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ceilidho · 2 days ago

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fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 8 masterlist

Another day passes. Sleep and wake again. Take the long hand on the clock and spin it back around, the same day starting over again.

Coffee and breakfast in the galley on your own this time. It’s too early for anyone else to join you. Movement in needle-point inching, creeping through the hallways under the glare of the fluorescent lights. Everything feels too hollow and too bright.

When morning briefing comes, you stand by the wall closest to the door and mask your anxiety as best as you can.

Gaz is already in the cockpit when you arrive, chatting on the other side of the room with Alex, their conversation too low for you to eavesdrop on. He sits with an ankle crossed casually over his knee in a figure four and his hands resting on his upper thighs. One of the guys must have lent him a shirt because he wears one of their standard issue heathered grey long sleeved shirts, the fleecy material stretching a bit tight across his shoulders.

The commander claps his hands together, tearing your attention away from Gaz’s shoulders.

“Okay, we’ve got a lot to get through today, so listen up.”

More of the same that you force yourself to pay attention to even though your mind keeps threatening to drift off. You didn’t sleep especially well the night before, tossing and turning over something that you can’t wrap your head around. You’re suffering for it now though, eyes burning from lack of sleep.

“We’ve also got some good news, finally,” Graves says. “Cruise control is operational again, thanks to Gaz.”

A smattering of applause and you can only stare. You clap along with the others, the gesture more instinctual than celebratory.

Gaz’s smile is bashful, a classic, ah, anyone could’ve done it. But anyone didn’t and his faux modesty grates on your nerves.

Amidst Graves’ usual rundown of the day’s tasks and schedule, you notice something. Or rather, the absence of something.

With a fresh layer of petroleum jelly still clogging your nostrils, you can’t smell anything in the room. For the first time since Gaz boarded the ship, you stay rooted in your body, not swept away by the sense memory of another time and another place. If your mind drifts, it’s only because of what you’ve been ruminating on these past couple of days.

You observe and take note.

Then the briefing comes to a close, the crew dismissed for the day. You only stand up after Hadir and Nikolai take leave, still staring across the room from the corner of your eye. Despite being dismissed, Gaz doesn’t leave his seat beside Alex, still deep in conversation. He doesn’t so much as glance your way as you step from the cockpit.

You don’t know why that stings.

Nausea hits you out in the hall. You stumble down the stairs leading up to the cockpit before you have to steady yourself with a hand against the wall and breathe until it subsides. Less than two days later and he’s already ingratiated himself to the commander. Graves isn’t a complicated man; he wears his favouritism like a badge of honour, happy to let his underlings fight for his approval.

You don’t know why it bothers you, but it does. Deeply. In the months since you first met Graves, you’ve hardly graduated from lukewarm pleasantries, and yet somehow within less than forty-eight hours, Gaz has earned the commander’s praise and respect. It doesn’t make sense.

The door to the cockpit abruptly slides open and a figure breezes past you, quick legs taking them halfway down the corridor before your brain even registers who it is.

“Farah?” you call out, making her stop in her tracks.

Already at the end of the hall, she turns at the sound of your voice and waits for you to catch up with her, poised like a sickle-footed dancer. She holds a tablet in front of her, the edge resting against her sternum. Dark eyes follow you all the way.

“Can we talk?” you ask when you’re close enough to speak at a clandestine volume.

Her eyebrows pull together. “What’s that on your face?”

“What? Oh, it’s nothing—it’s just Vaseline. Can I ask you something?”

“About what?”

“First just—” Quiet suddenly, head twisting around to stare down the long corridor behind you. There’s no one there. Farah seems mildly unnerved when you turn your focus back on her, but when is she not these days? Maybe you are fraying at the edges. “I’ll walk with you, okay?”

Instead of responding to that, she spins on her heel and keeps walking. You take her silence as permission to follow her down the hallway towards the cargo hold. You keep silent until you’ve descended below the orlop deck, the sheer distance from the cockpit making you lower your hackles.

Finally, it feels safe enough to speak. “What’d you think of him?”

“Gaz?” she clarifies, and the question immediately irritates you because who else would you be referring to? Who else emerged from nowhere?

“Yes.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, her eyes drifting back down to the tablet in her hands, taking her attention away from you again. Her fingers flit across the screen as she types up a quick message, not missing a single stride as you continue down the narrow, vent-lined hall towards the main cargo hold door.

“Farah?” you prompt.

Her eyes flick towards you again. “He’s…helpful,” she finally answers. “Nikolai walked me through how he fixed the autonomous navigation yesterday. It was an oversight on my part to not think of fixing the GPS receiver before, but it’ll be beneficial to have someone else around to catch those slip ups.”

You frown. “I thought you and Nikolai had already tried fixing the GPS receiver.”

She stops in her tracks so abruptly that you nearly trip over your feet as you skid to a halt as well, then stares at you for a beat. Her brow furrows. You’ve never seen Farah look lost before, but she comes as close as you’ve ever seen. Faintly foggy-eyed, lips unconsciously slipping into a frown.

“Farah?” you prod again.

That snaps her out of it. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No. It was an oversight.”

You open your mouth to argue, certain that you recalled Nikolai mentioning it before, but decide to just let it go. Not worth arguing about. “Okay, fine, it doesn’t matter—look, I just…I know things have been…weird lately. I’ve been weird, but…” You swallow, nerves making your stomach turn. “I just think…that something feels…weird about all of this. And you can tell me if you think I’m crazy, but I thought…the other day you seemed…—it just seemed like maybe we might be on the same page.”

“About Gaz, you mean?”

You just nod.

She levels you with a sidelong look, Mona Lisa without a smile. Inscrutable woman. She looks at you like she’s trying to communicate or understand something or study you or impart something on you, but you don’t know what. Or maybe she just means to look until you do the work for her; until your mouth opens wide and you pour your heart out—

She breaks your stare, looking away. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

That surprises you; you somehow expected more resistance. Maybe you expected her to call you crazy. “You will?”

“I trust my own judgment more than anyone else’s. And—” Farah bites her tongue at the last second, holding back whatever comment she’d been about to make. Curiosity nearly makes you question her further, but she finds her words before you do. “…It’s better to be cautious and diligent, even if it amounts to nothing.”

The relief of not being dismissed out of hand nearly bowls you over. “Yes. Yes, thank you. That’s all I’m asking.”

She powers down her device, turning her body to face you fully. “That’s all you wanted to talk about?”

“Yeah. Yes—that’s it.”

“Alright.”

The dismissal is clear in her voice. She doesn’t even have to say it for you to get the request to leave. Even though it comes as no surprise, it still stings.

You only make it a handful of strides down the hall before her voice stops you again.

“And, doctor?”

You pause, looking over your shoulder. “Yes?”

“I’m doing this as a favour. So don’t get anyone else involved with this unless we absolutely need to,” Farah advises. “Okay?”

“Okay. I won’t.”

And then she disappears into the cargo hold without a glance back, the doors sliding shut behind her.

At half two, there’s a knock on the medbay door and you pause in the middle of your sentence, stylus poised in midair.

It only occurs to you why someone might interrupt your research time when they knock again and a tinny, familiar voice calls out from the other side of the door, “Doctor?”

Your stomach clenches. You put the stylus down and rise to your feet.

He’s there when you press the button to open the door, all smiles and fulsome charm, cloying like overripe fruit. Pungent and on the brink of spoiling, perfuming the air with a sickly sweet aroma, saying in a different language, this is your last chance, so take it while it’s still here. It won’t be long until this is all gone.

But you step to the side and let him in because you promised him you would.

“I’m not too early, am I?” Gaz asks, giving you an out, and you almost take it.

It’s tempting just to say yes and send him on his way, no follow up appointment scheduled. Maybe you’ll always be too busy to see him. Why invite him into your sanctuary after all, the only place on the ship meant just for you?

But you’ve hardly kept him out, a little voice in your head reminds you. Hasn’t he been here before?

Again, that lingering suspicion. No evidence to back you up and yet your gut is firm in its conviction. You think of walking into the medbay the day before and stopping in your tracks, overcome by the sense that someone had been there just before you arrived.

“Nope,” you reply with a tight smile. “Come in.”

The room feels a lot more cramped with another person in it. Particularly a man of his stature. Though you’ve treated other men before, some even more formidable than Gaz, he has a certain enigmatic quality to him that seems to take up a room.

Your eyes subconsciously track the sway of his hips as he walks over to the exam table and takes a seat in the middle of it, waiting patiently for you to join him.

“What first, doctor?” Gaz asks, hands clasped in front of him.

Hesitant, you smooth your hands down your lab coat and move towards him. “Um. Just—just sit for a second and I’ll grab my things.”

His stare is a physical weight on your back, but you have to keep it turned to him while you gather all the requisite equipment.

“Sorry if I caught you at a bad time. Were you busy?”

“…No,” you answer, shaking your head. “I wasn’t. I’m—well, honestly I’m probably the least busy person on the ship. Half the time I’m just twiddling my thumbs in here.”

You say it blithely, almost a joke, but when you turn back to Gaz, you find him staring at you with sympathetic eyes, as if sensing a deeper undercurrent to your words. “You wouldn’t be here if that were true.”

The sudden shift to earnestness makes you feel almost awkward, embarrassed. You distract yourself by ripping apart the velcro sleeve of the blood pressure monitor. “Can you hold your arm out, please?”

He does, letting you wrap the sleeve around his arm, his bicep bulging around it.

You conduct the litany of routine tests in silence, careful to avoid eye contact or conversation. The silence feels too delicate to break.

The evaluation consists of a series of standard tests that you’ve performed countless times before: measuring his height and weight, taking his vital signs—blood pressure, heart rate, temperature—which all come back normal, listening to his organs—which all sound, to your ear, perfectly fine—and a visual and physical examination.

You’re not exactly sure what you expect to find. Hypotension from dehydration; decreased skin turgor; weak and thready peripheral pulses. Anything at all that might indicate the fact that he just spent the last few days stranded without food or water. Anything to indicate starvation or dehydration or lack of oxygen.

But with each successive test, you find yourself less and less sure that he experienced any hardship at all. Everything looks fine.

Even with the examination table lowered as much as possible, he’s still a bit too tall for you to properly perform your evaluation, necessitating that you pull up a stool at one point. It forces you to get far too close for comfort, only a hair's breadth from being pressed up against Gaz’s side when you hold the otoscope up to his ear, peering into the canal. Acutely aware of the heat emanating off his body and your nipples beading under your shirt.

He’s quiet too, for the most part. Breathes heavier when you touch your hands to his skin, but you chalk it up to reflex. Ignore the way your hands tremble and your sex aches from his presence alone.

His lips part in a crooked grin when you switch to palpating his lymph nodes. The exhaled laugh makes your hands twitch against his neck. “Sorry—that tickled.”

“It’s fine.” Ignoring the way your face heats up, you feel around the nodes again, digging your fingers in enough to be sure that all seems well. Still nothing jumps out at you.

It’s a hundred times worse when you have him lie down on the table so you can feel around his abdomen, checking for anything abnormal. You shake a bit when the muscle doesn’t give under your questing fingers, rock hard. Beneath the shapeless spacesuit that he always used to wear his bulk was mostly hidden, but you feel it now, the solid muscle of his core undeniable.

Enough. It doesn’t become you to objectify your patient, but there’s not much you can do besides ignore it and hope the impulse goes away on its own.

When it finally comes time for his blood test, you step down from the stool and leave his side to go fetch a fresh needle and syringe, a couple vials, and adhesives for after. His eyes never leave your back.

You tie off his arm and study the crease of his arm until you see a vein, cleaning the spot while keeping your gloved thumb pressed against the skin.

“Okay, deep breath if you need to,” you whisper.

He doesn’t flinch or wince when the needle presses in, lips not even twitching. Calm always in spite of the situation at hand.

It’s oddly intimate, standing so close to him with your fingers resting against the inside of his arm while you fill vial after vial with his blood. Lulled by the sound of his breath, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. Almost a dreamlike space. You find yourself avoiding his eyes again, lest they distract you.

When you’ve drawn enough for your tests, you extract and discard the needle and syringe, bandaging the prick. Your hands linger on his arm, finger still tracing over the delicate skin of his cubital fossa.

“Anything wrong with me, doctor?” Gaz asks teasingly.

Surprisingly, no—at least, nothing you’ve been able to detect so far. That leaves you with far more questions than you originally had. He’s the picture of health as far as you can tell from your cursory exam, though his blood tests will reveal more.

“Nothing so far. I’ll let you know when your bloodwork’s ready though,” you let him know with a brittle smile.

His gaze drops to your neck, half-lidded eyes watching the way your throat bobs when you swallow reflexively, suddenly nervous. Avoidant disposition; you’ve always pulled away from things that have tried to pull you in. You don’t know why that thought comes to you now.

“What’ve you got there, love?” Gaz asks in a low, purring voice, staring at you intently, and suddenly it’s like a bubble has formed around the two of you. The outside world melts away, fades into the background. A faint hum fills the space between you.

“What?” you reply, a bit doltish, breath catching in your throat when his eyes narrow and he leans in.

“That…right there…” he murmurs, leaning in closer to you, a hand coming up to rest against the side of your face. “Under your nose.”

Body rooted to the spot, you don’t do anything when he drags his thumb under your nostril, wiping away the mess of petroleum jelly jammed under your nose. There’s nothing you can do but let him clean it off, your arms dangling by your sides like lead weights, each pass of his thumb wiping away more and more.

“There, that should do,” he hums, wiping the excess off on his shirt, leaving a dark, oily stain behind. Dark eyes flick up to meet yours again.

You can’t think of anything to say; your mouth goes dry instead. He lets another low chuckle out, eyes crinkling at the corners. As if your distress were written across your face.

It’s like he can see right through you sometimes.

“I—” you choke out. “T-thank you.”

“It was a good try, but…something like that isn’t going to help.” It’s said like a fact, not a warning. “I’m already up here.”

Two fingers tap your forehead, lingering there for a second. You tremble under his touch.

And then, in the back of your mind, something moves. Something of you and not of you. It’s there and then gone, so fleeting that you barely notice it. But you do.

Ice all the way down to your core. There’s a fear in your heart slowly leaking out, clotting in your veins. Aware that maybe he isn’t just speaking facetiously, that even now you can feel something slithering around in the back of your head and maybe it isn’t just your anxiety speaking to you.

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

His smile splits into something wider than his face. Your fingers are numb against the inside of his arm. “You still trust anything just because it’s right in front of you?”

Nimble fingers brush yours aside to peel off the bandage you just applied, revealing smooth, unblemished skin.

Your breathing goes haggard. You can’t answer him. Any coherent thought has been ripped from the soft tissue of your mind, replaced by a cold, churning fear.

Gaz lifts himself off the table quite gracefully, righting his shirt when he’s back on his feet. The fluorescent lights make everything seem so flat. Even he seems flat, towering over you like a monolith, an obelisk from deep space. Reality sloughs off him when he stands at full height, like he can’t help but shed it.

You stare down at the plaster crumpled up on the exam table. No trace of blood on the soft middle pad.

Right before leaving, he looks at you from over his shoulder. “Let me know when you have my results, doctor.”

All you can do is nod, and then he’s gone.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #gaz/reader

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ennabear · 2 days ago

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enananan wants blurb ideas plu can deliver for bae💚 SHUTTING SEV UP WITH KISSES PLEASE!! maybe like she's getting grumpy :sevikaeyebrow: but r is like nope!! SMOOCH i love u twinsy go get em <3

HEHE HAII TWINSY!!! SMOOCH FOR U hehehe thanks for this idea i need to blurb about my wife because i miss her… grumpy sev is my baeee hehehe she’s just a little baby bear cub 🤎🤎🤎

sevika often comes home at late hours in the night or even early in the morning, so she’s never really in a great mood. although your version of ‘scary lady’ is just her grumbling about stubbing her toes on your furniture or demanding a back massage. but still, your babe is sleep deprived, hungry, and most of all, she misses you.

you have a habit of making sure she has everything she’ll need when she gets home, like a meal, a neat and tidy bed, a drink if she needs one, a warm bath if it’s been one of those weeks. she’s always immensely grateful for it, even though to anyone else she might seem to be unhappy. but you can tell that she appreciates and loves you, especially when she cuddles you to sleep or when she wakes you up with her tongue stuffed in your cunt.

tonight, she comes home angry and growling as always. jinx has gotten herself in trouble as always, and no matter how much she tries to keep the kid in line, she always blows it up. literally. and sevika is left not only cleaning up her messes, but silco’s too. it annoys her, and it’s exhausting, and all she wants to do when she comes home is just get all of her frustration out.

so when she walks in through the front door, she sighs, takes a seat, and starts sipping at the glass of whiskey you’ve poured for her. you can tell by the crease between her brows and the way her lips are pouted that there’s something on her mind, and you know that she’s just itching to get it off of her chest.

“how was your day?” you prompt.

she sighs deeply, closing her eyes and exhaling through her nose. “i hate my job sometimes.”

“really? i thought you liked helping your people.”

“not when jinx kills them all.”

and her tangent has started. she tells you all about how silco had her running around the city all day, in and out of buildings, up and down between topside and bottom, tracking shipments, meeting people, cleaning the bar, babysitting jinx, finding information, etc.

what she hasn’t noticed is that you’ve been sneaking closer to her while she talks. she’s too busy in her own world, ranting about jinx and silco and the chembarons and the enforcers, and suddenly you’re wrapping your arms around her and pressing your lips against hers.

you smile against her, you know that she likes to vent sometimes, but you also know that it’s good for her to just move on and enjoy your presence. she sighs against you, pulling away with another pout. some of her brown lipstick has smudged against your lips, so she reaches forward to smear it off.

“sorry, am i boring you?” she says with a sleepy grin.

“yeah, a little.” you tease. “why don’t we go to bed, babe. i know you’re tired.”

sevika also likes to overshare when she’s drunk. it doesn’t take much, just a few drinks and a steady conversation to start her rambling.

sometimes it’s dangerous, she’ll start talking to some random goon about silco’s plans and incoming shimmer shipments, and you have to swoop in and start making out with her before she reveals to much and loses her job.

other times it’s cute. she’ll get a little tipsy, the bar will be somewhat empty, the lights shining perfectly on your skin, and she’ll just dump out a million reasons as to why she’s in love with you. she gets so adorable and soft, her cheeks get firm with a smile reaching from one ear to the other, her eyes squinting closed a little, and it’s hard not to lean forward and shut up her words with your kisses.

it’s not like she minds, though. she never minds. her favorite thing in the world is the feeling of your lips on hers, and that sweet feeling of love that it brings to her. whether she’s had the worst day ever or not, she knows that you’ll find a way to comfort her with your sweet kisses, and she instantly forgets all about what caused her to start talking in the first place.

#QUICK LIL BLURB ABOUT MY SEVBEAR HEHEHE #I LOVE U PLUTOBAE THANK U FOR TJIS #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x female reader #arcane sevika #sevika fluff #sevika arcane x reader #arcane #arcane netflix #arcane league of legends

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imujings · 1 day ago

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[j.ww] say my name

synopsis | a snowstorm has hit your city, the surprising cold front making it hard for anyone to go anywhere. good thing you and wonwoo are already busy with… other things.

♯ pairing(s) | jeon wonwoo x gn!reader ♯ genre(s), wc | suggestive (MDNI) & fluff, 1.1k ♯ warnings | making out, cursing, wonu calls gn!reader pretty, handsy!wonu, lil bit of sub!reader, lil hair pulling, some grinding, lip biting, pet names (baby)

jay's musings | m.. making out w wonu during a snowstorm mfqwkdjfjf,,, ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) … (ty @wheeboo for beta reading <3)

Outside is the picture perfect shot of a winter wonderland. Snow blankets the streets of the city, your high-rise apartment giving a breath-taking view of the twinkling lights as people begin to wind down from the day’s escapades.

A snowstorm had taken your area hostage in the middle of the day, and shivering figures could be seen frigidly walking along the sidewalks in a hurry to get home, clearly eager to get out of the cold and uninviting environment.

Inside your cozy space, however, is an entirely different atmosphere.

The only light on is the Himalayan salt lamp sitting on a shelf some ways away, its warm orange lighting draping the room in a rich honey glow. Music drifts in from your bluetooth speaker atop the kitchen island; a NIKI song, no doubt queued by Wonwoo from your shared playlist. There’s a buzz in the air, thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket.

It started out innocent enough, cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching the snow outside fall. In moments like these, there was no need for words between you and Wonwoo; you both were simply content with the comfortable silence, finding the presence of the other enough of a joy in life. Sometimes, though, the two of you would mumble quiet reassurances to each other, words of affection passed between the two of you like cherished high school notes, your lips idly finding their way to the other’s.

As the flurries turned into a curtain of white flakes, you and Wonwoo were in the middle of a particularly… heated kiss, with you breaking it to breathlessly (and teasingly) ask if he’d like some tea. His eyes, half-lidded and dark behind his fogged-up glasses, followed you out of the living room area. Your taunting gaze didn’t miss the tent in his grey sweatpants.

When you came back from turning on the stovetop, a shit-eating grin on your face, you were greeted with silence. Biting your lip to hide your smile at his obvious irritation, you open your mouth—only for Wonwoo to drag you into his lap, taking his glasses off and fumbling to place them on the side table, before kissing you fiercely.

That was all some time ago. You aren’t too sure how long it's been since then, but a part of you doesn’t really care anymore, too preoccupied with other matters. Such as the man whose lap you’re sitting in.

Your thighs straddle Wonwoo’s, him having gone back to kissing you lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. You suppose he did, given that his early morning schedule tomorrow was cancelled. Your thoughts drifted to profusely thanking the inclement weather for this pop-up opportunity to get lost in him, lips slowing against his. He seems to notice your attention leaving him, the grip of his fingers on your chin tightening, and any coherent thoughts immediately leave your mind as he softly bites your bottom lip.

You whine, cheeks flaming at his touch. “Wonu…”

“Hm?” is his only reply, hands sliding down to rest underneath your hoodie, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants.

A soft, hushed moan falls off of your lips. Your eyes flutter close and you hide your face in his neck, the rumbling of his laugh only making the fire in your lower stomach burn hotter. Wonwoo’s hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek and brings your mouth back to his.

Kissing Jeon Wonwoo was as easy as breathing. If you could have this as a full-time job, you would take it, no hesitation, and become the richest person in the world. His lips are soft and plump against yours, tasting sweetly of the peach-flavored lip balm you keep in your nightstand. Every time one of you pulled back in the slightest, the other’s lips chased after, shiny and bitten and longing for more.

His other hand is still running along the waistline of your pants, sometimes dipping underneath to snap the hem of your underwear against your skin. You yelp, but he only smiles against your lips, squeezing the fat of your hip gently.

“Relax, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

And you let him, your fingers desperately scrambling to find purchase in the hairs at the base of his neck as he gains control. His hand on your cheek disappears again, grabbing onto your hips as he helps you grind into him. The man’s head tilts back a bit, a groan spilling from his lips from the friction, and you trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you closer until you’re somehow flushed even more against him.

Even through the layers of clothing, you feel the warmth of his skin, your fingers further tangling themselves in strands of his hair. His breath is hot against your skin, pressing a sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek. You melt into him with a sigh leaving you. He knows exactly what buttons of yours to push. You adore him for it. Mind quickly turning into mush, he plants another kiss to your other cheek, a saccharine promise, before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth yet again and biting. Hard.

“Wonwoo!” your voice, high and needy, seems to invigorate him; he moans, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “Wonu, please…”

“Sounds so pretty, saying my name,” he sighs, tone low and gravelly. “Keep going, baby. Feels so good.”

He’s everywhere. All at once. His hands are traveling up and down your sides, fingers making your skin tingle and burn with the brightest fires. Your brain is foggy, unable to think of anything other than the feel of his tongue swiping against yours and his hips bucking up right where you need him, hard and heavy in just the right way. Something in your stomach starts to burn, coiling with a pressure you know all too well, your telling whimpers being muffled again and again by his lips. One particular and delicious drag of his hips against yours awards him with a beautifully choked sob. If he keeps going, just like that—

The wail of the kettle startles away the fog in your brain.

You pull away, panting, lips swollen and hair disheveled. The blue throw that’s been teetering on the edge of the couch finally falls to the floor in a heap from the sudden movement. Your eyes are wide with alarm, but Jeon Wonwoo just stares at you as if you’ve gone and hung up every star in the damn sky.

“Wonwoo! The tea!”

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo fluff #jeon wonwoo imagines #seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #svt fluff #svt imagines #something possessed me to write this #jay’s musings

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slident · 2 days ago

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(Inspired by another reblog I saw)

“W…why are you here?” In my momentary surprise I forgot my manners, but to be fair I had never met a prince before. My home certainly was too small to host one properly, and I was still dressed for work, my apron dusty with soil.

“You sell flowers, right?” The prince was young, most likely the youngest in line for the throne. None of his siblings would have time for this of course, so I assumed that much at least.

“I am, yes.” I regained my senses and curtsied, “My name is Daisy, your majesty.”

“Daisy.” The prince smiled, “Thank you for everything you’ve done then.”

I looked up at him, a small line between my brows in confusion, “Why are you thanking me, your majesty?” He took a step forward, holding the cake out more toward me,

“Well apparently, as my advisor told me,” He glanced back for quiet reassurance, “Everyone has been giving me flowers from you!”

I was a little less than shocked to hear this. I knew most people who bought flowers from me bought them as gifts, it wasn’t often the small bouquets I made were used as decoration, they weren’t decadent enough for that. But every once in a while I would see young lovers trading the flowers I had picked in the town square. It always brought a smile to my face.

“Wait… so you’re here because other people gave you flowers?” I spoke a little slowly, trying to wrap my head around the idea.

“Yes!” He nodded, his smile more genuine than you would usually see from royalty. “As you may know, as the youngest and most handsome prince, I happen to get a lot of gifts.” I didn’t mention his clear arrogance since I was polite enough to not interrupt.

“Long story short, I started to get a lot of the same flowers, and my advisor traced them back to you since…” He paused, looking from the cake to his advisor, before looking back to me. “I really like the flowers, and I wanted to get some. Not as a gift from someone, but I just wanted to buy some. And apparently it’s your birthday too, so here!”

I finally took the cake he offered, and finally figured out the whole situation. The youngest prince of the kingdom had been getting flowers as gifts, my flowers, continually. He also liked them so much that he tracked me down and got me a cake for my birthday. The prince. Liked my flowers, how I arranged them, the ones I picked. And he got me a chocolate cake with flowers on it.

“…” It took me another moment of shock to look back up at him, again, and speak, “Thank you. I don’t think… I didn’t think anyone liked my bouquets that much.” My smile was shy, but genuine, same as his. He nodded, his face having changed slightly at seeing my smile.

“Uh-Do you want to be a florist at the palace?” He then spoke quickly, and out of nowhere. Even his advisor was surprised. But for some reason it made more sense now that I could see the redness on his ears.

“Yes,” I nodded, “I would love that.”

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

#writers #writing prompts #writing inspiration #cute

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gazsdiary · 2 days ago

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JOHNNY'S SECRET

Johnny Soap Mctavish x Reader (Later Poly!tf141 x reader)

ABO Universe

Oneshot: Johnny's Secret

Summary: Johnny has a secret and Gaz is determined to find out what is he is hiding that makes him smile like a fool. Or rather: who.

Warnings: none

Let me know if you want this to become a series!

(I do NOT allow anyone stealing, translating or imitating this work)

xoxo

Something was going on with Johnny. He had been disappearing at random hours for the last couple of days, nobody knew where he went. At first, none of them cared, maybe he was just getting some air or going to the bathroom. Who knows. He was always a bit weird if they were honest. However, Gaz had started noticing some slight changes in his new behaviour, or his new routine. For example, how he always disappeared at the same time, sometimes even leaving in the middle of lunch without giving any explanations. And always came back smiling. A stupid smile as Simon had named it, but a smile nonetheless.

When Gaz has asked them about this Simon shrugged his shoulders and Price only frowned his lips saying that he’ll keep an eye on him. So he had made it his mission to find where his same-rank friend was when he disappeared.

They had always been glued to the hip. Well, since he came around. It had been weird at the beginning. The connection they had, almost instantly, electrifying. He was the one that introduced him to the rest of the pack, he would be forever thankful for that. However.

There was no space for secrets in their relationship, and Johnny was hiding a big one. And it was Gaz’s responsibility to find out what it was, mostly for the pack stability he said. Mostly. Because, would he sound needy if he said he felt left out by his partner in crime?

That’s why he was there right now. Waiting for Johnny to come out of the medical hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting patiently looking at the door. Medical office 1. 263. First floor. Soap was there. He knew it. He had followed him all the way from the Mess, from a cautious distance.

Is this where he had been disappearing all this time? Was he sick? Was it something so serious to hide it from the Pack? Worried fill him for a second before he heard the door open, Soap exiting with that fucking dumb smile. It fell rapidly from his face when he saw his packmate leaning against the wall, a frown adorning his forehead.

“What’re ye doing here?” He asked in a huss, closing the door and walking fastly towards him. There was not an ounce of that smile anymore.

“What am I doing here? Now you’re taking the piss”

Soap growled grabbing him by the arm and dragging him around the corner, hiding away from the clinic, Gaz’s back was towards that direction.

“Listen, ye can’t be here. Ye donae get it. Just, trust me”

“You’ve been disappearing, no one knows where you are going and you tell me to go away? Me ? What the fuck is happening Johnny? Are you sick or som? You can trust me, you know-”

He almost fell forward, a weight crashing into him, hitting him on his back.

“Ow! I’m so sorry about that, sir!” You apologised, never stopping your pace as you snuck around them “Oh, bye Johnny! See you tomorrow!” You didn’t stop walking down the hallway, slightly tripping over when you tried to catch your speed after that bump.

Gaz’s gaze followed your retreating form. You had bump into him and looked him in the eye as you apologised, you even smiled at him. He felt a warm feeling spreading inside his chest, his fingertips tingling. He had to stop the happy grumbles growing in his chest

“Who was that?”

“That’s gonna be our wife.”

#poly!task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #call of duty fanfic #poly!tf141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #captain price x reader #omega!reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #a/b/o #poly!tf141 #kyle gaz garrick #alpha!ghost #alpha!price #poly!tf141 smut

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lani-heart · 2 days ago

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|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> smut, fluff, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> yunho ( centric ) x reader warning(s) -> smut, mdni. 18+ words -> 2.4k

abstract -> collateral damage is inevitable for lifetime karma...

y/n’s perspective

Mingi fit in perfectly… but he missed his lifelong friend.

He admits he does and often has his mind wander with a sad look of reminiscence when reminded of Yunho… but he acknowledged that he wouldn’t change anything as long as he was here again.

“You’re doing quite well with the book right?” Chenle asked, taking me away from my thoughts while I nodded.

“I'm halfway done, but I’m thinking of adding one more character to the main six,” I said. They nodded as Jising read my outline and Chenle skimmed through it.

“I still can’t believe how many hybrids you have now,” Chenle said and I smiled softly.

“But at the same time it makes sense,” Jisung said and we laughed. “To think you have Eunchae to thank for that,” Chenle said and he was right.

She pushed me into going to an adoption center where I met San and that was history.

“I say we’re gonna have to start putting a cap on how many hybrids you have” Chenle released and I laughed. “Hmm… eight?” Jisung suggested and I rolled my eyes.

“y/n, he’s all good to go!” I heard as I saw Kun and Mingi.

“The sweet life changed him a lot you know,” Chenle said and I was confused and so was Mingi. “He looks way happier and healthier than when he came. Besides, he looks good in designer” Chenle and Jisung teased.

“Her hybrids have a better life than me and Haechan,” Jisung said and I sighed. I turned to Mingi who seemed to be happy by their comments. His tail wagging behind him as he grinned at me.

“Ready to go?” I asked and he nodded as we left the pair outside of the kennel. “You seem happy after your session,” I said and he nodded. “The doctor said I've improved so much I might be finishing my sessions soon!” he grinned and did the same.

“We should celebrate!” I said and he looped his arm with mine as we walked to the cafe. I always took him too. As we made it there we waited for a bit to get seated like normal but noticed Mingi tensed up. “Mingi!” I heard as I saw two little kids run up to us. He seemed scared…

“What did I tell you two about running off!” I heard and I sighed… she-devil. “Oh, you… I see you actually adopted the mutt” she said and I rolled my eyes. I noticed behind her carrying leftovers, coats, and her purse was Yunho.

He seemed wide-eyed seeing Mingi again… I even saw a soft smile appear on his face.

“You’re quite the hybrid collector, aren't you… runts darling aren’t valuable to anyone though” she said and I scoffed. “Am I supposed to take advice from you?” I asked and she glared.

“You’re such an immature brat” she muttered and I smirked. “I guess… hey how’s bankr–” “Shut up!” she yelled and left with Yunho sighing and bowing to me before leaving.

“Are you okay?” I asked and Mingi nodded sadly… “What’s wrong?” I asked and he sighed. “It's strange… seeing Yunho on the opposite side of things. I bet she treats him with the bare minimum unlike how she treated me but… I also never thought I was worthy of being treated better” he confessed and I smiled and held his hand.

“You're with me now,” I said and he smiled and nodded. “Yeah… thank you,” he said and I chuckled. “You never have to thank me for that. And Mingi? This is the bare minimum… not what she does” I said and he nodded.

“It’s fine… I was thinking we could order something different today?”

mingi’s perspective

Seeing Yunho confused me… it was a mix of emotions.

I finally accepted that y/n wanted me. Me of all hybrids. Seonghwa, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Wooyoung, and even San wanted me there. Not Yunho… not him. Never have they ever asked about him either.

Never have I had something that was solely mine away from Yunho and I was happy.

I missed him… I did. But when I think about how much I missed him, I realize I would have to share this with him. Share them with him. Share her with him.

It made me feel sick otherwise.

Sure she has five other hybrids. I shared her with them… more like they shared her with me. But… the thought of Yunho stepping in would destroy me… even makes me feel bitter feelings towards him.

“You’ve been stuck staring at the ceiling since you came back… do I need to tell y/n you’re acting up again?” Hongjoong asked and I shook my head. “I’m fine…” I said and he huffed as if he didn’t believe me.

“I am… honest. We saw Yunho at the cafe we go to after my sessions, I just have mixed feelings” I said and he looked at me as if he was analyzing me. “You’ve talked less about Mingi recently… you’ve been here for two months and I haven’t heard you talk about Yunho since… probably a few weeks ago,” he said and I nodded.

“He’s my best friend… there will never be anything to doubt that but, im content with the life I have now without him”

y/n’s perspective

For some reason… She requested that our hybrids not be present at all, which worried me. I felt like she was planning something and I didn’t know what.

It was also strange cause Hongjoong was the one who always came with me and now to be alone was worrisome. “You’re here early” I heard as I saw Jaehyun. “Want this over with,” I said and he chuckled.

“I get what you mean, sorry by the way about no hybrids today,” he said and I shook my head. It’s not his fault…

I was just anxious about what she had planned.

She was an unprofessional woman!

I was currently sitting on a bench trying to cool down and not cry over her comments. She had her kids run around and even spilled water on me several times… not even just once and the girl kept on grabbing my bag plus even put spilled juice on it so now it was sticky.

The boy also tried to put gum in my hair… I wasn’t having a good day...

“I’m sorry!” I heard as I saw… Yunho? “I remember you! You’re the hybrid who stole from people! You stole five hundred dollars from me!” a man yelled at the hybrid. Why was he… out and without a collar?

Yunho couldn’t do anything but let the man scold him. I sighed and took out five bills and tapped the man’s shoulder. “Huh? Who are you?” he asked and I saw Yunho look at me shocked… “Just take it and stop yelling” I said and he seemed embarrassed but took the money and ran away.

“You didn’t have to do that… I deserved it” he said and I sighed. “Come on Yunho,” I said and he looked confused… but besides that still followed me. We walked in silence until we made it to the hybrid center.

“y/n! What brings… why are you wet?” Haechan asked and I sighed.

“Long story… is Kun or Doyoung busy?” I asked and he shook his head before leading me to Kun’s office while Yunho followed me closely.

“What are you doing here? And why are you a mess?” he asked and Yunho came inside with me. “Yunho?” he said, confused. “He was on the street alone, with no collar,” I said and he nodded while telling me he’ll be a minute. “Why are you helping me?” he asked and I gave him a soft smile.

“Cause you don’t seem like a bad hybrid… and you’re also important to Mingi,” I said and he nodded. “Is he here then? Last time I saw him, he said you were only fostering him for a week” he said and he looked desperate to see his friend.

“I actually ended up adopting him,” I said and he grinned. He seemed happy at the sudden news.

“Is he okay then? Happier?” he said and I saw how his tail wagged at the thought of his friend being happy. I smiled and nodded. “He fits in well with everyone,” I said and I saw how his eyes lit up.

“I’m glad…” he smiled to himself.

“I’m sorry by the way what she did… she was getting the twins ready to misbehave today and I'm assuming they did,” he said and I sighed. “You can say that,” I said and he looked apologetic. “But it shouldn’t be you apologizing, you did nothing wrong,g” I said and he shook his head.

“I did… I robbed you and I caused you trouble, so much trouble, and I–" "Yunho, I forgive you. Mingi explained it… you did it cause you needed to. I understand” I say and he sighs.

“Yunho?!” I heard as I saw the she-devil herself. “How dare you! I’ll sue for stealing my hybrid!” she yelled and I sighed. Was this her plan? “Yunho, can you explain why you were alone in the street?” Kun asked and he looked at me nervously. Was he also in on this?

“She left me alone in the middle of Seoul… she told me to find y/n and make sure I went with her but I didn’t want to, I promise! She was gonna lie and try to make this a civil affair, I'm sorry!” he apologized and she scoffed. “He’s lying… he must’ve learned that from the filthy wolf hybrid,” she said and I scoffed.

“I’m sorry, miss but this is going to become a hybrid mistreatment case”

I finally made it home where I was greeted by Wooyoung’s excited yell welcoming me back. He was rambling as he led me to the kitchen saying they already ate since it was late but how he was gonna prepare a plate for me.

“Why are you… sticky?” I heard as I saw Yeosang as he touched the stain on my coat. “Little kids will be kids especially if their parents are as immature as them,” I said and he sighed, seeming to know what I meant.

“Where’s Mingi?” I asked and he hummed. “Why… did something happen?” he asked, looking right through me and I sighed. “I found Yunho in the middle of the street being berated as the thief and… apparently she planned to sue me for stealing her hybrid but he confessed to her tricks,” I said and he looked surprised.

“She’d go that far? What happened to the giant dog anyway?” he asked and I sighed… “Hybrid Mistreatment Case is now open… I doubt he’ll be under her care anymore but he’ll officially be up for adoption” I said and he nodded.

“And you want to talk about it with Mingi,” he said and I nodded. “I just… I don't know. He seems to have mixed feelings about him especially when seeing him around with me” I muttered and he nodded.

“He did say he always had to share things with Yunho… never felt superior to him so it makes sense” he muttered. “Still… I know he misses him. I want him to at least talk to his old friend” I said and he stared.

“They're bonded aren’t they?” he asked and I nodded.

“Wooyoung bonded himself to me while San and him are also bonded. The tigers to each other as well… separating a bonded pair can be damaging to the hybrid’s mental health” he explained. “If… you were to one day decide you didn’t want us or… me I’d feel lost too. Like nothing will be the same again” he confessed.

“Are you bonded to me?” I asked and he smiled. “You’re my mate, angel. Of course, I'm bound to you… even though I could function… other hybrids of yours wouldn’t. Senghwa and I are probably the only ones…” he said and I knew what he meant.

Like how Wooyoung’s depressive episodes can get and how San lost some of his memories due to the trauma… Hongjoong though as of recently put his life purpose to protect me.

“Don’t dwell on it too much” he said and I nodded.

“Oh! I wanted to make sure that you didn’t want to go anywhere? I can still make reservations for you–" "And while I appreciate the offer, no thanks… I would rather not leave if I can avoid it and besides with Wooyoung cooking meat for Mingi these last two months I'd rather just order a bunch of fried chicken and eat it here with some cake” he said and I smiled.

“Ok… but if you change your mind–” he smiled softly and shook his head while I talked “–the offer stands I'll make it work I promise!” I said and he chuckled. “Thank you, angel”

I can’t believe it sometimes…

It's been a fast year with San and Wooyoung but Yeosang as well… next month will mark a year.

yunho’s perspective

Everything I did… was to make Mingi happy. It made his life a little easier but I think in the end I always did the opposite. I’m the reason he was so down… so bad with his own self-esteem. The reason he thinks he doesn’t deserve the world.

And yet… I still hope that she changes that. Even if he hates me now.

Every time I’ve seen her with him… he’d look at me with a look of uncertainty… envy, or simply just annoyance…

I deserved what fate brought upon me. In a cage… with nothing else in here but my thoughts. They said I'd surely get adopted again… but it would never be the same. Mingi wouldn’t be with me.

“Yunho, in an hour you’ll be in touch with a social worker in charge of hybrid cases and a lawyer so we need to get you ready” I heard and I nodded. They were now putting on a collar and any procedures they needed for me to talk about her verbal abuse and neglect…

Everything… since I was a kid. And everything that I witnessed Mingi goes through… every punishment he had and the punishment I took in his place to lessen his pain.

Every physical altercation… any humiliating thing she made us perform.

Everything I… had to go through in this miserable lifetime… was just me paying for the collateral.

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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littlcdarlin · 3 days ago

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My Burning Sun Will Someday Rise

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | read on AO3

summary: Joel and reader finally make it back to the hotel & all that sexual tension is resolved. tags: daddy kink, big age gap (Joel is 49, reader is 23), dbf!Joel, Joel has a lovely belly, Joel is a little mean, praise kink, Joel calls reader "kid", unprotected piv (very stupid, wrap it up kids), creampie, cunnilingus, face-sitting, (resolved) sexual tension, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, forced orgasm (not really? kinda sorta?), smut with a little bit of plot, no use of Y/N, afab!reader, reader has hair

Note: finally, the last part is here! I hope you’ll enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this. It’s one in the morning so forgive any typos — I wanted to post today. Thank you for the consistent love on this story, I really appreciate all your messages and comments <3

Joel positively drags you back to the hotel, one arm slung across your shoulder, your hastily packed bags in the other. He’s quiet, and you’re afraid that talking will break the spell, that he will hear your voice and remember who you are, and what he’s planning on doing to you. You’re nervous. Excited, yes, but nervous – you’ve been with people before, drunken hookups with collage boys who wanted to get off as quickly as possible. None of it felt like this, you didn’t want any of them as people. With them, it was about the sex itself, with Joel it is almost entirely about him.

Your thoughts are racing in your head, insecurities bubbling up inside of you, things that didn’t matter when you slept with those other people you barely knew – will Joel mind that you aren’t clean shaven? Does he expect you to be more experienced than you are? Are you even good in bed, or will he be underwhelmed, and secretly think you are pathetic?

You want this, more than you have wanted to be with someone maybe ever. But that want makes you vulnerable, strips you of any nonchalance you might have clung to if Joel was anyone else. He isn’t some collage boy who won’t remember you in the morning, he is your father’s best friend, for whom you are a more than controversial choice. Sleeping with you is a threat to his friendship with your father, and still, he’s ready to risk it, he pretty much told you as much. That gives it a level of importance you aren’t used to when it comes to sex.

When you reach the hotel, Joel hurries past the reception before the kind lady can stop you, and despite your nervousness, it amuses you. Joel presses the button to the elevator impatiently, making your stomach flutter. He’s so shameless in his desire for you, not embarrassed by this open display of wanting to get to his room as quickly as possible. You would have worried about looking needy, but not Joel. He’s secure, and solid, and unflinching.

The doors open, and as soon as you’re inside, Joel crowds you against the wall of the elevator, catching your lips in a kiss, before moving his mouth to your neck. You exhale shakily at the feeling of him sucking on your skin, the beard burn a surprisingly welcome sensation.

"They’ve got cameras," you breathe, a weak attempt at regaining some sort of dignity, while Joel quickly unravels you under his mouth and hands.

"Fine by me," he just answers, "Should ask them for a copy to take home with me."

Your knees threaten to buckle at those words, his admission that this isn’t just a holiday hookup, that he will want you just as much when you have left this paradise and returned to the world outside of your bubble.

"Careful, baby," he says, one hand holding you steady by the waist, his lips ghosting over your jawline.

Baby.

With a sudden ding!, the doors open again, and an elderly couple steps inside. Joel stops kissing you, but doesn’t step away, his hand still on your waist, his big body still close to yours. You offer the couple an awkward smile, and barely register the judgement in their eyes as their gazes flicker over Joel’s hair specked with white, because Joel’s hand starts moving again. He slips it under your shirt, no his shirt, rough fingers drawing featherlight patterns on your sensitive waist. His touch is teasing, clearly meant to get some sort of reaction out of you in front of these strangers. Joel’s getting off on this, you realize, on being seen with you, on people knowing just what he plans on doing once you’ve reached the third floor. You bite the inside of your cheek and do your best not to let show how you ache for him, how his gentle touches are affecting you. If you look at him, you know your resolve will crumble, so you pointedly look at a point over his shoulder, and try not to shudder.

As soon as the doors open again, you and Joel get moving, and a nervous chuckle escapes you when you meet his eye. His expression is hard to read – blatant desire, but also something more gentle, something that calms your nerves. It’s Joel. He didn’t leave you hanging when you needed to borrow a bike, didn’t make you feel stupid or guilty for it being stolen, and he won’t make you feel stupid now. That’s what you like the most about him, you think, as his hand ghosts over your back and he leads you towards his room, the way he makes you feel at ease. Whatever the opposite of shame is, that’s what Joel brings out in you.

You reach the door, and want to push it open, but Joel stops you, tilting your face towards him with a gentle touch.

"You don’t have to do this," he says seriously, "we can just go back to the beach. No hard feelings."

You appreciate his consideration, the way he seems to be aware of a certain kind of pressure or expectation his age creates for you, but the idea of going back now, when you’re so close to what you want, makes you want to weep.

"Getting cold feet?", you ask lightly, and he smiles at you, a fond smile, one that seems oddly out of place given the situation.

"I’m just sayin’, I get it if you changed your mind or something. I assume this isn’t the way you…usually do things."

"No," you say, holding his eye contact. "Usually they’re twenty-five years younger."

Joel’s face is a perfect mask, not sure what to make of your remark. You reach up, your hand gently touching his beard, and your eyes glide over the wrinkles around his eyes from years of laughter, the white in his hair, his warm irises.

"God…you’re so fucking sexy," you breathe, and there it is again, that color his cheeks only turn when you compliment him.

"I haven’t changed my mind, Joel," you say honestly, looking directly into his eyes. "Have you?"

"No."

His voice is deep, and he finally, finally opens the door, eyes still on yours.

As soon as Joel pulls you into the room, his lips are on yours again, your arms wrapping around his neck, as he walks you over towards the bed. He’s bigger than you, much bigger, and it only really occurs to you when your knees give out under you, and you land on the bed, sitting in front of him and gazing up.

He looks imposing, almost threatening, if it wasn’t for that expression he has on his face – something behind the desire. You feel safe in his hands, safe to give yourself over, not just in the physical sense. He looks so capable, so easy to trust. His hand comes up to your face, tilting your head up, and you move easily for him, letting him mold you in any way he wants.

"That couple," you begin as you watch him watch you, take you in, "they knew exactly what we were doing."

His hand travels over your throat, and although he doesn’t squeeze, it’s exhilarating to think how well it fits into his palm. You shudder as he pops open the first button of your shirt – his shirt.

"You liked it," you add, voice breathy as the tips of his fingers ghost over your collarbone.

His eyes snap up to yours, and you give a small smile, almost teasing.

"Didn’t hear you complainin’," he answers, holding your eye contact. "Think I should mark you up, so that the reception lady knows, too."

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does, but you press your thighs together to relieve that terrible ache. Joel notices, and smirks almost imperceptibly, opening another button on your shirt. He’s taking his time, building tension by making you wait. He’s good at this, you think.

"But then she would stop calling you my Daddy," you breathe, trying hard not to close your eyes under Joel’s touch. Joel cocks an eyebrow, hands lingering on your shirt.

"Don’t tell me you enjoyed that, kid," he says, voice low, eyes intense. You flush, and wonder if he’ll kick you out now, if you have finally made things too weird to continue, but Joel keeps gazing at you, ever steady.

"Cat’s got your tongue?"

You swallow, and let out a shaky exhale. Joel pops open another button.

"That why you kept repeatin’ it to me? Cause it turned you on?"

He’s teasing you, dragging it out of you despite your embarrassment. He wants you to revel in just how debauched it is what the two of you are doing, and you get closer to giving in with every second. Joel’s fingers trace over the swell of your chest, finally visible now that he’s opened most of the buttons, and a weak sound escapes you.

"’S that it, baby?"

"Yes," you breathe finally, your cheeks burning. Joel’s answering smile seems oddly satisfied, as he opens the last button, lets the shirt glide over your shoulders and slump down on the bed in a little heap of linen. You swallow.

"Yes," he repeats, eyes trailing over your body. You wish he’d hurry up and get his hands on you, but with the way slick steadily leaks into your swimsuit, you can’t really complain. He sure knows how to play you like an instrument.

"Say it, then," he says curtly, a simple order, and you briefly close your eyes. It’s almost too good. His eyes are locked onto yours when you open them, expectant and blown wide with desire. He has stopped moving, and you realize he wants to hear you say it before he’ll go any further.

"I…I want to call you Daddy."

Your stomach curls up with need when you hear Joel groan, his resolve quickly crumbling, as he crashes his lips against yours again. He licks into your mouth with urgency, and it’s possessive in a way it wasn’t before, like he wants to claim your mouth. The thought makes you whimper, and Joel trails one hand over your side and down to the waistband of your swimsuit. You didn’t bother putting on your shorts again, just walked to the hotel in your bikini and shirt. His fingers slide under the thinnest part, right on your hip, and he lets it snap against your body. It doesn’t hurt, but the sound makes you groan.

His hands roam over your body relentlessly, squeezing, and tracing, and feeling the swell of your hips, the dip of your navel, your spine, your breasts. You almost don’t notice him undoing your swimsuit, until he slides off the top part, and runs one finger over your pebbled nipples. Your back arches and your hips twitch towards him, but he doesn’t give in yet, just teases the sensitive nubs while you whimper into his mouth.

Then he unties the little bows on your hips, and just like that you’re bare before him, your swimsuit coming undone with one tug of his fingers, while he’s still fully dressed. He’s disturbingly good at undressing you, something that used to be an obstacle to sex now a sensual part of it. You want to feel embarrassed at the amount of wetness between your legs, but when Joel’s fingers slide over your stomach and down to your throbbing core, he groans into your mouth.

"Jesus, you’re drippin’," he breathes against your lips, breaking away to watch his hand press circles into your clit. You try hard not to twitch under his gaze, his blazing eyes and skilled touch. Another whimper escapes you, as he keeps rubbing and watching your reaction, like he wants to take you in before continuing.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he gets you to the brink of an orgasm, but when your hips twitch towards him with little control, he stops, his eyes meeting yours again. You watch him lift his hand up to his mouth and suck his fingers clean, eyes not leaving yours. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever seen, the way he closes his eyes at the taste, and you wonder how you haven’t come yet.

"I’m gonna eat you out," he says, and it’s not a question. Immediately, insecurity floods your veins – you haven’t had someone do that before, and the men you have heard speak about it said they didn’t enjoy it.

"You don’t…I mean, you can just…", your voice trails off. Joel stops in his tracks, watching your face and cocking a brow.

"You ever been eaten out?"

"No," you say quietly, "and you don’t have to."

"I know I don’t have to," he says, and he sounds almost affronted, like he can’t believe you would think he didn’t enjoy it. "You want me to?"

"I just…know some people don’t enjoy it much," you mumble and look down. Joel’s hand comes up to your face, tipping your chin so you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

"I want you to come on my tongue," he says, "and then again on my fingers."

You almost whine at that, embarrassment seeping out of you easily, and Joel traces his thumb over your lips. You let it slip into your mouth and suck, swirling your tongue around it.

"Alright? You let me take care of you," he mumbles, eyes trained on his finger between your lips.

"Okay," you say, when his thumb slips from your mouth, and then quietly add "Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, and a wave of heat rushes to your loins. It’s fucked, what you’re doing, completely fucked, but so good you think you might cry. You were scared thinking about it for too long would break the spell you two seem to be under, but the more you do, the more turned on you get. You have Joel Miller in front of you, calling you a good girl and about to make you orgasm multiple times.

"Lie back, baby," Joel says, and you do, sinking into the pillow that smells like him. Joel keeps watching you, and when he kneels down on the bed and gently spreads your legs with his hands, you think you might come from just that sight. But you hold on, because something about Joel wanting to eat you out, not even having taken off his own clothes, makes you curious.

He kisses your ankle and trails his mouth upwards, over your inner thigh and your hipbone, until you almost tremble.

"Jesus, Joel," you mutter, hips twitching on the bed, trying to get closer to him without your permission. He looks up at you, pressing his thumb to your clit again, and you curse. It’s not exactly painful, but it’s so much, almost too much.

"That what you call me?"

He doesn’t let up, his touch so insistent, you wonder how he expects you to come up with a single word.

"S-sorry," you stutter, grinding against his hand. "Daddy."

It thrills you to use that word, to know it gets Joel off, enough that he chastises you for using his real name.

"That’s right," he answers, and finally he lets up, placing his big palm on your thigh instead. Then, he leans down, and presses his mouth to your clit, flicking his tongue over it. It’s unlike anything you have felt before, and you actively have to will your hips to stop twitching, afraid to somehow hurt Joel. But he notices, ever perceptive, and breaks away, his mouth and beard already covered in your wet.

"Get up," he says, and you feel your anxiety rise again, questions of what you could have done wrong. He waits, but raises his eyebrows.

"You wanna come, or not?"

So you sit up, confused, and watch as Joel lies down on his back.

"Straddle me," he orders, and you move towards his lap, but he shakes his head. "Over my face, come on, baby."

You stare at him. His expression softens when he sees your disbelief, and he gives you a smile.

"Told you I’d make you come on my tongue, didn’t I?"

"Yeah, but Joel, that’s…"

Your voice trails off. You aren’t sure what you want to say – dangerous? Really fucking hot? You’re still sitting by his side, when he strokes one hand over your thigh, a soothing touch.

"I don’t know where you get the idea from that I don’t enjoy eatin’ you out," he says, his voice almost stern, "but you get that right outta your pretty head. Now, will you do as I say and sit on your Daddy’s face?"

Your mind goes a little blank when Joel calls himself that, and you feel helpless to do anything but nod, give him what he really seems to want.

"Words, baby."

His hand trails up your thigh and over your stomach.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good girl," he answers, looking directly into your eyes, his strong hands grabbing your waist and helping you move, hoisting you up until you’re hovering over his face.

"If I need to breathe, I’ll tap your thigh, alright?"

"Yes," you breathe, quickly adding "Daddy".

Joel’s hands force your hips downward and although the sensation of his mouth under you is exactly what your throbbing clit was begging for, you’re tentative and unsure of what to do – you don’t want to hurt Joel.

"Move, baby, make yourself feel good," you hear Joel say, voice muffled by your body. You rock your hips forward once, and let out a groan – your clit bumps into his nose, and you feel him lick into your folds. His hands grab your hips, and he starts rocking you against his face, setting the rhythm for you, and and you feel yourself leak onto his face and into his mouth, as you start moving along with him. His beard feels scratchy in the most delicious way, as he lets you fuck yourself on his mouth, his thick tongue darting out.

"Fuck," you moan, "Fuck J-Joel, Daddy, fuck!"

It’s a lot to take in, Joel Miller’s head between your thighs, lapping at you like he’s starving, like he can’t imagine anything better than having you sit on his face. His strong nose keeps nudging your clit, again and again, and your movements slowly becomes more confident, though also less controlled.

Joel’s hands keep encouraging you, and you’re closer than before, right at the brink of coming all over his face, when Joel groans into your dripping cunt. The vibrations send you over the edge, and you practically sit down on his face with all your weight, but he doesn’t stop you, just lets you ride out wave after wave of your orgasm and chant a mixture of his name and daddy.

You get off of him with shaky legs, afraid you suffocated him, but he smiles up at you, looking absolutely wrecked – his hair is tousled, beard and face drenched in your juices, jaw a little slack. He reaches up to cup your face, and you go with his touch easily, laying down next to him. He rolls over until he’s half on top of you, watching your red, panting face, and slants his mouth over yours. You can taste yourself on his lips, can feel his soaked beard against you, and although it should be impossible after just having come, you throb at the feeling.

"So good for me," Joel mutters against your mouth, and trails his hand downward, over your stomach and to your overstimulated clit. You twitch under his touch, your body unsure if it wants to get closer to Joel, or get away from him, and he chuckles.

"She spent?", he asks, his tone a little amused, when you squirm under him. "That’s okay, baby, I’ll give her a break."

Instead, he slides his fingers through your folds, gathering wetness, and finally pushing into you. Your body opens up for Joel more than willingly, and although the stretch is tight, it’s not nearly as painful as you’re used to, you’re too wet and relaxed for that.

Joel watches your face, your fluttering eyelids, as he pumps two thick fingers in and out of you in shallow thrusts. You whine – you know you’re being vocal, too loud for a hotel room, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when Joel curls his fingers against that spot inside of you that makes you see stars. Your hips twitch upwards, and Joel smirks.

"There we go, baby, there we go," he mumbles, moving his fingers relentlessly, and already you can feel another orgasm building. He doesn’t let up, just lets you whine under him, thrash around, because his touch is almost too much, too good, too intense, but just right.

"Give me another one, baby, come on," he coaxes, and you think your ears start ringing when his palm starts grinding into your clit with every movement of his hand, the tips of his fingers pressing hard against your insides. "You just let Daddy make you feel real good."

It feels like bursting apart, when you come again, some tight coil snapping and Joel practically wrenching the orgasm out of you with his relentless hand and dirty words.

"Daddy," you groan, your hand coming up to your face, as you bite down on your knuckle. Joel watches you with bright eyes, lets you tremble until he can tell it’s too much, and only then does he slip his fingers out of you.

You’re weak, exhausted from the intensity of your pleasure, and Joel chuckles when you sigh, watching your glassy eyes.

"Okay if I fuck you now?"

You think you’d let him kill you, if he really wanted to.

"Yes," you breathe, "please."

He finally – finally – takes off his shirt, arms flexing, chest sprinkled in dark hair, his belly protruding over his trunks. You wish you had a camera, or a chisel so you could scratch his glorious body into a block of stone. He’s hard in all the right places, and soft in the rest, and with a jolt you realize you’re allowed to touch now, no longer confined to watching him swim from your deckchair.

"Jesus," you breathe, sliding one hand over his biceps, as he unties the band of his swimming trunks. You know you’re hindering him, but you can’t bring yourself to stop your hand from trailing over his chest, and down to his belly.

"Fuck, you’re so goddamn hot," you mutter when he slides the trunks over his hips. Then your mind goes a little blank, because finally his bulge isn’t confined to his trunks anymore, finally he’s naked in front of you, kicking his clothes onto the floor.

He’s big, just like the rest of him. Long, and thick, and uncut, and dripping in precum, the dark hair at the base of his cock a harsh contrast to the reddish skin. Joel closes his fist around himself, pumps twice, until you tentatively put your hand over his. His cock twitches, and you feel a little overwhelmed with power. Joel let’s go and lets you do the work, your hand much smaller than his. He looks even more imposing like this, as you move your hand up and down his length.

"Wanna suck it," you say suddenly, and you’re not entirely sure where the words come from, but you know they’re true – you want to get him into your mouth, feel him use your face the way you used his. Joel groans.

"God, you’re killin’ me," he answers, eyebrows furrowed, voice wrecked. You squeeze your hand a little tighter, just to hear him make his little sounds again.

"I’ll come if you do, baby, and I’m not sure I have two rounds in me," he says, regret lacing his voice, but his words make you clench around nothing – his age turns you on more than you thought possible.

„And I need to fuck you tonight,," he adds, and wraps his big palm around your wrist, so you stop moving it over his throbbing cock.

"So fuck me," you breathe instead, eyes wide and glued to his. You watch his expression change, something primal take over, and suddenly he’s on top of you, his hips pressing into yours.

"Again," he orders, almost growling.

"Please fuck me, Daddy," you whisper, your stomach clenching and unclenching in anticipation. Joel looks like he might come from just your words, but after a moment of collecting himself, he kisses you briefly.

"Alright, pretty girl, I’ll give it to you real good," he promises, and aligns his cock with your entrance. "You’re so goddamn fuckin’ wet, I can slide right in."

And he does, pushing his hips into yours. You feel the stretch of the thick tip, the widest point almost bordering on painful, and you bite your lip. Joel slides into you slowly, breathing into your mouth and making you feel everything. Then the tip is sheathed inside of you and Joel groans quietly.

"Grippin’ me so tight," he mutters, consistently pushing on, "halfway there, babygirl."

Your pussy flutters around him, clenches and unclenches, as he keeps going, and going. You feel full, and still Joel pushes on, until his hips are fully pressed into yours, and you feel him deeper inside of you than you have felt anything before.

"Breathe, baby," he reminds you, and you let out a shaky breath you didn’t notice you were holding. "Attagirl."

When he pulls out of you again, you make a raspy whining sound, your stomach clenching at the intense drag. Joel’s hands start trailing over your body, yours are gripping his shoulders.

"Look so pretty, all stretched out on my cock," Joel praises you, and God, the mouth on this man. If you weren’t so exhausted from the first two times he made you come, you would be trembling. You groan weakly, as he pushes back in, and starts moving at a quicker pace, setting a rhythm he likes. He punches into you with precision, angling his hips just right, and then he’s nudging against that spot inside of you.

"Ah…Daddy!"

"I’ve got you, sweet girl," he groans, moving both your wrists over your head, and pinning them down with one big hand – he easily engulfs you. You tug against him, testing his grip, and your hips twitch upward when you realize you can’t get out. He’s fully in control now, his cock nudging into you insistently, and you can only take it. You’ve never felt so cared for, as now, getting fucked raw by Joel Miller.

He doesn’t kiss you, but he keeps staring into your eyes, and it feels weirdly intimate. His movements become faster, more forceful, his belly nudging your body with every thrust. You whine, your body unable to do anything except for letting another orgasm build, one you didn’t think yourself capable of. The corners of Joel’s mouth twitch, when he feels you clench, and he fucks you harder.

"Daddy," you yelp at one particularly deep thrust, but Joel doesn’t let up – you don’t want him to. "Wanna come, p-please."

"You wait for my permission," Joel answers. Your belly feels like it’s on fire, tightly coiled with the need to just let go, but Joel wants you to wait, so you will wait. Anything, you think, anything. Joel’s jaw is slack, his brows furrowed, his free hand rough on your skin, but not unkind. You clench around him, and try your best to hold off coming, your eyes falling close.

"Eyes on me, kid," Joel orders, and despite your concentration, your eyes snap open. "Fuck, that’s it, my good girl."

My girl.

Joel fucks you like it, like you’re his. It’s possessive from beginning to end – the way he looked at you when you first wore his shirt, how he wouldn’t back away from you in the elevator. He plays your body like it’s his, dragging the pleasure out of you, and it makes your head spin. You can feel his thrusts go sloppy, can feel his restraint cracking, and your eyelids flutter a little.

"You want it inside, babygirl?"

You didn’t talk about that. You know you should say no. The head of his cock nudges your insides, and Joel’s free hand presses down on your stomach, feeling himself inside of you from the outside with every thrust.

"Yes," you breathe, "yes, please, Daddy, I w-want it."

Suddenly Joel is the one who has to close his eyes, as he keeps fucking into you.

"Fuck, you come for me first, baby," he groans, sliding his hand down to rub at your overstimulated clit. It’s too much, right on the brink of painful, and you thrash under him.

"I c-c-can’t Daddy, it’s…", your voice trails off, lost in the impact of his thrusts, but Joel keeps rubbing tight circles.

"Yeah, you can, baby, you know why?"

You don’t have it in you to answer, so you just stare into Joel’s eyes. You feel something wet on your cheek, and realize you must be crying, crying from how good you feel, how full.

"Cause I said so."

Your pussy throbs, clenches, and Joel moves his finger over your clit faster.

"Come for me, baby, I’ve got you," Joel drawls, and finally you do, your vision going white, your muscles going slack as you let Joel drag his cock in and out of you, the pleasure white-hot.

"Fuck, good girl, that’s my good girl," Joel groans, thrusting into you faster, until he presses into you harder than ever before, and you feel his thick cock twitch and throb against your cervix. Something hot bursts into you, and Joel keeps fucking into you for a couple more seconds, his eyes falling closed. Then, pulls out of you, your pussy fluttering, and he falls down next to you on the bed. You feel like jelly – you couldn’t move if you tried. Joel’s cum leaks out of you slowly, an odd, but pleasant sensation, and you sort of wish he would push it back into you.

After a couple of seconds, Joel pulls you against him, your face coming to rest against his broad chest, and he presses a kiss to your hair. You inhale his scent, and your spent muscles relax further, if possible.

"You did so good," Joel mutters, "so perfect."

His hands trail up your side and arms softly, a soothing contrast to the insistent way he fucked you. Your mind is pleasantly quiet, all caught up in his voice, his scent, his touch, his spent leaking out of you.

"Thank you," you sigh, and Joel chuckles. You smile weakly.

"Wanna get cleaned up, sweet girl?"

"No," you manage, "just wanna sleep."

Joel huffs a laugh, and tucks you more tightly against him.

"I’ll wake you before dinner."

***

When he does, the sun is already sinking. He trails kisses up and down your face – the softest way you’ve ever been dragged back to reality and out of a dream, and the first time you think reality is more fantastic than anything your sleeping brain could come up with.

"Mornin’, sleepyhead," Joel mumbles, catching your mouth in a kiss, his lips moving against yours slowly. You sigh into his mouth, when he pulls away.

"We should take a shower, baby, and you need a pill."

You open your eyes, a little confused.

"A pill?"

Joel raises an eyebrow.

"I mean, I’m not opposed to children, but I think your Dad might be," he says, and you snort weakly. Right, you think, the morning after pill.

"I’ve got an IUD, Joel, don’t worry."

He presses a kiss to your collarbone.

"Back to Joel, are we?"

You blush, and he laughs. It’s blissful, and a little unreal – Joel Miller, teasing you about the debauched, perfect sex you had not two hours ago.

"You prefer Daddy?"

"It’s…got a ring to it."

You can hear the smirk, even though your eyes are closed again, and you’re stretching your tired limbs. You yawn.

"How about room service?", you ask, Joel’s hand softly stroking the hair out of your face.

"Hmm," he mumbles, trailing one hand over your stomach, "or… we take a nice shower, you let me clean you, we have dinner with you lookin’ all fucked out, and everyone downstairs will know what we’ve been up to."

Your eyes open, and although you’re entirely, completely spent, your thighs clench together. Joel grins.

It’s quite the picture – Joel, with an arm around your shoulder ordering two cocktails, the redness on your skin from where he sucked too harshly or his beard burned you. You can see it in front of you, the same waiter as yesterday bringing your food, except this time, Joel lets you use his fork to try his meal, and instead of hurrying down to the beach afterwards, he’ll kiss you slow and long, just because he can, in front of every other guest in this hotel.

„Yeah…or that."

#my burning sun will someday rise #my writing #mine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us part 1 #tlou1 #pedrohub #tlou #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller smut

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elryuse · 3 days ago

Text

Pt. 1 Beginning

Y/n's POV

The sharp buzz of my alarm clock shattered the fragile silence of my room. I groaned, fumbling to turn it off. My hand slammed against the cold, unforgiving metal of the clock, and the sound finally ceased.

For a moment, I lay there staring at the ceiling, letting my mind wander. A part of me wanted to pull the covers back over my head and pretend the day wasn’t starting. But I couldn’t afford to do that. Not now. Not here.

I dragged myself out of bed and sat on the edge, running a hand through my messy hair. The familiar sights of my small room greeted me—the creaky desk piled with books and papers, the faded posters on the walls, the clothes scattered haphazardly over the back of my chair.

This was home, simple and unchanging. But the moment I stepped out the door, I’d be in an entirely different world.

Babel University. A place where the wealthy and powerful gathered, a sanctuary for Korea’s elite. And somehow, I had slipped through the cracks, a complete outsider in a kingdom of privilege.

I sighed and pushed myself to my feet, beginning my morning routine.

The Morning Routine

The first step was making my bed, tugging the worn sheets into place and fluffing the pillow. My mom always said a clean bed meant a clean start to the day. I wasn’t sure if it worked, but it was a habit now, ingrained into me since I was a kid.

The bathroom was next. I splashed cold water on my face, chasing away the last remnants of sleep. The mirror reflected a tired face with dark circles under the eyes. I frowned.

“Come on, Y/n,” I muttered to myself. “You’ve got this.”

The shower that followed was scalding, just the way I liked it. By the time I stepped out and slipped into my neatly ironed uniform, I almost felt human again.

When I walked into the kitchen, the smell of breakfast greeted me—eggs sizzling in the pan, toast popping out of the toaster. My mom was humming softly, her movements quick and practiced.

“Morning,” I mumbled, sliding into my usual seat at the small dining table.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she replied without turning around. “How’d you sleep?”

I shrugged, picking up a fork. “Okay, I guess.”

She set a plate of eggs and toast in front of me and finally looked at me, her eyes scanning my face. “You look tired. Is everything okay at school?”

I hesitated, my fork hovering over the plate. “Yeah, it’s just… a lot to get used to. Babel’s… different.”

She gave me a knowing smile and sat across from me. “I know it’s intimidating, but you’re smart and kind. You’ll find your place there.”

“Maybe,” I muttered, not entirely convinced.

She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Give it time. And remember, you belong there just as much as anyone else.”

I nodded, grateful for her reassurance.

The Send-Off

As I finished my breakfast and stood to leave, she followed me to the door.

“Your tie’s crooked,” she said, frowning.

“It’s fine,” I protested weakly, but she was already adjusting it, her fingers deft and practiced.

“There,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “You look handsome.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Thanks, Mom.”

She reached up to smooth my hair, her touch gentle. “Don’t be late, okay? And don’t let anyone push you around.”

“I won’t,” I promised, grabbing my bag.

As I stepped outside, the cool morning air greeted me. I wheeled my bike onto the street, taking a deep breath to steady myself.

The Ride to Babel

The streets were alive with the usual morning rush—cars honking, people hurrying to work, the occasional jogger pounding the pavement.

My bike creaked slightly as I pedaled, the familiar rhythm calming my nerves. It wasn’t flashy, but it got the job done.

As I approached Babel University, the atmosphere shifted. The streets became cleaner, the buildings grander. The gates of the campus loomed ahead, a testament to wealth and power.

The stares started before I even reached the entrance.

“Is that… a bike?”

“Must be a scholarship student.”

“Doesn’t even care, huh?”

I kept my eyes forward, my grip tightening on the handlebars. Let them stare. Let them whisper. It didn’t matter.

Inside the campus, the disparity was even starker. Students lounged in groups, their laughter and conversation filling the air. Their uniforms were tailored to perfection, their accessories gleaming with quiet luxury.

I parked my bike in the far corner of the lot, hoping it would go unnoticed. No such luck.

The Classroom

The classroom was already buzzing with energy when I arrived. I slipped inside quietly, hoping to blend into the background.

Most of the seats were taken, but I spotted an empty one near the middle. My heart sank when I saw who it was next to.

Karina Yu.

She was sitting with one arm resting lazily on her desk, her phone in her other hand. Even in this casual pose, she exuded an aura of authority. Her long black hair framed her sharp features perfectly, and her cold gaze flicked up briefly as I approached.

“Excuse me,” I said softly.

Karina’s eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, I felt like I was being judged. Then, without a word, she moved her bag off the chair, making just enough room for me to sit.

“Thanks,” I murmured, sliding into the seat.

She didn’t reply, already back to scrolling through her phone.

The Lecture Begins

The professor entered a few minutes later, his booming voice cutting through the noise.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s get started.”

The lecture was on advanced economics—dense, complicated, and frankly a little dull. I tried to focus, jotting down notes as quickly as I could.

Karina, however, didn’t even pretend to pay attention. She casually plugged in her AirPods and started watching a video on her phone, completely ignoring the professor.

I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, baffled. Wasn’t she worried about getting caught?

Apparently not.

“Miss Yu,” the professor said sharply, his voice cutting through the room.

Karina didn’t react at first, her attention still on her phone. It wasn’t until the professor cleared his throat loudly that she finally looked up, pulling out one AirPod.

“Yes?” she said, her tone calm and disinterested.

“If you’re so disinterested in my lecture, perhaps you’d like to answer this question,” the professor said, pointing to a complex equation on the board. His smirk suggested he thought he had her cornered.

Karina blinked, her usual composure faltering for just a second.

Without thinking, I scribbled the answer on a scrap of paper and nudged it toward her under the desk.

Her eyes flicked to mine, and for a moment, I thought she might ignore it. But then she smirked, the corners of her lips curling up ever so slightly.

She glanced at the paper, then back at the professor. “The answer is 1.45 percent,” she said smoothly.

The professor’s smirk vanished. “That’s… correct. Very well, Miss Yu. Do try to pay attention.”

“Of course,” she replied, her tone laced with sarcasm.

A Quiet Thanks

As the professor turned back to the board, Karina leaned toward me slightly.

“Thanks,” she said softly, her voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to her, startled. “Uh… no problem.”

Before I could say anything else, she reached out and ruffled my hair. “You’re an interesting one,” she murmured, a teasing smirk playing on her lips.

I froze, my face heating up. “I—I don’t—”

She leaned back in her chair, already plugging her AirPods back in and returning to her video.

Meanwhile, I sat there in stunned silence, my heart pounding.

The cafeteria of Babel University was as extravagant as everything else on campus. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, casting warm golden light over the rows of sleek, polished tables. The aroma of freshly cooked meals filled the air, a tantalizing mix of spices and delicacies far beyond anything I’d ever had at home.

I walked in, clutching my tray tightly, and scanned the room. Most of the tables were already occupied by groups of students, their laughter and conversation blending into a steady hum. The cafeteria wasn’t just a place to eat; it was a battlefield of social hierarchy.

“Okay, just find a quiet spot,” I muttered under my breath.

I made my way to the food counters. The options were overwhelming—grilled steaks, fresh sushi, steaming bowls of ramen. I settled for a simple plate of rice and chicken, not wanting to draw attention to myself by lingering too long.

With my tray in hand, I turned back toward the seating area, my gaze sweeping over the room once more. That’s when I saw her.

Karina Yu.

She was sitting with a group of equally stunning girls, each of them radiating the kind of confidence and poise that only came from a lifetime of privilege. Karina was at the center, leaning back in her chair like she owned the place.

Her eyes met mine across the room, and for a moment, I froze. Then, to my utter disbelief, she waved.

Not just a casual wave, either. She raised her arm high, a bright smile spreading across her face as if we were old friends.

I blinked, glancing over my shoulder to see if someone else was behind me. But no, the only thing behind me was a wall.

“She can’t be waving at me,” I muttered, shaking my head.

To avoid the awkwardness of assuming wrongly, I quickly made my way to one of the empty tables near the back of the cafeteria. It was tucked away in a quiet corner, far from the prying eyes of Babel’s elite.

I set my tray down and took a seat, grateful for the relative peace. As I began eating, I couldn’t help but replay the moment in my head. Why would Karina wave at me? Was she just messing with me?

Unexpected Company

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped me out of my thoughts. They were steady and deliberate, growing louder with each passing second.

I didn’t look up at first, too focused on scooping a spoonful of rice. But then, I heard a soft chuckle—a familiar one.

“Mind if we join you?”

I froze mid-bite, my spoon hovering inches from my mouth. Slowly, I raised my head.

Karina was standing there, her signature smirk firmly in place. Behind her were three other girls—Winter, Giselle, and Ningning, the rest of her group. Each of them carried a tray of food, their expressions ranging from curious to amused.

“I… uh…” I stammered, struggling to find my voice.

Karina didn’t wait for an answer. She set her tray down across from me and slid into the seat. The others followed suit, filling the remaining chairs at the table.

“Guess that’s a yes,” Winter said, smirking as she sat beside Karina.

Ningning plopped down next to me, her tray clattering against the table. “This is going to be fun,” she said cheerfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Giselle took the last seat, leaning back casually as she surveyed me. “So, you’re the guy who helped Karina in class earlier?”

I felt my face heat up. “It was nothing. Really.”

Karina raised an eyebrow, her smirk deepening. “Nothing? You saved me from looking like an idiot in front of everyone. That’s not ‘nothing.’”

“I just… I didn’t want you to get in trouble,” I said, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly.

“See? He’s sweet,” Ningning chimed in, nudging my arm playfully. “I like him.”

“Careful, Ningning,” Winter said dryly. “You’re going to scare him off.”

Under the Spotlight

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how out of place I felt. The four of them were dressed impeccably, their uniforms tailored to perfection. Their trays were piled with gourmet dishes that probably cost more than my entire week’s allowance.

And then there was me—just an ordinary guy with a plate of rice and chicken.

“So,” Karina said, leaning forward slightly, “what’s your deal?”

“My… deal?” I repeated, confused.

“You’re not like everyone else here,” she said, gesturing vaguely to the room. “You don’t have the whole chaebol vibe. So how’d you end up at Babel?”

I hesitated, unsure how much to share. “Scholarship,” I said finally. “I guess I got lucky.”

“Lucky, huh?” Winter said, her tone skeptical.

Karina tilted her head, studying me with an intensity that made me squirm. “You don’t look like someone who just got ‘lucky.’ There’s more to you, isn’t there?”

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” I said, avoiding her gaze.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, to my surprise, Karina laughed—a soft, melodic sound that caught me off guard.

“You’re interesting,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“Interesting?” I echoed, baffled.

She nodded, her smirk returning. “Most people here would do anything to get on my good side. But you… you’re different.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so I stayed silent, focusing on my food.

Breaking the Ice

The conversation shifted after that, with the girls chatting among themselves. Ningning told a funny story about one of their professors, and even Winter cracked a rare smile.

I mostly stayed quiet, content to listen. But every now and then, one of them would direct a question or comment my way, pulling me into the conversation.

To my surprise, it wasn’t as intimidating as I’d expected. They were sharp and confident, yes, but they weren’t cruel.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Karina’s eyes lingered on me more than once, a thoughtful expression flickering across her face.

When lunch ended, they all stood to leave, Karina leading the way.

“See you around, Y/n,” she said over her shoulder, her smirk firmly in place.

And just like that, they were gone, leaving me to wonder what I’d just gotten myself into.

To Be Continued

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mossangelll · 11 hours ago

Note

good luck on your exams! would love to hear some vi or sevika yandere headcanons

thank you so much!! my exams are starting this week and i’m pretty nervous >.<

i won’t go into too much detail, so if you’d ever want smth more detailed just drop an ask and i’ll (eventually lol) get to it :3

Yandere!Vi

one of the more ‘sane’ yanderes

tries her best to avoid kidnapping you; whilst her feelings for you are anything but normal, she still wants to feel like she’s in a relatively normal relationship with you

charms the pants off you with no trouble at all

you genuinely wouldn’t know anything was wrong with her - she seems so put together

you say yes to being her partner and that’s when you notice how controlling she can be

vi is smart enough to make sure that her less desirable tendencies don’t show up until you’re deeply entrenched in the relationship

it’s all peaches and cream until she’s punching the wall next to your head because you dared to talk to that guy at the bar

then all of a sudden you’ve got a curfew and can’t go anywhere without her

and before you know it you’re trapped inside your house because “it’s not safe out there in the lanes”

makes you get a tattoo with her name over your heart (she does the same)

however, if you’re somehow not charmed by her, she decides to turn to more…unorthodox methods

hires a street gang to rough you up a little - not enough to seriously hurt you, no, vi could never do that to you; just enough to knock some much needed sense into you

i mean, how can you not like her back???

she swoops onto the scene to save you and ensures you’re caught in her snares

the happy ever after you both deserve <3

Yandere!Sevika

sevika is an interesting yandere

she probably comes off as more of a stundete at first - she’s not the most expressive when it comes to showing romantic affection like some of the other yanderes

she keeps tabs on you, a regular at the bar, all the time but you’re convinced she hates you and must think you untrustworthy

why else would you be on her radar?

in reality her checking up on you, making sure nobody tries to be funny with you is her way of showing interest

don’t get me wrong, she can make a nun blush with her flirting skills but she’s never felt so obsessed with anyone before and doesn’t know how to process it

it all comes to a head when she has a particularly rough day at work, a few bourbons deep and she decides to take you

quite literally hooks her arms around you and carries you over her shoulders

it doesn’t matter how much or how loud you scream, it’s hopeless

she’s so much stronger than you and onlookers that watch your struggle don’t even dare to move an inch - sevika has a fierce reputation and nobody would want to anger her

can be very threatening and acts that way often at the beginning of your captivity

scolds you often and when you go on a hunger strike she rolls her eyes and force feeds you herself

you don’t see this coming but she makes you kiss her cheek before she leaves every morning and when she comes back at night

she doesn’t care if you look like you’re on the brink of tears doing so, to sevika it’s only fair she gets this when she’s busy protecting you every day

has you help her clean her prosthetic arm in pure silence

her favourite part of the day/week <3

she may be angry but at the end of the day every cruel and calculated thing she does is for your sake

#arcane #vi x reader #sevika x reader #yandere vi #yandere sevika #yandere vi x reader #yandere sevika x reader #yandere #arcane headcanon #request #arcane request

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xhazzz · 2 days ago

Text

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Bagman

warnings: none.

summary: the cute blonde pilot trying to get your number. and you’re Maverick’s daughter, btw.

a/n: hi to anyone who’s reading this, its my first post so i hope you like it. This might be the first part to a small serie about how you and hangman fall in love. Anyway, enjoy. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIST LENGUAGE, so feel free to correct me if there’s anything wrong :)

masterlist || request’s are open

READER’S POV:

Being back home felt strange, like traveling back in time. I remembered how, when I was a kid, my dad and Uncle Goose would sit Bradley and me on the piano and play and sing for hours. Now, here I was, standing behind the bar helping Penny on a busy night.

The Hard Deck was packed—classic for a Friday night. The jukebox music blended with the chatter of the crowd. The place had been full of naval aviators for over an hour, most of them still in uniform, using it as a strategy to attract women. I recognized a few faces—besides Bradley’s—since I had snooped through my dad’s files on the pilots he’d be training.

“What do I have to do to get the pretty girl behind the bar to give me another round?” one of the pilots asked, leaning his elbow on the bar and placing his empty beer bottles in front of me.

“Maybe you just need to ask nicely,” I said with a smile, grabbing the bottles to swap them for fresh ones. His uniform tag read “Seresin”. He was one of my dad’s squadron members. I wouldn’t deny it—he was very attractive: blond, green eyes, and every bit the charming prince. “Here you go, handsome.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, taking the beers but staying put, leaning against the bar more comfortably. “And if I wanted your number, would I just have to ask nicely for that, too?”

“Is that the line you use on all the girls?” I teased, crossing my arms over my chest.

“You think I’m one of those guys?” he said, pretending to be offended as he took a sip of his beer, never breaking eye contact. “Ouch.”

“I know pilots. You all pretend to be charming and different from the rest,” I replied with a sigh, wiping the bar with a rag. “You think you’re irresistible and that every girl falls for you—even with a stupid mustache, like Rooster’s.”

He glanced over, laughing, and spotted Rooster playing pool with the other pilots.

“The problem is, you’ve only met Chicken. I’m way better than him,” he said, making me pause and lean on the bar in front of him. Bradley had already told me about him.

“You must be Bagman,” I said, laughing.

“Hangman, sweetheart,” he corrected instantly, winking. Okay, he was very attractive. “How do you know my callsign?”

“Oh, trust me, I know way more than you think,” I said, winking back before turning to serve some other guys who had come up to the bar for refills.

It took me about five minutes to serve everyone, and the whole time, I could feel his eyes on me as he sipped his beer, patiently waiting for me to finish.

“So, since you know who I am, maybe you could reconsider giving me your number,” he said, leaning closer from the other side of the bar.

“I don’t know. I don’t think you’re ready for it.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad walk in and head straight for the bar to take a seat.

“Hey, darlin’. You know my usual,” my dad said with a smile.

I started preparing his whiskey the way he liked it, aware that Hangman was still waiting at the bar.

“I think I’m more than ready. It’s not every day I meet a gorgeous girl like you,” Hangman said. “All I’m asking for is your number—or at least let me buy you a drink.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Poor guy had no idea what he was in for. I garnished my dad’s glass with a slice of lemon and set it in front of him.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

“No problem, Dad,” I replied, turning to face the blond pilot with my arms crossed. He took a sip of his beer and nearly choked.

“Dad?” he asked, glancing between me and my father.

“Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” my dad asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“No, sir.”, he replied, pressing his lips together.

“Then you’d better keep your fake charm away from my daughter,” my dad added.

I burst out laughing and leaned over to swap out the pilot’s beer.

“I told you, you weren’t ready for my number,” I said with a smirk before walking away to serve someone else. After saying goodnight to my dad, Hangman finally moved over to the pool table where Rooster and the others were.

“Poor guy, Dad. You scared him,” I said, approaching my father.

“I don’t care. No one’s good enough for my little girl,” he said, rubbing my arm affectionately. “Besides, if he’s really interested, he’ll have to work for it.”

The rest of the night passed quietly, picking up glasses and serving drinks until Penny told me I could clock out. Every now and then, I caught the blond pilot glancing my way, and I couldn’t deny I felt a little disappointed when he backed off after realizing my dad would be his coach. Maybe he was a jerk, like Bradley said.

After saying goodbye to Penny and my dad, I grabbed my denim jacket and stepped out of the Hard Deck. My ears welcomed the silence after the noise inside. As I walked toward the street, I heard someone coming out behind me.

“Hey, wait,” Hangman called out. “Have you reconsidered giving me your number?”

“You never quit, do you?” I laughed, crossing my arms.

“Not when it comes to the prettiest girl in the bar,” he said, mimicking my stance and stepping closer.

“You don’t even know my name—and I don’t really know yours, either, Bagman.”

“Hangman. And it’s Jake,” he said, closing the distance between us and extending his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Jake,” I said, shaking his hand. Mine was noticeably smaller than his, but they fit perfectly.

“Now that we’re properly introduced…” he started, still holding my hand.

“If you figure out my name, maybe I’ll give you my number,” I teased, pulling my hand away. “Goodnight, Jake.”

I took a few steps away and glanced back at him. He stood there, shaking his head and laughing softly, hands on his hips.

“Hope you’re free tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he called out loud enough for me to hear as I walked away.

“We’ll see, Bagman,” I replied.

__________________________________________________________

JAKE’S POV:

“Give me 200 more, Hangman,” Maverick shouted with a grin on his face, standing in front of me. This man was enjoying himself.

“What’s up with you, man?” Fanboy asked after finishing his push-ups. “Is it because of that girl last night? The one who didn’t give you her number?”

“She’s not just any girl, dude,” I replied between sets. “She’s Mav’s daughter.”

“No way,” my friend said, laughing. “Maverick’s daughter is what’s got you so distracted today?”

“Shut your mouth,” I muttered, noticing Rooster laughing at me from a distance.

By the end of the day’s training, we were all in the locker room, peeling off our flight suits. While everyone else was chatting about who should buy drinks tonight, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Not just because I didn’t get her number—though, to be honest, that didn’t happen to me often—but because she was truly stunning. I knew that the more I saw her behind the Hard Deck bar, the more she’d catch my attention.

“So, Hangman… last night you met Daddy’s little girl,” Rooster teased as he pulled on a clean T-shirt, followed by one of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirts. “Must be the first girl who didn’t fall at your feet.”

“Don’t start, Chicken,” I shot back, slamming my locker shut and leaning against it, arms crossed. “I’m sure that happens to you all the time.”

“You wish,” he said. “At least I can call her whenever I want.”

Rooster closed his locker and started walking out of the room.

“Don’t you dare, Bradshaw. I saw her first,” I said, following after him.

“God, how old are you? Eight? What is this, ‘I saw her first’?”

“Shut up, will you?” I sighed. “I can’t deny I’ve been thinking about her all day, and I don’t even know her name. But you, my friend, are going to help me.”

I threw an arm around his shoulders playfully, and he shrugged me off, pushing me away.

“So now we’re friends?” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “Y/N would never go for you anyway.”

“Y/N,” I repeated, biting the inside of my cheek with a grin. “Even her name is cute.”

“She’s not going to be one of your one-night stands, got it, Bagman?” Rooster said, walking toward the exit again.

“Come on, Bradshaw, I just want to take her out to dinner,” I said, trailing after him.

“Why don’t you ask Mav for her number? I’m sure he’d be thrilled to give it to you.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Chicken. I’ll buy you a drink too if that’s what you want.”

Bradley let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll buy all my drinks this week, and I’ll give you her number,” he said, challenging me.

“You’re insane. I’m not paying for all your drinking this week.”

“Then I’ll call her and ask her out myself,” he said, pulling out the keys to his old Bronco and heading toward it.

Was it worth paying this idiot for Y/N’s number? Even knowing she might turn me down again—and that her dad would punish me in every damn training session? Screw it. I’d take the risk.

“Deal,” I said, catching up to him at his truck.

“What?” Rooster asked, incredulous.

“I’ll cover your tab this week, as long as you give me her number and stay out of my way, Chicken.”

The idiot just laughed, pulling out his phone and typing on it. Seconds later, I got a notification—he’d sent me her contact info.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Bagman,” he said, climbing into his truck. “And just so you know, I wasn’t planning on asking her out. She’s like a sister to me, you idiot.”

“You’re an asshole, Bradshaw,” I shouted as he drove off.

______________________________________________________

READER’S POV:

I had just gotten out of the shower when my phone started ringing. “Unknown number.”

“Hello?” I answered, putting it on speaker while wrapping myself in a towel.

“Hi, Y/N,” said a voice on the other end. It was the blonde pilot from the Hard Deck.

“How did you get my number, Bagman?”

“It’s Jake to you, sweetheart,” he said. Even though I couldn’t see him, I knew he had that stupid grin on his face. “So, are you finally going to let me take you to dinner?”

“Don’t you ever get tired?” I asked, sitting on the edge of my bed.

“Not when it comes to the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

I laughed and stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“Pick me up in 30 minutes. I’ll send you the address,” I said, smiling.

“At your service, ma’am..” he replied, and I hung up.

It was just dinner with Hangman. What could possibly go wrong?

#jake seresin x reader #hangman x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x you #glenn powell #top gun maverick #fanfiction #top gun fanfiction #oneshot #jake seresin #hangman x reader #top gun hangman

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biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer · 1 day ago

Note

HELLO can I ask for sol,hyugo and geo with a mc that is obsessed with it's own appearance, like having a strict diet, body and skin care religiously and wearing uncomfortable clothes like corsets just to be pretty.

Sorry if it's too long, love you writing 🍬💕

ENSNARED

This is the second oldest request I have in my inbox, hope this fulfilled your expectations, Anon! Thank you so much for choosing me to write this for you. <3

TW: There are themes involved with hating your body, as well as depriving it of food, sleep, etc. to feel attractive.

You all have traits that make you worthy. Remember that.

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels

To commence this: Sol is a very insecure man. He may not appear it, nor act it, but deep in that depraved mind of his - looks are crucial to him. He has standards, of course. He dresses the way he wants, wears whatever makeup he wants, but he still ensures he looks ‘pretty’. Especially for you, he’s willing to ditch all his values and morals for you, just say the word. In short, he understands the urge to appear perfect or have glass skin or to be the most fashionable.

He’s always found you beautiful, to be fair everyone does (they’re not worth your time, he thinks), but you’re ethereal in his eyes. Always was, always will be.

You are by far one of the most fashionable people in all of your classes: your hair is pinned and styled, your clothes scream wealth and expense, your perfumes and cosmetics are a compliment to your features and by God your outfits fit your figure so well. You’re a model, essentially. People state you’ve been stopped on the streets by alleged modelling agencies.

You didn’t trust them enough to accept, however. As you should’ve, this city is dodgy and shady in more ways than Sol has jacked off to you - and that’s a massive achievement tbh.

On the surface, you appear unfazed by the envious looks of passer-bys, confident and composed in your own skin. However - like he knew suspected - as he got to know you, he recognised all the signs, all the subtle cues that indicated just how ‘perfect’ you had to look. How obsessed you were about your appearance, often losing sleep and forcing yourself to avoid food just to feel like you were becoming more ‘beautiful’.

You both should watch The Substance let’s be ffr, that movie perfectly explains what it’s like to be you. (sidenote: the movie’s fine but honestly it went way off the rails halfway through - just my opinion though)

He would often compliment you, and you would smile and thank him. Deep down, however (which he eventually realised and panicked about) was the intrusive, all-consuming thought: He likes this version of me, he could never like the real me, I’m too fake for someone as authentic as him. And then you go even deeper into that cycle.

In terms of romance, it’ll probably stem from a moment of rage or frustration, mostly on your part. You’re so tired or maintaining, editing, fixing yourself every fucking day that you lose it. Fully fucking lose it. You tear at your hair, pull at your skin, smear your makeup and just sob in the shower.

You don’t go to school that day, by then Sol and you (and Hyugo!) were friends for a while, and he was nervous when you weren’t around that day. They both texted you, with little response if any at all. So he brings your favourite snacks (he knows you don’t eat sugar so he brought dried fruits instead).

What goes down is a mix of you being comforted, him relating to you, both of you opening up, maybe sleeping ontop of each other (look you’re tired okay).

Obviously it’s a lot more violent and volatile than just that, but you’re in deep. You’ve been stuck in this cycle for years, it’ll take a lot to start pulling you out.

So you guys agree to pull each other out together.

Him (and Hyugo) both value their own appearances, but their aim is to convince you to dress well for YOURSELF, not anyone else.

When you and Sol are dating, you’re still very vain and worried about how you look, but the urge isn’t as potent, more as a source of comfort than anything else - or so you say. Sol definitely makes you eat and sleep more though, and to an extent (hint: a huge one), you feel a lot lighter. A lot saner and a touch happier.

You’re both pulling each other out together, and Sol often displays his love for you (and your body) through significantly more than just validation…

Mans definitely hugs and holds you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear about how worthy of love and affection you truly are.

Maybe one day you’ll grow to tell such kind things to yourself.

“You look gorgeous, pumpkin. Heh, who am I kidding, you always do.”

“Nothing makes me happier than seeing you at ease and content, darling.”

“I love all of you, always have, always will.”

Hyugo is a raging fan of hot and cool women (shh dw he thinks hot men are epic too); he absolutely loves them, he thinks they’re awesome. He’s someone who can definitely appreciate a person who caters to themselves and generally hold themselves in high regard; and from the looks of it…you seem to be both of those things. After all, you’re considered a beauty by most if not all of the school (and some faculty members but that’s for him to use as blackmail in the future).

He 110% does consider you appealing at first glance, you’re put together, composed, sure of yourself. In short: confident. He likes that trait, the ability to see yourself highly and to deflect any hits that are tossed your way.

He originally doesn’t see it as much more than that, a small acknowledgement of ‘that person’s cool’…until that day on the rooftop.

Then it turns into something a touch more…intimate? I mean, violence is an intimate thing, in certain contexts. It’s just not a type people would want to find themselves in…heh, well, normal people at least.

After him and Sol acquaint themselves with you well enough, he begins to perceive cracks in this facade of yours - Hyugo has a very highly-tuned sixth sense (canon idfc this is something he has to have with the shit he gets up to) - and gets curious.

You seem like a nice person, a good person even, but there’s something *off*. He tries to think about it, tries to put his finger on what he suspects you conceal from the world. So, like the magnificent detective he is, he decides he’s going to investigate and through his many contacts he discovers you’re extremely vain and self-regulatory about your physical appearance.

He doesn’t think that’s the cause at first, until he gets to know you better and it hits him just how willing you are to damage yourself just to fit the standards of the year, if not month. He notices how trendy you are, how you always seem to have the newest bags, clothes, makeup, shoes, etc.

He does some digging, in his spare time (only due to intrigue, totally out of curiosity and nothing else) and finds that you’re in a very deep debt. Mainly from your obscene amounts of fashion-esqe purchases. That’s when he fully realised how bad this compulsion of yours is.

During your friendship, he starts gingerly bringing up things about trends, usually starting from his end - video games - and you end up mentioning fashion and clothes.

Then he picks up on how gaunt you look, even under the contouring and makeup, his bony your hands are, how frail you seem to be.

He’s contemplating kidnapping you at this point, and eventually he bites the bullet and just bluntly asks you why you’re starving yourself. You become highly defensive, immediately shutting down the conversation.

Soon enough he becomes more forward with his prior gestures of offering food, being a touch insistent you eat. You look like you’ll collapse at any second, and he has to fully resist his urge to force-feed you - mostly to remain on good terms with you - until you actually collapse.

Most people are shocked, but the more perceptive ones aren’t remotely surprised how bad it got. You had a conviction that beauty was everything, and you were stubborn as they come.

It’s when you’re finally allowed out of the hospital that the two of you get into an actual argument. He’s upset that you’re willing to die in pursuit of something entirely subjective and you’re angry he thinks he has the right to boss you around.

Soon enough it explodes, and he blurts out his feelings, freaks out, and storms off; deciding to end it there before he reveals anything else.

You, on the other hand, are shooketh.

Con? Fuzzled.

Bam? Boozled.

Flabber? Gasted.

Eventually, you start to see things from his perspective, from other peoples’ perspectives and you feel depressed all over again. You fucked up. You failed to maintain perfection. It’s the imperfections that made this happen.

Obviously you know it’s not true, logically there’s no way it is. But you’ve not cared about logistics for a long fucking time.

You find him soon enough and you both talk, actually talk. Something something feelings and hurt and comfort something something let’s date.

Hyugo has plenty of his own secrets, as do you, but despite it all? You both know the other would never leave, because…you just feel it. Some small hopeful part of you feels safe with this partner…and soon so do both of you.

He’s a very supportive partner, he even helps you get out of debt ffs, he’s willing to do a lot to help you. Often compliments or expresses affection whenever he sees you, especially if you’ve eaten or he knows you’ve been taking care of yourself. Encourages you to list good traits of yourself, or to do something that involves not thinking, like crocheting. Or shooting. Or cooking. Stuff that grounds you. Whether you take any of those on is up to you, but he’s a caring person, and despite the shit he’s done he does want you to be and feel better. Sometime later on, you feel a sliver of that light return to the pit of hollow self-loathing and the world feels a touch less grey.

“Hey! How’re you feeling? Awesome, hey uh, wanna go out today? Just us two, no pressure. :)”

“As a certified sexy person I wish to remind you that you look very sexy this fine day.” 😔🫡😈 (this is said very solemnly mind you)

“You smell nice...” *subtly inhales*

To summarise this entire extract, Geo has his own insecurities - but they’re significantly more repressed than any other member of the main cast (Hyugo being a close second imo). He can empathise with the desire to feel content with ones’ own appearance, not that he’d ever state it.

He’s someone who does value fashion - cosmetics in particular, he definitely wears eyeliner and lipstick- and the art of taking care of yourself and your wellbeing, but he never felt the urge to destroy himself in the pursuit of beauty like you do.

He considers Crowe one of his ‘close’ friends and considering how highly Crowe views you, he’s got some tidbits of info on you, like how you’re incredibly self conscious. He found that odd, because from whatever times he may or may not’ve seen you around, you emanated self-assuredness - if not cockiness - alongside your particularly fancy way of dress.

He can admit, he was a touch impressed with how dedicated you were to maintain yourself, until he began noticing small things in your stature and general nature. He doesn’t know why he observed such minute details, but whenever you hung out with the group, you seemed a touch out of it. A bit depressed, especially when someone complimented you - like Brittney or Jess.

He was somewhat certain you were fishing for compliments, until he realised that he doesn’t trust compliments either, so he somewhat erases that thought of you.

He does end up liking you after a long time, for your personality - we all hope (it is dw) - but he does notice how you alter your outfit style and makeup to something more conventionally appealing in Japan (idk man someone out there’s definitely done this to impress a crush), or just noticed how if you realise he likes something, especially in terms of physicality (it’s not for attraction it’s for the ✨aesthetic✨) you end up adopting said traits.

He eventually does recognise (probably because someone pointed it out, like Deryl - bless his heart he had no bad intentions) that you are doing this to impress him.

He’s not impressed, if anything, he feels a tad peeved. To him, actions like that indicate desperation, and he does not want to be surrounded by desperate people (he’s got too many simps and he doesn’t need anymore)…but you’re not a shallow person, he feels that.

Unfortunately he has fuck all idea on how to actually bring this up, so he doesn’t.

In fact the only way you stop is when he makes a snarky remark about it (he didn’t mean to come off as an asshole he swears) and you just look…melancholic.

In your eyes, you’ve learnt that beauty and appearance is what gets you people, and it’s worked so well before…so why isn’t it working now. You don’t want to seduce or trick anyone, but you want to be seen as pretty. Beautiful, even.

Geo’s indirect rejection of this made that void in your heart - that one that convinced you long ago how shallow and unworthy you genuinely are - swell and pulse. It stung.

That, along with the magnitude of invalidating, cruel thoughts sent you into a spiral. You let yourself go, and you let yourself drown.

And everyone noticed, when you marched into school after a couple days with makeup messily caked onto your face, your hair done in a way that tore at your scalp and hair strands and your outfit so tight that you had to move like a machine just to get around. The desire grew stronger, grew in intensity and you were losing it.

Geo does not understand until Brittney realises it that he may or may not have been a catalyst for this. He has no clue how to deal with this, like he’s so stumped that he has an argument with ChatGPT.

Soon enough, he decides to just try and interact with you and pray this doesn’t end up in flames.

Something something awkward confession something something angst and hurt comfort something something eventually romance starts.

Anyway in terms of romantic relations, he’s unsupportive of these inhumane rituals you’ve been doing on yourself, so he makes you cease.

He doesn’t want to be nasty about it he just thinks it’s stupid and doesn’t want you to suffer anymore. He does care for you.

Will drop random words of validation every month or so, and you cling onto those words, because they’re genuine. They’re authentic, and you grow to feel more comfortable in receiving them, and, most importantly: giving them to yourself and accepting them. Bit by bit.

“You look nice. This suits you.”

“You’ve eaten, I hope?”

“You look healthier. Keep it that way..”

Banger women and banger tits: two things that Brittney Claire has in spades and also highly appreciates (mantits also count dwdw). She’s someone who values appearance as well, often putting in insane amounts of time for her hair snd skincare alone (Geode quivered in fear when he heard the number). She’s also someone who’s experienced her fair share of dark times and loneliness, so she definitely understands what it feels like to need to feel attractive, to feel wanted and needed, even if it’s ingenuine.

She’s someone who - like you - displays confidence and self-assurance, especially in the face of people she holds disdain and even resentment towards. Someone who understands the empty feeling that comes with years of self-loathing and the undying belief that you’ll never be worth anything if you’re not beautiful. What worth does someone - especially a woman - have if she’s not beautiful?

Looking back, from the perspective of someone with a much healthier support system and overall mindset, she knows she has worth, knows she’s awesome and has good qualities…but some days those feelings return. So she gets it.

Frankly, the first time she meets - hell, even sees - you, she instantly knows. How could she not, she used to be similar to you. Trendiest outfits, being the circle of attention, knowing all the news and rumours and pop culture references (she still knows them, just refuses to change herself for them). She believes she only genuinely stopped trying to fit in when she discovered Gyaru fashion, almost slipped back into it when she got humiliated that one time, and crawled back out when she had Jess and Crowe (and to a minor extent, Geo) for support.

She knows you don’t have genuine friends, or ones that possess depth; so she decides to try and get to know you through shared classes.

You originally somewhat ignore her (totally not due to your envy of her being able to be herself no never), which tempts her to give up, but she’s a spiteful lady sometimes. Spite is a very good motivator.

Eventually, you both end up talking and the more comfy you become, the more she realises how similar you both were and still are. She decides to introduce you to her friend group, to which you reluctantly agree (due to the rumours) and you’re pretty well-received.

Brittney does eventually start opening up to you, and you do as well - bonding over your shared experienced and values - her offering an olive branch if you want support, to which you agree…but never take up.

Hell, soon enough you grow distant again, and oddly enough she’s peeved. She doesn’t get why, well…she does, but you seem to mostly avoid her specifically. Did she appear fake to you? Did you think she wanted to harm you?

Maybe, honestly. She had - still has - that same mindset to an extent. That jaded outlook on reading peoples’ angles and intentions.

When she eventually confronts you, you both escalate it to a fight, mostly because she’s genuinely trying to help - despite having the communication skills of a tortoise in water - while you’re being hyperdefensive over yourself and your habits of extremist beauty obsession.

You confess you’re jealous of her. Highly jealous, the fact she has genuine friends, that she can fit in, be herself, etc. You apologise for being such a bitch, but it hurts you deeply.

She eventually relents and calms down, before you both start a proper friendship. You two and Jess are a banger trio, often going shopping together, going to cafes or simply talking. A group of support and trust, one that’s rare in a place like Titan City.

It’s then you two begin to develop feelings, and eventually things happen and you two get together.

She’s gonna be protective of you, you both defend the other from rumours and shitty people and serve as pillars for the other when they’re feeling low. You guys empathise with one another in ways many others simply cannot - and that’s a bond neither of you are willing to squander.

You guys definitely do each others’ hair and makeup and nails btw.

“You look…pretty! Pretty…uh…yeah. Very pretty.”

“Ugh, times are hard for hot people like us, right? Jessie Sitrus agree with me this instant!!” 🗣🗣

“I get it, but hey! It gets better, trust me. I’d know. And we’ve got each other, right?”

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airybcby · 3 days ago

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HIYAA i really wanted to send a request for your more than married event 😛 can i request Karasu and 🍑🍦thank you xx

HEYYY!! ofc !

a karasu tabito peachy ice cream :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° you can hear it in the silence

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event!

♡ content — karasu tabito x gn! reader, gn! reader, best friends to lovers, nickname like 'babe' used (once), they are the silliest billies, flirting, oblivious friends to lovers

♡ synopsis — karasu tobito had always just been your best friend, but could this program change that?

When you stepped into the apartment for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see lounging on the couch was Karasu Tabito.

He looked up from his phone, his signature smirk appearing the moment he saw you. “Well, well, well. Look who’s my lucky partner.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Tabito? You’re in this program?”

“Surprised?” he teased, leaning back like he owned the place. “What can I say? I thought I’d add ‘model husband’ to my list of talents.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your bag down. “Yeah, that’s a real stretch.”

He laughed, the sound warm and familiar. It was so him—effortlessly charming, with just a hint of mischief.

You and Karasu had been friends for years, ever since middle school. He was the kind of person who lit up every room he walked into, his confidence and humor making him impossible to ignore.

But while most people saw only his cocky, carefree exterior, you knew there was more to him than that. You’d seen him at his lowest, too—nursing injuries, doubting himself, pushing harder than anyone else to chase his dream.

And now, here you were, thrown into a “marriage” with him.

“What are the odds?” he said, still grinning as you unpacked.

“Apparently higher than I thought,” you muttered, trying not to think too hard about how small the apartment was—or how close you’d be to him for the next few weeks.

At first, it wasn’t much different from hanging out as friends.

Karasu made it easy, cracking jokes and treating the whole thing like some elaborate prank. “You know,” he said one evening while you cooked dinner, “we could totally mess with the other couples. Pretend we’re, like, madly in love or something. Really sell it.”

You snorted. “You think you can pull that off?”

He gasped, clutching his chest like you’d wounded him. “I’m offended. I’m very convincing.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

Without missing a beat, he turned to you, his expression shifting into something softer, more serious. “Babe,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “You’re the only one for me.”

You froze, heat rushing to your face. “Okay, stop,” you said, shoving him lightly.

He laughed, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place.

As the days went on, the lines between “pretend” and “real” started to blur.

It was in the little things—how he always made sure your coffee was exactly how you liked it, or how he stayed up late to help you with the program’s assignments, even when he didn’t have to.

And then there were the moments you couldn’t ignore, like the way his gaze lingered on you just a little too long, or how his teasing felt less like a joke and more like a test.

You tried to brush it off. After all, this was Karasu. He flirted with everyone.

But then one night, everything changed.

It was late, and the two of you were sitting on the couch, the glow of the TV casting soft shadows across the room.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.

You turned to him, confused. “What?”

He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “This whole thing. I’m glad it’s with you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Tabito…”

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “I know I act like an idiot sometimes, but…you mean a lot to me. More than I probably let on.”

You stared at him, your chest tightening. “Why are you telling me this now?”

He laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Because I’m tired of pretending it’s not true. And because I’m an idiot who doesn’t want to lose his best friend without at least trying.”

“Trying what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He finally looked at you, his dark eyes filled with something raw and unguarded. “This. Us. Whatever this could be.”

You kissed him first.

It wasn’t planned, and it definitely wasn’t part of the simulation. But the moment your lips met, everything else faded away—the program, the rules, the fear of ruining your friendship.

It was just you in this moment, save for the little point total displayed in your living room going up by 10 points.

For the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could work.

The program ended a week later, and you both stood outside the apartment, staring at the door as if crossing that threshold would change everything.

“So,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets. “What now?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with hope. “Now we figure it out.”

He grinned, his usual confidence returning. “Good. Because I’m not letting you get rid of me that easily.”

You laughed, feeling lighter than you had in weeks.

Whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together.

GOD I LOVE HIM

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

#★ · airybcbyy #airy answers asks :)#bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #blue lock x reader #airy posts #karasu x reader #karasu tabito #tabito karasu #tabito karasu x reader #tabito x reader #bllk karasu #bllk tabito karasu #blue lock karasu #blue lock tabito karasu

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ofbatsandballads · 1 day ago

Text

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

#jason todd x reader #rae I know I’m always unhinged in your reblogs but it’s bc you understand the guy I’ve been rotating in my brain for over a decade so well #your Jason is perfect and he makes me very sad and very happy and deeply in love #all time faves

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greengoblinswifey · 8 hours ago

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Thanks for ur answers on the dbf!rafe asks, I’m loving them sm 😍😍 ur so talented!! How do u think reader’s dad would eventually react if he found out abt rafe and reader? 😳😳 not like I would want that to happen but I’m just so curious abt what would happen, I know he’d be pissed but like how would he react specifically

a/n— you’re so messy for this and thank you for the kind words <3

You knew it was only a matter of time before your secret with Rafe came out. The stolen glances, the way he lingered just a bit too long at family gatherings, and the late night “errands” you claimed to be running together, it was all bound to unravel eventually. But you hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

Your dad’s voice thundered through the house, shaking the very walls. “You’re what with Rafe?!”

You flinched at the volume, but Rafe stood his ground beside you, calm and composed as ever. His hand rested lightly on your lower back, a silent reminder that he wasn’t going anywhere.

“Dad, calm down,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Calm down?!” your dad repeated, his face heated with disbelief. “My little girl? Really, Rafe?” His gaze turned to Rafe, livid. “You’re supposed to be family, and this is what you do? You go behind my back, with my daughter?”

“Look, I understand how this looks—” Rake spoke, his tone measured but firm.

“How this looks?!” your dad barked, stepping closer to him. “This is disgusting! She’s half your age. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Dad,” you interrupted, stepping between them. “It’s not like that. He didn’t take advantage of me. I’m an adult, and I wanted this too.”

Your dad’s eyes darted to you, betrayal etched across his face. “You’re defending him? You’ve been sneaking around with my best friend, and you think I’m just going to be okay with this?”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, but he kept his tone steady. “I’m not here to cause problems. I care about her. This isn’t some fling. I’m serious about her.”

“Serious? With my daughter? You’ve known her since she was a kid, Rafe. Do you even hear yourself?” your dad said, letting out a bitter laugh.

“I know how it sounds,” Rafe admitted, his voice low. “But she’s not a kid anymore, and my feelings for her are real. I’d never hurt her.”

“Your feelings?” your dad spat. “You’re my best friend. How long has this been going on? How long have you been fucking my daughter behind my back?”

“Dad, stop!” you said, your voice shaking. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me and Rafe. I love him.”

Your dad’s expression twisted with disbelief and anger. “Love? You think this is love? He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re too blind to see it.”

“I would never take advantage of her, you know that’s not me. I care about her more than anything, and I’d do whatever it takes to prove that to you,” Rafe said as he stepped forward, his calm demeanor cracking slightly

“Prove it?” your dad snapped, his voice rising again. “You already betrayed me, Rafe. There’s no coming back from this. I should kill you.”

There was a tense silence before your dad sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Dad,” you started softly, stepping closer to him, “I know this is hard for you, but Rafe isn’t what you’re making him out to be. He’s good to me. He makes me happier than anyone else ever has.”

Your dad looked between you and Rafe, his anger simmering under the surface. Finally, he pointed a shaking finger at Rafe. “You’d better take care of her, because if you don’t, I swear to God, I’ll make you regret it. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Rafe said firmly, his gaze unwavering.

Your dad shook his head, his face a mixture of hurt and fury. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, walking out of the room.

The silence that followed was deafening. Rafe turned to you, his hand brushing against your arm. “That could’ve gone worse,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

You gave him a small, shaky smile. “Much worse.”

“You’re worth every risk,” he murmured, tilting your chin to his lips.

“And you’re worth every argument,” you whispered, leaning into his kiss.

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nosyp · 1 day ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/nosyp/771746556559949824/you-know-in-ss1-the-player-go-in-pair-and-play?source=share

We still wait for 2nd and 3rd year

I'm so sorry, thank u for reming me nonnie 🫶

First years

Second years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is in the marble game, fighting for survival. But when it comes to you, he’s more than just scared—he’s desperate.

What Happens: Riddle tries to hold himself together, but he becomes irrationally focused on your well-being. Every time a player is eliminated, he’s filled with dread, thinking it could be you. His strict adherence to the rules falters as he becomes too emotionally invested, ready to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means breaking the rules.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie finds himself in the middle of the marble game, surrounded by tension. But he’s not just worried about himself—his attention is completely on you.

What Happens: Ruggie’s usually playful and laid-back attitude starts to slip as the fear of losing you takes over. He’s surprisingly intense when it comes to your safety, trying to be clever in the game to protect both of you. His nerves start to show as he carefully calculates his moves, desperately trying not to let the game cost him someone he cares about. Every time someone is eliminated, it’s a reminder of how high the stakes are for him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul faces the marble game with a cold sweat running down his back. The weight of the situation sinks in as he watches the eliminations unfold, his mind racing through strategies.

What Happens: Azul's usual calm, calculated demeanor starts to falter as he’s forced to focus on you. He hates the idea of losing you, especially since he's worked so hard to form a bond with you. The fear of your loss distracts him, but it also fuels his determination. He pulls out all the stops to outsmart the other players, promising to protect you at all costs—though the fear of failure makes his words tremble.

Jade Leech

Jade maintains his usual calm but there’s a sharpness to his gaze as he glances at you during the game. He’s more focused on how you react, unsure if you’ll make it through.

What Happens: Jade doesn’t show his fear as clearly, but his concern for you is evident in his actions. He’s quietly protective, always ensuring that you’re safe as the game progresses. He tries to mask it with his usual polite tone, but there's an edge in his voice when he urges you to stay focused. The idea of losing you is unbearable for him, even though he refuses to admit it out loud.

Floyd Leech

Floyd stands, practically bouncing on his feet as the marble game progresses. His excitement’s at an all-time high, but the idea of losing you brings a rare flicker of seriousness to his eyes.

What Happens: Floyd’s usual chaotic energy shifts to a mix of worry and possessiveness when it comes to you. He’s all smiles on the outside, but you can tell something’s off. He jokes around, but his grip on your hand tightens each time someone else is eliminated. He’s surprisingly protective, his playful nature turning into something more intense as the game goes on. He might be enjoying the thrill of the challenge, but losing you is something he refuses to allow.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim looks around, his usual carefree smile fading as he realizes the seriousness of the game. His eyes are locked onto you with a mix of concern and determination.

What Happens: Kalim can’t help but let his emotions spill over. He’s terrified of losing you, and though he tries to stay upbeat, it’s clear he’s struggling with the weight of the game. He’s genuinely trying to make sure you’re okay, and will probably offer his marbles to you without a second thought. His desire to keep you safe outweighs any strategy, and he may even try to distract others or make deals to ensure you’re not at risk.

Jamil Viper

Jamil’s brows furrow as he takes a steady breath. The pressure of the marble game is weighing on him more than anyone else. His eyes flicker between you and the game’s host.

What Happens: Jamil’s usual composed demeanor cracks when it comes to you. His fear is subtle, but it’s there, hiding behind his stoic face. Every time you’re at risk, his protective instinct takes over, and he starts calculating the best ways to keep you out of harm’s way. He might not say it, but he’s willing to go to extreme lengths to make sure you’re safe—even if it means sacrificing himself. He won’t allow himself to lose you, even if it costs him everything.

Silver

The marble game is intense, and Silver can feel the weight of the situation. But the one thing weighing on his mind more than anything is you.

What Happens: Despite his usually calm demeanor, Silver becomes increasingly distracted as the rounds go on. His protective nature kicks in, and he can’t help but worry about you. His attention is split, and he becomes more anxious with each passing moment, realizing just how much he’s scared to lose you.

Third years

Trey Clover

Trey is forced to compete in the marble game, each round bringing a new wave of tension. But his biggest worry isn’t the game—it’s you.

What Happens: His protective instincts flare up, and he becomes distracted, constantly looking over at you. Trey tries his best to maintain a level head, but his concern for you makes him second-guess his moves. His greatest fear is losing you, and it's all he can think about as the game progresses.

Cater Diamond

You and Cater are trapped together in the marble game, with the pressure mounting each time a player is eliminated. The rules are clear: only one person survives.

What Happens: Cater tries to keep his usual upbeat demeanor, but his fear of losing you keeps him on edge. He’s overly cautious in every round, constantly checking on you and trying to hide his anxiety. Every time someone loses, it feels like a punch to his gut. His carefree attitude slips as he focuses solely on ensuring you're safe.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is standing off to the side, his usual lazy demeanor replaced with intense focus. His golden eyes follow you through the game, the pressure of the situation making him uneasy.

What Happens: Leona’s pride doesn’t let him show his fear, but his concern for you is obvious. He may not say it out loud, but he watches you carefully, making sure you’re safe. If anyone dares to target you, Leona will act, his annoyance turning into protective rage. Despite his usual reluctance to show affection, he’s fiercely determined not to lose you, even if it means going against his natural instincts to stay aloof.

Rook Hunt

Rook’s enigmatic smile lingers, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. He thrives in unpredictable situations, but the thought of risking you stirs an unease he’s never quite felt before.

What Happens: Rook approaches the game with his usual poetic flair, waxing philosophical about the fragility of life and the beauty of perseverance. However, his theatrics mask a steely determination to ensure your survival. He watches you intently, analyzing every move with uncanny precision. If he senses your distress, he reassures you with soft words and unwavering confidence, though he’d secretly give up his own life if it meant sparing yours. In the end, he might manipulate the game subtly in your favor, all while declaring that it was fate or artistry at play.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil's flawless expression falters as he realizes the stakes of the game. His carefully maintained composure doesn’t slip, but his concern for you is palpable.

What Happens: Vil remains calm and calculating, but he’s noticeably more protective over you than anyone else. He’s not afraid to speak up, offering advice and checking in on you to ensure you’re okay. His obsession with perfection takes a backseat to his desire to keep you safe, even if he’s reluctant to admit how much he cares. Vil is the type to give his marbles up without hesitation to protect you, and his fear of losing you outweighs his pride.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is eerily calm, his imposing presence filling the room. However, there’s a deep undercurrent of worry beneath his still demeanor, especially when he looks at you.

What Happens: Malleus doesn’t show fear, but his actions betray his worry for you. His gaze softens whenever it lands on you, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure your safety. He may even offer his marbles or try to intimidate others into leaving you alone. Malleus isn’t the type to admit his feelings, but it’s clear that your safety is paramount to him, and he will not let anything happen to you.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia stands tall, his usual playful grin slipping into a more serious expression as he watches the game unfold. His eyes flick between you and the players, ever watchful.

What Happens: Lilia tries to keep his usual teasing attitude, but his protectiveness over you is undeniable. While he may joke around, he’s secretly terrified of the idea of losing you. His smile falters when you’re put in danger, and he’s quick to intervene if necessary, using his wit to keep you safe. Despite his playful nature, Lilia is fiercely loyal and won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to ensure you make it through the game unharmed.

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