, forgotten and buried in the haze of poor judgment. neither of you could have known then that he would become your professor. he had laid down the rules with uncompromising clarity, no favoritism, no special treatment, no room for the past to bleed into the present.

˚ ༘♡ but now, here you were, falling behind in his financial accounting course. the missed quiz sat akin to a scar on your grade, its damage too significant to ignore. his syllabus had warned that quizzes could not be retaken under any circumstances, and yet you’d convinced yourself, naively, that he might display some leniency.

˚ ༘♡ “i am extremely sorry, professor,” you began, your voice soft, trembling slightly as you forced yourself to meet his dark eyes. “if i could get an extension…”

˚ ༘♡ “you read and signed the syllabus.” his interruption was calm but firm, a knife cutting through your plea. “i made myself clear, i don’t offer extensions.” he adjusted his glasses, the subtle motion punctuating the finality of his statement. his expression didn’t change, disappointment etched into every line of his angular face. “you’ve been a good student up to this point. i’d suggest you figure out what’s so detrimental to your focus and take care of it, if you wish to pass.”

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed hard. “yes, professor,” you managed, your voice barely audible, laced with a strained somberness. his reputation preceded him, after all, a man known for his rigorous standards and his unwillingness to tolerate mediocrity. you knew this going in, yet it didn’t lessen the weight of your failure or the anxiety clawing at your mind.

˚ ༘♡ his expression softened ever so slightly, the harsh lines of his face easing just enough to reveal a touch of humanity beneath the austere exterior. he let out an exasperated, frustrated sigh, the sound slicing through the silence. it was as if he was mulling over the cost of displaying leniency. “while i don’t typically offer extensions,” he began, his voice measured, “if you have a viable and genuine reason for your recent poor performance, i might consider granting you the opportunity for an extra credit research assignment.”

˚ ༘♡ your pulse quickened at the unexpected offer. professor cho was notorious for his unyielding policies. there were whispered stories from upperclassmen, students who had been hospitalized, grappling with extenuating circumstances, only to be met with his stony refusal to accommodate. yet here he was, extending a tree branch.

˚ ༘♡ you swallowed, steadying your voice. “you may have noticed my absence last week,” you began cautiously. “my cousin was deathly ill. we thought…” you hesitated, feeling the anguish of the words threaten to pull you under. “we thought she might not make it. i flew out to be with her. since her father passed, it’s been difficult for her, and i needed to ensure she would be okay.”

˚ ༘♡ the words hung in the air between you, solemn and grave. his brow lowered, and for the first time, there was something distinctly human in his expression, sympathy. “i’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice low and uncharacteristically gentle. “that must have been difficult. it was good of you to be there for her.”

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, biting back the emotion threatening to surface. speaking about it felt like peeling open a wound, and you knew if you lingered on it too long, the sadness would overwhelm you again. instead, you returned to the topic of your grade. “about the extra credit opportunity?”

˚ ༘♡ he straightened his posture, nodding as if grounding himself back into his usual composure. “i’ll email you the details tonight,” he said. there was something different in his tone now, something softer, almost resigned. he was still the same cold, stern professor, but the edges seemed less sharp, his demeanor less impenetrable. “while i encourage you to work hard to improve your grade, don’t push yourself to the point of exhaustion. it’s not worth your health.”

˚ ༘♡ “thank you, professor cho,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. there was an implicit closeness in the exchange, an understanding neither of you seemed willing to fully acknowledge. it stayed like the light fragrance of a fading perfume, delicate and undeniable.

˚ ༘♡ you stood, gathering your bag and clutching it tightly. “i need to study for my literature class, but i’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly. his eyes fixed on you for longer than expected, and then he nodded.

˚ ༘♡ as you left, offering a quiet farewell, you felt the faintest surge of something indescribable descend upon you, something that shifted in the space between professor and student, something that felt too intimate to name.

˚ ༘♡ two weeks had come and gone, and true to your word, you’d submitted the assignment: a meticulously detailed research paper on fiscal dealings across the globe. the effort had paid off. your grade was inclining upward, slowly but surely, and on the surface, everything seemed normal. but there were little things. professor cho remained as strict and unemotional as ever, but you started noticing the subtleties, a fleeting glance your way during a lecture, the brief, almost imperceptible hesitation when his hand brushed yours while returning a graded paper.

˚ ༘♡ you told yourself it was nothing, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered.

˚ ༘♡ professor cho was notorious for his exacting demeanor, but his reputation among female students extended beyond academics. it was no secret that many found him attractive, with his handsome features and reserved, enigmatic demeanor. you couldn’t pretend you weren’t one of them, he had caught your eye that night at the bar for a reason. you found yourself wondering, late at night when your thoughts strayed, if the feeling was mutual. after all, he had approached you. was it something about your appearance that had lured him in, something that loomed in his thoughts to this day?

˚ ༘♡ but such thoughts were dangerous, unspoken truths that stayed locked in your chest. they had to be.

˚ ༘♡ the winter garden was breathtaking, blanketed ina stunning layer of snow and shimmering frost. the air was crisp, and the sun burned low in the cerulean sky, casting pale light through the bare branches. you presided over your notebook on a weathered bench, furiously scribbling notes. the beauty of the scenery was lost on you, though, your fingers were stiff and red from the cold, your thin off-the-shoulder sweater and linen pants doing nothing to ward off the icy air.

˚ ༘♡ you shivered as you turned the page, and it wasn’t until you heard the crunch of footsteps on the frozen ground that you looked up.

˚ ༘♡ there he was, professor cho sang-woo, standing just a few feet away. he was wrapped in a dark wool coat, the kind of warmth you could only envy in your current state. the sight of him made your breathing quicken, not because of the cold, but because of that familiar, quiet intensity in his eyes.

˚ ༘♡ “good afternoon,” he greeted, his tone even but unmistakably aware of your predicament. his eyes flicked to your frostbitten nose and hands before meeting yours again. “isn’t it a bit cold to be studying outside?”

˚ ༘♡ you laughed lightly, trying to conceal your embarrassment. “good afternoon, professor cho,” you replied. “i didn’t check the temperature before leaving, and now i’m deeply regretting it.”

˚ ༘♡ he studied you for a moment longer, his expression indistinct. “you should be more mindful,” he murmured, the severity in his words softened by something unexpected, worry.

˚ ༘♡ before you could reply, he shrugged off his overcoat, stepping forward to drape it over your shoulders. the fabric was heavy and luxurious, and you went still under the weight of both the gesture and the coat.

˚ ༘♡ “you’ll catch a cold like this,” he said simply, his tone quieter now, bordering on gentle.

˚ ༘♡ the gesture was so unexpected, that you found yourself at a loss for words for a minute. “thank you,” you managed, your voice barely audible. his coat carried the faded scent of cedar and winter air, and it wrapped around you like a shield against the biting chill.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t say anything else, just nodded slightly, his hands slipping back into his pockets as he took a step back. there was an indication of something in his expression, apprehension, maybe even tenderness, but it was gone before you could be sure.

˚ ༘♡ “don’t stay out here too long,” he said, his voice earnest but laced with a near imperceptible softness.

˚ ༘♡ “i’ll leave once i finish this set of notes…” you replied, your words fading as you motioned toward your notebook, “and your coat…”

˚ ༘♡ he interrupted swiftly, “you can return it whenever it’s convenient. i’ll be in my office.” his gaze intent on you for a vanishing instance before he nodded, “i’ll see you another day.” with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you without a chance to say goodbye.

˚ ༘♡ later that evening, your friends noticed the coat neatly placed over your chair. its rich wool and vintage style drew immediate attention and flattering compliments with a sliver of buried envy.

˚ ༘♡ “where’d you get such a nice coat?” one of them asked, interest noticeable in her bright eyes.

˚ ༘♡ “it belonged to my grandmother,” you lied effortlessly, your fingers brushing over the fabric as though it held some sentimental value. “it was passed down to me.”

˚ ༘♡ another friend, a male peer a couple of years older than you who had taken professor cho’s business class and failed it with bitter resentment, narrowed his eyes. “doesn’t professor cho have a coat like that?”

˚ ༘♡ his remark was one you found unwelcome and unnerving, yet no one seemed to pay him any mind. the conversation shifted quickly, much to your relief, as another friend launched into a tirade about her recent breakup. the focus was off you, and you exhaled silently, grateful for the distraction, but sorrowful for your close friend, her tragedy might have saved you the risk of suspicion.

˚ ༘♡ the next morning, when the campus was still quiet, you made your way to his office. you’d waited until you were confident he wouldn’t be there, unwilling to face him directly. the coat, carefully folded, was left on personally corner of his desk. a small note, written in your neat handwriting, sat on top, that read, “thank you for your kindness. it meant a lot.”

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated for a short while, staring at the note as if it might reveal too much. shaking your head, you placed it down and stepped back. the idea of thanking him in person felt too vulnerable, too revealing. you didn’t want to seem like some hopelessly infatuated girl, clinging to a singular polite act.

˚ ༘♡ with one last glance, you left his office, closing the door gently behind you. the feeling of the coat’s absence left you oddly empty, as though something intangible had been exchanged and lost.

˚ ༘♡ classes carried on as they always did, predictable in their routine but ridden with an undercurrent of tension you couldn’t quite shake. professor cho remained his ordinary self, strict and distant, but there were still those instances. quick eye contact that went on longer than it should have, the almost indistinguishable way his presence seemed to stretch when he was near you, as though tethered by something unsaid. you tried to dismiss it, to focus on your coursework, but the effort felt futile. those small gestures, though subtle, clawed at the foundation of your concentration.

˚ ༘♡ after a grueling day filled with back-to-back classes, your body ached with exhaustion, and all you wanted was a some peace and quiet. but as you packed your things to leave, your male friend, the same one who had failed professor cho’s course, caught up with you in the corridor. his persistence was palpable as he asked if he could speak to you in private. you tried to make an excuse, desperate to avoid the interaction, but he was relentless, and eventually, you agreed with a sigh.

˚ ༘♡ the conversation quickly turned to something you had been dreading. he asked you out, his attitude bordering on arrogance, as though he had already assumed your answer would be yes. you weren’t naive, you’d known for months that he was interested. he was a close friend of your best friend’s ex-boyfriend and had made it no secret, pestering them both to set the two of you up.

˚ ༘♡ but you couldn’t stand him. his cocky demeanor scraped on your nerves, and his delinquent mindset made you wary. still, you tried to let him down gently, choosing your words carefully, hoping to soften the blow.

˚ ༘♡ it didn’t work. his reaction was immediate and venomous, his face twisting in anger. “you’re such a stuck-up bitch,” he spat, his voice loud enough to turn a few heads in the hallway. the insult stung more than you’d expected, the words cutting into your already frayed composure.

˚ ༘♡ you stood motionless for a lasting minute, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, but the day’s troubles was too much. without another word, you turned and stepped away, the sound of his muttered curses chasing after you. the hallway blurred around you as the first tears fell, hot and unwelcome.

˚ ༘♡ by the time you stepped outside, the sky had descended into night, a blanket of stars casting a faint glow over the campus. the moonlight illuminated your tear-streaked face, streaks of black mascara smudged against your skin. you felt exposed and disheveled, a physical manifestation of your unraveling emotions.

˚ ༘♡ your goal was simple, get to the bus station and back to your dormitory as quickly as possible. the cold night air bit at your cheeks, making you wish you’d brought a scarf. but as you reached into your bag for your phone, your stomach dropped. it wasn’t there.

˚ ༘♡ a terrible realization hit you all at once, you must have left your belongings behind in the linguistics lecture hall. a frustrated sigh escaped your lips, mingling with the frosty air. it was the last thing you wanted to deal with after everything, and with your instructor having left, the classroom was locked with your belongings inside.

˚ ༘♡ to your dismay, as you approached the bus stop, you saw him, professor cho sang-woo, of all people. he must have been leaving after a long evening of grading in his office. he was standing by the curb, pulling out a cigarette from a silver case with the same precision he seemed to handle everything. you didn’t move, debating whether to turn away and avoid the humiliation of being seen like this, but it was too late. he flicked his lighter, the small flame briefly illuminating his sharp features, and as he tucked it back into the pocket of his blazer, his gaze caught yours.

˚ ༘♡ he paused, taking a drag from his cigarette. the glow of its ember reflected faintly in the dark, cold night. “what happened? are you alright?” his voice, as steady as ever, carried a thread of concern that you hadn’t expected.

˚ ༘♡ you tried to gather some semblance of serenity, forcing a weak smile through your tears. “we keep running into each other,” you said lightly, though your voice struggled under the burden of your emotions.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t smile back. instead, he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your tear-streaked face and the faint smudges of mascara under your eyes. “you’ve been crying,” he said.

˚ ༘♡ you quickly wiped at your face with your sleeve, but he stopped you with a quiet, “don’t.” reaching into the pocket of his coat, he pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, one you recognized, he often used it to polish his glasses. he held it out to you, his actions strangely tender.

˚ ༘♡ “i won’t press for details,” he said, his voice low, “but seeing you out here like this… it’s troubling for me.” a faint cloud of smoke curled from his lips as he spoke.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, gripping the handkerchief in your hands. the fabric was soft, clean, and smelled faintly of cedar and the faint musk of his cologne. “it’s nothing,” you mumbled, dabbing at your face. “i just… i left my purse in class. it has my phone, my bus pass, everything. and then this guy, he’s supposed to be my friend, pulled me aside earlier and asked me out. after i said no, he got angry, started yelling. said some awful things.”

˚ ༘♡ you bit your lip, your voice quivering, but you managed to add his name, the words feeling loathsome on your tongue.

˚ ༘♡ professor cho’s jaw tightened slightly, his composure cracking just enough to show his displeasure. “what an asshole,” he muttered, taking the cigarette from his lips and exhaling a sharp plume of smoke. the unexpected vulgarity caught you off guard. you’d never heard him speak so bluntly, so unguarded. “i remember him. he was in my class last year. didn’t turn in a single assignment, barely showed up. he is not the sort of young man you’d want to associate with.”

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t help it, you laughed, a hushed, strained sound that carried genuine amusement. his lips curved slightly, pleased that he’d managed to lighten your mood, even if just for a second.

˚ ༘♡ he tilted his head, studying you carefully. “you said you left your bus pass in your purse?”

˚ ༘♡ you nodded.

˚ ༘♡ he considered this for a minute before saying, “if you’d like, i can drive you back to your dormitory. it’s not far, and I know the route. my car’s in the faculty lot.”

˚ ༘♡ you blinked at him, startled by the offer. “really? you’d do that?”

˚ ༘♡ “it’s nothing,” he said simply, extinguishing his cigarette against the edge of a trash can and tossing the burnt end away. “you shouldn’t have to wait out here alone like this.”

˚ ༘♡ “thank you,” you said quietly, meeting his gaze with gratitude.

˚ ༘♡ he nodded and motioned for you to follow. as you walked beside him toward the faculty parking lot, the night air seemed a little less cold, the distress of the evening a little lighter. there was something strangely comforting about his presence, a stability that made you feel, if only for this night, that everything may be okay.

˚ ༘♡ his car was sleek, an understated black sedan that gleamed faintly under the dim glow of the parking lot lights. it exuded the same quiet sophistication as its owner. he walked ahead, opening the passenger door for you without a word, his demeanor calm but his eyes flickering with a subdued concern. you slid into the seat, the soft leather cool against your skin, and he closed the door gently before circling around to the driver’s side.

˚ ༘♡ the drive back to your dormitory was steeped in silence. the hum of the engine filled the void, rhythmic and constant, a soothing backdrop to your turbulent thoughts. though you kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, you could feel his gaze darting toward you every so often, quick glances meant to check on you without drawing attention. your tears had stopped, but your face still bore the evidence of them, smudged mascara, blotchy redness, a weariness you couldn’t quite hide.

˚ ༘♡ when he finally pulled into the dormitory parking lot, the rows of empty cars seemed ghostly in the faint moonlight. he parked smoothly, the stillness settling in the air as he turned off the engine. for a brief period of time, neither of you moved.

˚ ༘♡ he stepped out first, rounding the car to open your door once more. you followed, the cold night air pricking at your skin as you stood beside him. his posture was relaxed, but there was an unspoken tension between the two of you.

˚ ༘♡ “are you sure you’ll be alright?” he asked, his voice low and sincere, though his eyes searched yours for any trace of uncertainty.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “i will. thank you, again. for everything.”

˚ ༘♡ your gaze locked with his then, and right then, the world around you seemed to fade. the misery of the evening, the lingering emotions, and the vulnerability you felt collided into a singular, reckless impulse. before you could second-guess yourself, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a kiss.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t pull away. instead, his hands rested lightly on your arms as he kissed you back, his movements slow and deliberate, almost tender. the passionate embrace stretched, suspended in time, filled with affectionate understanding and the quiet ruination of boundaries you had both carefully maintained until now.

˚ ༘♡ when you finally parted, you stared at each other in silence, breaths mingling in the frigid, icy air. the reality of what you’d just done lingered between you, an unspoken acknowledgment of the line you had crossed, the agreement broken. and yet, there was no regret in his eyes, and you felt none in your chest.

˚ ༘♡ he cleared his throat, his voice measured but somewhat huskier than usual. “i’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

˚ ༘♡ a soft smile spread across your lips, gentle but laced with something deeper. “i will,” you replied.

˚ ༘♡ as he walked back to his car, you turned toward the dormitory entrance, your heart ached with something bittersweet. you knew everything had changed, even if neither of you would speak it in words.

a/n: part two of my professor cho sang-woo series!!! please let me know your thoughts or if you have any requests!! i plan to continue this series, but i am also considering doing a zombie apocalypse sang-woo fanfiction and maybe one where he is the reader’s boss!! 🤍

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

My Lovely

Player 001 x reader [Fluff]

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

You had an expensive day, to say the least. You were tired, walking around and carrying all your bags. You chose not to bring a guard along with you, it wasn’t’t like you were a celebrity or high profile. In fact, you could guarantee that no one knew who you were, only the fact that you were a big spender. But, you knew better than to assume that your darling husband would let you off the island without some form of protection around you.

When you first met In Ho and you walked around, you heard him say it once; that you were literally the safest person in the world in that present moment. You knew for a fact that if he said that while you were walking through Seoul with him, then walking alone… security was tighter than ever.

“Babe!” You shouted. You walked into the empty room. You dropped your bags, the others would be brought up within the next 5 minutes. Not a single one of those masked men on the island dare to keep you waiting, disappoint, or frustrate you. They’d rather die than face the monster out wrath of your husband, their boss, the Front Man. You thought it a good idea to soak in the tub, to wash away the smell of being outdoors.

You could admit, you were spoiled, probably treated better than any form of royalty, and you knew it. You heard the door to your room open, not bothering to call out to your husband. You laid for an hour longer before getting out and drying off with a fresh towel. You did your skincare routine earlier than usual, but you didn’t plan on going anywhere. Slipping your robe on and loosely tying it, you walked into the grand bedroom.

In Ho was no where to be found. You ventured further into your enormous room before seeing him settled in front of large screen tv, in his large black chair, pouring a glass of bourbon. Today’s game was playing in front of him,

“Dalgona” you say, from behind him. “Who picked that?’ You snorted.

“I cannot for the life of me remember which one of those game squares sugg- oh, you know what, it was il nam who did” he said not turning towards.

“Honey, haven’t I asked you not to watch that wretched game on the screen while I’m home?” You ask floating to his side, curling into his outreached hand.

“Yes, my lovely, you have” he said, clicking it off. He pulled you into his lap. “How was your day, gorgeous?”

“It was good. I went to all of my favorite little market shops, I picked up some more soaps for us. I was running out so bought us both some. Some magazines, and I ran into the recruiter today. He sends his wishes.” You said. “And the malls, until I got tired then I drove back to the ferry to be brought back.” You smile.

“That smile tells me my bank statement has something that tells you bought something you didn’t consult me over” he smiles at you. You shake your head. “(Y/n)?” In Ho drawled out tauntingly.

“Nothing I promise” you say quickly.

“Then, (y/n), who is this?” He pulls a sleeping kitten from beside him. You were busted.

“Oh baby, just look at him!” You squealed, with excitement. “I couldn’t help myself, and he was the only one!” You tried to defend yourself.

“I’m not upset, and he is quite adorable.” He agrees as he hands your newly adopted kitten to you. “What did you decide to name him?”

“I want you to help me decide”

“Oh, so, I do have say in the matter!” Your husband exclaimed. “How about Wiseuki?”

“I think it’s perfect!” You say holding the kitten.

“What breed is he anyways? He looks like a leopard or a jaguar” In Ho says.

“He’s a Bengal cat… or so the lady said.” You reply. “I’m getting tired, join me?” You ask.

“Why would I pass up the opportunity to sleep with my wife?” In Ho asks, not really looking for an answer. “I fed him already, by the way” he said. You look at him sharply. “I read the instructions, made sure I did everything right. His bed it set up, litter box in that far corner”

“You did everything!” You say happily, setting the kitten on his bed. “The woman says he’s already potty trained” you add.

“Oh good” In Ho says picking you up and twirling you around before laying you on your bed. You giggles slowly dying out.

“So, how was your day ?” You ask him as he undoes his long leather coat.

“Oh god. Il nam, is stressing me out. I mean, that man’s ode to dying is crazy. On his death bed and he chooses to join his own games, granted he has the immunity from death but how are we supposed to cover every game?” He says, he walks into the bathroom to brush his teeth, “I just don’t get it, and his guests arrive in just a few days and there’s just more responsibility placed on me that I don’t really want” In Ho gets into bed next to you.

“I’m so sorry baby” you reply cuddling up to him.

“It’s okay, laying here with you at the end of it all makes it all worth it. Keeping you happy, being able to just live how we do but are reminded I am just a man that loves his wife and just wants to be with her at night.”

“I love you” you say kissing his chest.

“I love you, more” he kisses your forehead. Sighing heavily as he relaxed. Holding you close to him and entangling his legs with yours. “I love you more.

[lelengerine]

pairing. chenle x shy!reader

synopsis. the one where your affection-starved boyfriend keeps asking you for kisses

tags. established relationship, purely fluff, no specific prns used for reader, lmk if anything was missed :D

wc. 0.8k

notes. this is heavily self-indulgent (again) and i have no excuses. why can't all men just be chenle im so srs 😞😞 also can we talk about the dreamies love me right stage like it was SO good (i am still here it is my roman empire),, anw likes and feedback are highly appreciated!

꒰ m.list ꒱

“babe, kiss please.”

chenle’s voice is light and teasing, as though the request is the most natural thing in the world. his lips are already puckered, his chin tilted upward just enough to let you know he’s fully expecting to get his way. his arms are sprawled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched out, one sock-clad foot nudging yours beneath the blanket draped over both of you.

you glance at him, already feeling the warmth creeping up your neck. his confidence is unshakable, and it’s maddening how he knows you so well—knows you’d never outright deny him, especially when he’s in one of these moods.

“but le,” you stammer, your voice slightly higher than usual, “that’s the tenth one today.”

your face is already flushed, the heat blooming across your cheeks as you avoid his gaze. you fiddle with the hem of the blanket, trying to appear unaffected, but the small, traitorous quiver in your voice gives you away.

“no one told you to keep count, baby,” he replies smoothly, his lips quirking into a grin that deepens the dimple on his left cheek.

“i know, but…” you trail off, words slipping away as he leans closer, his eyes locked on yours with that mischievous spark that always sets your heart racing.

“kiss?”

his voice is softer now, more of a coax than a command. the single word lingers between you, playful and persistent, as if daring you to resist. his proximity is overwhelming, the faint scent of his cologne that vaguely reminds you of fresh laundry mixing with the warmth radiating from his skin.

you shift slightly, trying to steady your breath, but the couch feels impossibly small. “le,” you murmur, barely audible, and your eyes flit nervously to the muted television.

he tilts his head, his dark eyes wide with mock curiosity. “hmm?”

the late afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, casting soft, golden patterns on the walls. outside, birds chirp faintly, their song weaving into the cozy stillness of the room. the scene is peaceful, but the fluttering in your chest is anything but.

“i just think…” you pause, your fingers curling tightly around the edge of the blanket. his presence is so close, so consuming, that forming coherent sentences feels like a monumental task. “i just think you’re doing this on purpose.”

his grin spreads wider, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that confirms your suspicions. “maybe i am,” he says, his voice low and lilting. his hand drapes casually over the back of the couch, fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. “but what are you going to do about it?”

you puff your cheeks slightly in frustration, your lips pressing into a thin line. “you’re impossible,” you mutter, though your tone lacks any real bite.

“and you’re adorable,” he counters effortlessly, his teasing edge softening into something sweeter. his gaze lingers on your face, taking in every shy glance and nervous fidget.

the quiet stretches between you again, and for a moment, all you can hear is the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. the weight of his attention feels heavy yet comforting, like a blanket wrapping around you.

“hey.”

you glance up at him hesitantly, and he takes the opportunity to tilt his head slightly, his expression now devoid of the teasing smirk. “you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, his tone sincere in nature.

the sudden shift in his demeanor catches you off guard, and your heart skips a beat. you realize then, with the way his gaze softens and his teasing fades into genuine care, that this is why you never deny him.

your hand hesitates, but eventually, you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek. his eyes widen slightly in surprise before his grin returns, smaller this time but somehow warmer.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice so quiet you’re not sure he hears you until he leans in again, this time slower, giving you all the space in the world to pull away if you want.

but you don’t.

your lips press against his for the briefest moment, featherlight and shy, but it’s enough to make his heart swell. when you pull back, your cheeks are aflame, and you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

“see?” chenle murmurs, his voice tinged with a mixture of pride and affection. “not so bad, right?”

you swat at his arm, grumbling under your breath, but he just laughs, leaning back against the couch with a contented sigh. “eleven,” you mumble after a moment, counting softly under your breath.

“what was that, baby?” he asks, feigning ignorance, though the grin tugging at his lips tells you he heard every word.

you glance at him from the corner of your eye, a small smile tugging at your own lips despite yourself. “that’s the eleventh one today.”

chenle chuckles, leaning over to press another quick kiss to your temple, his voice low and teasing.

“then make that twelve.”

[where-dreamers-go]

"Rescue" Leon Kennedy x Reader

(A/N: And so I finally write down an idea that’s been cinematically in my mind then made it a soulmate au. Leon Scott Kennedy is back in action! What happens when he realizes he’s closer to his soulmate while on assignment?

Warnings: angst, strong language, canon violence and imagery descriptions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and use of (Y/N) for your name.

Word Count: 4,145 words)

~~~

~~~

Mornings set the tone for the rest of the day. On most days. The hours ahead were hopefully to be positive ones. Your day started incredibly early. On purpose and with intention. Around you, wall were white and decorated with monochromatic modern art. Metal chairs were arranged in a rectangular fashion with an empty coffee table in the center as you sat. No magazines or pamphlets to entertain. Each step taken by others on the tile floor echoed in the lobby. There were no conversations or passing comments to fill the space. The sound of your breathing was louder than whatever the receptionist was busying herself with behind the tall desk. Just about ten minutes, you thought as you checked your watch. Talk steady. If they don’t mention a start date, ask. They definitely need more people for data entry. You got this. On your lap, you nervously spun a metal ring around your left index finger. The circular crystal embedded into the metal was currently light blue. Pretty normal. A sign you were not too far nor too close enough to your soulmate. If it was a mood ring the color would had signaled you were possibly calm. Despite your nerves, you felt good about the day ahead. It was an opportunity for something new.

. . .

Rumbling and the occasional bounce of the vehicle were unfortunately the only normal occurrences in Leon Kennedy’s day. Passing into the edge of a town, the team of agents were in route to a facility. A science center in appearance, there was nothing in advancement happening that late morning. The Umbrella Corporation made sure of that. An alert of bioweapons sightings came in two hours ago. To make matter complicated, not all civilians had evacuated the building. So saving any civilians was added to the to-do list. If Leon could save someone, he’d at least smile. “ETA: Two minutes.” The driver called out, another agent. Leon glanced out the small window. All geared up, his vest held nearly every weapon and tool he would need. Beside his watch on his left wrist sat a personal item, a metal bracelet. Both sturdy and a comfort on dark days. Its small crystal within darkened into a deep blue, almost purple. A little too close, Leon thought and hoped it would lighten by the time they moved in. The man could only hope.

. . .

“Shit.” Leon grimaced as he reloaded his gun. The lobby was trashed and blood-stained. Broken chairs and other bare furniture was scattered across the floor. Added a freshly eliminated infected. “Hate to see the break room.” Based on the intact entrance doors and windows, the bioweapons’ forced entry was not through the front of the building. Chris peered around and stated, “I’ll take the right side and sweep the first floor. You take the left.” “Got it.” Leon headed down a hallway. Its usually closed door was splintered across the tile. He avoided stepping on any debris that would crunch under his boots. There was no telling how many infected were in the building. Not until the other agents checked in. After taking a quick look at his watch, Leon registered the drastic change in color on the crystal bracelet. “Oh, fuck.” Leon sighed and swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “Not here. Why do they have to be here?” Steadily checking the hall, all his senses were alert for danger. His mind, however, was tumbling with the worst questions. What if you worked for Umbrella making bioweapons? What if you were a bioweapon, infected and doomed? Just make it quick, Leon thought somberly.

. . .

Adjusting yourself quietly off of your half-asleep leg, you leaned against the tile wall. Hunched in the back corner of the largest restroom stall was turning into a new, unwanted activity. I should’ve left as soon as the interview was over, you thought for perhaps the twelfth time in the past two and a half hours.

Over your time hiding, screeches could still be heard every so often. Piercing and making your blood run cold. Always when hope of it being gone rose in you, your heard it. Frightening and disheartening. You counted yourself lucky. For your quick thinking and for having your phone on silent, you were still alive. Too bad the cell signal sucked on the third floor. If only your heartbeat was the loudest sound that morning. How is this evening happening? You wondered as you counted the tile again. Feeling distressed would sure to wreck havoc on your system later. Raising your head, you swore you heard a sound. Please be nothing. The sound grew faintly louder. Soles of shoes out in the hallway. You remained silent. Not knowing who or what rampaged through the building after your interview left you at a disadvantage. One you were well aware of. At first, you had suspected an armed attack to the company, however blood-chilling roars proved otherwise. I wanna go home. You thought, still as stone on the floor. You were not about to meet any creature face to face. Bipedal or not. Small thumps shook the main door of the restroom. Is someone trying to come in? How well could that lock above the main door hold for?

THUMP ping WHAM

You covered your mouth as you nearly jumped out of your skin. “Hello?” A deep voice called out. “Is anyone in here?” Heart beating rapidly, you did not dare to move. Could you trust the stranger? This random man? How long were you intending on hiding in a stall? Bending lower, you observed dark boots slowly making their way into the restroom. A room with five stalls. “Listen, I’m here to help.” Likely, you thought suspiciously. “It’s too dangerous to be in here,” he said three steps closer. “We’re on orders to rescue civilians.” And he totally knows I’m in here. Government or something? “My name’s Leon. I can get you out of here.” Fine. Fine. Okay! “Are those things still out there?” You asked in a broken whisper. Fear and hours of silence effecting you. “Yeah.” “Crap.” “Tell me about it.” Your eyebrows pinched together. Didn’t expect him to say that. Easing yourself up to stand, your body was more than a little relieved to be off of the cold, hard tile. You took a steady breath. As quietly as you could, you unlocked the stall door and peered out. Icy blue eyes regarded you immediately.

“I’m Leon.” Said the man with dirty blond hair. A bulletproof vest covered his torso and overall distracting from his casual clothes. “Are you all right . . . ?” “(Y/N).” You answered, trying really hard not to glance a the gun he held. With all the other ‘tools’ on his person, he seemed pretty legit to you. “Is . . . everyone else hiding too?” Lips pressing together, Leon glanced away for a moment. Oh, no. “We still haven’t done a complete sweep of the building yet, but the team has found others.” He stated. “I’m sure they locked themselves in their offices if they didn’t run out.” “Do you know who’d be in an office now?” “I have no idea.” You said honestly, “I was just here for a job interview.” His eyebrows rose a fraction. “Oh yeah?” His tone was steady. “Guess I’ll keep looking.” You shrugged. “I hope you have better luck next time,” Leon turned back to the open door. “Let’s get going. Stay close.” “Okay.” What choice did you have otherwise but to follow him? You were ill prepared to observe the aftermath of whatever happened. The eerie emptiness and scattered belongings throughout the hall. Maybe this guy was your ticket out, your guarantee of going home. Anything was better than your earlier options.

Leon hadn’t been exaggerating when he said ‘sweep’. With his weapon ready, he checked every open room. Thankfully nothing scary showed itself. “Any chance they gave you a tour?” Leon asked as he glanced up and down a hallway. “No. But they have some pictures on their website.” “Helpful.” “Not really,” you whispered. Glancing over his shoulder, Leon gave you an amused look. Oh. Good sarcasm. You tore your gaze away. An open door down the hall became occupied uncannily fast. So quietly. Someone leaned against the doorframe. Stepping out, their professional attire looked wrong, hanging where it shouldn’t. A gravely, strangled breath carried towards the pair of you. Leon turned with aimed precision. Remaining still, you felt coldness creep up your arms. Something was very wrong. The person hobbled into the hall with unblinking eyes and a strangled screech. Their pace increased as they angled in your direction.

BANG

You covered your ears a second too late. What used to be an employee laid in an unmoving heap on the tile floor. Discolored and inhuman. “What happened to them?” You asked with a shaky voice. “They’re infected,” answered Leon as he turned down the other half of the hall. You kept up without missing a beat. “So a zombie?”

GRRAAAH!

Two more infected raced out from the open room behind you. Jaws slacked and fingers clenched forward like claws, they targeted the pair of you. “Crap,” you exclaimed. Before you could move anywhere, Leon had opened fire on the infected. Aim perfect and practiced. The threats were down before your heart rate raised too high. Grumbling under his breath, Leon went forward to inspect the room. “Stay right there.” He advised as you remained by the hall’s intersection. “Sure.” Freaking zombies, you thought. Out of everything -- anything. Zombies. Briefly, you peered around and thankfully nothing moved. Leon’s handling this well. Maybe zombies aren’t new? And real. You cringed at the thought. Witnessing and knowing what had rampaged through the building earlier wasn’t a comfort. A bit of scary closure maybe. “All clear in there,” Leon announced as he joined you. “We’ll see the rest of the floor and meet back up with the team downstairs.” “Cool.” You breathed out a short reply. “Don’t worry,” Leon assured you, “I’ll get you outta here.” “I appreciate it. Really.” He sent you a small smile. It warmed the hope in your heart.

The rest of the hall held knocked over seating areas and ignored art. Beyond it was a closed set of doors. Unlocked and probably designed with fire safety in mind. Leon paused as he reached one of the doors. Does he hear something? You dared not stand too close. Not that standing near your new acquaintance was disagreeable. Simply, you did not want to be in his way.

WHAM

“Leon!” You jumped back against the wall. On the floor with growling and grunting was a struggle of alarming visuals. Both Leon and an terribly disfigured infected fought for purchase, for an upper-hand. For survival. Frantically watching over Leon with increased anxiety, you didn’t move. You didn’t even scream. Should I kick it? With a frown, Leon hit the infected back to get out one shot. It was enough. Leon scooted back before rising to his feet. “You all right?” He turned to you. “Me? Sure. You?” “I could use some pizza later.” Leon said as he cautiously entered the section of the hallway. “Sounds good,” you added as you followed him and dearly hoped your stomach wouldn’t start vocalizing its agreement. Especially after witnessing that frightful fight.

Glancing around, the plain walls gave a stark contrast to what could be lurking behind every door. Every unexplored corner. “We almost made a full circle,” you announced as you spotted a familiar elevator at the very end of the hall. “Then we’re out of here and --” “What?” Leon’s arm came up to block you from moving forward. A well defined, muscular arm. You didn’t notice anything abnormal. Yet that didn’t make you feel any less hesitant of what lay ahead. So you elected to stand behind Leon. “Show yourself.” Leon called out with his gun raised to a doorway. “If they’re still human.” You whispered.

Steadily with raised hands, two people in business casual attire walked out of an office. They appeared healthy. Definitely unnerved in their situation. But human nonetheless. “We just want safe passage out,” said the taller of the two men. No duh, you thought as you brought yourself to stand beside Leon. “Then stay close.” “Who are you?” Asked the second man wearing glasses. “I’m Leon Kennedy. I’m on orders to --” “Rescue us?” Interrupted the first man. “Let’s not waste time.” “Right.” Leon subtly turned to check on you. Blue eyes giving you a quick once over. You gave a brief, if not tiny, smile of encouragement.

The faster we’re out of here the better. At least those two had each other. You thought as you followed Leon across the echoing tile. “Which department are you from?” You glanced over your shoulder to notice the shorter man directing his question to you. “Oh, I don’t work here,” you answered. Both man shared concerned frowns between themselves. Therefore, you followed up quickly with, “I was here for a job interview. For data entry.” “And you didn’t do it from home?” Asked the taller man. “I . . . didn’t see that option.”

Being as the men asked no more questions, you set your sights straight ahead. Thankfully, stepping around a trashed bulletin board. You kept closer to Leon than your new group members. Definitely not going to work at any place associated with this one, you thought as all of you reached the end of the hall. Stealthily, Leon crept into a stairway and quietly beckoned the three of you onward. “We’re three floors up,” whined the taller man behind you. “I’ve never not taken the elevator.” “Good time to try them out,” commented Leon as he headed down stairs. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Better than ten flights of stairs, you thought to yourself. Even better with Leon leading the way. He probably did the ground floor too. Hope of safety and freedom, you lively took each step. Easily done even with two grumbling men following after you. You’d think they’d be more thankful. They work here! You frowned. Did they call for help? “Uh, Leon?” You inquired. “Yeah?” He paused to look up to you. Patience in his eyes. “Are there any more of those . . . things in the lobby?” “There shouldn’t be.” “That’s not very confident,” sneered the shorter and obnoxious man. You rolled your eyes. “Let’s keep going,” Leon announced and took two steps at a time.

With the door to the lobby in sight, you were anxious to see if the rest of Leon’s team found other survivors. Surely, there were people who weren’t infected. What do we do when we’re out? You wondered. Were other buildings attacked too? You swallowed dryly. Where does Leon go?

SLAM

Yelping, you peered above as a broad shouldered infected burst through the second floor’s door. “RUN!” At Leon’s order, you rushed passed him to the door. In seconds, you were back in the same lobby and surrounded by broken furniture as your heart pounded in your chest. Electing to head towards the reception desk was your first thought. The front entrance was further off and a little too good to be true. “Hey,” you stumbled as the two men pushed passed you. The men did not utter a word to you nor did they let up their speed. They knew where they were going. They knew where to hide. Both heading towards a far door. But what if they run right to a zombie? Fear rushing through you again, you made your way to the tall desk. After checking inside the space, you entered through the unlocked door. You were safe for the time being. Just wait for Leon. That’s all. You thought as you tried calming your breathing. He’ll be fine. We can go home. I can, you corrected yourself. Everything will be fine. Quietly, you sat on the cushioned chair. You’re safe. Just breathe. Besides your breathing and heartbeat, you did not hear anything else. A relief for sure until you immediately considered your new friend. The brave man you left in a stairwell alone with some monster. Your stomach dropped as you remembered him being tackled earlier.

“(Y/N)?” Called out a familiar voice. “Leon,” you exclaimed happily and jumped out of your seat. In another breath and a few echoing footsteps, Leon was in front of the receptionist desk. A smirk soon curving his lips. “Rethinking a job position?” Leon asked with raised eyebrows. “No.” You hastily exited the tiny room. He didn’t appear injured. “Where are the others?” “I think they took the stairs.” Pointing off in the direction they had gone, you asked. “Are they going back up?” A frown creased Leon’s concerned expression. Their actions troubled him. “They could’ve left, right?” You glanced towards the entrance. “Yeah . . . So why go down to the basement?” “There’s a basement?” Icy blue eyes regarded you. “Not that I’m scared of basements,” you said quickly. “We can check it out. Maybe they’re stealing or something.” “We have to get you out of here.” “Them too. Who knows what they’re doing? They might need help. Not with stealing hopefully.” Expression softening, Leon nodded. “Come on. Stay close.” “Will do.” You whispered with a determined nod of your own. “Not too close to step on your heels though.” “Heh. That’s the least of my worries.” “But everything should be good now, right?” “Let’s hope.”

Together, Leon and yourself made a beeline for the basement door. An easy task even with knocked over display cases of assorted business accomplishments and dead infected in your path.

Despite everything, you thought, at least Leon is easy to get along with. The lady who interviewed me was . . . seemed bothered to talk. Oh well. Coming up to the door, Leon raised his left hand to the handle. It was then that you finally noticed his bracelet as you stood mostly behind him. A crystal so dark a shade, you nearly mistook it as onyx. You took a quick glance at your ring. “Oh.” Heat rose to your neck. “Yeah,” murmured Leon over his shoulder. “Some first meeting, huh?” “Yah think?” Of all other things to happen today. My soulmate is rescuing me from zombies? What the heck is going on? You blinked and asked without another thought, “You knew this whole time?” “There was no one else in the restroom.” “Touché.” Stepping back, you observed Leon peek beyond the door. You weren’t quite sure what to make of the indistinctive sounds coming up. Leon did. Grabbing his walkie talkie, he communicated the news to his team. Something about an umbrella and biological weaponry. The others advised a warning regarding the two employees. What is his job exactly? Efficiently and quickly, Leon checked over his gun and remaining supplies. Set for another round of sweeping. “Stay here,” he ordered firmly as he pushed open the door. “But--” “Here.” You sighed and leaned against the wall. “Fine, but come back in one piece. This place has made me nervous all morning.” “Then we’ll have lunch somewhere else.” In a blink of an eye, Leon was out of your sight. Every minuscule sound afterwards made you jump or hurriedly check your surroundings. Being alone again activated the rest of your fear. It was a wonder how being in good company, very capable company, eased your worries. He’s my freaking soulmate, you thought as you attempted keeping your breathing even. And he’s down there with two strangers or fighting off infected like a regular Thursday for him. You sighed again. Tuesdays suck.

. . .

“Damn it,” Leon leapt out of the way. A basement of a science center should had been much quieter and clear than how Leon found it. Somewhere behind a generator, the two men -- scientists -- were terrified and hardly conscious. In the open area beyond, storage containers stood a large infected. Slender with thick legs, the infected had a new target. It lowered to the floor with a deep growl. Just my luck, thought Leon. Thankfully, the experienced agent was more motivated than usual. With Chris and the rest of the team on the way down, they’d be finished in no time, which left good news in regards to his soulmate. You were alive and well. Leon was determined to keep you safe no matter the danger. “Who’s hunting who, pal?”

BANG BANG BANG

. . .

Anxious and heart rate moderately high, you remained close to the basement door. Nothing came in or out of the lobby. All around you had remained silent as chaos erupted beyond the closed door. Half an hour of not knowing what occurred in the basement felt like two hours worth of unnerved twitching. Is the whole basement full of infected? You thought as you fiddled with your ring. What if one comes out? What if Leon doesn’t --? “Ah.” You nearly jumped a foot back as the door opened and a team walked out wearing protective vests. Not one could you recognize. Each armored and live human eyed you before heading to the exit. Even the two men from earlier were dragged out. Weird. You thought, expecting someone to at least converse with you for security reasons. “Uh…” Despite the clear lack of danger, the situation appeared all the more odd. Confusing too. Less odd, thankfully, when a familiar dirty blond haired man stepped out into the lobby. “Leon.” You rushed up to him without a second thought. A little beat-up with red marks, Leon turned in your direction. “How are you not one bruise?” You exclaimed. “Give it time.” Leon smiled. “Are you okay?” You asked. “A little hungry, but fine.” You shook your head. “You’re something else, you know that?” “In a bad way?” “No… Different in a very…unexpectedly impressive way. If that makes sense?” “Heh.” Leon rubbed the back of his neck. He is pretty handsome, you thought off-handedly. “So, if all’s well, what now?” “We get out of here.” He answered simply before adding, “medical checks, debriefs, reports.” “I’ll take that over infected.” “Me too.” Icy blue eyes studied you softly. All seriousness and survival focus faded away. He was Leon Kennedy. A man who probably did not expect to find his soulmate amongst entering chaos. “Leon!” A muscular man called from the entrance. “Let’s go!” Without a word, Leon and yourself headed out of the building. Armored and unmarked vehicles were pulling into the parking lot. An organized sign of clean-up. It was going to be okay. You survived and your soulmate found you when all was terrifying. The rest of the day lay ahead. “So…about lunch?” Leon murmured.

. . .

Music smoothly filled your living room as a movie played with interruption. Something calm and a little nostalgic. Just what you needed. Days had gone by after all the checkups and documenting of the events that had taken place at the science center. You hadn’t even looked at your résumé after that. On a brighter note, the ordeal had placed your soulmate in your life. When each document had been signed and you were free to go, you were able to start getting to know each other in a domestic setting. No infected sightings. No upcoming job interviews. Both of you were completely safe and quite comfortable. Relaxing on the couch, you found solace in being all snuggled into Leon’s side. Cozy and cared for. He had an arm wrapped around you as his other hand played with the soulmate ring on your finger. Together and alive. You counted yourselves lucky. Situations could had been extremely different. Over the past week or so, nightmares plagued your sleep and made days uneasy. So having Leon, your soulmate, who completely understood helped. Life didn’t have to be all scary. Neither of you needed to run from one day to the next. You were able to take things slow or any pace you desired. All would be okay. Leon had promised safety. You had no doubt he meant it.

Nudging your head against Leon, you caught a glimpse of his smile. Like a sunrise. “Leon.” “Hmm?” “We could pretend we met in a grocery store or something.” “Oh, yeah?” He pulled you closer. “Like during a holiday rush. It gets wild…I’ve heard.” “Which aisle?” You snickered, “Toilet paper aisle.” “Nothing says ‘want a date’ like two ply.” “Homemade pizza does.” You kissed his chin and was rewarded another smile from Leon. “You had me at ‘not really’. After I asked if they gave you a tour.” “That’s so random.” “You were just being you. How could I not like you?” You raised an eyebrow. “Is this a soulmate thing?” “As long as we’re together, I don’t care what it’s called.” Gently, Leon leaned in to kiss your forehead. His smile curved against your skin. “I’m just glad I found you.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle

Leon Scott Kennedy Tags: @bumblebeesfromvenus @c4rl40n4 @d333athw1sh

** Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Oh well, since you encouraged me... Something that's been on a mind since I've read your older brother!Dick I just keep thinking of the incest potencial... Even with the more than controversial ages

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍…

!!! 18+ THEMES, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, GN reader, fauxcest, age gap, toxic dynamic, noncon, making out, disgusting touching, brief hints of sexual content, general yandere fuckery, manipulation, kind of grooming(?), controlling behaviors, poor reader trying to cope so hard.

GGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA—

Don’t worry, pooks, I saw all of your other asks about this idea and I’ll try to remember to hit all of the points you bring up. I just wanna keep it all in one place.

ALSO, ALSO, ALSO, LIFE WITH OLDER BROTHER ENJOYERS. HEY. HEY. LISTEN. If you’re not fucking with this ask and you don’t want the wholesome platonic dynamic you conjured in your brain ruined for you, DO NOT PROCEED ANY FURTHER. LIKE, AT ALL. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

You literally clocked me so badddd. Yes, the undertones in that series are 100% intended. I’m not gonna add anything overtly incestuous, but like… the subtext is there for the freaks to pick up on. Platonic incest where the lines blur every now and then, I love you so much.

Anyways, lemme get to yapping for real.

If we’re going to vaguely follow the Life With Older Brother series, Dick suddenly being so friendly to you would be… a little bit jarring. But try to think about it from his perfective: he wasn’t really there for Jason, and the thought of failing another younger sibling is too much to handle. Maybe he’s just trying to be more present for you. As weird as he may come off, you should at least give him a chance.

The beginning isn’t all that bad. Even if he’s relatively new to the older brother thing, you can tell he’s trying his best, and dare you say it, he’s actually fun to hang out with. Playing video games, going out for ice cream, trashy movie marathons… it almost makes you forget about those weirder behaviors. Almost.

Now, one thing you quickly noticed is how touchy-feely he is. Whenever you’re together, it seems like he’s always got sort of body part touching you one way or another. Sometimes, it’s subtle: a knee resting against yours, a very quick head-pat, his hand brushing against you as he gestures at something. Nothing all that noticeable unless if you’re very sensitive to touch. But then there are times where it’s a little more… overt. Like when he slings an arm around your shoulders. Or when he holds your hand while out and about. Or when pulls you against his side by your waste when it’s a crowded area. Every now and then, you find yourself wondering if this is normal. Do siblings usually touch each other so often? It kind of makes sense, but… considering you haven’t even been siblings for a full year, should he really be this comfortable around you yet?

If you think you can set boundaries with him, good fucking luck. He might’ve made it seem like he was hearing you out, but it won’t be long before he’s back at it with the touching. Okay… maybe this is something he really can’t help. As annoying — and weird… and uncomfortable — it may be, you’ll probably just have to suck it up and get used to it. Some people are just very handsy. But not like that! Oh my god, no. Dick’s Nightwing; a good guy, for Christ’s sake. He would never do anything like that!

(… Right?)

Here’s the thing about platonic physical affection: how weird can it get before people finally draw the line? Is it forehead kisses? Hugging someone by the waist? Having them sit in your lap whenever the opportunity arises? Are any of those things actually weird, or does Dick somehow make them weird? Because, yes, he still most definitely acts like an older brother — he certainly teases you like one, and you constantly have to fight against the urge to bite him like a feral weasel — but the touching… well… maybe familial affection is just a concept foreign to you (thanks in no small part to Bruce), but Dick somehow makes it feel like something else.

And you’ll admit; you don’t actually know what that something else is. All you know is that you’re pretty sure big brothers do not do that gentle, extremely intimate thumb-stroke thing to their little sibling’s face before a forehead kiss. And they also do not come up from behind their little sibling for a hug.

And the lap thing?

That was probably the turning point.

Because what older brother has their little sibling sit on their lap while watching TV? One hand on your hip, the other on your thigh… he’s doing that weirdly intimate thumb stroke thing on your bare skin, and all you can do is sit there and think, oh… I don’t like this. If you’re brave enough to ask him what he’s doing, he’ll play dumb. Hm? What do you mean, kiddo? He’s not doing anything… what are you talking about?

Before you can even begin to express how uncomfortable you are, however, his fingers start toying with the hem of your shit. You’re acutely aware of his knuckles brushing against the flesh of your torso, sending an uneasy shiver up your spine. Dick’s no stranger to touching your waist area, and while you still don’t really like it that much, you’ve gotten used to it. But this? Something about the actual skin on skin contact makes you freeze up entirely.

“You know,” Dick would thoughtfully begin, “I’m probably the luckiest big brother in the world. I don’t think you realize just how cute you are, (Y/N).”

His hand then inches its way up your shit.

BadbadbadbadbadbaDBADBADBADBAD—

Don’t bother fighting back. Don’t bother yelling at him. Don’t even bother squirming as he gently begins to run circles into the skin under your shirt. His grip on your thigh is like iron, holding you down to his lap and making any struggle futile. In fact, if I were to venture a guess, you’d probably be too petrified to even move, the shock of the moment rendering you completely immobile. This was supposed to be your big brother; yes, he’s a bit weird and overprotective, but he’s still your fucking big brother. And while your knowledge on big brothers may be extremely limited, you know for a fact that this is crossing a line.

Your faces become closer and closer until his breath is ghosting against your lips. “I love you, kiddo. You know that, right?”

You don’t dare to offer him a response. Hell, you don’t even know what you could say to that. The only thing filling your brain is the brazen warning bells screaming for you to get the fuck away from him. Except you can’t. For whatever reason, your body’s frozen in place, limbs weighing you down like heavy ice blocks.

You can’t move.

You can’t fucking move.

And, of course… he takes advantage of that.

By the time his lips softly plant themselves on yours, it’s too late. The lines between platonic and whatever the fuck this is have long been crossed, and you can never go back to pretending like everything is normal between you two. All of the subtle warning signs you opted to ignore were now blaring in your mind like loud sirens, almost mocking the fact that you didn’t fucking trust yourself.

This can’t be happening. This absolutely can’t be happening. You thought of this creep as your big brother; was this really the same guy that helped you with homework and let you play games on his laptop? Was this really the same guy under the Nightwing mask?

While the kiss evolves into something a little more passionate, he doesn’t take it too far. Just a gentle make-out session with roaming hands. He ends it by holding you against his chest, seemingly content with just occasionally peppering kisses to your face for the next hour or so. Neither of you say anything during this time. Even if you want to yell at him and demand why the fuck he did that, you’re too shocked to even form a coherent thought.

The man you thought could be your big brother is a massive fucking creep.

You think you’re going to be sick.

He doesn’t go out for patrol that night. Instead, he simply picks you up and carries you to his room, dressing you in his clothes for bed. You’re still trying to process the humiliation of letting this all happen as he slips you under the sheets with him and cuddles up to you. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you that night. How the fuck could it? Not only do you have that stupid fucking kiss haunting you, but now you have this sicko’s hand playing with the waistband of your shorts (his shorts), and god. You’re not sure how you didn’t throw up then and there.

So. What happens afterwards? Well, first off, no more phone. Dick’s not an idiot; he knows the lines he crossed that evening and would rather you not call Bruce or Alfred or the police. You’re also not allowed on his laptop unless if he’s supervising you, and your ass is not going outside anytime soon. Then we have the gross shit… yeah, now that he’s had a taste, he’s gonna be all over you. It won’t go that far just yet — he’d rather ease you into that territory, much like what he’s been doing before — but it can get a bit steamy. At least for him. You might still be grossed out over all this or whatever.

You know what the worst part is? He still has the audacity to act like your older brother. It doesn’t matter how many times he touches you or forces you to kiss him: he’ll call you kiddo through it all and offer to play some video games afterwards. In fact, are times where you both return to your previous sibling banter and you can almost convince yourself that things are totally fine. There you go again, falling for his meticulously set up trap.

This new dynamic might take some time to get used to, but Dick will try his damned hardest to make it seem natural. So what if Big Brother sometimes wants to pin his cute little sibling against the counter and leave love bites on their neck? Sometimes, it just has to happen. No harm, no foul. This could be normal if you stopped being so weird about it, you know.

And, you know what… you may find yourself finally accepting that this is your new normal. What else are you supposed to do? You can’t call anyone, you can’t run away, you can’t even fight back because he was trained by fucking Batman… you sure as hell don’t have to like it, but maybe you can make peace with it. This is nothing more than an annoyance from your big brother. That’s all. It’s not him grooming you. It’s not him taking advantage of you. It’s just him being a little irritating at times. Ignore the urge to throw up… ignore how your skin crawls whenever he’s near you… every sibling has their flaw, and being a total creep is Dick’s.

You’d probably begin to despise Bruce a little, too. Did he know how fucked up his former ward is? Or is the exact same way? Guess you’ll never know, because the man can’t even bother to check up on you. He essentially took you out of the system and threw you into the den of a wolf, subjecting you to a new personal hell you can’t even escape from. And Alfred… you thought he actually cared. Is he not concerned about the sudden radio silence on your end?

You really can’t help but wonder if anyone even thinks about you outside of the apartment, and with Dick being in control of what information he feeds to Bruce over the phone, all you can do is guess at this point. In the meantime, Big Brother just came back and needs a hug… why don’t you come on over to the couch, kiddo?

Ugh. There are so many fucking directions I can go in from here. You mentioned Bruce (or eventually Tim) becoming suspicious and finding out what’s going on, and GRRRRR. SO GOOD. SO FUCKING GOOD. I need to write a blurb about this. It’s so addicting. I just had to get some of the base ideas on this out because this concept has been marinating in my brain for way too long. I’m not kidding, I was going to actually explode if I didn’t get to talk about this. I NEED MORE OF THIS TYPE OF SHIT.

[muletia]

I just found a Transformers prime fic that makes cybertronians small and the human trio has to take care of them.

Now imagine this.

This happens with obsessed!Optimus, now he can go anywhere with you, gets hugs and warmth from you, and be able to be kept inside the house with you.

Especially if he has to be carried by you because of his size(maybe the size of your knees) so stay in the base is off limits because of his side, especially with the danger of being squished.

What do you think?

what a silly (affectionate) scenario

wrote some short of headcanons because this is such an adorable concept <3

At first, Optimus would be terrified. Going from a height that allows you to look down on everyone to having to tilt your head all the way back just to meet Rafael’s eyes isn’t something easy to adjust to, or accept. New dangers and uncertainties also arise. Will they manage to restore him to normal before the Decepticons find out (imagine a mini Megatron lmao)? Or before someone accidentally steps on him?

That terror quickly dissipates when you discover what has happened, replaced by embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to see him in such a state. Once, he prayed every night to Primus for just a sliver of your attention, but now he’d give so much just for you to look away. He wanted you to always see him as a worthy partner, not a sparkling utterly dependent on the care of others.

He abandons that mindset just as quickly when it turns out you feel an overwhelming need to care for him. To stay by his side and make sure no one steps on him. You practically never leave his side, every now and then stroking his helm or grabbing his servo.

Oh, holding his servo. Imagine you grabbed it instinctively, wanting to protect him from Smokescreen’s pede or another less careful bot. From that moment on, the two of you are inseparable. Seeing you apart, without any form of physical contact, becomes a true rarity because Optimus will take every opportunity to bask in your closeness. He becomes your shadow. A clingy companion who won’t let you take a single step without him.

Humans have a tendency to shower affection on anything adorable, and I think this case wouldn’t be an exception. It’s so easy to lose control of yourself when a mini version of Optimus is constantly looking up at you with big, puppy-like optics, clutching your hand tightly as if afraid you’ll vanish at any moment. And although he won’t be thrilled with public displays of affection, feeling uncomfortable when you shower his faceplate with kisses while Ratchet watches from the sidelines, his restraint evaporates the moment you have to take him home.

That’s when it becomes clear just how touch-starved he is and how much he craves being spoiled. Even as someone small and irresistibly cute, able to use those traits to his advantage, he still won’t want to impose his feelings on you. But honestly, he doesn’t even need to try. Because you’re always there for him. Your hand is always in contact with him — holding his servo, stroking him, or wrapping him in a hug.

And oh, he will hug you often. Mostly because of you—it’s nearly impossible to resist when you have such an adorable sweetheart by your side. The best part is that you can squeeze him tightly without worrying about hurting him. Mini Optimus absolutely loves it. He delights in your affectionate tendencies and lets you do whatever you please as long as you’re giving him attention.

He especially loves it when you cover his faceplate in kisses, making sure not to miss a single millimeter. He must have been a truly good mech his entire life if Primus himself rewarded him with such treatment.

So don’t be surprised if, when Ratchet eventually finds a way to restore Optimus to his proper size, he becomes very, very reluctant to return to being the leader and a Prime.

But what do you mean he can’t spend the rest of his life being spoiled by you and carried around in your arms?

[letmelickyoureyeballs]

Yummy Yummy Eye

Finally indulged in my fantasy of licking Silco's mutated eye and decided to write a reader insert fic of it.

Not beta read, and can also be found on AO3 here.

Word Count: 2.6k

Relationships: Silco x You, Silco x GN!Reader

Tags: Eye Sex, Eye Licking, No Smut/Sex, But heavily suggestive, Some Fluff, Shimmer, Inappropriate Use of Shimmer, I guess?, Trust, Biting kink, Only mentioned though, Established Relationship, Teasing, Suggestive Themes

Summary: You’ve been dying to lick Silco’s mutated eye since the first time you both met.

A couple of months later and after some slight conversation with him, it looks like you’ll finally get your wish, and it'll help ease that itch inside you that desires the unknown.

You couldn’t stop staring at his eye. The brilliant orange and black that it was. You just needed to do this. To curb the itch that just wouldn’t go away.

Just one little lick. One little taste and it’ll all be good.

Gods you were salivating at the thought. This desire had been hounding you since the moment you had met Silco in all his intimidating glory.

A chance encounter when you decided to drink at The Last Drop and found yourself entranced by the striking man smoking a cigar in the far dark corner of the bar. What hooked you first though was his glowing orange and black eye that seemed to be staring through you. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity and had decided to join him at his table.

With a little talking and some exchange of ideals, you both hit it off fairly well. 

Now months later found you both in an intense relationship of power and trust, with you currently sitting on his office’s couch, watching him read over reports at his desk. His damaged eye occasionally flickered a brighter shade of orange when something piqued his interest.

The Shimmer has to add some flavor. Hmm, fruity perhaps? No, no maybe salty with some spice? Would he even let me try?

A deep sigh brought you out of your musings, and you glanced up to see Silco staring at you with a hint of amusement and annoyed curiosity.

“As much as I generally love your undivided attention, I am trying to work at the moment. I can see that you’re thinking about something, so please, spit it out already.”

While the words were a bit sharp, you knew intrigue was overtaking the displeasure of being interrupted while working.

You glanced down at your hands, fiddling with a book you had given up reading a while ago, as you tried to stay nonchalant. Silco would instantly know if you tried to lie or avoid the question, so there was no use in bothering to bypass it. Besides this relationship was deeply built on trust and loyalty, and you weren’t about to forsake that. With a small hum and shrug of your shoulders, you replied almost boredly, “Just curious about your eye.”

Silco put down his pen and leaned back in his chair, the leather creaking softly in the otherwise quiet room. Whatever annoyance he had before melted away as deep curiosity took place with a slight gleam and flash of orange in his eye.

“You already know how it came to look this way, and the burdens that came along with it.” A slight tilt of his head as he stared at you questioningly. “What more can be ascertained from it?”

Usually, you had no qualms about what you asked about. Both of you had been open books with each other once the relationship was officially founded. It wouldn’t even be that outrageous of an inquiry compared to past conversations.

But this…felt different. Felt personal in the way that it could be too weird. That Silco may finally deny a request from you. Granted he had also encouraged any weird fantasies either of you had. Zaun knows you were both a little fucked up in the head, especially being from the Undercity. Vanilla was a foreign concept to either of you.

Yet licking the reminder of why he had become a Chem-Baron? The reminder of the life he had lost? The one noticeable physical weakness that he had? That felt too close to prying open an old wound.

But you knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. You weren’t exactly subtle when it came to your fascination with his eye. He knew how much it riled you up. How much you loved it when it glowed that deep possessive orange that occasionally flickered red. How you stroked the skin around it with an almost worshipping fervor.

Yeah, you’re honestly surprised he never questioned you about it sooner. But it seems now it’s time to own up to the fantasy that’s been looping through your mind.

Putting the now-shut book you were holding on the table next to you, you looked up, focusing on the eye that haunted and possessed you with such desires. With as much honesty and longing as you could muster you finally let it spill out.

“I just really want to taste it. You have no idea how much I’ve been dying to lick your eye, Silco. It’s like an itch that’s festering into an open wound the longer I think about it.”

With that, you waited with bated breath to see what the most powerful Chem-Baron in the Undercity would think about someone licking his fucking eye.

For a few agonizing seconds, Silco made no comment, as if he hadn’t heard your question at all, but if the increasing glow of his eye was any indication, he definitely found your question very affecting.

You still held your breath in anticipation, trying to convey that you meant the question truthfully and weren’t messing with him. The more his eye glowed the hungrier you became, and the stronger that inner itch gnawed at you. 

You would describe the itch as a yearning for the unknown. When you saw a carrot you knew the experience you would have eating it. You knew the feeling of it crunching between your teeth. The natural sweetness that enveloped your taste buds (or bitterness depending on if it was grown down here) but you knew what it would feel and taste like before you even put it into your mouth.

Silco’s eye (and many other past tastings) were unknown. You had no idea what the taste or texture would be like, and it ate you up inside wanting to try it. Sure you could theorize it to past things you’ve had the fortune of trying, but that still didn’t appease the innate itch to try the unknown. Yes, you knew that tears were salty, but tasting tears didn’t equate to licking an entire eye in your mind. And with the Shimmer that Silco injected into his eye, you knew it had to add some flavor.

I wonder if it tastes different depending on when it’s glowing or not?

You could feel yourself becoming frenzied at the idea. Nails bit into your pant legs where you were gripping your thighs, muscles tensed, but to lunge forward and forcibly try a taste or to run away you didn’t know.

Finally, Silco reacted, with a hum and a slight uptilt of his lips, eye still flaring brightly, he walked over and joined you on the couch. Sitting down with the gracefulness of a predator he turned towards you and patted his lap encouragingly. 

You didn’t hesitate to slide onto it, facing him as he rested his hands on your thighs. You weren’t one to waste an opportunity after all, and it seemed like Silco was more than attentive to your desire.

You placed your hands on his shoulder, one of them scratching through the hairs at the back of his neck. Focusing on his face you saw him deeply looking at you, no, looking through you.

He chuckled softly in the dimly lit room, “I knew you were only interested in me for my eye. So all that desire I saw was just so you could lick it? My my I knew you were fascinated, but this wasn’t something I predicted. And an itch that feels like an open wound you say? We don’t want that now, do we?” Throughout this he had started rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs, causing you to relax into him more and release some of the tension you had still been holding.

You knew he wasn’t poking fun at you, and after he finished speaking you saw that besides the inherent interest still present in his expression, he now seemed to have a spark of his own desires showing as well. His eyes raked hungrily over your face, stopping occasionally at your mouth.

Composing your thoughts, you looked into his good eye and felt yourself curl in pleasure at the acceptance he was giving you. With some confidence from seeing your desire reflected back, you smiled softly and murmured, “You know I love you for all of you.” You paused and smirked, “But your eye is definitely a captivating sight, and the thing that garnered my initial interest in you when we first met.”

Silco feigned a wounded look, “And here I thought it was my rogue charm and wit that had captivated you.”

You snorted a laugh, “Those too, but there’s just something so delicious about your eye.” You gazed longingly at it, licking over your lips and teeth. 

He watched amused. “I thought you said you wanted to lick it, not eat it.”

You rolled your eyes in mock offense. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t go that far. As much as I enjoy feeling you on my teeth, I don’t desire to bite your eye.”

He looked fondly at you. “How reassuring. But you still haven’t said why the urge to lick my eye feels like an open wound.”

You shrugged, “It’s like I’ve mentioned to you before when I’ve eaten something I shouldn’t have. I can’t control it. I see something that may taste interesting and I get an intense desire to follow through on it. The longer I try to avoid it, the more it eats away at my thoughts until I can only think about trying it.” You had explained this before a few times when Silco had caught you eating stuff you really shouldn’t have, so even though it still scared him at times, he knew you were being truthful, and nodded to show he understood.

Tilting his head in thought he replied carefully, “So I’m to assume you’ve been wanting to lick my eye since the first time we met? That’s an awfully long time then. In fact, the longest I’ve ever seen you try to avoid trying something was a few days, and that was with Sevika forcibly holding you back. How have you managed this long with my eye?”

Again you shrugged like it was the most obvious answer, “For the exact reason that it’s your eye. It’s not some random thing I found lying around, and I didn’t want to possibly make you uncomfortable. We both have our boundaries and I associated your eye as part of one.”

Silco appeared to accept that answer, again giving a slight nod, but it still seemed he couldn’t help but prod a little. “I’ve let you touch it before.”

Now you were the one looking at him amused, and with a sarcastic tone responded, “Touching is quite different from straight up licking it, Silco.”

He smiled all sharp teeth. “Perhaps, but it’s just a different kind of touch, is it not?” His smile grew wider, going a little feral as his eye pulsed eagerly, “And one that I’m not opposed to either. You know me. There’s very little that I would say no to you too.” His grip on your thighs tightened before loosening slightly, showing his interest but allowing you an out if needed.

You were not about to back out now. Months of craving even the smallest touch of your tongue to his eye built up in a tidal wave inside you. Tightening your hold on the back of his neck and shoulder you leaned forward, further encouraged by Silco who had moved one of his hands behind your head, guiding you closer.

You tensed back up in anticipation, tunnel-visioned on his eye. Nothing would be able to stop this moment now, you were in too deep and had to soothe that pulsing itch inside you that threatened to claw its way out.

With no other encouragement needed, you leaned the rest of the way in, but stopped mere millimeters away, breath ghosting over your long-coveted prize. Silco’s eye was flaring so bright it was almost blinding. Instead of diving in as you assumed Silco thought you would, you lightly kissed his eye, softly uttering a thank you, before slowly dragging the entire length of your tongue along it, savoring the moment and its smooth texture.

Silco’s hands tightened painfully when you sighed in pleasure, shivering in his embrace as you experienced what it must feel like to taste ambrosia from the gods.

As you had expected, Silco’s eye tasted divine.

Unsurprisingly it was salty but not overwhelmingly so, but quite unexpected was just how mouth-watering the Shimmer had enhanced it. A slight metal tang was quickly overpowered by a natural sweetness far exceeding anything you’ve ever tried. The closest thing you could think of in that moment was the one time you had licked off the pollen from a dandelion you’d found, but this was more intense than that. More potent due to the nature of Shimmer.

With one lick you felt like you were floating on ecstasy. This had far exceeded anything you could have theorized and the itch inside you quieted to a content purr. It didn't die away fully, and while that should have been a concern as it generally left after finally trying something, you knew that the desire to taste Silco’s eye would never truly go away now that you’d indulged in it. 

Pulling back slightly and glancing down at Silco with half-lidded eyes, you noticed him breathing heavily, a flush covering his face as he looked at you with more love and desire than you knew what to do with.

With a rasp, he snarled at you. “Did I say you could stop?”

With a huff and a slight shudder you finally dove in like you knew you both wanted. Lapping at his eye with no amount of finesse you moaned greedily. Each stroke of your tongue brought in that sweet sinful flavor, causing you to float higher and higher in euphoria.

By the time you had had your fill, you were both panting and shivering in satisfaction. It looked as if Silco had enjoyed that experience as much as you had.

With a content sigh and a lick of your lips you leaned back, feeling drugged. “That was so fucking good, Silco. Thank you, though I feel that this may not be a one-time thing.”

Silco leaned back resting his head on the couch, his eye fading to a low glow. His grip on you had loosed a bit and he pulled you down to lie on his chest, words still a little breathless, “I was thinking the same.” He chuckled warmly and caressed your neck and back. “It seems we both enjoyed that more than we thought we would, and from the looks of it, I’m guessing you’re feeling the effects of Shimmer, hmm?”

You grunted softly as his warmth enveloped you. It did seem that you had enacted a bit of Shimmer just from licking his eye, and as the floaty feeling fully consumed you, a wave of tiredness also fell over you. But he wanted a verbal answer, so with a slight mumble you agreed before pressing yourself closer to him and relaxing your whole body.

He took the hint. Both of you felt the drained after-effects of the moment. The lead-up plus the final climax in events left you both feeling sated and content to just rest there.

Grabbing a blanket from nearby, Silco maneuvered you both to lie along the couch with you still resting over him. He draped the blanket over you both before pressing a lingering kiss to your head.

Before you fully drifted off into a nice post-eye-licking nap, you heard Silco whisper a quiet ‘I love you’ as a hand continued to stroke your back.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.3 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

eight sunday, february 2nd

you've gotten the question 'how do you do it?' a couple of times in your life. you've always been the kind to never stop running, never stop moving, never stop working, just never stop. never even take a break, really. any 'free' time was an opportunity to do something useful or productive.

you're pretty sure you never really 'cracked the code'. the code was kind of built inside of you, weirdly embedded in your brain. you've always been disciplined, you've always known that small, deliberate actions over time were the only way to stay consistent. it does help that you've always had this purpose or reason to do it.

you knew what you wanted, who you wanted to be.

you knew that commiting, sticking to the plan was the only way to get there.

in order to stick to a plan, there had to be a plan.

it makes sense that you wrote out an entire two page document, detailed and in depth with graphs, sources and pictures explaining your complete approach to getting over rafe and putting some much needed space between you two.

you're picking your nails, a habit you'd abandoned years ago after a rather brutal pull that ended with you in tears while your dad disinfected your bleeding thumb.

now here you were again, staring at the dining room table you'd temporarily transformed into a desk for rafe's tutoring session. step one of your plan was distance, of course. you had to block him away emotionally and him wandering around in your room, letting his smell linger, leaving his clothes or his stuff sitting there for days, lying in your bed. it was too close. too personal.

your room was a sanctuary, it was essentially your place of work and your home all at the same time. it had to feel serene and cleansed from distractions like feelings for boys.

the table was set up the same way your desk was: his notebook, pencil and calculator neatly placed on the table. you even placed a bottle of water right there so he didn't need to go wandering into your kitchen for anything. there was no need for him to walk around your house.

you would sit diagonal to him, working on the valentine's day cards which you were super behind on because you spent multiple days being too upset to even look at a heart-shaped-anything.

your dad was also sitting in the living room working on his laptop which somehow made it feel even more impersonal. it was perfect.

the doorbell rang and you froze for a moment. "are you gonna open that..or should i?" your dad called from the living room and you jumped into action. "uh! no, it's rafe. i'm going, sorry." you're rushing to the door and take a deep breath. "just be casual, be normal." you whisper to yourself before opening the door.

don't even think about how good he looks or smells or just how good it feels to even be in his viscinity. don't. don't. don't. shut up. don't.

"hey." he says as you move to the side to let him in. "hi. was the..drive good? any traffic?" what kind of a stupid question was that? this town had less than 50 000 people. there was never that much traffic.

he seems to be confused by the question as well, "no, no..traffic. it's sunday.."

"that is.. good. really good." you stand there with your hands behind your back as he takes his shoes off and when he walks over to you, in front of the stairs, he gives you a look and raises his brows. "are we gonna go up?" he slowly asks and you press your lips together and shake your head. "so, actually. i had this really fun idea that we could just..stay down here." you gesture to the dining room down the hall.

he looks at where you're gesturing before he looks at you again. "you want to stay down here?" he questioned, eyes boring into yours. "mm, i would like to stay down here..it's..i—it doesn't really matter where we sit, right?"

he blinks at you, lips parted. "right," he says softly and you nod and repeat after him before turning and heading into the dining room. he followed and his eyes immediately went to the table set up before glancing at your dad. "hey, y/d/n." he says and your dad greets him back, this big smile on his face that kind of makes you want to shove him. this boy broke his little girl's heart and he was just smiling at him? okay, sure, he doesn't know that it even happened but he should just sense those things. is that too much to ask?

you don't waste any time. the minute rafe sits down, you're getting into the lesson. "alright, last lesson we covered how to solve systems of equations by graphing, substitution and elimination. do you feel like there's one or multiple methods that you struggled with the most when you were doing the exercises?"

he looks at you, seemingly lost for a moment. "before we start, can we just—"

you tense. "maybe during the break. so, any issues?" it seems like he sees the momentary panic in your face because his eyes soften before he nods and exhales, "i..i guess with the graphing, i struggled with the overlapping lines and the parallel ones and for substitution, isolating variables and variables in general is still a shaky one."

you nod and stand right next to him, reading his notes carefully. "you're not gonna sit?" he looks at you. you don't look at him. "i'm okay, so, for the overlapping lines and parallel, what you need to remember is overlapping lines represent infinitely many solutions and parallel lines is the concept of no solution or an inconsistent system. it's kind of confusing but once you can set those apart and remember what they mean, it gets easier." you flip his page then, "and for the variables, i can see that you forgot to solve for the second variable a couple of times. remember that after finding one variable, you have to plug it back in to find the other."

"wait, but i thought when i did this, i was solving for the second variable…?" rafe points at his page, eyebrows furrowed as his pencil drags under a line of equations. "because i brought this one over."

you lean closer, bending over his notebook to see what he’s pointing at. "no," you say, tilting your head toward him. "i explained this last time, but you were too busy trying to braid my hair instead of listening, remember?"

he cracks a lopsided smile, the kind that always threatens to make your knees weak. "just trying to grow my skillset," he murmurs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at your lips. "anyway," you say, nudging his pencil aside gently, "what you’re actually doing here is moving the term over to isolate one variable first. see? once that’s done, then you substitute it into the second equation to find the other variable."

you wait for his usual reaction, the quiet "ohhh" that always follows whenever he finally pieces something together. but the silence stretches, and when nothing comes, you turn to him. "you get… it?" the words falter on your lips as your gaze meets his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away.

he’s already staring at you, his eyes steady and unrelenting. they’re warm, piercing, and hold a depth you can’t even begin to describe. you don’t even have time to process how close you are, how his breath brushes faintly against your cheek, or how the faint furrow of his brow softens as he takes you in.

you feel caught, anchored by something invisible yet impossibly strong. your heart hammers so loud in your chest you’re sure he can hear it. the air around you thickens, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged tension. it’s as if the world has narrowed to just the two of you, and nothing could pull you out of this moment.

remember the plan. remember the plan. you try to tell yourself but then his eyes flicker down for the briefest second, not enough to seem deliberate, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. when they meet yours again, it feels like he’s trying to tell you something without saying a word. it’s overwhelming, consuming, and utterly impossible to look away.

your breath catches, the intensity growing unbearable. you’re drowning in the weight of it—this connection, this magnetism that shouldn’t feel as monumental as it does. and just when you think you might give in, might let yourself fall into whatever this moment is, you tear yourself away.

your eyes drop to the notebook in front of you, your hands fumbling to straighten the page unnecessarily. "so, um… yeah, just try the new exercises i made and i'm here if you need help," you say, your voice a pitch higher than usual, and you can feel your face burning. you bee-line for the kitchen before you actually make the situation worse.

you paced in the kitchen for a couple of minutes before casually walking back into the dining room. you slid into your seat and could feel rafe's eyes on you but you refused to look up. you willed yourself to focus on the notes and hundreds of pink and red enveloppes in front of you.

the entire session went the same way. you worked on your envelopes, and rafe worked on his exercises. you answered his questions when needed, but you never moved from your spot.

near the end of the lesson, your dad's voice carried from the doorway, casual and warm. "rafe, are you eating dinner with us?" it had become a bit of a routine—your sessions almost always wrapped up around dinner time. but tonight, you’d planned for this.

"no, not today," you answered for him.

your dad hesitated, clearly surprised to hear your voice instead of rafe's. his confusion deepened when he glanced at you, taking in your stern expression. after a moment, he nodded sharply, muttering, "got it," before disappearing down the hall toward the kitchen.

"what was that?"

"what was what?"

rafe stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. for a moment, you thought he might just leave, but instead, he stopped at the doorway, turning back to you. his eyes pinned you in place. "come here," he said firmly, his voice low but unyielding.

you blinked at the demand, your body rooted to the spot. "what—"

his jaw tightened. without repeating himself, he walked straight to you, his movements deliberate, his frustration radiating off him like heat. you thought he’d just grab your wrist and tug you to your feet, but instead, he did something much more dramatic.

"rafe, what are you—"

before you could finish, he bent down, his arms looping around your waist as he hauled you over his shoulder with ease.

"rafe!" you yelped, your voice higher than you’d like as you squirmed against him. "what the hell are you doing?"

he didn’t answer. didn’t even flinch. he just turned and started walking, his steps firm and purposeful as he carried you up the stairs like you weighed nothing. you slapped his back and demanded to be put down, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

he set you down, right on the edge of your bed. you jumped to your feet immediately, but he was already there, standing in front of you, so close you could feel his breath. the proximity was overwhelming, so you sat back down again, instinctively creating space.

"rafe—"

"no. i’ll do the talking now." his tone left no room for argument. he pulled your chair from your desk, dragging it a little too roughly across the floor before sitting down, facing you. you felt the weight of his gaze, the intensity of his stare, and for a split second, you felt small—like a kid about to get scolded by the principal.

"i don’t know what happened last week. i don’t know why you won’t talk to me. i can’t help but assume that you either aren’t ready to talk or just don’t want to talk to me, but i can figure out that i’ve done something to upset you. i can’t force you to open up, but if you don’t… i won’t know what the hell i’m doing. i’ll apologize, because, honestly, i just want this," he waved a hand toward you, your whole being, "to stop."

he leaned forward, his voice steady, firm. "you’re ignoring me at school, you barely answer my texts, and we won’t even talk about how you yelled at me on wednesday because clearly, you don’t want to talk about that either. i’ll never bring any of it up again, if that’s what you need from me. but now? you’re shutting me out completely. we can’t even sit in your room? i can’t stay for dinner, you won’t sit next to me—what the hell is this all supposed to mean?"

his gaze was unwavering. "i want to fix it. i want to make things right. but if you won’t let me, if you refuse to even try, you can’t act like i’m the enemy. you can’t be pissed at me, not tell me why, and then shut me out and act like i'm somehow misunderstanding the situation. that’s not how this works."

his voice was tight, but there was no shouting. just a clear, deliberate force.

"okay." you nod after a moment. "okay?" he repeats and you nod after him. "you're right. i'm not being fair, it's just..i d-don't really—i w-want to—"

he stops you the moment you start to struggle, "don't. don't force yourself to tell me anything if you don't want to. i just don't want to lose this. " he says and your mind immediately flashes to him with adriana before you can even delusionalise yourself into thinking he meant that in a romantic way.

"i know..and our friendship is important to me too. i just.." you start slowly and he's looking at you with these, big, kind, hopeful eyes. "i am a very type-a person—"

"you don't say."

you glare at him, "—and i work well with planning, order, organization. i don't like mess. i don't like things that don't go my way. now, please, do not take this the bad way because i promise, i don't want you gone, you aren't a burden," you beg quietly and he nods reluctantly, "but..this..situation we've found ourselves in has significantly.." you pause and search for the right word, "upset my balance and i think that the bonfire was a bit much. that is all. i j-just..got my period that day and i've been doing all this stuff that i usually don't do like not following my schedule by the letter so i needed to let it all sink in a bit and i process things in a very specific way which makes me lose sight of other people's feelings sometimes but i'll try to stop. i promise." you say and rafe raises his brows, "yeah?" he asks and you nod, faint smile on your lips when he grins because it's impossible to not smile with a grin as contagious as his.

safe to say you didn't stick to the plan.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[skyrim-forever]

WIP Wednesday

Hi everyone it's another Wednesday <3 I was tagged by the wonderful @ladytanithia @changelingsandothernonsense @lillxart @theoneandonlysemla

Tagging: @captain-of-silvenar @pocket-vvardvark @dirty-bosmer @bougainvillea-and-saltwater

@umbracirrus @firefly-factory @thequeenofthewinter @lucien-lachance @sanza-17 @hircines-hunter @scholarlyhermit @sulphuricgrin

Was hoping to post some more Vevora/Aicanatr stuff but unfortunately it just ain't working rn but! I was able to get some writing done on a wip that's been sitting around since November. Below is some of my Theomar love confession rewrite <3 Man down so bad he volunteered to go to Windhelm post-Civil War as an excuse to see her <3 <3 <3 Under cut for length, one slightly horny line, and she takes that mer drinking at the Cornerclub :P

There could not be a worse time for him to fall for her, become so entangled in wanting her that it made him desire to abandon his post. But if that were a doable feat, then the standards that made him feel that way would not be as strict as they are. Their deeply grim reality did not stop the love, admitting it to himself had been like a dam bursting; the drops of sustaining professional praise could not compete with the rapids of intimacy. Her hands on his face, letting him lie on her breasts and listen to the calming sound of her heartbeat, how her legs would pull him in closer until he was- Enough. There he went getting too far ahead and wrapped up in her yet again. The sigh heard from him sounds more of a stifled groan to which he gets a confused, yet intrigued look from the Imperial woman. He provides a quick cover up. 

“My apologies, it would seem I let myself get distracted by you again.” 

“Why Commander, you really must get better about that.” No. He had no intention of pushing her from his mind, it had already proven to be a losing battle. He prayed to be freed of her to now welcome the torment, retreating further into her. If had any power in the situation, he would absolutely not be in Windhelm right now, planning how to tell this Imperial soldier that he loved her. “I wouldn’t want you losing sight of things.”

“Oh, I think you would like it very much.” Finally, he remembers her question. “And yes, I did come all this way to see you. You ran through my mind constantly these past months, how could I not take advantage of the opportunity?” 

“I’ve missed you as well.” Controlling the elation he feels is difficult, uptick in his voice.  

“Is that so?”

“I did think about you on occasion.” When? Despite desperately wanting to know, he refrains, content to know she has noticed his absence. “It has been a few months, it is good to see you. Despite the circumstances…” Her words trail off a bit towards the end, the similar look from before only now she does see him. Staring up at him, her left eye twitched as though she would begin crying again.  

“You wouldn’t want to join me somewhere, would you?” Please he thinks. Please let me steal you from them, just a moment Theodora. Tapping her finger to her chin, she smirks at him. 

“Hmmm, I will but only if you join me somewhere first?” Oh What did she have in mind? He assumed she knew the city better than him, maybe there was somewhere else they could go…

“Tell me what do you have in mind?”

“Well, after the day I’ve had, I need a drink.” A quick glance at their surroundings before she taps his chest. “And I imagine you could use one as well.” 

“It would not hurt.” Anything you would like. That is what he wishes to say. Have his only concern making her happy and if there would be something other than mead available. But he has far more worries than that. 

“I cannot imagine the tavern will be a safe place for us.”

“No it would not be.” Confusing the Thalmor, she laughs. “Do you think so lowly of me to think I’d go there?”

“Where do you drink then, Theodora?” 

Regret is not what he feels, sitting at a table that is continuously blasted with cold air as the patrons of this Cornerclub, as it were, shuffle in and out. Offhandedly he wonders if they were passing by him purposely, seeking out more chances to lour at him in the way only Dunmer could. The scowls form the Nords, the shifted glances half outside his vision, those were all too easy to interpret: Damn elf. Uninspired. But the Dunmer, oh the Dunmer could hate with such sincerity that as the few who uttered something in addition to their glares, they did not need to say it in the common tongue. The Dunmeris meaning of the word unknown, their tone alone conveys the intent of an insult. It’s not important for him to know exactly how he is being insulted, though he could harbour a guess or two, simply saying it for their own satisfaction. It was somewhat impressive, in a peculiar way, but nonetheless, Ondolemar is slightly impressed. Perhaps he was just glad to be in the company of mer, regardless of what type of mer they are. Yet what does rouse further intrigue in him, however, is the decidedly lack of similar treatment Theodora receives. 

Ordering in their language and going relatively unnoticed as she returns to him, two strange jars that resemble nothing he had seen before, he comments on it. Not completely surprised as why would she frequent an establishment she was not welcomed in, this is still strangely welcoming. 

“You’re well liked here.” The woman places one jar in from of him before chuckling at his notion. Lovely to hear her laugh again after the pain that marked her face when they first spoke. 

“I wouldn't go that far, Commander.”

“You wouldn’t?” 

“I wouldn’t.” She opens the jar and takes a mouthful. “But speaking Dunmeris, having lived in Morrowind even if only for a few months, it does help. Still an Imperial bastard but I don’t have to pretend to be interested in mead and a poor rendition of the Dragonborn Comes at Candlehearth Hall.” Cyrodiil natives prided themselves on being cosmopolitan but Theodora was a true example of that. 

“Clearly you get along with many different kinds of people.”

“Clearly.” She rolls her eyes. He himself is the most damning evidence after all, but it is humorous her assessment of her person. 

“Well, I suppose Imperial bastard is correct in the most literal sense.”

“I prefer the term love child I’ll have you know.”

"Equally true, from what you have told me." He takes the lid off the concoction in front of him. “What would I be?”

“I suppose you could go ask, I bet Ambarys would be willing to tell you to your face.” Directing his attention to the barkeep with her eyes, the Altmer instead chooses to remain with the reason he’s here at all. Less interested in what he thought of her choice in company and more in enjoying what he came all this way for; her. 

“I believe my imagination will suffice.”

[weneeya]

don't like you m.list | rules

pairing. dr ratio x reader

note. i'm finally falling in honkai star rail so be prepared to see characters from there quite a lot from now on (and i'm not even sorry about it)

Working with no one else than Dr Veritas Ratio was really a pain in the ass. It might have been a lot of people’s dream to be able to work with someone as intelligent as him, but it was surely not yours. In fact, you would have preferred doing this with absolutely anyone else other than him. The explanation was easy : you could not stand that man. He was arrogant and always called other people stupid. He had no respect for them, so you did not have any for him or his work. 

You had no choice though, working with him was not your own decision and you could not discuss it no matter how much you wanted to. This is how you ended up sitting in a library with Veritas in front of you, speaking over and over, again and again, without ever closing his mouth. A sigh left your lips, and you met his eyes. 

“Do you shut your damn mouth sometimes?” You asked him bluntly, and he looked at you in disbelief for a second ; before his expression was quickly replaced with a frown. “And do you have some respect for people sometimes?” You suddenly straighten your back at his words. 

You thought about a million things to answer his stupid remark, but you decided to be more mature than him this time and not to reply to him. You shook your hand slowly, monitoring him to keep going in his never ending monologue. After some time, you began to listen again to what he was talking about. 

No matter how hard you despised him, you could never deny the genius he was. His brain was working a thousand times faster than anyone else, and you could only agree to what he was saying. Except right now, because you had something else to propose as an idea. 

You raised your finger, and it made him stop speaking for a moment. Aeons, it really was great when he stopped. You cleared your throat, looking at him with a light grin on your lips. Oh, he did not like that. 

“That’s a good point, I admit it ; but I don’t like you. So fuck you, and here’s my idea.” And with that, you stole the pencil in his fingers and began to explain your own point of view and your ideas on the subject, not giving him the opportunity to stop you. It was your turn now. 

He could not believe it. Not only the fact that you were a brat clearly making fun of him right now, but also that your ideas were… great. It was hard for him to admit it, but you really had some good points that he did not mention even once. Maybe you did not like him, and maybe he did not care much (or that was what he said) but you were not as much of an idiot as he thought you were. 

When you were done, you expected him to dismiss everything you said and called you the stupidest person on this planet. But he did not. Actually, he almost did the opposite. Well, you would never say out loud that you were pretty smart, but he did not throw your ideas away. 

At your biggest surprise, you both began to work together on the subject to find a good idea and solution that would use both of your brains and not only his. It was a first. You almost thought he was making fun of you in the beginning ; but you had to admit that he clearly was taking you seriously. 

It was refreshing, and as the days got on while working on this, you realized that perhaps he was not as much of an asshole you thought he was. He was just a genius surrounded by slower brains and he had some trouble accepting it. But he was almost treating you as an equal now that you had tell him to fuck off and put some respect on your name. 

Perhaps you should have done this sooner.

thank you for reading!

[the-most-humble-blog]

What Did You Just Say? How ‘What?’ Became the Verbal Middle Finger

Tone, Timing, and Why Your Innocent ‘What?’ Sounds Like a Threat

Once upon a time, the word "what" was just a neutral, functional question. Something you’d say when you didn’t hear someone or needed clarification. But somewhere along the way, “What?” became less about understanding and more about making someone else feel like they’ve said the dumbest thing on the planet.

These days, a simple “What?” can sound like you’re ready to throw hands. Add a bit of tone, and it’s less of a question and more of a full-blown insult. Let’s unpack how we turned the most basic phrase into verbal warfare.

1. The Evolution of ‘What?’: From Clarification to Confrontation

At its core, “What?” is supposed to be harmless. But let’s be real—it hasn’t been harmless in years.

The Side-Eye What: Paired with a look that could cut glass, this isn’t a request for clarification—it’s a challenge.

The Long-Distance What: Shouted from another room, it’s a declaration of “I can’t be bothered to come hear you, but I’ll yell until you repeat yourself.”

The Aggro What: When someone says something so outrageous, your “What?” carries the weight of “Are you kidding me right now?”

Just a Thought: "‘What?’ isn’t just a word anymore—it’s a mood, a vibe, and occasionally the opportunity to make a co-worker hate your face."

2. Why Tone is Everything

Say “What?” in the wrong tone, and suddenly you’re in a verbal standoff.

Flat Tone: Confused but polite.

Rising Tone: Genuinely didn’t hear you.

Descending Tone: "Explain yourself, clown."

Rising-Then-Flat Tone: This is the “Are you actually serious?” masterpiece. It’s less about misunderstanding and more about making someone else feel like an idiot.

3. ‘I’m Sorry’: The New Aggression Cloaked in Politeness

If “What?” is the verbal slap, “I’m sorry” is the passive-aggressive grenade. Depending on context, it can go from innocent to devastating in three words:

Innocent: “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Polite Confrontation: “I’m sorry… what did you just say?”

Passive Aggressive: "I'm Sorry...?!"

Weaponized: “I’m sorry, do you hear yourself?”

Relatable Truth: “I’m sorry” isn’t always an apology—it’s a prelude to telling someone they’re dumb.

4. How Conversations Became Landmines

We live in a world where tone, timing, and delivery matter more than the words themselves. And if you’re not careful, your casual “What?” can turn into:

A fight over who’s being disrespectful.

A passive-aggressive back-and-forth that goes nowhere.

A one-way ticket to awkward silence.

Pro Tip: If your ‘What?’ comes with any eye-roll energy, be ready to defend your entire existence.

5. The Real Problem: People Are Just Tired

Let’s be honest—half the aggression behind phrases like “What?” or “I’m sorry” isn’t personal. People are overworked, overtired, and over the nonsense.

Miscommunication is often less about what was said and more about who’s running on caffeine and a granola bar.

Your ‘What?’ hit them the wrong way because they were already one bad moment away from losing it on the next overachiever.

6. How to Avoid Accidentally Starting a Fight

If you don’t want your innocent phrases to come off as accidental verbal grenades, try this:

Tone-Check: Speak like you’re clarifying, not challenging.

Add Context: Replace “What?” with “Sorry, I missed that—could you repeat it?” (Yes, it’s more words, but it’ll save your sanity.)

Drop the Ego: Sometimes, the other person is just sensitive. Let them have it.

Or, just embrace the chaos. If your “What?” ruins someone’s day, maybe they needed a wake-up call anyway. F--k it.

It’s Not Just You—Words Are Loaded Now

In the age of overthinking and endless communication, even the simplest words can feel like punches. But here’s the good news: recognizing the power of tone, timing, and context means you can either diffuse or ignite situations at will. So, use your ‘What?’ wisely—or don’t. Sometimes chaos is fun.

[lazyscience]

Dungeon Crawler Carl Challenge

So I've been feeling pretty low the last few months. I know I'm not the only one riding that struggle bus, that a good number of the friends and mutuals around these parts are also feeling um. Uninspired, by current events. Demoralized, saddened, angry, confused, bereft - some of all of that.

One of the things I've been enjoying over the last year or so have been the Dungeon Crawler Carl books; some of you are probably also familiar, given a number of tabletop RPG folks hang out around these parts. If you haven't tried them, I heartily encourage them - they're cartoonishly violent, thoroughly offensive to anything resembling a religious or socially conservative sensibility, laden with body horror, full of cocker spaniel slander, and wildly vulgar in a teenage-boy sort of way. They are also full of complex and interesting female characters, affirmative masculinity, kindness in great duress, found family, anti-capitalism, pro-skepticism and determination in the face of overwhelming odds. A LOT of shit blows up. And the hero's wisecracking BFF is a Persian cat who is half Real Housewife, half neglected child.

The point of all this introduction to say: the titular Carl's mantra with which he is surviving the dungeon is, You will not break me.

And damn if I don't think he's got a point.

Spraytan Hitler getting inaugurated and nominating his bumbling coterie of asskissers to the Cabinet? Fuck him. Not gonna break me.

Morons trying to take rights, safety and bodily integrity away from people I love? Fuck them, not gonna break me.

People at work making THEIR months of fucking around MY workload problem now? Fuck that, not gonna break me.

Stupid chronic pain? Fuck it, not gonna break me.

Stupid depression and anxiety? Fuck no. Not gonna break me.

Now, dear reader, your challenge, should you choose to accept (you don't need to be a longtime follower or a follower at all, just a fellow crawler in this bullshit dungeon that is currently our lives who would like to stick it to The Corporation/The Universe At Large)

The AI of the dungeon likes to give Achievements. These are snarky, profane, moments of catharsis when you've finished a quest or defeated an enemy describing your reward (frequently just 'you're still alive, good for you') And since I don't have the wherewithal to send you guys the Celestial Benefactor Boxes you're out there grinding for, that's all I can give you - but if you want 'em, tell me what quest you've beaten/mob you've splattered each day and I'll give you an Achievement.

Mobs can be tasks you've been dreading, phone calls you don't want to make, awkward conversations, doctor's visits you don't want to schedule.

Quests are good things you're doing for yourself. Working out/making opportunities to move in any way? Making art/crafting/writing/other creative endeavors? Learning a new professional or personal skill? Reading longform books (of whatever genre) instead of doomscrolling? Making an effort to heal your relationship with food in ANY way you think is appropriate FOR YOU? Treating yo' self? Pedicures are a buff in the dungeon! (it's probably best to not ask why)

Party up - when we're doing something with/for others - or letting others help us - we are stronger together than we are apart.

Some days, all you're up to is staying alive. Just staying alive is a worthwhile accomplishment.

I am going to try to every day for the next 30 to post at least one mob I've fought, quest I've been working on, or party I've joined. And anybody who would like one, reblog mine with yours and I'll give you an Achievement.

Now get out there, crawlers, and kill, kill, kill!

[ionlyhearstatic]

I feel the need to add something!

It also goes so show the schism between those with perceived "Talent" in the world of DR and those without. It shows that there us a common belief that those who are without talent aren't viewed as anything but ordinary, that the common people don't matter half as much because their society puts so much on their youth to BE talented. To me that displays a MASSIVE fallacy, a failing of the youth that went so far that Junko WAS able to use it to piss off the reserve course AND the general public enough to start the literal apoclyspe. Even Ultimates themselves in this world fall to it as well, they only pursue the one talent, there is a common rhetoric of "Oh no, I'm not that good at cooking/writing/drawing/etc because it isnt MY Ultimate talent." In my opinion this leads people to shut down and solely focus only on what they know they're good at, which, as we've seen can be really harmful for a persons mentality (biggest example is Komaeda, but y'know)

Like let's say someone has interests outside their job (Leon) and wants to pursue them but are almost entirely barred from doing so because "Oh but that's not your job, you wont be any good because you're already good at this one thing" its a pretty damaging concept.

Hajime, at least in my mind, reads as someone desperate to make a name for himself, he's never been great at anything--just "good" just decent enough, he sees the propaganda that his society shows the younger generation all about how your interests aren't worth anything because you aren't good enough at it to be considered "Talented" you aren't the Ultimate so stop trying. He sees how unfair that is, to back regular people into a corner and constantly compare them to savants, not give them the time of day, not give them any opportunities and by god does he WANT that for himself. Like anyone.

Hajime is someone who thinks he deserves better because he's always worked for/earned it in some way (good grades, good at sports) and yet he's always overlooked in favor of those who are viewed as better than him.

And Hope's Peak prayed on that, on that inherant depression. That desperation and need to be someone greater because he had so much to give.

I just. Love this character, always have, always will, he was FAILED by society, and Hope's Peak be DAMNED for what they did to him

I FUCKING LOVE YOU HAJIME HINATA I love how the world he lives in and HPA enable all of his worse traits. Thinking about how he says this in his dream sequence in chapter 3:

Obsessed with the way he sort of lifts himself up and puts himself down at the same time. He deserves to be there—deserves to be someone bigger than who he is now. He gets good grades and does good in sports, but it's not enough. He's not worthwhile enough—not right now. He acts like he's important enough to deserve to go to Hope's Peak Academy, but given the "I just want to become someone who's confident in myself", you can also interpret that as him wanting to go to Hope's Peak to feel like he deserves it. Like he's trying to prove to himself that he really does deserve to stand among the talented like he's one of them

And like. Given how he talks about himself in Danganronpa 3 once he DOES get into Hope's Peak (calling himself a nobody, etc etc), it feels like his confidence gets a bit shaken once he's actually there around talented people. Doesn't help that everyone in the Reserve Course is MISERABLE and they all make each other miserable. They all share in that desperation to be more than themselves, but what sets Hajime apart is that he is SO desperate that he's willing to give up everything to get what he wants—what he feels like he deserves

What hurts the most about all of that is that. When you look at SDR2. And you see how Hajime is in that bubble. He is so loved. Not for his talent, or for what he can do for people, he's just....loved for himself. He's part of the class, even if he can't remember his talent, even if he ends up not having one at all. Maybe if he had been more appreciated before all that, this could have all been avoided. But also...maybe it was always meant to be that way. Maybe Hajime could have had 1,000 friends, but it still wouldn't have been enough. Maybe he would have always felt entitled to and desperate for more. It's interesting to dissect all of those layers. I love you Hajime Hinata

[steampunk-raven]

holy fucking shit :D

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[coquelicoq]

i fucking love prereading. getting documents about what's going to be discussed in a meeting and reading them and then going to the meeting and having context for all the things that are happening. if i could do this in all areas of life i would. send me a list of the words i'm going to need the definition of in order to understand what you will be talking about. give me a rundown of what topics might come up during this social encounter. provide detailed documentation of what to expect in a new setting. i will read the fuck out of that shit.