#their dynamic is the same but they just look like this

[kirammanswifey]

I gotta say you're one of my favourite writers as of late and I've been re reading all your work over and over again on my trips to college, like ot just scratches my brain so so wonderfully 😩😩

Would you be open to write them Arcane characters and fem!reader's sleeping arrangements? Like who cuddles who, who has matching pyjamas, who reads in bed

arcane characters' sleeping arrangements x fem reader

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

writer's note: i missed this so much, i haven't updated for a week, college is eating me alive, literally. hope you liked this dynamic, my favorite was ekko's, lately this man has snuck into my heart. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

The room is wrapped in a soft, relaxing atmosphere. The warm light from the desk lamp dimly illuminates the walls, and the sound of rain outside the window adds a layer of tranquility to the space. Viktor is by your side, and for a moment, you can see something few people ever have the privilege of seeing: his vulnerability.

It’s curious how, in his world full of inventions, calculations, and scientific advancements, there’s something so basic as the need for someone close to him that seems to overflow from the rigid facade he usually wears. You’re there, in bed, reading a book or simply listening to the rain when he suddenly drops his notebook next to him and turns toward you.

"It’s strange... I never imagined I could feel so... calm," he says softly, as if evaluating his own feelings. He, the man who has devoted his life to science, to logic, somehow can’t explain how your presence makes him feel something he’s never experienced before. You try not to show it, but the tone of his voice reaches your heart.

Little by little, he approaches, moving cautiously, as if every gesture were a meditation. He doesn’t make abrupt moves. His hands, usually cold from being surrounded by machinery, are now gentle when they touch the side of your arm. It’s a timid touch, almost as if he fears invading your space. But you understand, because you know that, inside, he still struggles to trust these simple, human moments.

"Is it alright if...?" He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he lets the silence ask everything. His eyes, somewhat tired but filled with a serenity only you can provoke, look at you with a mix of desire and fear. It’s a constant game of insecurity in his mind: Should he get closer? Would he make you uncomfortable if he does? But there’s no need for words between the two of you, just the silent language of gestures. You, as always, understand without explanations.

Without saying anything, you move toward him, allowing your body to communicate what words cannot. Viktor sighs in relief, his shoulders relaxing, and once he’s next to you, he settles in, making sure not to invade your personal space completely. His fingers, without thinking, search for your hands and gently interlace them, almost as if it were an automatic act.

"How can you be so close to me without...?" His words fade into the air as your eyes meet his. He doesn’t need to say more; you know he’s acknowledging what he’s never been able to admit: the fear of closeness. The fear of losing control, of losing you. But in that moment, the only thing that matters to him is being close to you.

"It’s just a touch, Viktor," you murmur, with a soft smile. Your tone is calm, without hurry, with the same tranquility he needs. And without thinking, he pulls you a little closer, letting the distance that has always existed between the two of you fade away. His breathing becomes slower, as if simply having you close gives him a sense of peace that nothing else has provided.

"I need you here," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as if the idea of having you near is an anchor for his constantly occupied mind, always worried about the next breakthrough, the next experiment. But not today. Today, he only needs you.

As you both settle into the bed, a light draft of cold air enters through the window, but Viktor, almost instinctively, makes sure the blanket covers both of you. In his eyes, there’s a sense of protection, of wanting to take care of you even without saying it. As he settles in, his fingers find your hair, caressing it gently, feeling the texture, as if each movement were a way to calm himself.

At first, he stays still, focused on the sound of your breathing, on how your body relaxes in his arms. But as the minutes pass, he begins to lose himself in the warmth of your closeness. His hand moves to your waist, seeking not just physical warmth, but a little emotional comfort as well. Those small gestures, which for him seem simple, carry much more weight: he’s letting you in.

"I never thought something so simple could mean so much," he says, almost in a whisper. It’s such a simple comment, but it’s laden with emotion. A moment when science and logic fade away, and all that remains is human connection, the bond that is built over time.

Minutes turn into hours. Viktor, finally, falls into a deep sleep, his body slightly tilted toward you. He had always been the one willing to give everything for the future, for Piltover, for science. But that night, the future doesn’t matter as much. What matters is what’s in front of him. And what’s in front of him is you, calmly resting in his arms.

When he wakes up, your eyes meet his, a slight blush on his cheeks. "Good morning," he says, as if this small act of waking up together were something incredibly grand. And, in a way, it is.

Jinx

The flickering light of the neon lamps gently trembles in the air as she, with her boundless energy, is in her world, completely immersed in whatever has caught her attention at that moment.

Sitting on the bed, Jinx shakes a strange object she just got, making "bang, bang" noises with her mouth while pointing it at the mirror, her reflection smiling back with that deranged grin you know so well. Suddenly, she throws you a defiant glance, as if challenging you to enter her chaotic world.

"Come on, aren't you going to say anything?! I'm a destruction machine, wooow!" She laughs hysterically, clearly enjoying the moment.

You, watching her, can't help but laugh too, though in a more calm way, feeling that mix of affection and concern for her. You know that behind that laugh and overflowing energy, there's something deeper, something that sometimes gets lost among the explosions of her inner chaos.

At first, you try to let her do her thing, but you know the night is already quite late, and Jinx is far from ready to sleep. The chaos continues to spread around her, and despite your desire to sleep, you know that if you don’t act, there will be no way for her to calm down. So you decide to approach.

"Hey, sweets," you say softly, your tone calm but firm. "Don’t you think it’s time to rest a bit?"

Jinx turns toward you, her eyes shining with excitement. "No, no! I’m not tired! I don’t need to sleep... Not until you find something as incredible as... this!" And in a burst, she jumps to the other side of the bed and starts spinning around like a child, throwing objects into the air.

You know you won’t convince her with words. You get up with a patient smile and quickly reach her. "You’ll have to put that down for a moment. I promise we’ll have all the fun you want tomorrow," you say, moving slowly to give her a gentle tap on the shoulder, trying to gain her attention in a softer way.

But Jinx doesn’t listen. She stops for a second, looks at you sideways, and throws another object, as if challenging your patience. "I don��t want tomorrow! I want everything to explode now!"

This is the moment when you know you need to be more than gentle. You approach her with a calm smile, but one full of determination, and take her hand. "Baby," you say, now looking directly into her eyes, "I know you like chaos, but you also need to rest. Would you like...?" You pause, the idea of calming both of you down seems almost unreal, but you know it's what she needs most. "If you cuddle here with me, maybe we could rest for a bit? Just a little while, so tomorrow you'll be full of energy for all your crazy ideas."

Jinx watches you for a moment, her eyes shining with something between doubt and curiosity. "You... with me?" The idea seems strange to her, but something in your soft tone makes her stop, her body relaxing for a second.

Without saying more, she slowly moves toward you, her energy suddenly calmed by your presence. "No... I’m not tired, but... I can try," she murmurs. It’s strange to see Jinx so vulnerable, her impulsive attitude and need for attention seemingly subdued for a moment.

You let her get closer, and the moment she settles by your side, you feel that overwhelming desire to take care of her. Jinx settles into the bed, seeking your closeness as if, in some way, your presence is her refuge. She quickly cuddles up to you, without thinking twice, searching for the warmth that, for some reason, only you can give her. The chaotic energy from before begins to slowly fade as she embraces you.

"Promise, okay?" she whispers, her voice softer now, a tone you haven’t heard all day. Jinx snuggles even closer, her head resting on your chest, searching for that peace she so desperately needs, even though she won’t admit it.

"Yes, promise," you respond, gently stroking her hair, feeling how her tension gradually dissipates. It’s curious how, amid all her chaos and madness, simply being there with her, the calm begins to emerge.

Jinx sighs, and in that moment, all the noise and explosions from her mind seem to fade away. Her breathing becomes slower, more relaxed. You have her there, in your arms, so vulnerable, so unique. This is the moment when the chaos shuts off, and only she remains, with you.

"You’re... weird," she murmurs as she settles against you, already almost asleep, but with a little smile on her face. "I never thought I’d sleep so peacefully... thanks," she adds, and for the first time, her words aren’t a joke. It’s a sincere thank you, even wrapped in that strange way Jinx knows how to be.

You stay there, stroking her hair, feeling how she gradually falls asleep.

Vi

Vi is not one of those people who can sleep immediately. No matter how tired she is, she always has something on her mind or at least something she wants to do before giving in.

You find yourself sitting on the bed, already in your pajamas, wearing one of Vi's old t-shirts and your black underwear, the ones Vi used to love. You have a book in your hands, and as you flip through the pages, you watch as Vi stays in "active mode," rummaging through the drawer of the nightstand. She's wearing a sleeveless shirt and dark shorts. She glances at you from the corner of her eye, noticing your calmness.

"Don’t you want to sleep or what?" Vi asks with that cheeky smile on her face. You know that for her, the concept of "relaxing" is still something she's trying to understand. But it makes you smile.

"Yeah, sure. I'm just reading for a bit before bed," you reply, not taking your eyes off the book.

Vi sits next to you on the bed, giving you a sideways glance before flopping onto the pillow. "Pfff, reading? You’re always so chill… I, on the other hand, am already dying of sleep... But… I don’t wanna sleep yet."

It’s then that she turns to face you, a slight grimace of discomfort crossing her face. "You know what I want? I want you to cuddle me," she says. And although her tone is playful, you can hear the genuine tiredness in her voice. You know that Vi has a steel personality, but even she can’t escape the embrace of calmness when she feels safe. And apparently, that safe place is with you.

Without thinking much, you smile and adjust yourself on the bed, opening your arms to welcome her. Vi doesn't waste a second, immediately nestling against your side with a satisfied smile. "I thought you didn’t want to sleep," you tease softly.

"Too much talk," she responds, resting her body against yours, her shoulders pressed against yours, her breath near your neck. "Just let me be here for a few minutes."

Vi rests her head on your chest, and you relax, feeling how she snuggles in closer. The touch of her skin against yours and the way she settles, fitting perfectly, makes everything feel comfortable and natural.

"You know what the best part of all this is?" she asks, her voice soft but with that playful spark that never leaves her. "Having you here next to me, with those panties that drive me crazy. Why are you so sexy, babe? It's not fair to my mental health." She chuckles, her fingers shamelessly tracing the lace of your underwear.

"You’re also too sexy, babe, sometimes way too much. Look at those abs, they’re like steel," you reply, gently touching her delicious and muscular abdomen as you look at her, realizing how easy it is to make her blush with something so simple.

Then, you take control of the moment and hold her a little tighter, enjoying the closeness and how her body gradually relaxes in your arms. Vi remains restless, but as the minutes pass, her movements become gentler. A couple of times, you hear her mumble something, but it’s nothing coherent, just sounds that let you know she’s falling into a state of relaxation, the one she rarely shows others.

"Hey, why don’t you stop moving?" you gently complain, although you know Vi is always like this, even when she's tired. But you make a small adjustment, settling her between your arms and whispering in her ear. "Relax. You’re safe here."

At first, Vi doesn’t know what to do with your words. But after a few seconds of silence, she responds in a calm, low tone. "Alright, alright. I’m here." And with that, her eyes slowly close.

It’s curious, because even in the simplest moments, Vi has her own way of relaxing, but it’s never like what you’d expect. She feels more comfortable when she's close to you, when she can be by your side without needing to always be alert. Slowly, her breathing becomes deeper and more relaxed.

In that moment, you start to notice that the book you had started reading no longer interests you. With a small sigh, you let Vi settle in your arms, and she falls asleep with a smile on her face. You watch her, gently stroking her hair, feeling that in her arms, though strong, there is a peace you hadn’t seen before.

Caitlyn

The night has fallen, and the hectic workday has finally come to an end. It's time to relax, and as always, you have your little nightly ritual with Caitlyn. After dinner, you both get up, stretching lightly after the meal, while Caitlyn gives you a look that clearly knows what's coming next.

"Shall we brush our teeth?" Caitlyn asks with a calm smile as she heads toward the bathroom. You follow her, leaving the table clean and quiet, the silence of the night surrounding you both.

In the bathroom, you both stand in front of the mirror. Caitlyn looks at you in her reflection, her hair still tied up in a soft ponytail. "I think I'm winning in speed," she says playfully, but you just smile while brushing your teeth. It's a simple moment, but one of those that becomes part of the everyday, like a small shared gesture of complicity.

After a few minutes, you finish brushing your teeth, and Caitlyn, always with a little more patience, takes her time.

When she finishes, Caitlyn opens her drawer carefully and pulls out matching pajamas: a cotton set, comfortable, in dark tones, but with small embroidered details, as if you'd chosen it especially for her. You look at it, smiling to yourself.

"Another night with matching pajamas, huh?" you say as you put yours on, and Caitlyn can't help but laugh.

"I know, I know," Caitlyn responds, with that soft but amused look. "It's kind of silly, but I like it. It's our tradition."

It's a simple gesture, but it carries a deep meaning: amid all the problems that surround both of you, finding these small moments together is what truly makes it all worthwhile. Caitlyn gives you a knowing look as she watches you finish putting on your pajamas, a kind of silent challenge to see who fits the set better. She always teases you a little because she knows how much you enjoy seeing her in these quiet moments, and how well she looks in the set.

You both finish getting dressed and head to the bed, the silence being replaced by a shared calm. Caitlyn slides under the covers, settling carefully, but as always, she looks at you first, waiting for you to take the initiative.

"You know," Caitlyn murmurs, turning to look at you, "the usual. I think that position is the best for sleeping." Her tone is low, with a slight smile.

Without saying another word, you position yourself behind her, wrapping a strong arm around her, the small curve of her body against yours. Sometimes, it feels like the whole world disappears when you embrace her, when the warmth of her body mixes with yours. Caitlyn curls up between your arms, knowing exactly how to position herself so that the feeling of safety is mutual.

"It's a good way to end the day," Caitlyn whispers, settling into your embrace as her hands lightly grasp yours, seeking the physical contact that she knows calms her. You love how she lets go in these moments, leaving behind the strong and determined woman who can handle anything, and becoming that person who, at the end of the day, just needs the comfort of your arms to feel good.

Your arm wraps around her waist firmly, while you, being the dominant one in this moment, hold her protectively, your body aligned behind hers, letting her hair fall softly over your chest. "I’ve got you," you say quietly, almost like a whisper, and Caitlyn responds with a soft sigh, letting go completely in your arms. In that instant, it's as if the world shrinks down to just the two of you, to that embrace which is the only thing that matters at that moment.

Caitlyn turns her head slightly, seeking your lips to steal a gentle kiss, while your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, as if you wanted to make sure that, for once, everything is right. "I love you," she whispers against your lips, with a tone more vulnerable than the whole day.

You both remain silent for a few minutes, just the sound of shared breathing in the room. Those moments of tranquility are worth more than anything.

Jayce

The night slowly falls over Piltover, and after a long day of work, Jayce finally arrives home, a slight furrow on his brow. He's always thinking about the next project, the next invention, or the last tweak to his latest creation, and the idea of resting seems to be the last thing on his mind. But this time, there’s something different, something that makes his step slower as he arrives home: you.

You, in your comfortable pajamas, waiting for him with a cup of tea in your hands and a couple of blankets on the bed. The simple act of seeing you seems to disarm him. "Today was... long," he says with a tired smile, removing his work cape, revealing what looks like his more comfortable clothes for the night: a simple cotton T-shirt and long pants. But despite his fatigue, his eyes meet yours, and a long sigh escapes his chest.

"I can tell," you respond with a gentle smile, welcoming him. You know that Jayce is someone who doesn’t know how to completely relax, and that gives you a little challenge every night.

After a day filled with ideas and thoughts, Jayce approaches you and sits on the bed. "You know how to make work feel less heavy," he comments, looking at your cup of tea, always one of your quick fixes to calm him down.

With a touch of tenderness, you offer him the cup. "This will help," you say, noticing how his shoulders drop slightly when he takes the first sip. "I promise. Tonight, you rest, love."

He looks at you for a moment, skeptical, but can’t help but smile at how warm your smile is. He finally gives in and lays down. As you watch him, you know Jayce is always the first to want to take control, but in this space, it’s your turn to guide him.

When Jayce comes out of the shower, he lies down next to you on the bed. He feels a bit more relaxed, but you can still see that his mind is running at full speed. You know this is the perfect moment to make him truly unwind.

"Would you like me to read something for you?" you ask softly, with a look full of tenderness. Even though he doesn’t say it directly, you know that sometimes Jayce just needs to disconnect and be carried away by a peaceful story, something to take him away from the constant pressure of innovation.

"You know, you make me feel like a kid?" he replies with a playful smile, but his tone is softer than usual, as if he really appreciates the gesture. "But, yes. I’d like that."

You settle beside him, opening the book you always keep on hand for these moments. It’s nothing too elaborate, just a light novel you know helps him disconnect. As you read aloud, Jayce settles into the pillow, eyes closed, listening to your voice. Occasionally, he looks at you, but his eyes aren’t as full of tension as before. In fact, he feels lighter, more at ease.

When you finish reading the chapter, you know it’s time to take the next step. Jayce is always a bit reluctant to the idea of sleeping, because he feels there’s always more to do, but you don’t let him go. "Now, relax. You’re fine," you tell him as you curl up behind him.

Jayce turns toward you, and at that moment, without planning it, you position yourself next to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You adjust yourself so that he’s leaning against your chest while you wrap a strong arm around his torso protectively. He’s a bit surprised, but doesn’t say anything, letting the contact envelop him with a warmth that, for the first time all day, makes him feel like he doesn’t have to be in control.

"Is this okay?" you ask, your voice low and calm, as you gently caress his back, making sure he’s comfortable.

"Yes... It’s... perfect," he whispers, finally relaxing. It’s not something he says often, but you know that, in these moments, he really lets go. You continue to softly stroke his back, letting him stay in your arms, relieved by your presence.

Jayce falls asleep quickly, without trying to escape your embrace. His breaths are soft and deep, and for the first time, he seems to find some peace. You, however, stay awake a little longer, watching how his face, so full of determination during the day, is now serene in your arms.

Ekko

Ekko curls up on his side of the bed, but he's not ready to sleep. You know he has an energy that doesn't turn off easily, and as always, you're about to see that playful side of him.

"Did you know we're supposed to be sleeping now? We've got important stuff to handle tomorrow," you say, settling between the sheets, but glancing at him, hoping he'll relax.

Ekko, always with a mischievous smile, gives you a playful, challenging look from his side of the bed. "Sleep? Nah, I thought you were staying awake with me for a bit," he says, quickly reaching over to your pillow and tapping you with it.

"What are you doing?" you ask, laughing, knowing this can only end one way: a little pillow fight.

"Nothing, just seeing if you have a good defense," Ekko shrugs, giving you a teasing look before lifting himself slightly off his bed, ready to continue his attack.

Before you can react, Ekko taps you on the head with the pillow, and you can't help but let out an incredulous laugh. "Hey!" you protest, diving toward him with your own pillow in hand. The air fills with laughter and the sound of pillows hitting everything in their path.

"That's not fair!" you exclaim while trying to defend yourself, but Ekko is agile, always anticipating your moves. Somehow, he dodges your strike, and with a cheeky smile, taps you on the shoulder.

"Ah, I'm done being the good guy!" he says with a playful tone, getting up to attack you once again, but this time, he slides behind you with a move that leaves you unable to do anything.

"No!" you laugh as you try to turn around, but as always, Ekko outplays you. With one last pillow strike, the battle ends with both of you laughing, messy in the bed, the air filled with the fun energy he always brings.

For a moment, everything goes silent, both of you breathing heavily. Ekko, however, can't help but let out a satisfied laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Never underestimate my skills," he says, settling more comfortably on the pillow and stretching a little. But now, his tone has shifted to something softer, more relaxed, like that little burst of energy was what he needed to truly unwind.

"Please, I was about to beat you. You're out of your league," you respond with a mischievous smile, getting comfortable again in the bed.

But before you can say anything more, Ekko gives you a tender look, and with a gentle impulse, he pulls you into his arms, wrapping you in a hug with a more peaceful smile. "That was fun, huh?" he asks, and in his voice, you can hear the more relaxed tone that makes you smile.

You, feeling the softness of his embrace, can't help but laugh again. "I'll admit it, I had fun. But you won't beat me so easily next time. You caught me off guard, that was practically cheating."

"Are you done crying?" he jokes with a sideways smile.

But before you can say anything, Ekko has another mischievous idea in mind. In the blink of an eye, his fingers are at your side, giving you a little poke with the tips of his fingers. It's nothing you couldn't have anticipated.

"No, no, no!" you shout, laughing, but it's too late. Ekko has already started tickling your stomach, a quick move that makes you squirm and laugh with all your might. "Ekko, stop! I swear I'll kill you!"

But he doesn't relent, knowing exactly where your weak spots are. "What, have you already surrendered?" he says, enjoying every laugh that escapes your lips. Your hands try to push his away, but you can't stop laughing in the silliest way, a mix of fun and surprise.

"I can't... stop... laughing!" you manage to say between gasps of laughter.

After a few seconds, he finally stops, seeing how comical you look with your red face and flushed cheeks from all the laughter.

"See? You can't beat me at anything," he says, smiling as if he's won the battle, even though both of you know that, in reality, no one is winning or losing.

"I hate you!" you say between laughs, but the tone is entirely playful, with no malice. And when you try to catch your breath, his fingers finally move away from your stomach, and his hands fall softly to your sides.

The mood shifts quickly, and the laughter fades into a sigh. Ekko, still smiling, settles closer to you, his eyes now softer, less playful, and much more affectionate.

"Admit I'm better than you," he says, though it's clear he enjoys the way you've given yourself to the moment.

"Never," you reply with a smile, unable to stop looking at him, feeling how the warmth between you both grows even more.

In a calm movement, Ekko slowly leans in, bringing his face closer to yours. His eyes, always so full of energy, now shine with an unexpected sweetness. No words are needed; you both feel what's about to happen. And before you can say anything, he kisses you, gently, in a slow way that takes you by surprise.

It's a soft kiss, full of affection, as if he's saying that the good things in life are these little shared moments, like this one, without any worries. The kiss is brief, but enough for all the noise of the pillow fight to fade, leaving only a peaceful hum between you two.

When you finally pull apart, both of you lie in silence for a moment, feeling how the warmth of Ekko's closeness wraps around you. He looks at you with tenderness, and you respond with a relaxed smile, as if, in this moment, the whole world could wait.

"You need to improve your techniques, babe, I'm getting tired of winning all the time," he whispers, and his words make you laugh softly, because you know that, in that instant, the only thing that matters is that you're together, sharing something beyond jokes and tickling.

Finally, you settle back into the bed, and Ekko snuggles up next to you, wrapping his arm around your waist. Legs intertwined, you both feel calmer, safer. The space between you is no longer filled with laughter or games, but with a comfortable, comforting peace. Your breaths sync as sleep begins to approach, but not before exchanging one last look, one that says more than words ever could.

"Good night, loser," Ekko says with a playful grin.

"Good night, cheater," you reply, gently stroking his arm, while you both stay there, surrounded by the warmth that only comes from being with someone you truly understand.

Silco

The candlelight flickers gently in the room, illuminating the hard contours of Silco as he settles into the armchair near the bed. The atmosphere is thick with the kind of tension that only exists between two people who share something complicated, yet, at the same time, seek comfort in each other's presence. The room is silent, almost as if the outside world doesn't matter in this moment.

Silco, with his cold, calculating gaze, watches you from the corner of his eye as you prepare for bed, moving through the room with a calmness that, though peaceful, carries an enveloping energy. He doesn't speak much, but his presence is intense.

"You're not going to sleep?" you ask softly, slipping into your pajamas with a curious gesture. Silco isn't known for his ease in relaxing, and you've noticed that he often needs a push to let go of his constant vigilance.

Silco, without looking away, replies in his low, gravelly voice, "Don't you know I'm not one for sleep?" It's a typical comment from him, one that, in other moments, you would have taken as a barrier. But this time, there's something more. Something that draws you closer.

"I know, but we all need rest, even you," you say as you approach the bed. Without waiting any longer, you lie down on the mattress, feeling the softness of the sheets around you. Despite Silco's distant demeanor, you know he's watching every move you make. There's something in his gaze that says he can't help but care, even if he doesn't voice it.

After a few moments, he rises from his chair and steps toward you, his movements deliberate but slower, as though he's weighing each step. The air becomes a bit heavier, yet more comfortable.

"I don't need rest," he says, but his voice is less firm now. It's almost as if he's speaking more to convince himself than to you.

You look at him, noticing the small gestures that betray him. The way his eyes, usually so cold, soften when he looks at you. He looks like a puppy asking for affection. You decide to take the initiative, sitting up a little to move closer to him. At this moment, it doesn't feel like a power struggle, but more like an invitation to something more personal.

"You and I both know that's not true," you murmur, offering him a calm, almost reassuring smile.

He doesn't respond immediately but takes a step toward you. For a second, the silence between you both seems heavier, and for an instant, you think he might pull away. But instead, he takes hold of your wrist with a firm, yet gentle hand. His fingers close softly around your skin, as if it's the only way he knows how to communicate.

"I don't need you to take care of me," he says, though his tone isn't as certain.

But you don't pull away. "I never said you would. But I want to," you respond, and in that moment, you can see his expression soften, even if only for a brief second. Silco isn't someone used to receiving this kind of affection, yet here he is, allowing you to touch him.

He sits on the bed beside you, saying no more, but there's a sense of understanding between you. As if the simple act of both of you being in the same room, together, was enough to create a deeper connection. Somehow, neither of you need words to understand that something more exists between you two, something that even he can't deny.

Finally, he lies beside you, but not in the way you might expect from someone who usually keeps their distance. His posture is stiff, but close, his body aligned with yours, even though his eyes remain alert, as if waiting for something to happen.

Then, without thinking too much, you move closer and wrap your arms around him, hugging him protectively. Silco seems surprised for a moment, but doesn't pull away. Instead, there's a moment where his breathing slows, becomes more measured, and you can feel his body, so tense inside, begin to relax. His nose buries into your hair, inhaling your sweet fragrance.

"I'm not going to let you face the world alone," you whisper, and Silco, despite himself, doesn't reply, but his hand rests gently on your back, as if letting the calmness finally take over him.

After a few seconds, his lips brush your forehead in a gesture so soft it surprises you. "You're foolish," he says, but there's no malice in his voice. Just a quiet acceptance of what's happening between the two of you.

You settle down beside him, and his hands wrap around your waist in a nearly protective manner, as if wanting to pull you even closer. At this moment, Silco, the man who’s always preferred to maintain distance, doesn’t need anything more than this simple gesture of closeness.

"Good night," you murmur softly, holding him just a little tighter.

"Good night," he replies, his voice gentler, before falling into silence. You both lie there, intertwined in the darkness, needing no more words. The world outside can wait; in this moment, it's just the two of you.

Mel

Mel sits on the bed, her back straight but her shoulders relaxed as she watches you prepare for the end of the day.

The day has been long, but now that you're together, everything seems to slow down, as if only this small space of peace exists. The sound of the wind seeps through the slightly open window, and for a moment, Mel allows herself to rest, away from the demands of the outside world.

"I owe you an apology," she says softly, as her fingers glide through her curly, voluminous hair, slightly messy from the day. "I had no idea how much being distant from all this was affecting you." Mel hasn't slept at home for days; she's been too busy with work and hadn't spent too much time with you lately.

The look in her eyes reflects a mix of vulnerability and gratitude, and even though Mel doesn't express it aloud, you know she's grateful for your presence. You know this is an important moment for her.

"Don't worry about that now. This is a good time to relax," you reply, smiling softly as you move closer to her. With a smile, Mel lets herself fall back onto the pillow, closing her eyes as if she can finally let go of that constant perfection she always maintains.

You sit next to her, silently taking a wide-toothed comb from the nearby table, specialized for curly hair. Mel stays still, trusting you completely as you take a strand of her thick, tightly curled hair. You begin to gently untangle it, careful not to damage her curls, every movement meticulous, an act of love and patience. The sound of small pulls is soft, and you can see how Mel closes her eyes in response to the touch.

"I'll never get tired of this," she murmurs, her tone relaxed as you let the comb pass slowly through the curls that, though naturally voluminous, are soft to the touch. Each strand seems to move with a life of its own, and the scent of her shampoo mixes with the calm of the atmosphere.

With each step, the tangles and knots unravel, and Mel seems to sink deeper into the tranquility of your movements, her breathing becoming slower and more relaxed. After a few minutes, her hair is completely free of knots, and you can see how her mane takes on its natural form, falling into thick, perfectly defined curls that cascade down her back softly.

"I love how you make me feel," she confesses quietly, turning her head toward you, her eyes shining with warmth that she doesn't always show the world.

"It's my pleasure, Miss Medarda," you reply, giving her a sincere smile as you continue brushing her hair. The intimacy of the situation doesn't escape you; it's not just a beauty ritual, but a gesture that shows how much she trusts you.

Once you're done brushing her hair, you take a scented cream from the table. With delicate hands, you begin to apply it to her shoulders, rubbing gently to relax each tense muscle. The sweet, floral scent of the cream mixes with the room's atmosphere, wrapping the space in a sense of warmth and softness. As you work, Mel's skin becomes even softer, and you feel the tension in her body start to dissipate.

"This is so perfect. I don't know what I'd do without you, without your magic hands," Mel whispers, letting out a low laugh, almost as if she's discovering the peace that only you can give her.

"You don't have to worry, neither I nor my magic hands are going anywhere," you reply gently, enjoying the moment. Mel's closeness, her trust in you, makes you feel like you're part of something deeply intimate.

Once you're finished with the cream, Mel settles back into the bed, and you follow, slipping under the sheets with her. The room remains enveloped in silence, but now there's a sense of comfort surrounding you. Mel snuggles next to you, her head resting on your chest as she settles into your arms.

"Thank you for all of this," she says softly, as if it's a whisper just for you. "Today was a long day, but with you, it feels much shorter."

"It's the least I can do," you reply, holding her a little tighter, seeking the warmth of her body. You both settle in the bed, with Mel wrapping her arm around your torso. You feel how her breathing becomes slower and deeper, as if she's letting go of all the weight she carries on her shoulders.

Sevika

The room was dimly lit, with the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. The cool air in the room wasn’t enough to counter the heat radiating from Sevika. You found yourself tangled up with her, your naked bodies under the same blanket, but somehow, the quilt always ended up on Sevika's side, leaving you exposed to the cold air.

It was a routine that repeated itself. Sometimes, her carelessness when it came to sleeping made you smile, but this time, the cold started to seep into your bones. The breeze caressed your skin, and you curled up more, searching for warmth. But Sevika, unaware of your discomfort, stayed pressed to her side of the bed, invading your space with her large body.

As the minutes passed, the warmth of her skin became overwhelming. The weight of her body on top of yours, though pleasant, started to become too much, leaving little room to breathe. Her deep and steady breathing lulled you, but gradually, you realized the air was getting thicker and you were running out of space.

"Babe..." you murmured softly, trying to move her arm that was resting over you. She didn’t respond. "You're covering me completely... I can't breathe."

The only movement she made was a low sigh. She didn’t seem aware of how much she was crushing you. You raised your voice a little more, with a hint of complaint in your tone, pushing her shoulder.

"Sevika... seriously, you're suffocating me," you protested, trying unsuccessfully to push her away.

Finally, Sevika stretched and mumbled something incomprehensible in her sleep. The quilt had completely disappeared to her side, and you were trapped, frozen in the middle of the bed. Frustrated and with desire building up, you decided to push her more firmly.

Sevika finally woke up, her large body lifting slightly as her gaze focused on you. The spark in her eyes ignited instantly, and she moved toward you with a sideways grin that made it clear she had already noticed your discomfort.

"What's wrong? Complaining about something else, little one?" Her voice was low and rough, laced with a touch of teasing, but also something more.

You felt her body slowly slide toward you, as if she somehow knew exactly how to get you back under her control. Without much you could do to stop it, Sevika moved over you, her body perfectly fitting against yours, pressing you gently into the bed. The sensation was... contradictory, both uncomfortable and delicious.

"Does it bother you that I’m getting this close?" she murmured, her face so close to yours that you could feel her warm breath.

The weight of her body covered you completely, leaving you breathless and immobile. For a moment, all you could do was look at her, noticing the way her eyes sparkled with a glint of provocation.

"What are you going to do about it?" Her voice became a seductive whisper as one of her arms wrapped around you, pinning you in place.

Her size was imposing, but instead of overwhelming you, there was a sense of protection in her proximity. Even though you knew she was dominating you, you also felt an invisible connection between you both, a spark that intensified the desire to be closer, to explore that space you had created together.

Sevika tilted her head toward you, her breathing faster. However, she didn’t rush. Her gaze was fixed on yours, intense and confident, knowing she had you under her control but also savoring the tension you both had built.

"Are you tired of me kissing you every time you complain?" she asked with a teasing smile before slowly lowering herself to your lips.

The brush of her lips against yours was soft, almost as if she were testing you, but the desire between you both became undeniable. The intensity of her kiss grew as you clung to her, feeling her body surround you, confident and firm, but at the same time, incredibly tender.

As the kiss deepened, Sevika pulled back slightly, but her gaze never lost its intensity, direct and unwavering, as if she were exposing parts of you she had never seen before.

Finally, the cold seemed to vanish under the weight of her body, the heat of her presence filling you and burning under your skin. The blankets that had bothered you no longer mattered. The air seemed enough as the two of you submerged into the warmth of the night and each other's embrace, still carrying the lingering challenge between you both.

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Eleven

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series masterlist

Charles wasn't jealous the first time you spoke to Max. But he had been waiting patiently for his turn. You were expressive, more now that you didn't have a muzzle. Watching you grow, come out of your shell, had been amazing. You were smiling at your fellow drivers, making an effort. 

All Charles wanted from you after that was to speak. He wasn't going to push you. That was the absolute last thing he wanted. He could picture it now, pushing you too far and having you retreat into yourself. 

Inviting you to Monaco wasn't about getting you to speak. It had been a bad race, and you needed this. At least, he thought you did. You had been having fun on the jet, giggling against Max's side as he got a little drunk. 

That was why Charles had driven the three of you back to their building. Dropping your handler off at some random hotel in Monaco (Charles was paying for the room) was the absolute highlight of his day. 

You willingly went wherever they took you. Trust Max and Charles had earned. As soon as you followed Charles inside, your eyes were wide with wonder as you took everything in. You missed the way he pulled Max close for the first time in days and kissed him, licking the taste of his early morning Red Bull from his lips. Disgusting stuff, but Charles would happily taste it from Max. 

When he started playing the piano, you began to dance. Charles watched your outline in the reflection of the polished wood. It was as if you didn't even know you were doing it, swaying gently. He couldn't see the way your eyes were beginning to fall shut, letting the music take hold. 

But then Max shouted. "Shut up, Charlie!" 

And Charles obeyed, stopping his playing. You stopped too, the look of disappointment on your features not going unnoticed. Charles didn't expect you to surge forward, though. He didn't expect you to join him by the piano, looking ready to play. 

"I liked it." 

Three little words. The three sweetest words Charles had ever heard. 

You wanted him to play more, so he did. His fingers began dancing across the keys, a tune filling his Monaco apartment. 

You stood from the bench and let yourself dance. No small movements, doing whatever your body told you. You moved to the music, enjoying every moment of it.

Leaving his crushed can of red bull on the counter, Max strode towards you. He took your hand, interrupting your dancing, and moved you around. He spun you and twirled you and everything else, moving with you. 

You were far more elegant than her, your every movement natural compared to his. This was what you were meant to he doing, Charles realised. 

He played until you stopped dancing, until you sat down, chest rising and falling and your arm resting on your stomach. Max's smile was wide as he sat beside you, arm around the back of the sofa. "Happy?" He asked a little breathlessly. 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from moving closer. That was so much fun, and you didn't know how to express it. Wrapping your arms around him, you laid your head on his chest and looked up into his pretty eyes.

Why couldn't a team have three drivers? You, Max and Charles in the same garage, spending free moments before racing together. Or Max and Charles on the same team while you watched the both of them. Yeah, that felt right. Not part of the action, but able to watch it. 

Who would you be, though? You wouldn't be a driver, you'd be something else entirely. You weren't sure what, but you would be happy. 

Charles watched the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, content to just sit there. You didn't steal a kiss, didn't do anything but lay against him. 

A groan left Max's lips as he looked towards the clock. "I should head to my place," he muttered, sounding as if he didn't really want to leave. 

You whined, your hands slipping down to his chest. You held his shirt, looking moments away from climbing into his lap. "Sorry, Birdy," he whispered and pouted at you. "But I gotta get on stream." But then he smiled and you realised he was mocking you. He wasn't being nasty, you knew immediately. 

Charles stood up. He walked across the room and laid his warm hand on your shoulder. "Come on, Birdy Girl," he said and pulled you to his feet. "We can walk him to the door." 

You trudged through the apartment, following Max and Charles to the door. He didn't have to come here, you reminded yourself. He did this to spend time with you and Charles. 

"Should we take our girl out tomorrow?" Charles asked as he stood behind you, both hands on your shoulders. 

They both looked down at you, as if waiting for you to say something. You didn't have to, you knew. This whole talking thing would take some getting used to. 

Finally, Charles looked away from you. He released a hum and Max met his gaze. 

For a moment, they stared at each other. Could they take it any further with you between them. There was no telling how you would react, pressed between them while...

But what if your reaction wasn't bad? What if you liked it?

Charles made the first move. He leaned over you and pressed a kiss to Max's lips. It was short and sweet and gentle, but whine was still pulled from your lips. 

Max grinned as he looked down at you. "You want some, Birdy?" He asked. 

Swallowing, you nodded. 

That was the first time you kissed Max Verstappen. He moved slowly, almost as if you were a spooked animal. His blue eyes searched your face, looking for any reason to stop. But your eyes were pleading, desperate.

His hands cradled your face, held your cheeks. You didn't bite him, didn't make any move like you felt threatened. He leaned in and you held your breath. 

Close enough to touch, but still holding back. "You ready, Birdy?" He whispered and you nodded. 

He kissed you, pressed his freckled lips against your own. A squeak left your lips, entire body tensing. You didn't know what to do, how to move with him. But Max was slow and gentle, every movement encouraging you. 

When you finally kissed back, his whole world lit up. 

He pulled away and you chased after him, already missing the feeling of his lips against your own. "Good Birdy," he whispered and let go of you. 

Your first kiss and it was with Max Verstappen.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, but Charles pulled you into his side. "Don't worry, Birdy Girl," he whispered and kissed the top of your head. "We'll see him tomorrow." 

Max picked up his bags. He started towards the door, leaving the two of you behind. 

"No!" 

You ran forward and wrapped your arms around him. "You can't go," you whispered, pressing your forehead against his back. You squeezed your arms around him, Max's fingers resting over yours. 

A sigh left Charles's lips. He wasn't annoyed, not in the slightest. You were damn adorable, with no control over your emotions. Too sweet for your own good. 

"Would you like to stay the night, Max?”

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[player042]

HER SUN, HIS MOON | kang dae-ho.

pairing: kang dae-ho (player 388) x reader

summary: opposites attract, they say, but absolutely no one could prepare you for the impact dae-ho would have in your life. requested here.

warning: pre squid game au, grumpy x sunshine dynamics, reader has personality similar to sae-byeok's, kinda colleagues to friends to lovers, heart-melting dae-ho being utterly smitten and protective, mention of fighting and blood, prepare for banter and love that feels like the perfect balance, and please enjoy ♥️

word count: 3.7k

Dae-ho and you were written in the stars. Not in words, but through a bond that neither time nor reason could break. As if the universe itself had signed a soul contract on your behalf, interlinking the two of you forever, one bright as the sun, the other dark as the night. Because you could think of no other explanation for how you and Dae-ho had found your way to each other.

For he and you were opposites in every conceivable way. He was golden hours spent laughing, and you were the quiet serenity of midnight. He was the light on a summer day, you were the shadow on a winter night. He was a golden retriever, bounding through life with enthusiasm and a need to love and be loved, while you were the black cat, aloof and deliberate, your affection hard-earned and fiercely given. He was the proverbial sunshine boyfriend, and you? The grumpy girlfriend, even if you'd never admit it aloud.

You still remembered the early days before you were together. Back then, you had avoided entanglements, thinking emotions were too unpredictable, too messy. Dae-ho, on the other hand, had been nothing but heart, an open book that practically had shouted his feelings with every glance, every action. Easygoing. Flirty. Compassionate. Gentle. Funny. Supportive. That's how he'd always been. You had worked at the same bookstore café as part-timers, making money on the side while studying at uni, and he had been the kind of coworker who brought in homemade snacks to share, who remembered the regulars' orders, who lit up every corner of the room just by being there

And you? You had preferred the quiet. You'd worked the closing shift to avoid the chaos, stocked the shelves in peace, and only spoke when absolutely necessary. Yet somehow, Dae-ho had decided you were his favorite person in the room.

Work had been slow that day, the kind of lazy afternoon where time seemed to drag. You had been in the back, sorting through new stock, when Dae-ho had appeared like a whirlwind of energy. As usual, he had brought his sunshine into the room, whistling a tune as he had sauntered over to where you had been crouched on the floor.

"Need a hand?" he asked, grinning as he leaned casually against the shelf. His eyes sparkled with that familiar mischievous glint that always made you wary.

"No," you said simply, focusing on the stack of books in front of you. "I'm fine."

"That's debatable," he replied, crouching down next to you. "You've been glaring at those books like they owe you money. Which, knowing you, isn't completely impossible."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "They're disorganized. It's irritating."

"I think you mean it's irresistible," he corrected, emphasizing the word as he tilted his head to get a better look at your face. "Because you're clearly putting all your energy into ignoring the most charming guy in the room."

You'd turned to him then, giving him a flat look. "Charming? You?"

His hand went to his chest, mock offense lighting up his features. "Ouch. That hurts. Right here." He tapped his heart, then flashed you an exaggerated pout. "You wound me."

"Good," you shot back, turning back to the books. "Maybe it'll teach you some humility."

He let out a soft laugh, his voice dipping lower. "Nah, I think I'll keep my ego intact, thanks. It's my best feature. Or… is it my smile? You've been staring at it a lot lately, so maybe I should ask you."

Your fingers froze on the book in your hand, and you felt heat creep up your neck. Damn him. He always knew exactly how to get under your skin, and worse, he lived for it.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you said smoothly, though your face betrayed you with the faintest hint of pink in your cheeks.

"Oh, come on," he teased, leaning in closer. "Don't play coy with me. I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention."

You turned to glare at him, which only made him grin wider. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" His voice was soft now, his gaze steady as he inched just a bit closer. "Because I'd bet my entire paycheck that you're thinking about how good I'd look kissing you right now."

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat at his boldness. But you weren't going to give him the satisfaction. "That's a terrible bet," you deadpanned with your best pokerface, setting the book aside. "You don't even make that much."

His laughter echoed in the small space, rich and full of delight. "See? That's exactly why you're my favorite."

"You're annoying," you retorted, standing up and dusting off your jeans.

"And yet, you keep me around." He stood as well, towering over you slightly. His boyish grin softened into something more genuine, his eyes lingering on yours. "Admit it, you'd miss me if I wasn't here."

You had rolled your eyes, "You wish."

"I do," he remarked, "And you love it," he winked at you before strolling off, whistling that same tune as before.

And damn it, you did love it.

No one understood it back then. This thing you two had. They still didn't understand. How could someone so effervescent, so outwardly bright, have chosen someone so reserved, so calculated? How could two people so different orbit each other with such ease? But honestly, they didn't need to understand. It was him and you that counted. Two sides of the same coin, perfectly balanced in your differences, inseparable in ways that defied explanation. 

And so, it began, this undefined connection between you. Gradually, you found yourselves spending more and more time together. Dinners after work became a casual routine, and weekends often led to shared nights out at bars.

On one particular Saturday night, the bar you went to was packed; the air buzzing with laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of a jukebox in the corner. It was one of those rare nights where you let yourself relax, even though relaxing wasn't exactly your forte. Of course, it helped that Dae-ho was there, his larger-than-life presence somehow managing to make you forget how crowded and loud the place was.

You were sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, while Dae-ho leaned against the counter beside you, a mischievous grin perpetually plastered on his face. He was in rare form all evening, tossing out jokes and one-liners, testing just how far he could push your usual stoic demeanor.

"Come on," he teased, nudging your arm gently. "I know, you're having fun. You're smiling. At least on the inside."

You shot him a sidelong glance, unimpressed. "I don't smile."

"Not true," he countered, wagging a finger at you. "You smiled that one time when I tripped on the stairs."

"That wasn't a smile," you clarified with absolutely no emotion in your face, "That was schadenfreude."

"Call it whatever you want," he replied with a wink. "It still counts."

Your lips twitched slightly at that, betraying a flicker of amusement you tried to hide. Of course, Dae-ho noticed instantly, pointing at you triumphantly.

"Aww, I'm growing on you."

"Like mold," you muttered, taking another sip of your drink to mask your expression.

Undeterred, he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "You know, I've been told I have a certain… effect on people. Charm, charisma, devastating good looks, take your pick."

"Is that what your sisters told you?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His grin widened. "Ah, there's the sharp tongue I love. Keep it coming, baby."

"Stop calling me that," you grumbled, even as your stomach flipped at the nickname.

As the evening went on, the two of you fell into a rhythm of teasing and banter, your words volleying back and forth like it was second nature. The bustling crowd and occasional jostle of bodies around you became background noise as your attention fixated on each other. What you did notice, however, was how close he's got. His shoulder brushed yours, his warm breath tickling your ear as he spoke in that low, teasing tone.

"So," he said casually, his eyes gleaming with mischief, "how long are you going to keep pretending you don't like me?"

You snorted, leaning back slightly in an attempt to create some distance, not that it helped. "What makes you think I like you?"

"Your complete inability to look me in the eye when I do this," he explained, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture had been so smooth, so effortlessly intimate, it left you momentarily speechless.

"Is your ego always this big, or is it just me?" you managed to ask, though your voice had sounded weaker than you intended.

"Just you," he replied, his grin softening into something more genuine. "You bring out the best in me, moonbeam."

Before you could formulate a snappy retort, a commotion erupted behind you. Raised voices and curses cut through the background noise, drawing your attention to a group of men arguing near a table. One of them shoved another, and you instinctively tensed.

"Dae-ho," you hissed, elbowing him. "Something's happening."

"Huh?" He blinked, finally tearing his gaze away from you to glance in the direction of the chaos. "Oh. Looks like a fight."

"Yeah, thanks, Sherlock," you muttered, standing up as the tension escalated. One of the men pulled out a knife, waving it threateningly.

"Let's just get out of here," you grabbed Dae-ho's arm. But before you could pull him away, the fight spilled dangerously close to the bar.

Everything that happened next was a blur. The man with the knife lunged forward, clearly aiming for his opponent, but the latter ducked, and somehow, Dae-ho, who inexplicably stepped forward, took the hit instead.

"Shit!" you yelled, catching him as he stumbled back. The knife had grazed his side, leaving a shallow but nasty wound. Blood seeped through his shirt, and panic had gripped you.

"Dae-ho!" you exclaimed, your hands gripping his shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?"

He winced, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the pain. "Guess I wasn't."

"No kidding," you snapped, grabbing a napkin from the bar to press against his wound. "Who gets stabbed because they're too busy flirting?"

"Is that… your way of admitting I'm hard to resist?" he asked, his voice strained but still tinged with humor.

You glared at him, though your heart was racing for entirely different reasons. "Shut up and sit down. You're bleeding."

"I've had worse," he said, but he sank obediently into a nearby chair, his hand covering yours as you applied pressure to his wound. "Besides, I couldn't let anything happen to you."

"I was fine," you muttered through gritted teeth. "You're the one who almost got killed because you can't stop playing knight in shining armor."

"Be honest," he said with a weak chuckle. "You'd really miss me if I wasn't around."

You froze at his words, remembering the last time, he's said them, your breath hitching. But this time, the thought of losing him, wasn't so far away. Momentarily, the noise of the bar faded, replaced by the sound of your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Don't be stupid," you said softly.

"I knew it! I do have an effect on you," he grinned triumphantly, "I'll take my victory now, thanks." 

You rolled your eyes, but the faint tremble in your hands gave you away. "Just… try not to die, okay?"

His grin widened, despite the pain etched across his face. "If it means seeing you worried about me? Worth it."

As much as you wanted to deny it back then, he hadn't been wrong. You would miss him. And that had terrified you more than any knife ever could.

Your relationship had always been a slow burn, like embers catching fire after months of waiting for the perfect conditions. On that rainy Saturday night, after the chaos at the bar, you found yourself driving Dae-ho to the hospital, his side patched up with hastily wrapped gauze that barely held back the bleeding. He sat in the passenger seat, uncharacteristically quiet, his usual energy dampened by the pain and the rain drumming on the windshield.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered after a while, his head leaning back against the seat.

"Of course I did," you replied without looking at him, your knuckles tight around the steering wheel. "I wasn't going to let you bleed out in some alley."

He chuckled faintly, the sound tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You've got a funny way of showing you care."

You ignored him, keeping your focus on the road, though your heart clenched at the way his voice sounded weaker than usual.

At the hospital, you stayed with him through the stitches, arms crossed over your chest as he cracked half-hearted jokes to distract himself from the needle. When the nurse asked if you were his girlfriend, you didn't bother to deny it, instead rolling your eyes and muttering, "Just patch him up, will you?"

By the time you were finally helping him to his apartment, the rain had turned into a steady downpour. He leaned on you as you guided him up the stairs, his weight a reminder of how fragile this moment felt despite the humor he tried to inject into it.

As you reached the cover of his apartment's awning, you let out a breath, finally releasing your grip on his arm. The warm glow of the entryway light cast over the two of you, highlighting the faint smirk tugging at his lips despite everything.

"I've got to say," he began, leaning heavily against the doorframe, "I think this is the longest you've ever willingly spent with me. Kind of feels like progress."

You shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. "You're an idiot," you said, shaking your head. "Why do you always make everything a joke?"

"Because someone's gotta balance us out," he quipped, though his grin faltered as he studied your face. "You're always so serious, moonbeam."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the sound of rain filling the silence. He tilted his head slightly, as if debating whether to push further. Then, in a softer tone, he said, "Why do you act like you don't care when I know you do?"

His question caught you off guard, the vulnerability in his voice digging into the walls you'd carefully built around yourself. You looked away, the words forming in your throat before you could stop them. "Because caring about people… it hurts. And I've had enough of that."

Silence stretched between you again, heavier this time. When you finally looked at him, the teasing glint in his eyes was gone, replaced by something deeper, something that made your chest tighten.

"You don't have to be scared of me," he said quietly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't get it," you mumbled, more to yourself than to him.

"Don't get what?"

"You. Why you're always so nice to me."

He tilted his head as he studied you through the rain. "Because you're worth it," he said simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, his voice soft but certain. "And because I like you."

The words caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat. You could only stare at him, the rain a gentle soundtrack to the weight of his confession.

"Say something, moonbeam," he teased, his grin crooked but genuine.

The rawness of his words, the way he had said them like a promise, made something inside you snap. Before you could second-guess yourself, you stepped closer, your hands reaching for his collar. You kissed him, tentative at first, your lips brushing against his like you were testing the waters. He froze, clearly surprised, but only for a short moment. Then his hands were on your waist, steadying you as he kissed you back with a tenderness that belied his usual boldness.

The warmth of his lips, the faint taste of blood and rain, made your head spin. It wasn't rushed or frantic, it was slow, deliberate, like he didn't want to miss a single second of it. When you pulled back, his eyes searched yours, his expression soft but unreadable.

"That's a good start," he murmured, his fingers brushing a raindrop from your cheek.

And that was the night everything shifted.

Even now, years later, as you sat curled up on the couch in one of his oversized hoodies, that kiss lingered in your memory, replaying in these quiet moments like a favorite song. You hadn't realized it then, but that kiss had marked the beginning of a life you'd never imagined for yourself, a life with him. You were lazily scrolling through your phone, as the smell of coffee wafted from the kitchen, a comforting scent that told you Dae-ho was busy doing something, blending with the faint hum of his voice as he moved about.

You smiled to yourself, tracing the worn fabric of the hoodie with your fingertips.

"Babe," his voice called from the kitchen, teasing and light, pulling you from your thoughts, "if I bring you coffee in bed, does that make me husband material, or is it too early for that kind of promotion?"

You snorted, setting your phone down as you stretched. "You've gotta stop campaigning so hard, Dae-ho. It's getting desperate."

He appeared in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming coffee and wearing the kind of grin that made your stomach flip. "Desperate? Honey, this is a demonstration of premium boyfriend services." He crossed the room, setting the mugs on the coffee table before flopping down next to you.

"Premium?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "You didn't even bring toast."

He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. "Are you doubting the quality of my care and devotion?"

"I'm just saying," you replied with a smirk, "a little effort wouldn't kill you."

"Oh, you want effort?" he teased, leaning over you, his face suddenly much closer than you anticipated. His arm stretched over the back of the couch, caging you in just slightly. "Name it, and it's yours."

You stared at him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. "Okay. Toast. I want toast."

He narrowed his eyes playfully, tilting his head. "You sure about that? Not, I don't know, me? Because I'm sitting right here."

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed as he leaned closer, the playful glint in his eyes softening into something warmer. "You're still annoying," you said under your breath, trying to sound in-fact annoyed, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you intended.

"And you're adorable," he shot back, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I think we're even."

The warmth of his breath lingered on your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His hand slid down to your waist, tugging you closer until your legs were tangled together, his thumb idly tracing circles over the fabric of your hoodie.

"You look good in my clothes," he murmured, his voice dipping lower. "Almost too good. How am I supposed to let you out of this apartment now?"

You couldn't stop the small laugh that bubbled up, even as your heart raced. "Who said I was going anywhere?"

His grin widened at your response, and before you could say anything else, he turned you with a swift motion, settling you on top of him so that your legs straddled his hips. The shift left you breathless, your bare thighs brushing against his sides as his hands splayed firmly on your waist, holding you in place.

"Good," he said, his voice lower now, a little rougher around the edges. His dark eyes held yours, their usual playfulness tempered with something deeper, something that made your stomach flutter. "Because I can't get enough of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. He tilted his head back slightly, his thumb tracing absent patterns along your hip. "You, moonbeam," he murmured, his gaze intense. "You're addicting. Like I'm craving something I can't ever stop wanting."

You felt your breath hitch, your heart thudding in your chest. You tried to compose yourself, to play it cool, but the way he looked at you made it impossible to be unaffected. Instead, you leaned forward slightly, letting your hands rest on his chest. "Dae-ho," you softly said his name the way you knew it drove him crazy, "You keep talking like that, and I might think you're the romantic one in this relationship."

His lips quirked into a smirk, but his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer. "Don't think. Know. And I'll keep proving it until you never question it again."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, the sound blending with the warmth of his presence. "You're setting the bar pretty high for yourself, you know."

He shrugged, his hands never leaving your waist, "That just means I have to keep finding ways to spoil you."

In that moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together. His hands slowly slid down to your thighs now, his thumbs brushing over your skin, while his gaze never left yours. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, and his arms circled back around you, holding you impossibly close as though you might vanish if he didn't.

"I told you," he murmured against your lips. "Addicting."

"I know," you said softly, capturing his lips in another slow kiss. "And that's why I love you."

His boyish grin returned against your lips, softer this time, "I love you, too. But I'm still not getting up for toast."

You burst out laughing, and he pulled you even tighter against him, his chuckle rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss against your jaw. Right then and there, everything felt right, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. You smiled, letting yourself melt into him, and you thought to yourself that this was where you were meant to be. Not because he was your sun or you were his moon, but because together, you created something whole. 

Something timeless. 

Something infinite.

And you wouldn't have it any other way. 

[fear-is-truth]

BEING IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP WITH THANOS & NAM-GYU l headcanons

pairing — thanos x reader x nam-gyu warnings — (mild) s2 spoilers. smut author’s note — i wrote some corny lyrics for this lol

──⟢  fear-is-truth — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

thanos recruited you into his “team” because of his attraction to you. the rapper didn’t try to hide that he found you hot, and he made sure you knew it, throwing compliments your way. his flirting was over-the-top and shameless. he’d call you “senorita” or “babe” in a sing-song voice, leaning in close to make sure you couldn’t ignore him. his favourite move was to serenade you with cheesy raps that made everyone cringe.

one day, thanos sidles up to you, a wide, cocky-ass smirk plastered on his face. he’s got his hands on his hips, like he’s about to drop the hottest bars in the universe. “yo, senorita,” he starts, “you’re the queen of my world, can’t you see? ain’t no one gonna take my throne, you and me, together, baby, we’re destiny!” while nam-gyu, in the background, is rolling his eyes so hard he could probably see the back of his skull. but thanos keeps going, totally into it, “baby, we can rule the game, you and i, got them all thinking i’m the reason they’ll die. you’ll be my queen, i’ll be your king, together we’ll make this whole thing sing!” it’s a miracle you don’t combust from secondhand embarrassment.

nam-gyu, as thanos’s second-in-command, was pissed from the start. in the beginning, it seemed like he was just territorial—angry that you were disrupting the group dynamic. he’d throw side comments like, “oh, great, now we’ve got a distraction,” and give you cold, assessing looks. his irritation was obvious, especially when thanos started giving you preferential treatment, like sitting beside you during meals or casually throwing an arm over your shoulder during group talks.

he tried to act more “mature” than thanos (spoiler: he wasn’t). his idea of flirting was to act tough, which mostly involved bullying weaker players to look impressive. it was like watching a middle schooler try to flex for their crush. in reality, he just looks like an asshole, and you feel annoyed by his attempts to bully someone into submission to show off. he catches your disapproving glare and immediately tries to backtrack, but it just makes it worse.

thanos wasn’t subtle about his future plans for you. “after we win this thing, you’re coming with me,” he promised you confidently. “i’ll make you my official girl. the fans will eat it up—thanos and his queen.” he didn’t ask if you wanted that, just assumed you’d go along with it lol. nam-gyu, on the other hand, played dirtier. when thanos wasn’t around, he tried to plant seeds of doubt in your mind, leaning in to whisper confidentially. “he’s a scumbag, you know. all talk, no loyalty. don’t let him fool you,”

during meals, both of them insisted on sitting next to you, even if it meant practically wrestling each other to the ground. there were no tables, just groups eating near the bunk beds or stairs leading up to them, and you always ended up sandwiched between the two guys. thanos would slouch with his arm around your shoulders, smirking at anyone who looked your way. nam-gyu would mutter snide comments under his breath, low enough for you to hear, but not enough for thanos to notice.

then came the game “mingle,” where the players had to group up based on a random number announced over the PA system. when the voice said “two,” both thanos and nam-gyu grabbed your arm at the same time. “she’s going with me,” thanos barked, pulling you toward him. “what the fuck about me?” nam-gyu shot back, tugging you in the opposite direction. if it hadn’t been for se-mi, who quickly pulled you into a room with her (the two boys found a room next to you), the four of you would’ve fucking died.

the tension escalated at night. at first, both of them insisted on sleeping next to your bunk bed. but as time went on, they started fighting over who got to sleep in your bed. it started as bickering—“move, she doesn’t want you here,” nam-gyu would snap, trying to shove thanos aside. “speak for yourself, bro,” thanos would shoot back, climbing up anyway. it’s like a power struggle between two self-proclaimed alpha males, but it’s over you, which just feels awkward. each one tries to subtly imply their superiority by making the argument about who has the better “qualifications” to be your bunkmate. eventually, the rivalry reached its peak when they both tried to squeeze into your bed at the same time. you ended up stuck between them, neither willing to back down, and neither particularly caring how uncomfortable it made you.

despite the rivalry, the situation eventually settles into some sort of… equilibrium. neither thanos nor nam-gyu backed down completely, but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. the two of them started “sharing” you, like some fucked up custody arrangement.

you start to realise that maybe—just maybe—this unholy triangle might not be such a bad thing after all. meal time turned into a prelude for something else entirely. when everyone was distracted, one of them would catch your eye, silently signaling for you to follow. you’d find yourself slipping away to meet them in the bathroom stall.

thanos is all energy, and unable to shut up—being balls deep inside you, his dirty talk came easily, an endless stream of words that tumbled out in rapid succession, that had you equal parts flustered and irritated. especially with how careless he was. you’d have to kiss him just to silence him, pressing your lips to his until his words were replaced by muffled groans. whenever you grabbed his hair, his reaction was instant—a breathy whimper that only seemed to spur him on more. but almost as quickly as the sound left his lips, he was smirking, leaning in to tease you. “don’t mess it up, baby,” he’d warn, his voice playful yet smug. “this shit cost a lot to style.”

nam-gyu, in contrast, was rougher and far less interested in theatrics. he wasn’t one for words—far too focused to waste time on anything unnecessary. he had you pinned firmly against the partition wall, the cool surface digging into your back as beads of perspiration formed along his brow. the thin structure trembled violently under the sheer force of his movements, creaking with every thrust as though it might give way at any second. the silence between you was broken only by a few curses and grunts that escaped him.

[christinescupofcoffee]

old Cartoon Network cartoons, way back in the early 2000s

the quaint world of Steve Coogan (Night at the Museum, Alan Partridge, Around the World in 80 Days)

Alex and Christine (Seasons Grey). She is me, I am her, and I wrote the first chapters of Seasons Grey during a snowstorm so it gives me this cozy feeling thinking about it. 😉

Lizzy Graves and Pete Steele (Like Loving the Dead). Toxic rebound relationship where she was cold and it demonstrates the cycle of abuse across relationships, which is a dynamic i feel works in Wuthering Heights but it’s sloppily done here because it’s portrayed as romantic. Author also has unnecessary resentment towards me.

Joey Belladonna and Lars Ulrich (now it’s dark). Humble Native American country boy with cool hip Danish guy à la Men in Black. now it’s dark was my last adventure before the pandemic. Any questions?

Alex got hit in the head as a young boy which gave his silver streak which is magic. He’s also hiding fangs behind his crooked teeth. 🩸

Pretty much any sexual headcanon about James Hetfield. idk, they just gross me out.

Testament/Alex Skolnick trio/Dragonlord/Trans-Siberian Orchestra, Exodus, Death Angel, Death, any lesser-known grunge like from Mother Love Bone downwards (although the big four tags are weirdly quiet on ao3), Queens of the Stone Age, the Tragically Hip, 90s and 2000s alt rock, Alan Partridge/anything Steve touches, Mike Cutter/anything Linus touches, American Girls, Strawberry Shortcake; I’m also the kind of person who goes onto classic rock pages and looks for bands and people you don’t really hear much about like The Clash, Jethro Tull, the Cars, Thin Lizzy, Robert Palmer, Syd Barrett, any old blues singers… I like wandering over to the theater pages and the ones revolved around books you don’t hear about like Turn of the Screw on ao3.

either Metallica, Green Day, Sherlock, Doctor Who, or Formula One—the latter’s a funny case, though. I watched it religiously from 2005-2012, with 2007 and 2009 being my favorite seasons. Quit watching before 2013 started because everyone I liked had either been fired or put in a bad spot, and then after Jules died, I started watching again, and 2016 gave me all the 2009 memories. I hate how Americanized, how loud, how “all frosting with no cake underneath” it is now, and I’m not alone in this, either: I can’t remember anyone’s names after the 2016 season, the season is obscenely long now (when I was watching, it went from March to Halloween; now, it’s like the same length as a season of NASCAR), and I think it was Jenson Button who recently wrote about suffering from anorexia and had no one to talk to about it?

Probably Soundgarden.

I made a shirt with my Soundgarden cartoons ironed on it. For my 14th(?) birthday, my mom made me a Ferrari cake, and then for my 15th birthday, I got a BMW cake (Kimi Räikkönen, Nick Heidfeld, and Robert Kubiča are/were MY GUYS, man). For my 16th, I got rice krispy Easter Island heads in a fondant airplane (for Stone Temple Pilots).

(really, how much time you got).

the grunge fandom

the grunge fandom

Supernatural. I LOVE Doctor Who, and I love Sherlock, but I always got lost on that one so I could never join “Superwholock.” I have never fit in with the thrash fandoms, either: I’m like the Radiohead of the thrash fandom.

Around the World in 80 Days, only because I think Steve is cute.

thelittlefatrat, who was this kickass artist on here who disappeared back in 2018. Has these incredible drawings of people like Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, Robert Plant, the guys from Guns ‘N Roses, Chris, Kurt, Scott, Layne, Eddie, and Chester, but also bunnies, snakes, and cats.

With Strings Attached, a Beatles fanfic dating back to 1980 and was completed in 2009. It’s a fantasy story full of heart and humor and has ostensibly influenced everything I’ve ever done that’s long and fantastical. I also love Love in Exile, a Jerry Cantrell/Stone Gossard fic. I love fool’s gold by Cazio: don’t know anyone on the f1 grid anymore but huge influence on Like Blood from a Stone and (vaguely) Throughout the Dark Months of April and May. I love Audere est Facere by Natelly (I think that’s how she spells her name?), which is about the origin of Ahkmenrah’s gold tablet: huge influence on All That Glitters. With Strings Attached, you can Google no problem; the author took down Love in Exile wanting to rework it to an original story. Sigh.

A fic on here called There’s a Light. It’s mainly about Pearl Jam but it’s got the whole grunge scene involved. 10 years later, it’s still with me.

Can I say myself? There have been authors I love, authors who have inspired me so many times over, but I write the stories I love and think about regularly.

*looks around* kink tags. I hate to admit it and talk about it but there’s a reason why I go back to kink stories and kinktober.

kink tags. Sometimes I feel like my hard limits are too hard and I’m a major freak (and not in a good way). I also hate reader inserts because they just never look right to me.

7, i think? My friends and I liked to roleplay and tell stories about cartoon and book characters.

the time I made inktober drawings for when now it’s dark was going, and I posted them on instagram… and I was completely oblivious to the fact Joey was watching me. He would talk about me on Jamey Jasta’s podcast—and the week before my birthday, too! There was the time Testament took an after-show picture together and some guy in the comments made a remark about Alex having a potbelly, and I blurted out, “I want to blow raspberries on it.” About a week later, they were doing a v.i.p. shoot and Alex was covering up his belly with his arms and getting all kinds of giggly. I can’t stop thinking about it, tbh.

Fandom/fanfic asks!

Ahhh so many people are reblogging! I'm trying to send numbers to people but if I missed you, I'm sorry!

Send me questions in my inbox and I'll answer!

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Add any other questions as you reblog!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Chapter 21: Timeout

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Paige Bueckers x !photographer fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: address it...

Welcome to the chapter 21 of Through The Lens. I hope you all enjoy and there is more to come...stay tuned my loveies!! 🏀💕📸

Reader's POV

The gym was quiet except for the sound of sneakers squeaking against the floor and the rhythmic bounce of a basketball. Paige was shooting free throws while I set up my camera on a tripod, capturing the smooth arc of her shots.

I adjusted the camera, stealing a glance at her. “You sure you’re okay...we're okay, to be back here?”

Paige caught the ball on a rebound and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “I’m good, ma. Besides, we talked everything out, right?”

I nodded, though a lingering tension sat between us.

Coach Geno walked in, clipboard in hand, and stopped mid-step when he saw us. “You two good again.” He sighed, shaking his head. Seeing the still unresolved tension between us.

Paige dribbled the ball, looking like she was trying to decide whether to argue or stay quiet. I spoke up instead.

“We’re good, Coach. We talked through everything. I’m filming the practice plays, and Paige is just—”

“Working off some steam, til practice starts.” Paige finished.

Coach set the clipboard down on a bench and crossed his arms. “I don’t doubt that you two think everything’s worked out, but there’s a lot of emotion running high. And frankly, it’s bleeding into everything—practice, even the team dynamic. You both need to take the rest of the today as well to figure it out away from this gym. And you Y/n, I sais no drama for my team, so fix it.”

“What?” Paige’s voice was sharp, her frustration evident. “We’re fine, Coach.”

He raised a brow. “You say that, but the way you’re gripping that ball says otherwise.”

I glanced at her hands, realizing her knuckles were white against the orange leather.

“Go home. Talk. Take a breath. Come back when you’re really ready.” His tone softened slightly. “This team needs both of you, but you’ve got to get on the same page first.”

Paige reluctantly set the ball down and nodded. “Alright, Coach.”

I packed up my camera, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on me.

Back at the apartment, I went straight to the bathroom to shower, letting the hot water wash away my frustration. I’d thought we were making progress, but Coach’s words brought back the doubt I’d been trying to push down.

Paige’s POV

The sound of the shower running filled the apartment as I flopped onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. My phone buzzed, and Nika’s name flashed on the screen.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to sound normal.

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?” she asked bluntly.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “We talked about everything, okay? It’s fine.”

Nika snorted. “Fine? Coach just sent you both home, and called me to call you. That doesn’t scream fine to me. Im all the way in Seattle, don't make me come kick y'alls asses.”

I stayed quiet, not wanting to admit she was right.

“You’ve been off since she came from covering my game in Seattle, you know she wouldn't cheat on you, and damn sure not with me, Paige.” she continued. “And it’s not just affecting you. Y/N’s walking around like she’s carrying the weight of the world. She's trying to understand being in the spotlight, when she's just a photographer. So whatever’s going on, you need to fix it, and fix it fast.”

I sighed, closing my eyes. “I’m trying, Nika. We talked about it, but I don’t know… It feels like there’s still something between us that we’re not addressing.”

“Then address it,” she said firmly. “You love her, right?”

The question caught me off guard, even though the answer was obvious. “Yeah, I do, I really fucking do.”

“Then act like it. Stop holding back. Be honest, even if it’s messy. She deserves that, tou tell her thr truth.”

I sat up, Nika’s words sinking in. “Thanks, Nika.”

“Don’t thank me. Just figure it out before Coach benches both of you for emotional interference,” she said, hanging up before I could respond.

When Y/N came out of the bathroom, her damp curls framed her face, and she was wearing one of my old UConn sweatshirts.

“You okay?” she asked, sitting beside me.

“Yeah,” I said, taking her hand. “But we need to talk.”

Her brow furrowed. “I thought we already did.”

“We did, but I don’t think we were completely honest with each other—or with ourselves.” I took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Y/N. Scared of how much I care about you and how fast this has all happened. Scared of what happens when I leave for the WNBA.”

Her eyes softened, and she squeezed my hand. “I’m scared too, Paige. But we can’t let that fear control us.”

“I know,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t want to lose you, no matter what happens next.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, her voice steady.

We spent the rest of the night in the gym, working off the tension through laughter and quiet moments. Paige filmed me trying to shoot a three-pointer, and I filmed her laughing at my terrible form.

The unspoken was there, but for now, it was enough to simply be together.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

       -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

Tag list: @sayurireidotcom , @astroeliza , @paxaz535 , @0phantom0 , @starlighttsv , @authentic-girl03 @sevyscoven ,.... (more to be added)

[multiplefandomsyep]

I love the yin and yang dynamics between characters and In-ho and Gi-hun are one of them.

Both of them joined the games because of the desperate situation they were in.

Both of them got back to their houses with all the money just to see that it was already too late to save their loved ones.

Both of them went with that pain and felt that the money wasn't needed anymore, it was just an empty thing because their loved ones were already gone

But here is the difference: they reacted the opposite way to lead with the pain.

While Gi-hun still had hope in people and blamed himself for everyone's death, In-ho just saw them as selfish cruel beings.

Gi-hun didn't kill anyone in the games, he was showing a good heart even at the final, when he wanted to give it up just to save Sang-woo. In-ho possibly did kill people while he was on the games to gain the money, we see he does something similar when he was on the Mingle game. (I guess, when In-ho was only a player, he was more like Sang woo, doing that for the sake to survive)

I think one of the reasons In-ho is so involved with Gi-hun is because he wants to know "why?" That simple but big word, "why didn't he end up like me? Why does he still see good in people when even him is looking on how they still vote to stay and continue the games? He did lost his loved ones, and he's still here, why?"

They are two sides of the same coin, therefore, as yin and yang does, they complement each other. Both of them having a little part from the other (In-ho having some humanity on him, seeing himself in Gi-hun and Gi-hun having this resenment towards the people that did the games "small sacrifice for the greater good"). And it's just, ugh, they are so complex.

[dawngyu]

Official Teaser: The Slow Surrender

Pairing: chaebol choi beomgyu x chaebol fem!reader Genre: arranged marriage au, infidelity, angst, toxic dynamics, emotional distress, lovelorn, pregnancy, slow-burn (more to be added)

You never wanted to fear him.

The way he looks at you, storm brewing behind his eyes—dark, makes you feel small. The way you always feel invisible, as if you don’t even belong in his world. The absence of words, the silence that's stretched between you like a line you cannot ever cross.

This space, where you are supposed to build a family, where love is supposed to be—is nothing but a cold place to you.

"Do you think I don’t know what you have done?" tasted bitter on your tongue. His eyes flicker toward you for just a second—a split second, just long enough to know that he heard—but there is nothing in them. No resolve. Nothing.

Time ticked. He doesn’t even try to explain. Doesn’t even look at you long enough for you to find a trace of the man you once thought you knew. His thumb brushes over his ring like it’s something he’s forgotten. A ring that should have meant forever.

He's back at it. Avoiding your gaze like it's an intrusion in his life.

The same fear creeps in. The fear that you’re losing something you never truly had. Your heart presses painfully against your chest—and your ring, now too heavy in your palm.

Your deepest fear.

Your husband.

RELEASE DATE: FEBRUARY 1st, 2025 12:00 PM MST.

Notes: uh, surprise? This will be released before Rain Lilies. It's my heaviest piece so far and I can't wait to bring this here.

Taglist: Open! You can leave a comment if you want to be tagged.

[zombiecowboy65]

@microchive I can’t leave u in my tags because you’re like the only one who addressed my leash comment and THANK YOU for doing so!!!!

Also never apologize for ramblings I too have too many feelings about Jean Moreau. But YES. Watching ppl trying to Dom/ sub the Riko and Jean dynamic makes me want to eat glass. He does not default to submission bc he is submissive , he faults to submission bc he knows he is quite literally the opposite and if he doesn’t tell himself this is what he deserves he was going to 1.) break under the weight and 2.) probably get himself into shit.

I’ve seen ppl say he CRAVES submission and every single time I see one of those takes an angel DIES. He tells us several times over he hates that he is always doomed to have a master, and someone how that gets ignored so that Jeremy can Dom the guy. It’s weird and ooc and the option to just not read the takes is there but I’ve seen it sooooooooo often. The following orders is all he knew to do line at the end of the book did also not mean he wanted to follow orders, it literally just meant that he was never allowed to be his own person and following orders is what he had to do to survive???

Final note: the idea of having the same dynamic Jean had with Riko, with Jeremy is extremely weird, no matter how u try to wholesome ify it. If anything, I’m pretty sure it would be the opposite way than ppl are making it, but really Jean seems like he would hate any type of power dynamic (no matter how wholesome) because he knows what it feels like to be on the lower end.

(Also it was Abby who implied that he didn’t fight and I can never look at her the same ever again)

I fear that “he’ll submit if you tell him to” line was massively misinterpreted, because the point of that line was to show how fucked up the nest/the ravens/Jean’s existence there was, and everyone took it to mean he’s just naturally submissive. We see over and over and over again that he is not. He tells us he is not. Submission was demanded and required if he wanted to survive. The only time Riko lost interest in sending him off to those players was when he stopped fighting back. And I constantly see people say he won’t defend himself because of this, but we have seen it. He picked Lucas up by the throat and threw him on the floor.

I also do not get where this submission to Jeremy idea is coming from considering he argues with him the whole book, and then picks up Jeremy and throws him on the floor. The idea that this relationship will work if one half holds the power and the other half has none is crazy. The idea of taking the leash and handing it from Riko to Jeremy is crazy.

To me, Jean read like a inactive volcano about to blow. He wrecked Neil’s entire dorm with his bare hands. He constantly bites back thoughts of violence, and sometimes, biting them back is not enough. He put it in his contract, because “soon enough his nature would get the best of him”. He is angry and he is about to blow and I really cannot take this interpretation of him as this submissive little thing that the Trojans just push around. The point of this series is to give him back his voice. And if that voice is this angry, I cannot wait to see him snap.

[riversenchanted]

My advice for your Chiron placement:

- find your house placement and the sign it’s in for most accurate message (example: Chiron in the 1st house in sign of Scorpio)

Chiron 1st house/ Aries: Your wound is connected to your personal expression and authenticity. Leading to insecurity, physical ailments, suppressed anger,and shame. This can create a disconnect between how you present yourself and how you truly feel.

To heal this wound, embrace radical self-acceptance and trust your instincts. Take a leap of faith by setting boundaries, both with others and yourself. Hold yourself accountable for your desires and advocate for your needs. Challenge negative self-talk and self-doubt by asking, “What would my life look like if I let go of others expectations and pursued what I truly want?” With Chiron in the 1st house, it's essential to prioritize your own needs. Regularly check in with yourself to ensure your actions align with your true desires rather than people-pleasing. Remember to show yourself compassion and love, by doing so you encourage others around you to do the same and can help heal those who may struggle in the same ways you do!

Chiron 2nd house/ Taurus:

Your deepest wound relates to material security, self-worth, and stability. You may have felt unsupported at times, leading to a sense of constant lack and difficulty relaxing in the present moment.

To heal, recognize that your worth is not tied to money or possessions. Address feelings of unworthiness stemming from past trauma and explore areas where you may be settling for less due to fear of scarcity. Open yourself to new opportunities for abundance and let go of unnecessary attachments driven by the fear of loss or loneliness.

Address challenges with balancing spending and saving or even hoarding. By confronting these fears, you can begin to heal and find balance in your life. By healing these areas of life you can help others that struggle in these areas as well!

Chiron 3rd house/ Gemini:

Your wound lies in communication, social interactions, and understanding. You may struggle with learning disabilities or speech issues, or just feeling unheard or misunderstood. This can lead to social anxiety and difficulty connecting with others, especially in your early years.

To heal, focus on detaching from others opinions of you. Journaling, writing, and public speaking can help you find your voice. Surround yourself with accepting people and practice mindful communication and active listening. By nurturing this pain, you can transform it into a strength, becoming an effective communicator and even helping others who face similar challenges!

Chiron in 4th House/Cancer:

Your deepest wound relates to family, home life, and emotional stability. Growing up, you may have faced significant hardships that impacted your sense of safety. Healing can be challenging since family is central to your identity. Create a sanctuary at home and build a chosen family to foster support. If safe, work on healing toxic family dynamics. As a generational curse breaker, you may feel alienated, but nurturing yourself will help you appreciate your connections and establish a safe, loving home environment. By creating a safe stable home life you end generational issues and can help heal others who struggle with the same issues.

Chiron in 5th House/Leo:

Your wound lies in creativity, self-expression, and joy. You might struggle with taking up space, feeling unworthy or annoying, even when well-received. Early experiences of bullying or rejection may contribute to these feelings. To heal, identify the root of your insecurities and explore creative outlets to express yourself positively. Cultivate self-trust and avoid second-guessing. Affirmations of self-love and acceptance are essential for building confidence and embracing your true self. By being your most authentic self you encourage others around you to do the same.

Chiron in 6th House/Virgo:

Your wound revolves around health, wellness, and routine. You may overextend yourself, prioritizing others needs at the expense of your own, which can lead to physical or mental health struggles. You may have grown up caring for a loved one in some way or were placed in a situation where your needs often came second, so you might lack boundaries in balancing self-care vs caregiving. To heal, simplify your daily life and establish a structured routine that prioritizes your health. By focusing on self-care and setting practical boundaries for yourself you can also become a healer for others facing similar challenges.

Chiron in 7th House/Libra:

Your wound is centered on personal relationships, partnerships, and justice. You may struggle with trauma in relationships or find it difficult to connect deeply with others, leading to feelings of confusion and isolation. Healing comes from focusing on your individual goals and cultivating independence. It’s essential to balance your needs with those of others, avoid settling for attention, and take the time to truly know people before committing. Additionally, work on opening your heart and learning to trust again after past traumas.

Chiron in 8th House/Scorpio:

Your deepest wound involves intimacy, trust, and shared resources. Past trauma may create fears around vulnerability, making emotional connections difficult. This placement indicates a profound healing journey that requires deep emotional transformation. You will face challenges that confront your fears, often leaving you feeling powerless. However, like a phoenix, you can rise stronger. To heal, explore your innermost self, allow yourself to feel your emotions, and confront your traumas. Embrace surrender and discover your personal strength amidst the darkness. This placement is an indication of being a powerful healer, as you learn to alchemize your pain you increase your personal power and help empower others by doing so.

Chiron in 9th House/Sagittarius:

Your wound centers on spirituality, religion, and faith. Past experiences may have led you to question your beliefs, creating a rift in your spiritual understanding. You might feel betrayed by life and struggle to see the bigger picture, often facing religious trauma or issues with higher education. To heal, engage with topics like psychology, culture, spirituality, and religion. Open yourself to diverse belief systems and experiences. Finding purpose is key to your healing, and accepting your past as part of your journey will help you on your path of soul-searching. By healing these areas of your life you may also help others who feel lost in life as well!

Chiron 10th house/ Capricorn:

Your wounds are around career, public image, father/fatherhood, and authority. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness in the professional realm, often facing challenges with authority figures or societal expectations. You may have issues stepping into a leadership role or question your ability to lead confidently. Healing comes through redefining success on one's own terms, embracing leadership roles that feel authentic, and working to build self-worth independent of external validation. By helping others through mentorship or guidance, particularly in career-related matters, Chiron in the 10th house can find a sense of purpose and healing, turning past wounds into a source of wisdom and empowerment.

Chiron 11th house/ Aquarius: Your wounds are related to social groups, friendships, and one’s sense of belonging within a larger community or collective. Individuals with this placement may feel like outsiders or struggle with feeling accepted by their peers, leading to a deep sense of alienation or unworthiness in social circles. Healing occurs through embracing one's uniqueness and finding communities that truly resonate with their authentic self. By fostering deep, meaningful connections and learning to contribute to groups in a way that honors personal values. You can heal your sense of isolation, transforming past wounds into a source of strength and empathy for others.

Chiron 12th house/ Pisces:

Your wound is related to spirituality, empathy, and the sense of oneness with the universe. Individuals with this placement may struggle with feelings of confusion, disillusionment, or a lack of boundaries, often feeling overwhelmed by the suffering of others or disconnected from their own sense of purpose. Healing comes through developing a strong spiritual practice that helps them reconnect with their inner self and a sense of divine support. Embracing their intuitive gifts and learning to establish healthy emotional boundaries are key to healing, allowing them to offer compassion without losing themselves in the process. By transforming past wounds into a deep well of empathy and creativity, Chiron in Pisces can find healing through self-acceptance and a renewed connection to the spiritual or collective whole.

[adieutristana]

Can you write something where you comfort Jinx and calm her in season 2 where she gets hallucinations and looks really scared when sevika tells her about Isha?

of course! thank you for the request <3

guys somebody go back in time and slap past lottie for deciding that taking 16 credit hours this semester would be a good idea 😒

summary; comforting jinx after isha is taken.

characters included; jinx (romantic), sevika (platonic) isha (platonic/familial)

tags/warnings; hallucinations, mentions of poor mental health, hurt/comfort, isha is barely there but she’s there, same with sevika, mother/mother/daughter dynamic

men dni.

jinx kicks open the door to her hideout, buzzing with excitement. you’d just been out in the lanes together, looking for materials for one of jinx’s new inventions. another type of bomb, unsurprisingly, but one that would be better for ranged attacks. you also picked up some metal and paint so that jinx could make isha some new toys. maybe some new insects to make fight.

you smile at the thought.

"i'm back!"

your girlfriend calls out, approaching her workbench. she glances over, her eyes carefully scanning the area for any signs of isha.

"time to find out who's the new pebble weight."

she continues, glancing around. you also try to look for the little girl, searching for any signs of her. she's quiet, but she usually would've made her presence known by now. any other time isha would've jumped out with her helmet on, giggling and running circles around yourself and jinx. as if asking when you can play again, what's the next game.

"isha?"

jinx asks, her tone a bit more unsure- but she turns around, towards the tent on another platform of the hideout.

"oh, okay. i get it. playing that game, are we?"

she comments, as you follow along. long, blue braids swaying behind jinx with each of her movements. her tone is light and chipper, hopeful even. isha likes to hide. she likes to surprise the both of you, running up behind you and wrapping herself around your legs. you hope this is one of those times.

hopefully this is just a game, isha simply hiding and waiting to jump out at any moment. or maybe she didn't hear yourself and jinx calling out for her. maybe she's sound asleep inside the tent, having tuckered herself out. you hope to whatever is out there that it's something simple.

jinx glances inside the tent, peering her head in different directions while you look inside of various crates and bins. you can see the concern etched into the girl's features, glancing over as you continue to look for isha. but there's no sign of her. almost as if she vanished.

"god damn, she's good at hiding."

you grumble. you search any surface you can find, any little passage that she could hide in, any sheets or structures she could be hiding behind. but still, nothing. jinx turns to you, opening her mouth to say something.

"they got her."

sevika's distinct voice cuts through. you see her making her way toward the structure you're standing on, limping on one leg as liquid pours from where her prosthetic arm should be. falling onto her knees, trying desperately to keep herself upright. she looks like she's been through hell just now, and you can feel your heart drop to your stomach. they got her? who got her? what does that even mean?

"what?"

"she came to the rally. topside raided the place. took everyone."

sevika continues. oh, fuck. the rally. the rally zaun had planned to retaliate against the brutality of piltover's enforcers, which jinx was less than happy about. the woman had told her that she was a symbol, a beacon of hope for the people of the undercity. somebody who demonstrated power and resilience. she never once backed down from a fight, never showed fear in the face of injustice, and always stood up for what she believed in. even if it wasn't a conscious decision, she was taking a stand for her city.

but still, jinx didn't want to come. no matter how much sevika urged her to and no matter how much of a difference she was told it would make. and now, you're finding out that isha had showed up to the rally and had been taken. taken to gods know where and there's nothing either of you could've done. panic begins setting in, yet you haven't even seen jinx's face yet.

the thought of anything happening to the girl you and your girlfriend had taken in made your stomach twist. a playful, sweet girl who you'd both grown to care for. one who made you laugh, who kept you on your toes, who added the bit of adventure and unpredictability both you and jinx needed. only a child, and she's been taken. taken.

you look over to your girlfriend, and immediately rush to her. she's distraught. torn. rosy eyes are frantic, not quite focusing in on anything, her gaze downcast. the second you see her gasping, shaking her head, hands coming to cover her ears, you know something is seriously wrong. you're torn.

you've seen jinx in a similar state before. although her episodes had gotten more spaced out in your presence, the intensity dimming over time, they'd never fully gone away. you knew they never would, either. but you'd always been there to help. but this?

"jinx. jinx."

should you reach out to comfort her? would she be okay being touched right now? you don't know. but it's killing you to see her like that, so distraught. you know it's a horrible idea, she'll probably flinch away and retreat further into herself, but you have to.

you slowly reach out to grasp the girl's shoulders, a motion you hope will ground her at least somewhat. she lets out a sharp gasp at the touch, her eyes meeting yours for a split second. she doesn't respond, but she doesn't move away. this is good.

"shut up, shut up..."

she mutters under her breath, and you squeeze down on her shoulders. your thumb brushing against the cold, bare skin. you're trying to look into her eyes, get her to redirect her focus, but you can't seem to get through to her. you look back, and sevika is still on the floor, heaving. fuck.

"shut up!"

you hear a gunshot, and a sharp gasp leaves you. your ears begin to ring from the sound, but you throw your arms around your girlfriend's shoulders. you can't bear to see her like this. nothing short of scared, distraught.

"jinx!"

you move to swiftly smack the gun from jinx's hand, the metal making a clink sound against the steel of the floor. jinx tenses against you. her breathing is erratic and she still can't quite look at you, or sevika, or anything.

"jinx, baby, please, look at me. i know you're scared, i know this is a lot, but you have to calm down."

you tighten your grasp around the girl's shoulders, searching for absolutely anything in her expression. but all you're able to find is utter despair. blank eyes and parted lips. jinx's chest is heaving and she's grasping at her head, frantically looking around as if she doesn't fully believe that isha has been taken. like she's waiting for the little girl to jump out and tell her that she's okay.

her breath is coming out in pants, and you feel so damn lost.

"jinx. jinx, please. we'll find her, i promise we will, but we can't until you calm down."

you plead, one of your hands coming to her cheek while your thumb brushes across the skin. jinx is inconsolable to a point that you've never seen before, but you have to try everything in your power. for her.

finally, pink eyes meet your own, although hesitant. your heart all but clenches in your chest as you see her finally looking at you. acknowledging you and your words, even if non-verbally.

"baby. we're gonna find her. trust me, we will tear up this damn city and piltover if we have to, but we will find isha."

jinx's eyes are shaky, her gaze flitting between you and sevika as she pants. you can't hear it, but you're sure her heart is beating like a war drum. you're sure the battle in her mind is one not even she can comprehend. she lets out a shaky breath, slowly nodding.

"will we?"

"we will."

you affirm, your thumb continuing its motions on her cheek. your other arm comes from her shoulder to wrap around her waist, a desperate attempt to bring her back to reality. her breaths are still shallow at best, but you can see them relaxing the slightest bit. slow progress, but it's something.

"she's okay, jinx. i'm sure of it."

jinx shakes her head frantically, the tremble in her voice evident.

"she's out there somewhere. scared, and probably alone."

you sigh, looking down for a second. you know that jinx is probably right. if someone really did take her, isha is absolutely scared, and more than likely alone. it hurts your heart just to think about it. but you have your girlfriend in front of you, in desperate need of comfort and help. you can't dwell on that.

"probably. but i doubt she's hurt. we'll find her, and she's gonna be okay."

jinx lets out another shaky breath, and purses her lips. she pauses, before looking back at you again. she isn't quite reciprocating your touch, and she isn't giving you much to work with. regardless, she's calming down.

"we need to look for her."

she states plainly, to which you nod in agreement.

"we will-" you pause, looking out of the doorway, then back at jinx. "let's go. right now."

"right now?"

"right now."

jinx gasps softly, and mutters a little, 'shit, okay.' you press a quick kiss to her temple before rushing towards the exit of your girlfriend's hideout. quick on your feet and determined to find isha.

[dock57]

[Jumping over to EP 3 as I was taking screenshots from it for future posts. I actually have noticed this a few times from watching it, but I would like to point it out as well. I love how these four paired up in this episode. You have Scratch and Shrike who are constantly at each other's throats, while you have Beebs and Scritch who are getting along.

I love how Scritch stays to Beebs' side for the rest of the episode. Scritch sticks with Beebs because right now, Beebs is the leveled headed one here. He's the voice of reason. Scritch is just as tired of this crap as Beebs is as well.

Scritch never says a word, but I love how helpful he is. How concern he is for their wellbeing but for Beebs' as well. Giving him little guidance and help to safety for all of them.

I love this shot too! You can see Scritch is concerned for Beebs. How much energy Beebs is using to keep them alive, but to see that he is doing it damaged as well. I love how Scritch looks to him with concern and wants to help, rather than complain or cause any further problems unlike his brother, Scratch. He's looking at his cybernetic arm and wondering how that affects Beebs and how it can be fixed.

Its hard to tell, especially since this shot is focused on Shrike, but you can also see in the background that Scritch is helping Beebs at pulling away the green veins from the console. Then you have Scratch, who is, doing nothing...

It is funny for him to let Beebs know that well, the ship is heading straight towards the star/sun. I feel like that was already a known fact, but I love how Scritch still has to point it out to Beebs. Like in this moment, he looking to Beebs and asking with those eyes "what are we going to do?"

I think about it now, but, I also think that maybe the reason why Scritch sticks to Beebs' shoulder is because he knew Beebs would listen to him. His brother and Shrike as of right now are being irrational. They're trying to prevent from you know- burning up into a star, but still are fighting with each other while doing so. Scritch would probably have no way to be able to get their attention, especially Shrike who is not the best at reading others anyway...

Beebs is a rational guy and right now, the one thinking the most rational... So I love that Scritch reaches for Beebs' attention because he knows that he can trust Beebs to make the right decision. I mean man, don't blame Scritch- I would trust Beebs with my life too...

And of course, at the end of the episode. They're out of danger finally, where they are gather to say goodbye to Us- and of course get Scratch to apologize for well, you know...

I love how in the end, Scritch decides to help Beebs one last time and at least patch up his cybernetic arm so that Beebs can play his guitar to communicate with Us. Gives it a little pat to make sure its sticking on tight. I love how its green as well, the same green that matches' Scritch collar/backpack. I love this little friendship that these two seem to have.

I mean really I love the dynamic between the four as well, this episode really captures the 'brother relationship' that they all share. Which once again, is something else I would love to talk about in another post!

Scritch you are such a precious little bean. Thank you for keeping your brother Scratch in check...

Also-

These silly moments I captured too. Lord these two are such polar opposites from Beebs and Srcitch and I love that. I love the dynamic between them so much.

Also if you noticed any grammar issues- this is what happens when you write a post at 3 AM, whoops!]

[the-crustation-sensation]

Don’t get me wrong, I love jayvik as much as the next autistic girl in this fandom. But I am very annoyed at jayvik OVERTAKING the entire fandom

Rant under the cut

Especially on tumblr if I look at the Single Viktor or Jayce tag, the ENTIRE thing is choked out by jayvik. And I like it, it’s cute, but it’s gotten to the point that I can’t see any content just appreciating their characters alone without the need of a ship. It’s the same for caitvi too

I think there’s something to be said when analyzing season 2, that it’s a perfect example of why writers should not let fans dictate their story’s. Jayvik had phenomenal build up in S1, but the way they were portrayed in S2 felt like fan service- let me explain

So much of the jayvik content I see is incredibly out of character and stereotypical (as many MLM pairings are reduced too) Viktor is either a helpless twink, or an all powerful god that has Jayce on a leash. Why are we making Viktor a shy soft boy? He was the CEO of the sassy man apocalypse?

It’s also very sad to see Jayce’s character get watered down to “pathetic himbo golden retriever twunk with no brain cells” and yeah, the pathetic Jayce memes are funny but it’s annoying when people think that’s ALL his character is. He gets written as a dick-for-brains dumbass with 0 common sense or basic skills… when he was a university educated engineer and eventually POLITICIAN

But back on topic to jayvik in s2 feeling like fanservice, a lot of the time I see fans wanting jayvik to have an almost codependent relationship, and that’s exactly the undertone a lot of jayvik moments in s2 had. The dynamic between Jesus/machine herald vik and Jayce was undoubtedly toxic with a huge power dynamic. I’m just very disappointed because I was excited to see jayvik be developed more in a creative way, and instead they just slapped on the soulmates trope.

And don’t get me wrong- do I love Viktors end monologue? Yes. Do I think they should have kissed with some tongue at the end? Absolutely. But the entire situation of s2 just felt icky, not to mention how Viktor completely lost is autonomy to the arcane TWICE in one season. Idk but Viktor becoming a whole maniacle malevolent god who wants to “perfect” all of humanity… but can only be brought back to his own humanity by his boyfriend just felt… cheap.

It felt like a metaphor for Viktors disability, and how he needed to be “saved” from himself. Which in turn completely nullified all of this character development. And do not get me STARTED on how much Viktors arc was ruined in season 2, that deserves a whole post in itself

Overall these are purely my opinions, and I’m still going to be hypocritically eating up jayvik content with a spoon because it’s still my favorite ship, I just believe it could have been portrayed better. Anyways thanks for sitting through my rant. if you disagree or have any other opinions I’d be delighted to hear. Peace out

[orleans-jester]

“Now that would be entertaining to see. Especially if you two do the awkward dance of trying to pass each other but stepping in each other’s way,” Figaro said. Bright sides, sunny sides, you had to have the light to be able to have the dark too. Figaro tried to keep the balance.

Chili Dogs. Now that sounded good. Just the thought of it was enough to get the hunger going, the saliva flowing, despite being in this stink of a place. “Fuck it, we’re sneaking into Halloweentown one of these days. Once you try one of their Chili Cheese Dogs, your life isn’t going to be the same.”

Hansel as a handsome guy though? “It’s weird,” They said. “I feel somewhat … almost maternal over him? Guess I kind of am a parent now.”

What an odd thing to think about. What an odd thing to realize. In Funkytown, the dynamic hadn’t really changed. Figaro was in charge but hardly ever acted on it. It felt - wrong, somehow, to try to take control, having watched Gepetto give them their own autonomy, their own thoughts, their own actions. So Mr Punch kept being uncontrollable. Hansel kept living in the walls and being a bit of a pervert, his human body still having human feelings, thrusting against a wall while watching through a peephole.

“Yup, keeping this on me,” They agreed. It was not a good smell. Eventually all of the flesh and organs would rot away and then it would just be bones, which didn’t have as bad of a smell, but right now, it was pretty rank. The place needed some sort of Fabreeze cleansing. Or maybe Frank and Delta spent so much time up in their castle, they didn’t even know that it smelt so bad down here. They needed some sort of comment box, in Figaro’s opinion.

All of their information about guns came from movies and videogames. They knew at the very least to turn on the safety for now, until they would need it. “All I need are some green plants, and we’ve gone totally Resident Evil in this bitch.”

Great minds think alike. Figaro was also all about upgrading their setup at home. Getting a bigger TV, though the vintage one had been moved into their room, because they weren’t going to get rid of Gepetto’s things, other than giving some to Willem, of course. But it felt like he was one of Gep’s kids too. The stuff was THEIRS. Not just inherited by Fig. Better sound system, more gizmos and gadgets.

Figaro let Willem take the lead since they didn’t know their way around the apartment block. They had the gun in hand, waiting for a chance to use it. To ‘blast them’ as Thomas would say. Their knowledge of annoying curses and animal speak wasn’t the most useful for a zombie situation, except to get birds and other animals to let them know where the zombies themselves were. They had to bring out the big guns.

They didn’t say anything about Willem having the key. It just made sense, given that he came to visit the dolls. Others might have found it a bit romantic, perhaps, that he kept visiting his ex’s apartment, taking care of her things. But Figaro just found it practical.

The two of them went through the building, checking around corners, making sure that there wasn’t something waiting on just the other side. But it looked as if the building had mostly been cleaned out. Any life that was here that would have drew the zombies in, disappeared a long time ago. Still, once inside of the apartment, Figaro turned the lock on the door to feel a touch safer.

Though they were anxious to get at that Hawaiian shirt collection that hopefully had not been eaten away from bugs or faded by light coming in through the windows, they were curious about Livvy’s room, and would follow Willem inside. It wasn’t exactly what they had expected.

The shelves were new, and taken care of, that much was clear. It wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs like everything else. The dolls seemed to be in a place of prevalence. They stood out, like they were an important item in a video game or something, rendered more predominantly.

“I’m a little surprised,” They admitted, hands on their hips, looking at the girliness of the room, the teal color that was on everything, the bit of a mess of clothes from when Livvy was deciding what to pack all that time ago for the big boat trip. “I was expecting a huge shrine to you,” They said, looking to Willem. “Or did you get embarrassed and take that down?”

They weren’t trying to be funny or teasing, that’s genuinely what Figaro thought that they would walk into when it came to Livvy’s space. A whole wall plastered with pictures of Willem, maybe some with Fig but with Fig’s face cut out or something like that. Pieces of his hair, his toenail clippings, on a shelf. This was a voodoo town after all, it wouldn’t be hard for some white girl to get their hands on some sort of love potion or DIY-Voodoo-Doll set. But it was actually pretty … relaxed in here.

They were watching Willem more than the dolls after that, making sure that he was going to be alright while doing this. But maybe it was something that he just needed to do, the way that some people just needed a big cry. Something about it being cathartic.

‘Miss her if she comes back.’ ‘Don’t get too lonely.’

It was … kind of sad.

“Yes, I’ll leave you guys to talk and gossip and … do whatever it is that y’all do in here, no judgment,” They said, putting their hands up and backed out of the room slowly. “I’ll come find ya once I finish raiding that closet.”

"Cool, we're the pineapple under the sea crew if Iorek's in."

Normal chatter until Livvy came up. There was Figaro looking on the bright though.

"True. She's not dead. At least I'm not mourning her legendary pirate soul." He started to grin at the simple act of calling her a pirate recalling how she got her name to begin with. It was so silly. How could he not smile? Then it fell. "Pretty sure she wouldn't want to see me if we did bump into each other." Then it started to grow again. "But watching her attempt to ignore, act cool, or act audacious, whichever would be cute either way." He chuckled at the thought wondering where her instinct would take her.

As for missing the randomness of people in society for these two social creatures Will was nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, exactly. That's exactly what I mean. We need chile, Smalls. I'm more used to life being a chilli cook off actually. Not just Skyline versus Goldstar, but a god damn county fair cook off any day I feel like not being in the walls. You hit the nail on the head there. Some days I even want a Chilli Dog."

Nothing got his smile to spread more than the mention of Hansel. His time in the walls was special to him. But, oh the phrasing, in the closet. He laughed out loud. "Don't crush me with ideas, Smalls. Hansel's a handsome guy." Willem would hardly be ashamed to admit he got off with a couple girls more on the idea Hansel might have been peeking through the secret wall holes and believing he was giving him a show than the thought of the girls he was with. He never said these sorts of thoughts out loud though. Hansel was probably that best friend secret soft-crush he'd never move on because A. dude was straight, and B. he'd never want to hurt Funkytown if something went wrong even if he wasn't straight. He started to realize flirting with Diana too much started to be an issue. He never wanted to hurt a doll in any way. Either way he sure didn't mind giving Hansel a show and enjoyed it.

When they got out of the bus it was hard not to notice the amount of corpse debris strewn about. He flared his nostrils on first foul breath. He put the back of his wrist up to his nose. "You might want to wear that around your neck. Damn." His brows furrowed as his face cringed unable to stop inhaling in the pungent odor due to need for breathing. He'd smelled worse, especially in the beginning, but he still wasn't used to it no matter how long he'd lived in Feral.

All he could even think to say about Quarantine was, "That's Feral for ya." It was hardly shocking even if his nose still disliked it.

Another big smile spread when he saw Figaro with a rather large weapon. "Hell yeah. That's what I'm talking 'bout. Dear Davey Jones. You look so... kick ass."

The best part of Bastien and his hoarding and their strange nothing you need store is everything that's expensive is nothing but a treasure hunt away. This appealed to Willem's pirate looting side. Bastien had a tendency to hoard anything and everything and organized in a system of his own design. Willem was more specific with his looting. That said one can best bet Wild Will came home to Funkytown one day with the Resident Evil VRs for his horror movie watching household. He brought enough headsets for half the dolls to play and even modded them to fit smaller dolls heads. Of course, the Polly Pockets and action figure sized were still out of luck, but he tried to make them user friendly. It was one of his own favorite loots.

"Yes, and please." He was ready to go up and check out the dolls that were haunting his mind tonight. He knew he wasn't going to sleep well if he didn't go check on them. So, he led Figaro on up to Livvy's old apartment. Willem had over time even gotten the key to the front door to the place because he heard of Frank's people races for Feral. The reality was most didn't make it beyond the race and if they did, they weren't prepared for what Feral was. The zombies got them before they had a chance to settle in, but on the off chance someone was a tough cookie that survived the Feral trials he wanted to keep this one space safe. So, he'd be seen pulling out a key of his own and unlocking her apartment as if it was his own. It wasn't a difficult item to acquire when the Landlord's office was abandoned.

"This is it." He knew Figaro wanted to rummage her uncle's belongings, but he still walked back to Livvy's room first.

"Her room is back here."

The shelving unit he made that Livvy never saw would be there, installed, and covered neatly in her collection of dolls and figurines. They were all lined up with care and placed at aesthetically pleasing angles.

He reached in for the mermaid first and sat on the edge of her bed. "I love this one." He said before kicking off the portion of his costume that made his feet look like hooves. They were getting uncomfortable, and it was a show he was making himself comfortable and intended to stay for a while. He was in no rush.

He took a dust cloth that was sitting off on a side table and wiped it off. It was still sitting there from last time he'd been in along with some Windex and dust spray. He intended to wipe down the shelves and tend to each one like he always did.

"She loved this one." He added. The Livvy Mermaid. Maybe he was a glutton for punishment, but he enjoyed letting the memories whirl around his head as he touched each one that were living in boxes before he pulled them out, like a collector too afraid to open them up afraid of them losing value instead of enjoying them. The only difference was he knew that wasn't why she kept them in the box. Willem always saw Livvy as another little giant too busy trying to be what she wasn't or who she thought others needed her to be to enjoy who she was. That's why he knew those dolls were loved even shoved in the back of a closet in boxes instead of given away, donated, or sold off. It was thoughts like that which Livvy never quite knew or understood about Willem because they never dwelled long on depths of each other, but it was still thoughts like that which kept Willem attached. It was too close to home.

"Every now and again I think about bringing them all back to Funkytown, but I think they'll worry they might miss her if she comes back." He'd say as if they were actually alive and had thoughts and feelings even all of these didn't have any of the Geppetto magic on them. Willem believed he understood all the feelings of dolls even when they didn't.

"They don't get too lonely. They have each other." He let Figaro know in case they were worried. It had been a worry of his.

He looked more at peace in there than at the ball. "You don't have to sit here while I tidy them. You can go exploring like you wanted. I can meet you in there when I'm done if you want?" He had a feeling Figaro would get bored watching him dust the figurines and shelves and fluff the dolls.

[marksbear2]

Silco x Enforcer male reader

Warning!!⚠️ Not really deep angst as it was last fic I wrote of him but still angst. It’s like unrequited love, but also Silco using your love for his own gain.⚠️

Beneath the surface

The streets of Zaun were alive with noise and chaos, but within the shadows, where the flickering lights from the neon signs barely reached, there was something different. A silence that clung to the cold walls of the underground lair that belonged to Silco.

You leaned against the doorframe, eyes scanning the dimly lit room where Silco sat, his back turned as he stared out of the window. The air between you was thick with unspoken tension. Months had passed since this... arrangement had begun, yet neither of you spoke of it aloud. There was no need. The silence between the two of you had become its own language.

The size difference between the two of you had never been lost on Silco. He was a smaller man, but he carried himself with such a commanding presence that it made up for it in spades. Your height was an advantage, but it didn’t matter in the end. Not in this dynamic.

He didn’t turn to acknowledge your presence, his fingers tapping against the glass. It was something he did often—silent, distant, lost in his thoughts. You could only wonder what was going on behind that cold gaze of his.

“I need you,” he finally spoke, his voice low and cold. It was the same way he always spoke to you. Not with warmth, not with affection—just with the weight of command.

Your heart tightened, but you stayed silent, obeying without question. "What do you need?" you asked, your voice betraying nothing. There was no place for weakness here.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Silco’s lips. He glanced over his shoulder, the faintest glimmer of something darker in his eyes. "Do you ever question why you're still here?" he asked, the power play palpable in his words.

Of course, you had questioned it. You were aware of the manipulation—the way he kept you close but never allowed you too close. The way he twisted your emotions into something that only fueled his ambitions. But you couldn’t walk away. Not anymore.

“No," you said simply, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside. "I’ll always be here."

Silco’s expression softened, just a fraction, but it was enough to make you pause. He wasn’t looking for love. You weren’t that naive. But sometimes, in the quiet moments, when his guard was down, he allowed himself a fraction of vulnerability. Just enough for you to see how lost he really was beneath the cold exterior. It was fleeting, but it kept you clinging on.

Without turning to face you completely, Silco’s hand reached up and brushed against your cheek, the coolness of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His touch was always calculated, always just enough to remind you of the distance between you both.

“I’ve made you soft,” Silco murmured, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw. “But I think you like it.”

You didn’t argue, not now. There was nothing left to say. He had you in the palm of his hand, and while you hated it, you could never escape it. His control over you was suffocating, but it was also intoxicating. You were too far gone, too deep into this twisted dance.

The size difference between you and Silco had always been a reminder of who held the power, yet every time you were alone like this, it felt as though the roles were reversed. The way he made you feel small without even touching you, the way his silence could break you, it all came together in a power play that neither of you fully understood. Or perhaps you did, but neither of you had the courage to call it what it was.

His hand dropped from your face, and without a word, he moved toward you, his steps slow and deliberate. You knew what was coming—a momentary lapse of control, a fleeting moment of intimacy that would be gone before you could process it.

“Come here,” he commanded softly, the cold edge still present in his voice. You stepped forward, your body betraying your desire to be closer, even if it meant continuing this cycle. His hands were all over you, pressing you against him, your larger frame somehow still dwarfed by his presence as he leaned into you.

He didn’t kiss you—not like lovers did. He kissed you like a ruler marking his territory. There was no tenderness, only hunger, and the need to remind you who was in control. The sharp press of his lips, the way his hands gripped your sides tightly—it all made your breath catch in your throat.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips, his voice a quiet order.

You swallowed, the words feeling too familiar, too much of a surrender, but you said them anyway. “I’m yours.”

Silco smirked, pulling away slightly, eyes meeting yours. “Good. Never forget that.”

You were trapped in this world of manipulation and coldness, unable to let go, and even if you could, you knew you never would. No matter how often Silco reminded you of your place, how often he used you emotionally, it wasn’t enough to break the attachment that had built itself so deeply inside you.

In this power play, you were just as much a prisoner as he was—bound by the secrets you kept from everyone around you. And no matter how hard you tried to fight it, you couldn’t escape the way you needed him.

And in that moment, Y/N understood: this was his place, standing at the edge of Silco’s abyss, constantly yearning for the affection that would never come. But as much as he hated himself for it, he would always return to Silco. The cold, calculating man who used him emotionally, who toyed with his affections as if it were nothing.

But to Y/N, it was everything.

And so, they remained there in the dark, both trapped in their roles. One in control, the other consumed by love. Y/n kept trying, to search his gaze wanting to find anything that had a glimpse of love or affection. But what he saw was emptiness, as he knew loving someone like a Silco will forever will only lead into heartbreak.

[longlivejemily]

After Office Hours p.2

Read Part 1 here!

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader continues to receive more extra credit at office hours with Professor Reid.

WC: 2.5k

Warning: Student/teacher relationship, slight sub/dom dynamics, semi-public sex, fingering (f receiving), hair pulling (f receiving), use of “baby,” “little girl,” and y/n. plz let me know if I’m missing any!

You spent 3 days with Dr. Reid being the only thing on your mind. Replaying Thursday night over and over and over. It was the last thing you thought of when you fell asleep, and the first thing you thought of when you woke up. The morning after you planned to study most of the day, so much for that. The image of him underneath you, holding you as you came undone is persistent in staying at the front of your mind. You spent at least an hour and a half zoned out imagining all the ways next week's office hours could go. Don’t show up before 7. What did he mean by that? What’s going to happen after office hours this week? 

Your criminology class is the only one you have on Mondays. You spent most of the day getting ready for his lecture. You took that time to pay more attention to your hair, makeup, and outfit. Taking one last look in the mirror before you left, you questioned if you did too much. Curled hair, winged liner, and so much jewelry to the point that you’re sparkling. At the last minute, you brush out your curls. Deciding to trade these fresh barrel curls for a light wave that will be easy to toss over your shoulder. You take off some of the jewelry, this is your criminology class, not a red carpet. 

With every step closer to his door, your anxiety grows. You sit in your normal seat, the third row back in the center. When he walks in, he glances towards you for just a second, and that is the only time he acknowledges you all day. 

You are more distracted than ever before in his class. 4 days ago he was still an object of your fantasies. Now you know how his hands feel on your body, how his voice sounds as he talks you through your orgasm. He talks with his hands when he lectures, you’ve never hated it until today.

All day you were falling behind in your notes. At one point he misspelled on the chalkboard and wiped away his mistake with his pointer and middle finger. Imagining those two fingers inside you had you lost in your dreams for at least 5 minutes. You regained consciousness and were focused on the material for all of 45 seconds when he decided to sit on his desk. Your eyes were laser-focused on his crotch while he subtly man-spread. Is he doing these things just to fuck with you? It was hard to say, he never made eye contact. As he would scan the room his eyes would skip yours. 

Was he trying to hide his attraction? Maybe if he didn’t look at you nothing ever happened? You felt a fire in the pit of your stomach. Not sexual tension, something else. Jealousy? You noticed his eyes linger on the front row which was all girls just auditing. They were there oogle at your professor for 3 hours a week and then had the audacity to come to office hours. Because they were auditing, their questions weren’t about the class and criminology, but about his social life and where he spends his free time. Hoping to get a glance at the professor when he wasn’t in teaching mode. 

You never liked those girls, they were distracting, and couldn’t care less about criminology or profiling. But now, you hate them. You want his glances at them to be towards you instead. You want to giggle at his jokes and have his eyes meet yours with a smile. How did one hour with him make you so possessive?

“That’s all for today, class. We’ll pick up where we left off on Wednesday. Please read chapters 12 and 13 in preparation.” As soon as he uttered that last word, you were out of there.

–

Your Wednesday class with Dr. Reid went the same as the class before. He simply ignored you. In hopes of getting his attention, you wore the same thing to class as you did during office hours last week. You arrive at class before him and when he walks in and sees you, he pauses for a moment, sucks in a breath, and continues his walk to his desk. Thanks to him you weren’t the only one with profiling skills. You noticed the slight change in his step and knew you had him hooked. Too bad he's not hooked enough that he still ignored you for all of class. Every time you raised your hand to answer a question he called on someone else. You’ve always been a jealous person, but this is something else. Possession, obsession, you needed to make him yours. This ‘game’ he was playing was getting really annoying.

–

You were an anxious mess for most of Thursday. You didn’t absorb any knowledge from your classes and skipped your study sessions with some classmates due to your zombie-like behavior. Not a zombie focused on brains, but Professor Reid. You even skipped your stats class due to worries that you would get out even later and miss your office hours with Dr. Reid. 

You traded your usual mini skirts for a knee-length one, which is more comfortable for your lack of underwear. You’re wearing thigh-high stockings with Mary Jane’s and a chunky sweater. Under the sweater, you have an extremely thin lace bra. You shaved your entire body this morning to get ready for him. Your makeup is gorgeous but mild, and completely waterproof. You have no idea how tonight is going to go, got to be prepared!

The click of your heels down the hallway and the blood rushing in your ears are the only things you can hear on the walk to Dr. Reid’s office. You take a deep breath to ground yourself before you turn the corner of his hallway. It’s 7:05 and you hang out for a few moments outside his door. You pretend to read a plaque on the wall that lists the prominent people to have come out of your university. You are trying to look busy in case another student exits his office. After 5 minutes of reading the names of old white men, you get the courage to knock on his door. You only have to wait a few moments after knocking for him to appear in front of you. Your neck snaps up to meet his eyes as a shy smile appears on both of your faces. “Y/N! Thank you for coming to office hours, welcome.” He steps to the side letting you enter, locking the door behind him just as last time. 

Hearing the click of the lock sends heat straight to your core. You have to resist the urge to climb him like a tree. Instead, you both sit across from each other, the desk and thick air of sexual tension the only thing between you. You are having deja vu from last week as he asks, “What can I do for you?” Earth-shattering rough sex would be just fine, you think to yourself. “Yeah I do have a question about class this week, were you having fun teasing me?” He licks his lips and avoids eye contact. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says with a gulp.

 “Oh fess up professor.” You say while standing and walking over to the other side of his desk. You sit atop it facing him while keeping your ankles crossed. You don’t want to tip him off about your lack of underwear just yet. You flash a smile at him while touching his knee with the side of your foot. “Okay,” he says with a sigh. “I wasn’t teasing you. Not on purpose, at least. I felt that if I acknowledged you, for some reason everyone would know about us.” You blush at his last syllable as he continues. “This job is very important to me, it gives me purpose. But also I can’t get you out of my head. I was afraid of my glances lingering too long and tipping someone off. I traded my glances at you for glances at the auditors in the front row. I was looking at them, but only thinking about you.”

You smirk at the subtle shade he throws at the girls who are paying to look at him twice a week. “Less talking about the girls in the front row, let's move forward with how I can gain some extra credit.” You say while uncrossing your ankles. He is immediately peaking underneath your skirt. He starts to blush when he meets your eyes and knows he's been caught. “Dr Reid you don’t have to sneak a peak, just ask,” you say in a seductive tone while slowly spreading your legs. He slightly rolls his chair back to get a better view. He sees something shiny between your thighs. It takes a moment for him to realize that it's your slick catching the low light in his office. When he realises you skipped on underwear he grunts and stands up. He stands in between your spread thighs and puts his strong hands on your waist. “No underwear huh?” You blush and look away. 

He takes a hand and grabs your chin to look up at him. “You’re brave walking around campus like that.” “What can I say? You’re worth the risk.” Those suggestive words make Spencer lose all of his control. He grips your face with both of his hands and kisses you with fervor and passion. You kiss him back with the pent-up feelings you’ve been having all semester. You’ve never been kissed like this, it’s like he wants to swallow you whole. His tongue is tasting all of you like a man starved. When you pull back for air he doesn’t stop, just lowers his head and continues his assault on your neck. Sucking on your pulse point causes you to let out a moan, and he moans back. 

His eyes meet yours and he eagerly says, “Can I touch you?” “Please.” His lips find your neck again and he wastes no time putting his fingers to your clit. You moan immediately and he catches your mouth with his. He whispers against your lips, “Shh baby can’t have anyone hearing you. Gotta be quiet for me.” You nod eagerly and he continues devouring your neck. You have always had a fascination with his hands; feeling them against your most sensitive spot is quite literally a dream come true.

You pull him back up from your neck and connect your lips once again. You can’t get enough of him. His tongue dances with yours naturally, like muscle memory. As he draws shapes over your nerves your mind goes blank with bliss. Dr. Reid is taking up all of your senses. It’s as though he’s all you’ve ever known. You could die right now and be okay with it. 

You start to feel that familiar heat in your abdomen, feeling shocked at how quickly he got you here. A man has never been this successful with you before. Dr. Reid plunges two fingers inside of you unexpectedly, and you moan loudly into his mouth. He pauses his movements to whisper, “Be quiet little girl I’m not gonna tell you again.” It’s so hard to stay quiet with his beautiful hands in you and his perfect lips on you. If his fingers feel this good you can’t imagine how good his dick is going to feel. The way he’s slamming his fingers into you has tears of joy pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’re gripping the edge of his desk tight as if this moment will disappear when you let go. 

As his long fingers fill you up just right, his palm meets your clit in a delicious way. “Oh god doctor don’t stop” you instinctively moan. “Never baby, this is -oh- all for you.” He’s getting off by just providing you pleasure, you wonder how well this will benefit you in the future. His free hand grabs a handful of hair and pulls your head back. “Is this what you wanted little girl? Gave a ruse of extra credit just so I could fuck you with my hand?” You’re too drunk on him to form a coherent response, a string of moans pours out of your mouth instead. “I thought you were a smart girl huh? did I fuck you stupid?” No response, just a breathy moan. 

He feels your pussy tightening on him, “Oh my god Dr. Reid.” “Come for me, baby.” He starts kissing you again as you come. You truly thought this could only happen in your dreams. Making out with Dr. Reid while he finger-fucks you and you’re cumming all over his hands. Your vision goes white and you feel your soul rise out of your body. This is the best orgasm you’ve ever had. When you come back to earth, Dr. Reid's hand is still in your pussy and he is still kissing you. Your lips are barely moving at this point but he doesn’t care, he just wants to keep tasing you. 

You pull back from him and look at him amazed. He looks back at you concerned but then you just smile. You see him start to relax. “You okay?” “More than okay,” you say with a giggle. “Thank you, professor. That was truly educational.” “Oh yeah? What’d you learn?” “How your hands feel when they’re inside of me. It was even better than I hoped.” He smiles and gives you a quick kiss and grabs both of your hands. “Can you stand?” As you slide off his desk your knees buckle a little but the Doctor catches you and helps you stand up straight. “Sorry, I thought I’d fully recovered.” “Are you going to be okay getting home, y/n?” “Yeah, my apartment is only like a 10-minute walk.” 

“A ten-minute walk for someone your age is about half a mile! Please let me take you home.” “It’s okay Dr. Reid it’s a safe campus and I’m always aware of my surroundings.” “I don’t know it’s kind of late.” “I do this walk all the time when it’s dark. I’ll let my roommates know I’m coming home and to watch my location. I’ll be okay I promise.” He raises an eyebrow at you. He steps away from you for the first time since you got here to dig through his desk drawer. He pulls out sticky notes and a pen and jots something down quickly. “This is my cell phone number. Please text me once you’re home.” 

You are screaming on the inside when you grab the paper from him and your fingertips brush. Dr. Reids phone number!!! No way this is actually happening. You grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder before you say goodbye. “Thank you, Dr. Reid. This was fun.” “It’s always a pleasure Ms. y/l/n. Same time next week?” “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You smile, turn away from him, and walk out the door. 

a/n: thank you all so much for your support on this story! It means so much to me and makes me want to continue writing. Sorry this took so long, I had so many ideas it was hard to decide on which way to go with this story. Please keep liking and sharing and I would love more ideas!

Taglist: @beansarecooler @bubbleebubz thank you ily