#So... Is it obvious I low-key ship them?

[ccycloneblogging]

Head Canon - Toon Kickin' (Trix) is immune to the poppy gas.

When the scientists would experiment on Toon CatNap (Lunata), it was only natural that Lunata would panic and full the room with the gas. Through pure determination and many failed attempts, Trix built up a tolerance to it.

It cost him - making Trix's lungs and throat scarred; becoming plagued by perpetual nightmares, and leaving him weaker...

But for Lunata?

Trix swears it was absolutely worth it.

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 almost out their relationship because they're just that whipped

Request: SVT being so whipped for their partner they almost outed their relationship.

A/N: It's kinda like a “oh no, did I just say/do that?!” moments for me lmao. Also, I used, “They/Them” here but let's just say they used a gender specific pronoun which kinda led them to fuck up even more...Also it low-key gives seoksoo, verkwan and junhao ship vibes TT

Seungcheol – Slipping Up in an Interview

He’s always been careful, okay? But today his is brain is not cooperating. During an interview, the members are joking about ideal types when the host asks, “What’s something you find irresistible in a person?” Without thinking, Seungcheol blurts, “When they pout because they want my attention.” The members snap their heads toward him. Joshua is choking on his drink. Vernon whispers "bro..." under his breath. Seungcheol realizes his mistake immediately, his ears turning red. He forces a laugh, “I mean—uh, you know, in a general sense. Hypothetically. Right?” His nervous chuckle does nothing to save him.

Jeonghan – Too Obvious with Fanservice

Jeonghan thinks he’s a genius at keeping secrets, but in reality he’s just so obvious. He always tells the fans he loves them, but somehow, every time he says “I love you,” his gaze instinctively flickers toward you in the audience. And then—he winks. Winks. At you. In the middle of a concert. Minghao nudges him, “Dude.” Seungkwan is facepalming. The fans start speculating immediately, and Jeonghan just sips his water like he didn’t almost out himself in 4K.

Joshua – The Accidental Instagram Clue

Joshua, being the aesthetic king he is, posts a random normal picture of his coffee and watch, thinking nothing of it. But what he does not realize is that the reflection in the spoon shows someone sitting across from him—you. Within minutes, fans are zooming in, analyzing every pixel. “WHO IS THIS?!!” Trends worldwide. The members tease him in the group chat, sending screenshots. Joshua just sighs, running a hand through his hair, muttering, Man, I really played myself.

LET IDOLS DATE FOR GOD'S SAKE!

Jun – Forgetting to Hide His Affection

Jun is always affectionate, he doesn’t even realize when he’s being obvious. So, when he spots you struggling to carry something backstage, he automatically takes it from your hands, in front of staff and half the members. The moment he does, everyone stares. Hoshi gasps. Jun blinks, realizing what he’s done. “Ah... I mean, uh, I do this for everyone?” He’s lying and no one believes him.

Hoshi – Screaming Your Name...by Accident

His emotions can get the best of him. One day during soundcheck, he’s hyping up the members. “YAH, LET’S GO! SEUNGKWAN, NICE! MINGYU, POWERFUL! BABY, YOU’RE—” silence. The stadium freezes. The members turn slowly. “Hosh...” Hoshi goes silent. His soul leaves his body. Then, suddenly, he yells, “AHHHH, CARATS MY BABY!!” He starts running laps around the stage to avoid any eye contact.

Wonwoo – Too Many Inside Jokes

Wonwoo is subtle, but his inside jokes are not so much. One time, on a livestream, he casually laughs and says, “That reminds me of something my par—” he stops. The chat explodes. “Your what, Wonwoo?” His expression is stone-cold, but his ears are bright red. He quickly changes the topic, but the damage is done. The speculations begin. And his company starts doing overtime hours.

Woozi – Forgetting You’re Not a Member

Woozi keeps things private, but his muscle memory betrays him. One day, while walking to a schedule, he naturally reaches out to grab your hand... in public. Minghao, walking beside him, subtly smacks his arm, whispering, “Hyung, no.” Woozi yanks his hand back like he touched fire, clearing his throat. “I, uh, thought it was one of you.” Carats does NOT believe him.

Dokyeom – Too Excited to Hide It

Dokyeom wears his heart on his sleeve. During a live, a fan asks about his ideal type. “Ahhh, someone who has a cute laugh, loves music, and—oh! And they have this habit where they scrunch their nose when they’re—” he freezes. The members stare. Seungkwan says, “You mean… like Shua?” to keep things in control as much as possible but Kyeom malfunctions. He screeches and ends the live immediately and that makes things even more worse ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

Mingyu – Blurting It Out in Pure Panic

On a variety show, they’re playing a lie detector game. When asked if he has a crush, he confidently says “No.” BZZZT. Everyone erupts. Seungcheol, already enjoying this too much, asks, “So, who is it?” thinking he's comedian enough to make it funny but Mingyu in sheer panic, blurts your name. He outed himself. Pls—my man outed himself. The entire cast screams. Seungkwan falls off his chair. Mingyu is horrified. He buries his face in his hands, mumbling, Can I restart my life? He fr wants to restart his life.

Minghao – Slipping Up in Chinese

Minghao is careful...but his first language betrays him. In a Mandarin interview, he randomly mentions, “Oh, yeah, my baobei likes that too.” The moment the words leave his mouth, he stiffens. The interviewer raises an eyebrow. The members are staring especially Jun. He quickly clears his throat, “Ah, I meant—um—Carats. Our fans are all my baobei.” No one buys it. Not for a second.

Seungkwan – Talking About You Like It’s Normal

Seungkwan rants about you way too much without realizing it. In an live interview, he says, “Yeah, Y/N always says that—” stops. His eyes widen. He claps his hand over his mouth. The cast erupt with laughter. Seungkwan tries to run. He fails. Now, he has to spend the next five minutes convincing the camera, "No, no, no, you misheard! I meant my mom!"

Vernon – Forgetting the Camera is On

Vernon is way too comfortable on live. One time, he’s scrolling through his phone, half-paying attention, when he accidentally clicks on a message from you. It pops up for a split second. The chat explodes. The members who are also watching, start spamming his phone. He doesn’t even notice until Seungkwan texts, “END THE LIVE RIGHT NOW.” Cue Vernon panicking, fumbling with his phone, and mumbling, Oops, my bad.

Dino – Being Too Obvious About "Their Type"

Dino gets asked about his ideal type on a show. Trying to be subtle, he says, “Ah, someone funny, kind, and… um, someone who’s really supportive during my practice.” The members exchange looks. “So... like...?” The host asks since he's already too obvious and specific about certain someone. His brain shuts down when he realises. He stares at the camera like a deer in headlights. Then, he nervously laughs, “Hahaha... no, no, I mean, like… in general… not specific at all…” He fails miserably.

[lycheeflavr]

Heat of it 🐋🍊

pairing: Jealous!Choso x female Reader. Heavy smut, soft aftercare. Situationship-to-something-more. tags: PWP with feelings, Situation ship to lovers, possessive male lead, emotional smut, angst (light), hurt/comfort, jealousy, rough sex, praise kink, Dom! Choso, cream pie, aftercare, miscommunication, emotional vulnerability, reader-insert, nsfw, kind of mutual pining.  summary: You and Choso don’t talk about what this is — not really. But when he sees you laughing with someone else, it rips something ugly open inside him. He doesn’t ask questions. He just takes — until there’s nothing left but your name in his mouth and your nails down his back. word count: 3.2k

You barely got the key in the door before you felt it — the air, too still. Too thick.

The lights were low, the hallway quiet, but the second you stepped in and shrugged your jacket off, you knew. He was already here.

Your boots thudded softly against the floor as you padded toward your room, trying not to let your breath catch. But it did. Because there he was.

Choso.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, broad shoulders hunched forward, elbows on his knees. Hair pulled back messily like he’d dragged his fingers through it a dozen times. Head tilted just slightly.

Watching you.

“You have fun?” he asked, voice flat. Unblinking.

You blinked at him, confused by the tone more than the question. “What—yeah, I guess. Why?”

His head cocked a little to the other side. Like a predator assessing.

“Who was he?”

You paused mid-step, purse still half-on your shoulder. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not fucking stupid.”

The words weren’t loud. But they hit like a closed fist.

You squinted at him. “Okay, seriously—what is this? Some kind of interrogation? I went out with some friends, that’s it.”

He stood up slowly. Like every inch of him wanted to go for your throat but was trying very hard not to. You felt the heat roll off of him — jealousy not loud or obvious, but boiling underneath. A quiet storm with no lightning strike yet.

“I heard you,” he said, voice low. “Laughing on the phone. Talking about how he was cute. How he bought you a drink.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus, Choso, are you serious? That was some random guy—he was harmless. It wasn’t like that.”

He moved then. Not fast, not violent — just deliberate. Each step closing the distance, forcing your back toward the wall without even touching you yet. You could feel it in your spine: the tension in him wound up so tight it made your skin prickle.

“You think that makes it better?” he asked, stopping just inches from you now. His voice dropped even lower — dangerous and silk-slick. “That it was some random guy?”

Your breath caught. You hated how your body responded to this. The way heat bloomed low in your belly like it always did when he got like this. The way he made you feel like you were the only thing he could see, the only thing that existed.

You lifted your chin, trying not to show it. “You’re not my boyfriend, Choso.”

His eyes narrowed.

“No,” he murmured. “I’m not.”

Then his hand came up — slow, careful — and curled around your jaw. Not rough. But firm. Like a warning.

“But you let me fuck you like I am.”

That hit somewhere deep. Shame and arousal twisted together so tight you almost swayed.

Your voice cracked. “That doesn’t mean—”

“It means everything.”

He was closer now. You could feel the ghost of his breath against your lips. His thumb dragged down your bottom lip, tugging it gently.

“You want to fuck around, fine,” he murmured. “But don’t lie to me. Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is.”

His hand slid from your jaw to your neck, resting there. Not squeezing. Just… claiming.

“And don’t pretend you don’t love it when I get like this.”

Your thighs clenched before you could stop them. And he saw. Of course he saw.

His mouth curved into something dark.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your heart was thudding now. Loud in your ears. Or maybe that was just how close he was — how his presence filled the room like smoke, like heat, like something you shouldn’t want but craved anyway.

You didn’t move. Not when his fingers tightened slightly on your neck, not when his eyes dropped to your lips again like he was trying to decide if he wanted to kiss you or ruin you.

You tried to sound steadier than you felt. “Are you gonna keep posturing or actually say what’s on your mind?”

He laughed. Quiet. Dark.

“You want me to say it?” His thumb dragged under your jaw, lifting your chin just enough. “Fine. I don’t like the idea of anyone else looking at you. Touching you. Even talking to you like they’ve got a fucking chance.”

You swallowed. “So you’re jealous.”

“No,” he snapped. Then caught himself. Breathed through his nose. “No. I’m territorial. There's a difference.”

You tilted your head back slightly, exposing more of your throat, whether consciously or not. “You don’t own me, Choso.”

He didn’t answer at first. Just stared at you. Like the words had lodged somewhere deep and painful.

And then—

His hand dropped from your throat.

Only to slam against the wall behind you a second later — palm flat, caging you in, his body crowding yours. Not touching you fully, not yet, but you felt it. The crackle of it. The heat radiating off him, barely restrained.

“You keep saying shit like that,” he growled, low and lethal, “but you moan like you’re mine every time I’m inside you.”

You flinched. Not from fear — from how true it was. How easily he got to you.

Your back hit the wall as he stepped in closer, chest brushing yours. His other hand curled around your waist, not pulling — just holding. His grip flexed like he was fighting himself.

“Say it,” he said, almost under his breath. “Say you didn’t want him.”

You opened your mouth, but the words caught.

And Choso saw that, too.

His eyes flashed.

“That’s what I fucking thought.”

He moved fast this time — not violent, just decisive. Your back hit the wall a little harder as he pressed you fully against it, hips pinning yours, his body flush against you now. Solid and warm and overwhelming.

His mouth was right next to your ear.

“You really think he could touch you like I do?” he whispered. “Think he could even get you wet?”

You sucked in a breath, your hands coming up instinctively — not to push him away, but to anchor yourself.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, voice shaking now. “He just—he was there. I didn’t even want—”

“Bullshit.” His mouth dragged down your jaw, hot breath against your skin. “You liked the attention. You wanted me to see. You wanted me like this.”

Your thighs clenched. His grip on your waist tightened.

“God, you’re fucking twisted,” you whispered.

His teeth scraped your throat.

“Only for you.”

Then his hand dropped, sliding down your side, slow and rough through the fabric of your clothes. Not groping. Not yet. Just touching. Mapping. Remembering.

You felt his voice when he spoke again — deep in your chest, down your spine.

“Open your mouth.”

You hesitated. Just a second. And that second cost you.

Because his hand gripped your jaw again, firmer now, tilting your face to his.

“I said open your fucking mouth.”

You obeyed. Without thinking. Without questioning.

And his fingers — two of them — slid between your lips. Pressed to your tongue, slow and heavy. Not deep. Just enough to make your eyes flutter, to feel the weight of him. The intent.

“Good girl,” he muttered. His eyes burned. “Now stay like that.”

Your breath caught, a soft noise muffled by his fingers.

His hand still gripped your hip. His leg slid between yours, thigh pressing against the heat there — and god, he felt it. You knew he did. You knew the way your body betrayed you.

“Look at that,” he breathed. “Already soaking.”

His fingers pushed a little deeper. His other hand slid around to your lower back, dragging you closer, grinding you against him now, and the friction was obscene. Too much, not enough, like being dragged under by a tide that spoke your name.

You whimpered, eyes rolling slightly, and he smirked.

“You don’t need anyone else, do you?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers slowly. Your lips stayed parted, wet and swollen. “You never did.”

You shook your head, dizzy, dazed.

And still — he didn’t kiss you.

Didn’t touch you where you needed him.

Just let the tension hang, breath to breath, as if daring you to beg.

“Bed. Now.”

You barely had time to breathe before Choso’s hands were on you again — dragging, not gently, toward the mattress. Every step back you took, he followed. Eyes on you like prey, his body a storm ready to break.

You hit the edge of the bed, and before you could steady yourself, he pushed you backward, flat onto your back. The air rushed out of your lungs with the force.

He stood at the foot of the bed, panting, jaw tight, his hands shaking as he pulled his shirt off over his head. Eyes never leaving yours.

“You’re gonna say it,” he growled. “Before I’m done with you. You’re gonna say you’re mine.”

You opened your mouth, but the words never came. Just a gasp — because he was already on you again, crawling over your body like he was claiming it.

“You liked him looking at you?” he spat, mouth against your jaw, your throat. “You think he could make you cum like I can?”

His hand slid between your legs, fingers finding the heat there instantly.

“Already fucking soaked. Fuck.”

He pushed your underwear aside with rough fingers, dragging two fingers through the slick mess he’d made of you.

“This is mine,” he muttered, voice like gravel. “Say it.”

You whimpered.

He pressed a palm hard against your cunt, just to feel how hot it was — and then slapped it once. Sharp. Not enough to hurt, just to make your body jolt and your eyes fly open.

“I said,” he hissed, “say it.”

You choked on a breath. “Yours—fuck—yours, it’s yours—”

“Damn right.”

He shoved your thighs open wider, burying himself between them like he’d die without it. Tongue flat against your cunt, he licked a stripe up the center, groaning like he hadn’t eaten in days and you were the only thing left to survive on.

You cried out, hips twitching. “Choso—!”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t ease up. His tongue worked you like a threat, like a warning — the kind of head that made your vision spark white and your fingers claw the sheets. One hand gripped your thigh. The other was pressed flat over your lower belly, holding you down.

He came up for air only when your thighs started to tremble. Lips and chin slick with you.

Then he kissed your inner thigh. Once. Soft.

Before sinking his teeth into it hard enough to leave a mark.

Your cry turned into a moan. Pain and pleasure blurred into something shameless.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Get up.”

“What—?”

“I wanna see you. Get the fuck up.”

You moved, shaky and dazed, and he manhandled you until you were on all fours, crawling toward the headboard, legs shaking. You reached it and turned just as he knelt behind you, grabbing your hips, yanking you back.

Your cheek pressed to the mattress as you felt him rub his cock through your folds — thick and hard, dragging through the mess he made.

Then—smack. He slapped it against your cunt. Once. Twice. Cruel and slow.

You gasped at the humiliation of it — the sound so loud in the quiet room.

“Feel that?” he muttered. “That’s what you need. Not some punk talking pretty in a hallway.”

He lined up. Pushed in.

Not gentle.

He buried himself in one slow, brutal thrust, hips snapping forward until his thighs met yours. You arched, mouth open, moaning something that didn’t sound like a real word.

“Fucking tight,” he breathed. “Like you were waiting for me to do this.”

He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there. Deep inside, cock pulsing, letting the stretch ache. His hands gripped your waist so hard you knew you’d bruise.

And then he started to move.

Rhythmic. Deep. Mean.

You weren’t quiet anymore. Couldn’t be. Every thrust punched little breathless sounds out of you, broken moans, choked cries, the slap of his skin against yours echoing filthy through the room.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Take it. Take all of me. Fuck—this pussy was made for me.”

His hand wrapped around your throat from behind, pulling you back into an arch. His chest was warm on your back, breath ragged in your ear.

“You hear me?” he snarled. “Say it. Say this pussy’s mine.”

You tried to speak, but nothing came — just a whimper, a half-sob, because your mind had already gone somewhere high and dizzy.

He laughed. It was breathless. Wild. Almost cruel.

“You can’t even talk. Look at you.”

His grip tightened. His other hand came around to rub your clit — fast, hard, like he wanted to drag it out of you, make you cum around him so hard you forgot your own name.

“You want him now?” he asked, voice dark with mockery. “You think he’d make you cum like this?”

You sobbed, full body trembling. “No—Choso—please—fuck—”

He pushed deeper, changing the angle, and you screamed.

“Who’s it for?” he demanded, snarling into your neck. “Say it.”

“You,” you gasped. “You, it’s yours—yours—!”

“That’s right.”

You barely had time to recover before he was hauling you up again, dragging you up until your knees were off the bed, your back against his chest. One arm around your ribs, the other gripping your face, turning it to the mirror.

“Look at you,” he growled. “Watch me fuck you.”

And you did.

You saw the flushed mess of your face, your mouth open, drool on your lip. Saw your thighs trembling. His hand around your throat, his hips slamming up into you.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said, low and final. “You’re mine now. You always were.”

Your eyes rolled back. He knew you were close.

“Cum,” he growled. “Cum for me.”

And you did — hard, your whole body seizing, his name torn from your throat as you came around him, walls squeezing him so tight he nearly lost it.

But he wasn’t done.

He held you through it. Let you shake. Let you cry out.

Then slammed you back down onto the bed again — face-first, used, marked, shaking — and fucked into you with wild, brutal need until he came too. Groaning your name, biting your shoulder as he buried himself deep and spilled inside you.

Hot. Endless.

Like he needed to mark you from the inside out.

You lay there, shaking, wrecked.

And Choso kissed the spot between your shoulder blades.

Still breathless. Still possessive.

“Mine.”

The room was hot with the scent of sex, thick and heavy in the air. Your breath still hadn’t evened out — neither had his. Sweat clung to your skin, sticking your chest to the sheets. You weren’t sure if you were trembling from the aftershocks or from the weight of what just happened.

Choso didn’t say anything at first.

Just hovered above you, his body still pressed flush against your back, breath rough in your ear. He pulled out slow, careful — and even that made you whimper.

You felt the heat of him leaking out, the mess of it, the ache in your thighs and spine.

Still, silence.

Then the mattress dipped as he moved beside you, dragging you into his chest, one arm tight around your waist, the other cradling your head like he needed to make sure none of you could vanish. His heart thundered against your cheek.

Not gentle — not quite — but not rough either. Just desperate.

Possessive.

You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

But his hand kept moving. Over your back. Your shoulder. His thumb brushed your cheek, wiped the sweat from your temple. He looked at you like you were something he could lose if he blinked wrong.

Finally, he muttered, voice hoarse:

“Don’t want to lose you.”

It was barely above a whisper.

You blinked. Lifted your head just enough to look at him.

His face was tight. Like it cost him something to say it. Like he hated himself for it but couldn’t keep it in.

Your voice cracked when it came out.

“I wasn’t going anywhere.”

He didn’t answer.

Just pulled you in tighter.

And buried his face in your neck.

small bonus scene hihi 🤭 (with some well-deserved aftercare)

You woke to warmth. Not just the sun, though golden light stretched lazily across the sheets. No, it was him — his body wrapped around yours like a second blanket, face buried against your shoulder, his arm heavy across your stomach. You could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest, the deep, even breaths of real sleep.

It was quiet. Peaceful.

His fingers twitched against your waist in his sleep, like they couldn’t stand to not be touching you — even unconscious.

You lay there for a long moment, just breathing. Sore in the best way. Skin humming with leftover heat. Everything ached, but nothing hurt.

Choso shifted slightly behind you, and you thought he might still be asleep — until his arm tightened.

“…You okay?”

His voice was gravel, low and rough with sleep. You turned your head a little to look back at him.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “Are you?”

He was quiet. Then:

“…Didn’t mean to go that hard.”

You could hear it — the tight edge under the words. Guilt, maybe. Or fear you’d pull away now that the fog had cleared. That you’d look at him and see only the monster in the jealousy.

You reached back, found his hand where it was resting on your stomach, and tangled your fingers with his.

“I liked it,” you said. “You didn’t hurt me.”

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for hours. Pressed his forehead to your shoulder.

“…Good.”

You turned over slowly to face him. His hair was a mess, dark strands sticking to his forehead. His eyes, though sleepy, looked more open than usual. Like the walls had slipped.

You reached up, brushing his bangs out of his face.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you said softly.

Choso didn’t answer at first. He just looked at you like you’d said something foreign — something he didn’t know how to trust, but wanted to. So badly.

Then, finally, he spoke.

“I’ve never wanted something like this before.” His voice cracked, just slightly. “Didn’t think I could.”

You moved closer, pressing your forehead to his. Letting the silence wrap around you both again.

He kissed you then. Nothing like last night — not hungry, not demanding. Just lips pressed to yours in a warm, lingering drag, like he was trying to memorize you in daylight.

When he pulled back, he whispered:

“Stay.”

Your smile was soft. Certain.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

authors note: well, what can I say... I was thinking about choso and this is what came out of it. Also tried something new, something a little rougher, so I hope y'all still like it <3 reqs are open :)

[grimmsbride]

would you be willing to write for daisuke and a chubby fem reader... can be fluff or nsfw hcs idc either way I love he sm and your writing for him is perfect 😭😭😭 if not feel free to ignore :) have a great day !!

FOR HER [ daisuke x chubby!reader | hcs ]

fluff & nsfw headcanons surrounding daisuke and his lovely, chubby lover

tags / mentions of soft dom & sub daisuke | fluff mostly | ooc characters | reader is depicted as chubby & adoring stretch marks | jimmy being a piece of shit | daisuke being insensitive like once | etc.

notes / when ever i write i always try to depict reader as chubby it warms my little heart. & i’m so happy you requested this- i’ve been trying to avoid headcanons but this ask was too good to pass up! & i’m so happy i got a request! ty sm anon <3 as always please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes i’m low-key half awake

FLUFF

- First off I firmly believe Daisuke is fluid in what he likes, which also means the size of his partner. I genuinely think he wouldn’t care how “big or small” they are, as personality is something he’s after.

- But your beautiful appearance was of course a plus.

- You were an intern under Anya, meaning you frequently came into contact with Daisuke. Whether it be him lightly injuring himself or you conducting an evaluation ( under the guidance of your mentor ) the two of you have grown to get along, your age & mutual interests being a factor.

- Slowly though, that affection grows romantic as time passed. I mean, Daisuke’s a young adult trapped on a ship with a beautiful woman his age— how could he not fall for her?

- It doesn’t help he’s obvious as hell to the other crew mates. Always staring at you or after you, quick to greet you each morning, glancing at you when a joke is passed just to hear your sweet laughter. Daisuke is enthralled and it’s not surprise to anyone — except you.

- Maybe you’re naive, maybe focused on your tasks? Maybe you just failed to notice. Either way, you were a little more than clueless to his lingering feelings.

- Even when he’s sharing his stolen sweetener, allowing you to play on his game boy, or even being rather touchy — hugs & accidental grazes — you’re truly lost to what he wants.

- Only when Daisuke accidentally lets out a “God, I’m in love with you..” when you beat a level on his game did you catch a single clue.

- From then on the two of you begin your relationship, Daisuke all to eager show his love for you. Always close to you, checking in on you when he can, even sharing food when he realizes you hadn’t had a break — he’s a doting partner no matter what.

- Daisuke also likes to give you that gaudy shirt he wears when he can, feeling just a tad bit a pride when you wear his clothes — even if it’s a little tight, he doesn’t care.

- Though once Jimmy does make the off chance about you “stretching out the boy’s clothes” which makes you a little reluctant to wear them again.

- Daisuke is quick to shut that down though, declaring even if you purposely ripped it to shreds he truly wouldn’t care— a shirt really means nothing compared to you.

- From that point on Daisuke makes it a habit to compliment you, your size, everything. He doesn’t care, but realizing you do fuels such behavior. At times his compliments are questionable but his loving face surely makes up for it.

- “You’re so big and perfect, [Name].”

- “Daisuke… [sigh].. thank you.”

- After work and showering Daisuke always makes his way to your room to cuddle, alternating between little spoon and big spoon. When he’s big spoon he’s usually closest to the door, tugging you right against his chest and laying his face into your neck. He likes to whisper tiny thoughts he has or even a simply “I love you” once in a while. Sometimes you have to tell him to quiet down from how sleepy you’re getting.

- If you’re big spoon Daisuke’s face is definitely in your chest. Like.. right against it, arms wrapped around your waist so you don’t move. Sometimes you complain; scared he can’t breathe, but he’s quick to shake his head— basically declaring he’s fine.

- During that though, Daisuke may just shake his head a little too much— which causes you to playfully flick him for the perverted behavior.

NSFW

- Covering yourself up won’t really fly with Daisuke as his hands are everywhere. Grabbing your thighs, breasts, stomach, anywhere and everywhere— he isn’t turned off in the slightest by the extra meat or marks lining your hips. He quite likes tracing them with his thumbs whenever he’s deep inside you, pressing into the indents whenever he’s close.

- Daisuke isn’t the best with words but if he notices you are insecure, he is happy to reassure that you are perfect to him through actions.

- A not so secret, dirty secret; he would probably want you to smother him. Like, full weight on his face with him eating you out. Is it logical? No, but when it comes to you — in a sexual setting — the man is thinking with his dick rather than his mind.

- “Su.. I’m going to squash you.”

- Daisuke is shaking his head rapidly in response, on his knees in front of you and practically pleading.

- “Please, please! Even if I die it’s the best way to go!” Or some nonsense like that. With more coaxing you eventually give in, of course making him promise he’ll deliver two firm pats to your thigh if it’s too much.

- Having you above him, smothered in your wetness, plump ass on his chest— well.. he’s coming untouched. Hands gripping your hips so fucking tightly he’s leaving his own marks, moaning right into your cunt, whilst his hips are left to hump the air.

- And if you praise him? Oh his eyes are rolling back, completely drunk going as far as whimpering right into your sex

- Even when you’re finished the man doesn’t let you up until he’s satisfied, which isn’t until you’re practically whining for overstimulation. But once he’s done you’re quickly hopping off him, assuring he’s fine and not in pain.

- Sure, Daisuke’s neck hurts just a little back — which he blames on work when questioned by Anya — but like he said, it was totally worth it.

- Moving on, between Daisuke being able to lift himself in the vent ( and through it while injured ) + being on the baseball team, I like to think he’s strong in his own right. Not ridiculously strong, but strong enough.

- And by that I mean he’s not at all phased with moving you how he wishes. He’s gentle yet firm, pressing you into positions, turning you into others— when you let him take the lead he takes care of you, making you forget your size entirely.

- Daisuke also seems like the type to purposely grow stronger just to ease your worries — which to him are silly —.

- Speaking of positions, Daisuke purposely doesn’t do doggy unless it’s a quickie— simply because watching you from behind like that; ass and thighs rippling with each thrust, he’s coming in seconds. He’s always embarrassed and you have the tendency to tease him about it, much to his dismay.

- Lastly if you’re a particularly dominant person he’s all for it. Yes, let him lean back into your soft body whilst you jerk him off— he’s palpable and completely yours to play with.

- The man especially likes wrapping his lips around your nipple while you jerk him, followed by your soft words. Ranging between praises and teasing remarks; Daisuke is coming in seconds.

- Or having you ride him is even better, seeing you in all your glory like that is enough to push him over the edge.

- Truthfully though Daisuke seems like the type to handle a chubby partner in more ways then one.

[demie90s]

Imagine a Brittney Griner x rookie reader where like R give BG her WNBA welcome moment and like it started a rivalry at first but then everyone started shipping them?? Idk I just fr want a big fics😞😞

Brittney Griner x Rookie!Fem!Reader

Center of Attention

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary:Your WNBA debut? Wild. One game in and you’ve already gone viral—for dunking on Brittney Griner. Now the league’s watching, your teammates are talking, and BG’s not letting it slide.

Genre: enemies to lovers, sports drama, tension-to-flirt, viral chemistry

Warnings: trash talk, on-court aggression, viral attention, mutual pining, suggestive energy, chaotic teammates

Word Count:~ 0.8k

Your first WNBA game is against the Phoenix Mercury and all anyone says is, “Don’t get cooked.” Not “Good luck.” Not “Go off.” Just little nervous laughs, side eyes, and reminders of how tall Brittney Griner is. You’re 6’0, max. She’s 6’9, wingspan crazy, presence even louder. You’re a rookie. You know your place. But you also know one thing: you don’t give a fuck. You didn’t come here to bow down. You came to make noise. And if you’re gonna get cooked? You’ll take the whole kitchen down with you.

The game’s close. Fourth quarter. 78–78. Your legs are on fire, jersey soaked, and you can feel the cameras eating up every inch of your face. Fever ball. You get the handoff just past half-court, your defender reaching too early, too obvious. You blow past her with one hard dribble, left shoulder dipping like instinct. One more body on the wing—shake. Gone. Paint wide open, and that’s when you see her.

BG.

Already sliding over, already planting her feet like a mountain you’re supposed to respect. She’s so damn long. So used to players flinching. Floating. Going soft.

You don’t go soft. You launch.

Off your left. Ball high. No second thought. This isn’t even strategy—it’s spite.

She jumps. And it’s too late.

Your hand crushes the rim. Ball crashes through the net with authority, with violence, with a sound that shifts the entire fucking building.

You land hard. Bounce up like you didn’t just break basketball etiquette. You don’t scream for the camera. You scream for yourself.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!”

You turn. She’s still under the basket. Didn’t fall, but damn near froze. Staring at you like you just punched a hole in gravity. Your stare meets hers. No words. Just locked eyes and an arena that’s now officially feral.

Bench clears. Your teammates lose their shit. “NO WAY. NO WAY. SHE DID NOT JUST—” They mob you at half-court. Coach is yelling for y’all to reset. You’re still locked in, still pacing, chest tight with fire. That dunk wasn’t just a bucket—it was a message. And everyone heard it.

BG jogs back, jaw tight, chest rising slow. You catch her mutter something under her breath to Diana. Diana smirks. You already know you made it personal.

The buzzer sounds. Fever wins by four. You finish with 17 points, 3 assists, 1 steal—and the dunk that broke the internet.

The moment you get to your phone, your screen lights up like a wildfire. House of Highlights. ESPN. Bleacher Report. WNBA’s main account. The clip’s already cut, edited, slowed, replayed. Captions like:

“Rookie puts BG in the blender 😳”

“Welcome to the league—for BG”

“She did WHAT???”

“WNBA beef brewing early this season 👀🔥”

You’re trending. Full name. First and last. One clip, twenty angles, including that deadass stare you gave her after the slam. One tweet has a freeze frame of it and the caption: “This the kind of rivalry that turns romantic in fanfics I fear.”

Your DMs are a mix of media requests, memes, and one text from an old high school teammate that just says: YOU’RE NOT NORMAL.

But you’re still keyed up. Still pacing. You’re the last one in the tunnel, taking your time. That’s when you hear the footsteps. Slow. Measured.

BG rounds the corner.

She’s still in full uniform, headphones around her neck, towel slung low. She stops a few feet in front of you, arms crossed. Her eyes drag up and down once.

“You proud of that?” she asks, voice low.

You shrug. “Kinda hard not to be.”

She nods once. “Cute.”

You tilt your head. “You mad?”

“Nah.” She steps closer. “Just waiting for you to try that shit again.”

You smirk. “You waiting ‘cause you couldn’t stop it the first time?”

For a second, all the noise from the arena feels miles away. She’s standing close. Taller than you by nearly a foot. Body radiating heat. Stare locked in like she’s deciding whether to fight you or follow you.

You stay still. She gives you a once-over. “You got balls. I’ll give you that.”

“You’ll see what else I got next game.”

BG exhales through her nose. A small laugh, no smile. “Alright then. I’ll be ready.”

She turns, walks off. You don’t move. Not until she disappears into the Mercury’s side of the tunnel. You can still feel her eyes on you.

That’s when your phone buzzes again.

Fever’s social media just posted the dunk from the tunnel cam angle—low and dirty, with your shadow towering over her frame.

The caption?

“Y/n got next. BG knows it.”

You repost it with one word: “Boom.”

She sees it. Views hit 9 million by midnight.

Reporters are already requesting joint interviews. Fans are picking sides. Commentators are calling it “the new-age vet vs. rookie storyline the league needed.” BG doesn’t respond online.

But the next time y’all meet? She doesn’t miss the handshake line. She bumps your shoulder with hers.

Hard.

And grins.

[just1cefor4ll]

What do you think about Daniel x female reader who might be am Italian representative, maybe even sort of female version of Lucio?

—Danya Leshchynskyi with a Lucio Corsi type gf hc’s

do I see hearts in his eyes or is it just me??

low key makes those tik toks like he did w/ Lucio “searching for [Name] in Madrid”

you finally interact after the first semi-final where he comes to congratulate you

persuades you into singing his song and vice versa which he of course posts and gushes about in the caption

doesnt mind that you dont talk much, he takes it upon himself to talk enough for the two of you combined which you dont mind

^^defends you when someone tells you to speak up like how dare they

fans/photographers always see you together and theres so much fanart of you two its insane

^^danya reposts some of them (most of them being the ones where its very obvious the creator is shipping you) man is down bad

gives you sm merch that his brother has to tell him to stop so some is left for the others

sings the loudest during your grand final performance

after eurovision you stay in contact but due to distance hes afraid to confess and so he leaves his feelings be for a while

until you tell him you booked a flight to see him

he cries^^

you spend the whole week together and eventually he confesses (wrote you a letter in italian because he was learning it just for you)

now its your turn to cry^^

every month you visit each other for at least 2 weeks but after a few months you decide its best to move in together then going into debt because of plane tickets

you probably move in somewhere where both of you have a managable distance to visit family

loves to hear you speak italian

begs you to do the makeup you had in eurovision on him and then on yourself for pictures

teaches you ukranian and is so proud when you speak it to his family

you come to him with the idea of making a song together in both of your mother tongues which he accepts without hesitation

learns your favorite childhood song in your native language and surprises you with it during a livestream you do together

there’s a ‘viral’ joke with fans that you two are the “true winners” of Eurovision because you won each other :DD

we love this multi-cultural/bilingual couple right here<33

© just1cefor4all— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

[imagine-horizons]

pairing: zoro x f!reader description: part 2 - zoro couldn't stay away as you and the crew scouted out the extravagant event warnings: none, just fluff

It was like a scene out of an old english fairy tale book that you read growing up. Beautiful gardenia and other pastel florals decorated the place, with subtle hints of silver and gold that twinkled under the warm lights. Live music from a harpist, celloist and violinist filled the air, as the guests mingled amongst themselves, admiring the entire scenery.

Nami looked bored as she turned back to you, Robin, Brook and Ussop. "Alright guys - remember: be subtle. Blend in. We need information on where the treasury is - it should be somewhere in the west wing of this place. The map to the key will be hidden in its safe." Everyone nodded and immediately split off.

But you couldn't help but shrug the feeling that you were being watched.

"Stupid. MOSS-HEAD!" Sanji huffed angrily, as he scanned high and low for the tuft of green hair in the crowd. The cook was on the third level overlooking the ball room below, and he could barely admire all the gorgeous young women - Nami was going to kill him for not stopping Zoro from leaving the ship.

"I take my eyes off of him for 1 MINUTE. ONE!" He groaned.

Zoro was slipping in and out through the side of the room, finally finding an inconspicuous location near a large pillar. He had changed out of his usual attire, to something a little less obvious.

Black.

He decided to forgo the matching tie that came with it - too restricting if he suddenly had to fight, so it was open at the neck. His hand rested casually on top of his swords, as he watched you from a far.

And he didn't like what he saw.

Leering looks.

Smiles with a dark intention behind as seemingly charming gentlemen approached to speak with you. He watched as you smiled politely and made light conversation with them. At one point, one of the men said something that made you laugh as you lightly placed a hand on their arm, leaning closer to say something.

Zoro could feel his blood boil. But then, he sensed something as your companion slowly handed you a drink, and with the other hand, casually let it rest on your waist pulling you close. He didn't have to look at your face or see the expression in your eyes to know.

Kill.

You were in danger.

You carried the conversation gracefully - you were so close. He was the duke's best advisor, and the key to getting access to the treasury. Your eyes flickered over to where Nami was, who was laughing at something someone said. You locked eyes with her and she nodded.

Run the game.

"So tell me," the advisor said leaning forward, handing you a drink. You tried not to make a face at the overwhelming smell of his cologne. "You seem a little bit too charming for your own good."

"Maybe it takes the right man to bring me out of my shell," you murmured playfully, your fingers brushing against his as you took the drink.

"Or maybe, there's more for me to bring out - in private," he said, as his other hand slowly reached for your waist. "And I don't take no for an answer."

You felt his iron grip on your hip, and you froze. But not because of his unwanted touch.

Zoro.

"Oi." The advisor froze and looked up at the towering presence of the swordsman standing behind you.

"I don't take no for an answer either. So why don't you get your hands off her," Zoro warned in a low, cold voice. Shivers went down your own spine as the advisor let go. Zoro slowly wrapped his arm around your waist, and pulled you close to him, his steel gaze not once wavering as it remained fixed on the trembling man before him. Using the other hand, Zoro took the drink out of you hands and without missing a beat, handed it back to the advisor. "Drink."

"I-I could never take a lady's drink," the advisor stammered.

"Without poisoning it," Zoro said pointedly. "I said drink." The weight of the word came unexpectedly.

There was high pitched ringing noise that could be heard.

A soft gasp escaped from you lips as you felt your knees grow weak, and your one hand grabbed faintly at Zoro's suit jacket. The noise of the crowd seemed to fade, and you felt like you were going to pass out.

Could it be? Conqueror's haki? When did he learn that? But... when did his observation haki get that strong?

You didn't have time to think because you watched as the man downed the drink, and a glazed look passed over his face as he struggled to stay upright. At that moment, Robin came out of nowhere.

"Oh my, advisor! I told you that you couldn't hold your liquor, let's get you out of here." Robin waved over some attendants who immediately came to help the advisor, and just as they escorted him away, Robin revealed the key to the treasury. "Good job both of you - let Ussop and I handle the rest."

You watched as Robin slipped through crowd, and the long nose sharp shooter joined her at the far end of the hall.

"You okay?" You looked up to see Zoro's gaze on you.

Was it concern?

"The booze isn't great - sorry," you said with a half hearted laugh. A slight smirk came across his face.

"Too bad - here I thought I was missing out," he replied. You slowly started to pull away from him but he held you in place, and you looked curiously back at him. He couldn't say it, and you knew - he was worried. You smiled and turned so you were facing him directly. You placed one hand on his chest and the other cupping his face.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue," you murmured. "You got stronger - I didn't know you could use Conqueror's Haki." He shrugged.

"I can't control it - Mihawk said it's not reliable."

"But your Observation Haki was on point - you knew the drink was poisoned." When he didn't reply, you leaned upwards onto your tiptoes and he bent down closer to you thinking you were going to whisper something to him. Your lips gently brushed against the scar over his eye, and after a few seconds, you pulled back.

"I have a lot to do if I want to catch up to you," you beamed. A pink tinge dusted across his cheeks and Zoro gave a slight cough. He wanted to savour that moment, but it was short lived.

At that moment, Nami saw the both of you and the look of her face was thunderous.

But it was worth getting yelled at by the navigator, as Zoro was yoinked away by Nami, her hold on his ear so fierce as she unleashed a hushed, but furious berating of wandering off, not listening to her, and messing up the mission.

It was worth it.

If it meant keeping you safe.

End.

A/N: To the two commentors in the last post, thank you for encouraging part 2!

[radioisntdead]

Hey could I request a scenario where the reader is Alastor's niece and the vees have a crush and alastor's reaction to finding out as well as the Vees. Honeslty if you have it where he beats up basically goes ha no for Vals part and beats him up I'd love that

Good evening my dear after writing I'm realizing you may have meant for them to be separate categories but I went love square [???]

Warnings!!

Valentino, the Vee's being weird, OOC, Vox being a voyeuristic creep, reader has deer features

You know after aiding your favorite [and only] uncle in murder and falling to hell while your mother and grandma ascended above, having a trio of overlords falling head over heels for you was NOT on your bingo card.

You didn't notice them having a crush on you until Auntie Rosie pointed it out when Velvette had a large shipment of not only clothing mailed to you but with flowers, Vox had sent electronics and more flowers [that Alastor would have such joy destroying] and Valentino had sent you erotica.

Classy.

Velvette would be the most aggressive in getting your attention, she probably also has the biggest chance to win over your affections, shoving people out of the way to talk to you, affectionately calling you things, giving you a new woredrob every other week, flowers, personally inviting you to her fashion shows and giving you VIP seating.

Vox watches you, I imagine you at least have a phone probably not Voxtech though so I imagine it's probably slightly harder to watch you through that, but with drones and other devices he watches, probably calls you something like Doe-eyes or Dollface, he's called you mini Alastor a couple of times which you did NOT APPRECIATE, once he realizes that Alastor keeps destroying the technology he sends you he switches to flowers, with cameras in them, he sometimes teleports through them and is often met with you swinging something at him and breaking his screen, unfortunately for you he's into that.

Valentino, arguably the WORST one to have pinning over you, dude manages to pop out at the worst times offering to make you a star, asking you to warm his bedroom, uncomfortably leaning in and touching you.

You ripped off his antenna.

The three of them bicker over you in private.

Now after you figured out WHY they were sending you shit and giving you special privileges you immediately snitched to Uncle Alastor because you did NOT want to deal with the whole dumpster fire that was the Vees.

Now Alastor wasn't naive about the Vee's... Affections towards you, again they sent you a concerning amount of things, but he didn't do anything because you're an adult and you can make your own decisions.

But when you come to him saying that Valentino sent you erotica and made you uncomfortable?

Well you are his one and only niece! The only family he has down here! The least he can do is squish a little purple moth for you!

You wonder if restraining orders were a thing in hell and if they'd work.

Now the TV guy and fashionista surprisingly were NOT completely thrown off by their buddy's screams getting absolutely blasted on Alastor's radio broadcast, they kept their simping to a more low-key level with only flowers getting shipped to you from Velvette and weird love emails from Vox.

Vox for some reason thinks asking Alastor for your hand in MARRIAGE, was a good idea.

It was NOT.

He's lucky he didn't meet the same fate as Valentino.

Maybe one day you'd choose one of the remaining Vee's or both if you're into that, or maybe neither.

But for now you'd use their infatuation with you to your advantage.

Good evening folks! I hope you enjoyed and I think it's probably obvious at this point that Velvette is my favorite out of the Vee's.

Am I ever going to write a fic where Valentino isn't injured or straight up dead in some way? No, no I'm not.

Anyways as always thank you for tuning in!

[hollowed-theory-hall]

What do you think Harry's love language would be if he were in a relationship?

Well, I'm pretty sure there is a dispute in psychology regarding the love languages model. Since it isn't actually proven to be the key to good relationships and most people have more than one way to show their love. This model is good for helping people articulate their needs, but people and relationships are much more complex than this model would lead you to believe:

While the premise of love languages may be helpful in articulating the different ways that people express and receive love, it actually has not ever been proven to be related to a couple’s actual happiness. So, don’t worry if you and your partner may get lost in translation. Working towards clarity is a valuable journey of communication that is invaluable.

(Source)

So, with that disclaimer out of the way, I think Harry's love languages in a relationship would be the same as in his friendships.

The thing about Harry is that he isn't used to being cared about. So, every act that shows people care about him is so very important to him. I think Harry would be happy to receive affirmation of love in literally any love language, he wouldn't care. But the big ones for him, I think are:

Quality Time

We see Harry in the books hanging out with Ron and Hermione at Hogwarts every free moment he has. When he stays in Grimmauld Place when Sirius is there, Harry searches him out. When Harry loves people, he wants to spend time with them, if he doesn't like you, he'll try to run away from you.

He's super appreciative when the Weasleys come to spend time with him in the final task in GoF and I think he was a little offended by Remus trying hard not to spend time with him.

2. Gifts

Harry never got gifts from the Dursleys and he's incredibly honored whenever he gets gifts since it isn't obvious to him. Gifts are so special to this kid. You see it in how he reacts to getting Molly's Christmas sweaters every year and how he reacts to receiving Fabian's old watch.

We also see Harry put effort into picking gifts out for Ron and Hermione. He also loves sharing his money — he gave his Triwizard winnings to Fred and George and bought candy for Ron on day zero. So, I think gift-giving and sharing his wealth with people he loves is a big one.

Other than that, I will note that:

3. I think Harry with his low self-esteem tends not to believe words of affirmation when said about him. Think how he argued against Ron, Hermione, and the D.A. when they tried to convince him he was incredibly talented and skilled. But he'd still appreciate it, even if he doesn't believe it at first.

4. While Harry would probably love hugs once he feels comfortable enough with a person, he isn't a character who's very physically touchy, so it'll take him a bit to get there with someone. But once he is, I think he would love physical intimacy, not even in a sexual way, I just think he'd love cuddling once he gets comfortable with whoever you want to ship him with.

5. Harry goes out of his way to help people he cares about plenty. I mean, he was willing to help Grawp for Hagrid, he offered Luna to help look for her shoes, he plays chess with Ron regularly even though he keeps losing and doesn't actually like it much, and he bought a SPEW badge from Hermione even if he didn't really care about it. Harry shows his love in acts of service plenty and he appreciates it when returned (Like Hermione and Ron joining him in all their various misadventures or staying up late researching with him in the Library, or the Weasleys going out of their way to make him feel like he belongs).

So, like most people, Harry would appreciate all 5 and does all 5 in turn, it's just a matter of circumstances.

[tomkaulitzssgirl]

I HAVE AN IDEA 🥰

So, reader and Tom have been secretly together for months — soft, quiet, hidden moments. Then a video leaks. A kiss. A look. The whole internet knows. Now you’re forced to deal with it — not just the fans, but the band, the label, your own fears. One of you wants to go public. The other? Not so sure😞 YOURE GONNA EAT as always

SECRETS | TOM KAULITZ

you hadn’t meant to fight.

but that’s the thing about secrets—they start quiet, and then they crack loud.

the video hit the internet like a car crash in slow motion. a ten-second clip, filmed behind the stage at a festival you barely remembered. it showed everything. not just the kiss—soft, familiar, unguarded—but the look afterward. the look that made it obvious you were his, and he was yours.

and just like that, months of soft, hidden moments were ripped into the light.

the internet went feral.

fans guessed. accounts dissected. some screamed. some mourned. some—god help you—shipped it.

and you tried to keep breathing through it all.

you expected the chaos. the managers, the label, the awkward silence from a few people in the band. you could deal with that. you could deal with all of it.

what you didn’t expect was tom, not like this.

he was quiet all day, unreadable. his phone was off, face blank, voice clipped. you waited until you got home—home, that small flat that had become yours in the in-between—to talk to him.

he dropped his bag on the floor and kicked his shoes off like the weight of the day had sunk into his spine. and you just… watched him.

“so are we going to talk about it?” you asked, careful.

he sighed, low and slow. “yeah. sure. talk.”

“okay.” you tried to keep your voice steady. “i think we should just say something. make it official. even just a post. a confirmation. it doesn’t have to be—”

“no.” he said it fast. too fast.

you stopped abruptly and narrowed your eyes. “what?”

“i said no.”

the room went still.

he ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. always pacing when he couldn’t sit with the truth. “it’s already insane out there. the fans, the press… it’s a circus. going public makes it worse.”

“so what?” you asked. “we just… pretend this isn’t happening?”

“no,” he snapped, “we just don’t broadcast it.”

you stared at him. “tom, it’s already out there.”

“so? let them guess. let them talk. we don’t have to confirm anything.”

your chest tightened. “why not?”

he looked at you then, and it hit you—hard—how careful he’d been. how much of this he’d kept wrapped up in shadows, under lock and key. how much he’d loved you… quietly.

“because i’m not ready for that.” he said. not cruel, just raw.

your throat went dry. “for what?”

“for turning this into something it’s not.”

you let out a humourless laugh, not understanding where was this coming from.

“what do you mean, ‘something it’s not’?”

tom closed his eyes like he regretted it already. “i mean… serious. public. real in the way that people start expecting things. i never wanted to be that guy.”

“that guy?” your voice cracked, your eyebrows raised. “you mean my boyfriend?”

“no—i mean yes, i—fuck, i don’t know.” he got up and started pacing. “this was supposed to be ours. low-key. easy. and now it’s—headlines and hashtags and people thinking they know us.”

you felt the sting rise fast in your chest. “it was never just easy for me, tom.”

his mouth opened. shut again.

“i love you,” you said, and it sounded like a challenge, “i’ve been loving you in half-light for months. waiting for you to catch up. and now that it’s out, now that people actually see it—you’re backing away?”

“i’m not backing away.” he said quietly.

“yes, you are.” you didn’t yell. you didn’t cry. you just said it with a shrug, because it felt true. “you are, and you’re trying to make it sound like caution, but it’s fear. and if you’re afraid to be seen with me, then what the hell are we doing?”

his hands clenched at his sides. “i’m not afraid to be seen with you. i’m afraid of what happens after.”

“after what?”

“after we’re public. after they get their teeth in it. after everything changes. after you realize this isn’t what you want.”

“don’t put that on me,” you said, furious now, hurt beneath it, “don’t make this about what i’ll do. i’ve been here. i’m still here.”

he didn’t say anything else, he didn’t move. his hands were now on his hips, breath heavy.

you looked at him and for the first time, you didn’t recognize the expression on his face. it wasn’t anger. it wasn’t love. it was something you had never seen in him.

he looked…distant. cold. numb.

you nodded slowly, something hollow blooming in your chest. “okay.”

“what does that mean?” he followed your movements with his eyes as you slowly picked up your phone and book you were reading before he arrived.

“it means i hear you,” you said, voice shaking, “you’re not ready. and maybe i deserve someone who is.”

and then you walked past him, into the bedroom, closing the door before he could see you fall apart.

he didn’t follow.

not that night.

maybe not the next.

and that’s the thing about secrets—they crack.

and sometimes, they leave you bleeding.

you sat on the edge of the bed after the fight, your heart pounding so loud you could barely hear anything else.

your phone was still buzzing in the other room—emails, calls, texts piling up like bricks on your chest. you didn’t check. you couldn’t.

outside the bedroom door, tom was still. no footsteps. no apology. no movement.

you swallowed hard and wrapped your arms around yourself, curling in slightly like your body was trying to shrink into something safer, smaller.

you weren’t angry anymore. not really. anger had been sharp and fast and righteous. this? this was worse. this was the quiet that followed—the ache that came when someone said your name like it was too heavy to carry.

“i’m not ready for that.”

you couldn’t stop hearing it. not even when you pressed your fingers to your ears.

you wanted to believe it was fear. fear of the press, of fans, of the way your relationship would be torn apart and reassembled by people who didn’t know either of you. and maybe part of it was. but beneath all of that…

was the creeping thought you hadn’t let yourself face before:

maybe he wasn’t afraid of them. maybe he was afraid of what you meant to him.

you tried to breathe.

tried to remind yourself: you were okay. you were fine. but your body didn’t believe you.

your chest was tight. your mind spun.

you thought about how long you’d been waiting.

how many times you’d bitten your tongue in hotel rooms and green rooms and back seats of vans. how you’d watched him flirt with a camera like it didn’t cost you anything. how you’d smiled and said you understood when he told people in interviews he was single, even though his fingers were tangled in yours that morning.

you told yourself it was part of the deal.

until it didn’t feel like a deal anymore—it just felt like a secret you were ashamed of. your throat burned.

you thought maybe you should’ve said more. maybe you shouldn’t have said anything at all. maybe you shouldn’t have let yourself hope that he’d be proud of you out loud.

because that’s what it came down to, didn’t it?

it wasn’t about a soft launch or a hard launch or a caption on a stupid photo.

you just wanted to be something he didn’t hide.

was that really too much to ask?

you squeezed your eyes shut, your pulse quick and clumsy in your wrists. maybe if you slept it would feel better in the morning. maybe he’d knock on the door and say he was sorry. maybe he’d mean it.

but part of you knew—some deep, unshakable part—that things were different now.

not because a video leaked, but because now you knew what he would do when people saw you:

he’d pull away.

and you didn’t know how many more times you could survive that.

he was asleep when you left.

the sun had barely risen, spilling a soft, gray light across the floor, catching on the curve of his shoulder where he’d curled up on the couch like a kid who lost a fight with the world. there was a blanket tangled around his legs—yours. he must’ve pulled it off the bed sometime in the night, too stubborn or too guilty to come back in.

you stood in the doorway, your duffel bag already packed. your shoes were by the door. everything else—your books on the shelf, your spare toothbrush in the cup, your favorite mug in the sink—you left behind.

leaving wasn’t loud. it was gentle. surgical

you’d thought you’d cry. maybe you already had—maybe the fight drained every last tear from you. maybe there was nothing left to spill.

he stirred once, mumbling something in his sleep, face half-buried in the cushion. you held your breath.

you could’ve said goodbye. you could’ve touched his shoulder, waited for him to wake, given him one last chance to say something—anything—that might’ve changed your mind.

but that would’ve been for him. not for you.

so you walked out the door, shut it behind you softly, and didn’t look back.

the first text came that afternoon.

| where did you go?

then a second.

| please talk to me

you didn’t respond.

you stared at your screen until the words blurred, your body hollowed out by silence and the aching knowledge that he had waited too long to try.

the calls started the next day.

you let them ring.

you watched his name light up your phone again and again and again until your thumb hovered over the “block” button.

you didn’t press it, you wanted him to try.

you just didn’t want to hear him fail again.

a week passed. then two.

he sent messages you didn’t open. voice notes you didn’t play. you changed your location settings. you archived his chat thread. you muted the sound of his name.

but still—he tried.

sometimes it was apologies.

| i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough.

sometimes it was regret masked as anger.

| so that’s it? you’re just done?

and sometimes, heartbreakingly, it was just this:

| i miss you.

but you didn’t reply, because for once, you weren’t going to fix it.

for once, it wasn’t your job to soothe the ache or smooth over the edges of someone else’s fear.

you had given him every quiet part of you, every soft hour under covers, every second of patience while he made you feel like a secret instead of something sacred. you’d loved him in silence, and all he’d done when the world finally heard was flinch.

so you walked away.

not because you didn’t love him, but because you finally loved yourself more.

and maybe one day you’d forgive him.

but not today.

not when the echo of his silence still lived inside you louder than his love ever did.

[mortika16]

Just some scattered thoughts about my favorite ship - Moana & Maui - I'm really looking forward to this story continuing. Moana and Maui are simply adorable!

I sort of low key shipped them in the first one, knowing that in that one you could really only see a beautiful friendship forming. From these two advisories to amazing teammates by the end. There was definitely no flirting or romance at all (as there shouldn't be she was too young at the time), but I could see the possibility in the future and it intrigued me.

Both Moana and Maui grew a lot in that movie. Moana grew due to many factors, Maui included, but it was Maui who I really felt actually grew as a person thanks pretty much single handedly to Moana. She allowed him to see himself in a different light and see that he was more than just his demigod status and that's what really cemented her as a special human in his mind.

Fast forward to Moana 2 and WOW! I feel like we are seeing the beginning of a blossoming love happening here and what really makes me just giddy is how it's rooted in such an obvious, wholesome friendship and mutual respect. It's enemies - friends - to lovers in the best way.

They spend so much of the movie trying to protect each other and their faces when they finally get to see each other again? Just precious! They ending with Nalo and Montefetu and the song and...well just the whole darn thing was special.

I think their little flirtations throughout the movie keep it pretty tasteful, but obvious to the viewer (at least to me 😁) that they have feelings towards one another.

I feel like Disney has a really special opportunity here to show love as a healthy and at times lengthy process for once. And isn't that something worth showing? Showing kids that it's okay to let love build over time? It doesn't always have to be love at first sight. We have plenty of heroines/princesss that have no love interest at this point. I'm tired of the growing idea that for a woman to be strong she can't have love in her life. Give me a beautiful love story with mutual love and respect built on a strong foundation where they build each other up. Where they help each other when the other needs it.

These two fit that bill! Or at least they could...

I could go on, but there it is! Love those two and I hope the momentum/vibe fom 2 keep rolling into Moana 3 🥰

[robinbuckleysfringe]

you are in love.

tom blyth social media au

pairings: Jacob Elordi x reader, Tom Blyth x reader

warnings: implied/accused cheating

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 months later

*yninstagram has posted*

liked by tomblyth, jacobelordi, zendaya, joshandresrivera and others

yninstagram bringing in the new year with some sun ⛱️☀️🌊

View comments

rachelzegler happy new year love 💕

↪️ yninstagram happy new year rach 💕💕

tomblyth the sun and beach look good on you ❤️

↪️ yninstagram ❤️

hunterschafer gorgeous 😍

↪️ yninstagram says you 😍😍😍

user who's the guy in the first pic?

↪️ user I was thinking Jacob but she usually tags him so idk

↪️ user maybe it's Tom?? she's replied to him with hearts the last few posts

user y/n and Jacob have been quiet on social media. are they still together??

↪️ user I thought so but after her not tagging him in this l'm not so sure

↪️ user also he normally comments on her posts but he's only liked this one

user OMG STUNNING 😍😍😍

user how's she so pretty???

user wish I was you so badly

user can't wait to see what this year brings you!!!

☆☆☆

*tomblyth has posted*

liked by yninstagram, hunterschafer, rachelzegler and others

tomblyth 🏖☀️🍹

View comments

yninstagram the sun and beach look good on you 😉

*tomblyth liked this comment*

↪️ user not y/n commenting the same thing Tom commented on her post!!

↪️ user did you see he liked her comment? and the wink emoji??!! 💀💀

user omg who's the girl in the first pic??

↪️ user she looks a bit like y/n. but it could be anyone. he didn't tag who it is

↪️ user truee. y/n's post looks like she was in a similar place and neither of them tagged who they were with

↪️ user isn't she dating Jacob Elordi tho?

↪️ y/nupdates can 2 friends not just go on holiday together without making it romantic?? let them have their privacy about who they hang out with

*yninstagram and tomblyth liked this comment*

↪️ user it's just odd is all. Y/N and Jacob haven't posted anything together since their premieres and then both Tom and Y/N post holiday pics with mystery people??

↪️ user like @/ynupdates said, just let them have their privacy. they don't owe you any info about who they choose to go on holiday with

*comments on this post have been limited*

☆☆☆

e!news after a speculation about the split between Saltburn star Jacob Elordi and Hunger Games actress YN L/N, Elordi has been spotted out with what seems like his new girlfriend. Neither actor has confirmed or denied the split, so we can only wonder what is truly going on between the stars. Is the relationship over, or is something else going on?

user not them implying Jacob's cheating on y/n-

↪️ user they've not said anything about them breaking up so maybe he is

user omg poor y/n, can only imagine what she's feeling over these photos

user she's low-key been flirting with Tom in her comments anyway, so what if her and Jacob broke up??

↪️ user can 2 co stars not be close friends??

↪️ user not if their commenting "❤️"s under every post

↪️ user y/n literally uses heart emojis with everyone. so what's your point??

user this makes me think y/n was defo not on holiday with Jacob

user he's defo cheating on y/n

↪️ user he's fumbled big time. imagine cheating on someone as gorgeous as her

☆☆☆

y/nupdates rachel posted this cute photo of y/n and tom to her story before quickly deleting it. seems like the pair are becoming quite close

View comments

user ship them omg!! look how cute they are

↪️ user for real!!! 🥺🥺

user I want what they have!!! 🥰🥰🥰

user thought she's dating Jacob, no?

↪️ user didn't he just cheat on her?

user clearly Rachel took down the picture cause y/n and Tom are having a secret affair. I mean, just look at them

↪️ user she doesn't deserve Jacob

user omg so is she cheating with Tom??

↪️ user probs cheated when they went on that secret holiday together

↪️ user they never said they went together??

↪️ user it's so obvious they did tho

*comments on this post have been limited*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

seemed like you guys enjoyed part 1, so here's part 2.

again, feedback is welcome. just remember to keep it kind xx

[izzyfishie]

there’s a big difference between envy and genuine disliking, which is something people tend to forget when looking at gihun and sangwoo’s bond. sangwoo does not dislike gihun, but rather he dislikes the associations that come with him.

(this is a remake of the reblog i made while debunking one’s claims)

a couple days ago i made a response rant on twitter on why sangwoo didnt look down upon gihun as a person. in fact, (and this is actually confirmed by park hae-soo) sangwoo sees himself as inferior to gihun in multiple senses, which is where the envy stems from. sangwoo is envious of the warmth and likability gihun possesses that he knows he never could possess. gihun is a natural leader, with charm.

psychologically, superiority complexes are often met with inferiority complexes, whether those be more surface level or buried. sangwoo seems to struggle with both of these, as far as i’ve noticed. he’s incredibly wrapped up in general perception of him—his status, upbringing, etc—and is told by the people around him that he is this incredibly gifted, intelligent, generally just above average person. being raised in such a dingy, low-economical neighborhood also doesn’t help that; he is generally led to believe that he is better than that. key word believe. its quite obvious sangwoo suffers from a lot of self-loathing, and general depression (depression also often comes with a warped sense of self and cognitive perception in the outside world)

sangwoo is also a striver. we see him outside of the games constantly chasing success; he looks down upon those who do not strive to compete for first place. this sentiment is commonly misinterpreted as sangwoo looking down upon gihun, but im here to say thats not true! i myself am a very competitive person. i admittedly too tend to look down upon those who do not compete. but that doesnt mean we see them as lesser than us. it’s more just like a “why the hell are you like this” thing as far as ive seen.

so while he may scorn gihun for not being as competitive as him, and for settling where he is, that doesnt mean he sees gihun as beneath him. (the only reason he wants gihun beneath him is to fuck him hahahahah)

you can be envious of somebody, want what they have, and still love them to death. envy is the want of something. this actually proves sangwoo sees himself more as inferior to gihun, if anything. it’s confirmed that sangwoo sees gihun as naïve and sometimes frustrating, but also charming. and the lyrics “long for” and “adore” in the section of fly me to the moon THAT WERE ALIGNED INTENTIONALLY, MIND YOU.

we see sangwoo continuously show signs of respect to gihun—allowing gihun to speak and make plans, even when he has seemingly intelligent things to say. letting him be the leader/lead him. as ive said millions of time, calling him hyung, even when arguing or laying dying in his arms.

the sergeant/corporal comment made by gihun also proves that he KNOWS sangwoo is not above him. he doesn’t treat sangwoo that way, but rather he’s genuinely proud of him and of his achievements. he has so much faith that even with 6 billion won debt, he doesnt see him as completely screwed. he remains optimistic towards him.

however, gihun is also a subconscious association of ssangmun-dong and sangwoo’s general childhood. sangwoo is frequently seen trying to push away his childhood—not because its bad or painful to him, but because he thinks he needs to be better than/above that. that mixed with self hatred and general inferiority, does not bode well for our beloved fag.

so, no. sangwoo does not despise gihun. its a lot more nuanced and layered than just that. he really really cares deeply for him and respects him, otherwise he truly wouldnt have done all the things he did in the games.

dare i say he.. loves him?? oh no! is that.. shipping???? 😨😨

dare i say sangwoo loves him, too? and just expresses and handles it differently? WHAT???? oh no.. i need to sit down.. 😓

(that was sarcasm. they’re fucking tonight.)

[adhdnojutsu]

"Stop making them gay"

The main reason a lot of male characters in Naruto didn't have a chance with each other despite being written like lovebirds, is because Shonen doesn't do "gay". Itachi was canonically more attached to Shisui than to Izumi and Naruto more to Sasuke than to Hinata, but Shonen insists to be traditionally masculine, and traditional masculinity rejects what it assumes of homosexuality minus its allowance for "manly tears" or flamboyant outfits. Instead, it exaggerates male friendships/brotherhood to a point that is far from credible and has to screech "no homo" as a constant disclaimer. The Naruto franchise may have started "low key shipping" SNS as a joke, but it's not a baseless one at all.

ShiIta are so similar to Romeo & Juliet, it's ridiculous. While they weren't from warring clans, they were loyal to warring entities and bound to be pitted against each other in the coup if it had gone down and Shisui been alive. The conflict between the Uchiha clan and Konoha was in the way of them being as close as they wanted to be, with Shisui being tasked to spy on Itachi and Itachi tasked to spy on the clan Shisui was loyal to, so they had to meet secretly. Ultimately, they were both sacrificed for peace and for what was left of their respective allegiances (Sasuke and Konoha).

Naruto stepped in repeatedly when Itachi was beating up Sasuke, but kept pushing Hinata to fight Neji against whom she clearly stood no chance and who was intending to kill her, because he is pathologically ready to disrespect Sasuke's wishes to save him, but projected his own, naive ideals onto Hinata with no regard for her life, just because it made HIM mad to watch. I mean, he was visibly shocked when Hinata confessed to him 16 years into their lives... She was never a priority in his life before The Last, and he probably would have equally lost it if Pain had beaten up Moegi that way, because he was already livid over Jiraiya, Kakashi, the village etc. and wasn't about to stand for one more friend getting killed by this terrorist. Hinata, at that time, meant little more to him than his other classmates, Sasuke did and always has. He literally asked her why she'd risk her life for him because he did not see or feel anything that would make that question redundant. Izumi wasn't mentioned once post-mortem except vaguely, by Obito, while Shisui's influence on Itachi, both ideological and emotional, is canon gospel. It's so great that I can't help but wonder if he used Kotoamatsukami on Itachi before giving him his remaining eye. "Friendship" and "brotherhood" are NOT "emotional co-dependency and self-destructive emulation". Neither is a healthy romantic relationship, but people in fiction more typically go insane over or sacrifice their authentic self for, (lost) romance than (lost) friendship or siblings.

There's also nothing platonic about stalking your "friend" to a point where he feels compelled to kill you while you're screaming that you're gonna break all of his bones if that's what it takes to keep him by your side. Nothing cute or sane either, mind you. Sasuke and Naruto are a lot like Sarah and Setsuna of Angel Sanctuary. Sure, they're meant to be siblings or sibling-like, but DAMN that's not a sibling-appropriate degree of obsession.

Shonen has a tendency to exaggerate the importance of bonds and convictions, but Kishimoto took it to a level that has licensing companies make jokes in the form of couple-coded merch or fan service scenes. Even if he didn't do it on purpose, he clearly did it on such a blatantly obvious level that you get shit like this:

[johnegbertlover413]

Alotta peoole, especially June fans, act like homestuck is ABOUT queer people, NO. ITS NOT. It never was and it was never planned to be.

Homestuck STRICTLY and obviously about ISOLATION. It’s litterly in the god damn TITLE. And of course u can be isolated because of gay but most of the characters aren’t honestly. Saving John for last,

Rose matured quickly but superficially so she doesn’t trust anyone

Dave is a horrible person so no one wants to be around him

Jane suffers constant assassination attempts to the point she can’t leave the house and falls back into Crocker corp as something safe, ending uo very skeptical (doesn’t help that Roxy, Crocker corp hater, is one of them seriously wtf)

I don’t think I need to explain the other kids

Karkats a mutant and can’t let anyone know

Kanaya is the antithesis to troll culture

Aradia fucking died and lost all feeling then was physically separated by a metal robot

Vriska has spider mom and other influences that cause her to ruin allll her relationships

Terezi has her attachment to vriska messing with her other relationships

I don’t feel like doing all of it but Even characters that don’t matter as much to the overall story have the same fuckung themeeee

Feferi has to constantly hide as to not be culled by condy to not take tha thrown

Eridan gets no hoes

I brought up June earlier because NONE OF HER “““““FANS”””””” UNDERSTAND THE SOURCE OF HER LONENES. They make it about her being transsss uwu which isn’t in the text at alllll and never will be no matter how you read into a one off line of dialogue.

It feels like they are doing it JUST to give John truama uwu because they can’t understand what makes characters sympathetic without it. Not even with out it just without them constantly whining about how much they suffer soooo much. They need to act like dad Egbert was some evil patriarcy man who forced june into a MAN NO EMOTION NO FEELING role (despite the fact he constantly pours his heart out about how much he loves John). At best theyll portray “June” as just going after her father’s role because she’s grieving and dysphoria and uhm blah blah blah or something which also is insanely retarded because it’s a straight forward lie.

But anyway it’s all ignoring the fact that JOHN EGBERT IS THE MOST AUTISTIC CHARACTER IN EXISTENCE.

I swear hussie himself could have put fucking books on autism in dads study, transcribe the whole thing, specifically specify Taht they are to Better understand John n bitches would be like “ooooooh he’s ignoring his child’s obvious gender dysphoria and blaming it on AUTISM. Classic abusive parent smh”

Lemme list out every single autistic traits n experiences show in my beatiful goddess princess Johnathan Egbert. I love lists

-he has big explosive reactions to things deemed as trivial by other characters but matter so much to him (Betty Crocker, how he thinks about his father blah blah) also referred to as tantrums by other characters despite technically not fitting the criteria and fitting in much more with melt downs (like he doesn’t liek Betty Crocker so he freaks out when a food he likes IS BETTY CROCKER)

-his reactions to more major events are much more low-key . His dad’s a business man? Curled up on the bed horrified. Dads dead? Oh no. He’s still very sad he just lashes out in other ways, the whole ship melt down n avoiding processing it by focusing on his special interests(like how he started to hate con air)

-he very clearly has special interests as mentioned last point. He rants to Kanaya (my favorite page) and meenah about Mathew McConaughey and paranormal lore respectively Not really caring/ noticing that neither of them give a fuck.

-he is really gullible like he’ll go along with what rose says and with what terezi says 1 to 1 because he doesn’t really think like that. The most obvious answer is vriska, she was 100% using him against terezi but he doesn’t really understand that EVER even when he realizes that she’s crazy he doesn’t realize that vriska was toatluu using him. Not to say vriska doesnt likeeee john ever but they basically fuckung say that their realatiojship started out as daverezi envy.

-he is the most uo front of all the kids. Not THAT Crazy for general people but he doesn’t really hide any of his emotions beyond just not being able to process them and compared to litterly every other character it’s noteable

Before yoh freaks say it I’m not saying June can’t exist because John’s autistic. YOU are just applying johns very fucking obvious traits to transness that both makes those traits miserable (his special interests and bluntness being covers or whatever) and erases johns ore existing character

Nothing wrong with having a non cannon head cannon you don’t have to make it retroactively cannon! Stop eith the delusions !!!

[toshinorisbaby]

Ships: Levi Ackerman x OFC

Warnings: Angst, imprisonment, dubious consent, light violence & gore, some references to declining mental health.

Summary: A twenty year old Eldian girl from the mainland is caught in the crossfire and imprisoned. Levi is set to interrogate her, but once he realises she's just a girl and a non-threat, he shows her some mercy. Over the next weeks, through the iron bars of her imprisonment, their relationship shifts into something which neither of them understand. Can she break past Levi's impenetrable emotional walls or is she just putting herself in more danger?

Notes: This is an 11 chapter, slow burner, building up to a smutty dubcon scene in chapter 7. I wanted to do some important work on the pacing, tone and character monologue before rushing into smut because Levi is certainly not a character who

would just mindlessly rape. I think the build up has helped to set the scene and I'm really proud of this one considering I haven't written fanfiction for around a year. I hope

you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Torture

Chapter 2 - Mercy

Sure enough, after what feels like an eternity folded inside minutes, I hear it—the unmistakable click of a key turning in the lock. My heartbeat doubles, then triples, pounding so hard I can hear it in my ears. A thick lump of saliva rises in my throat, and I force it down with a swallow that feels like choking on gravel. I don’t move. I don’t dare. The cell door groans open on rusted hinges. I keep my head bowed, hood casting a shadow over my face, but I let my gaze lift just enough to see.

I recognise him. He was there the day my ship was ambushed from the shore. He’s not a large man, not imposing in any obvious way, but there’s still something about him that instills anxiety inside me. A quiet threat. Like a predator who never needs to roar to remind you of its teeth.

His face is stone. Dark, narrow eyes sit beneath a permanent scowl, not of fury or hatred, but of indifference—like this is all just another a duty to be carried out. His lips are turned downward. If there’s any emotion behind those eyes, it’s buried deep.

His black bangs cling to his forehead, strands slick with humidity. The candlelight from the corridor flickers and dances on the wet sheen, casting shifting shadows across his face. He’s wearing an apron which is splattered here and there with something dark and sticky… it speaks loudly of the screams that I’d earlier heard.

He still hasn’t looked at me.

He’s busy—methodical, almost tender—as he cleans a small knife with a pristine white cloth. The cloth is so clean, so careful in his hands as the guard behind him shuts the bars with a horrible finality. A lock clicks into place. I flinch at the sound.

The man finally moves without urgency. He finishes polishing the blade and folds the cloth neatly, almost reverently, tucking it into his apron pocket. Then, at last, his eyes lift to find my broken silhouette at the edge of the room.

His presence is overwhelming but I try my hardest to ignore it, my hood drawn low, the damp fabric clinging to my cheeks. He takes a step toward me and he sound of his boot against the stone rings out like thunder. I flinch instinctively, my body betraying me, and try to press myself further back—back into the cold, merciless wall behind me. But the stones are unyielding. There’s no way to run. No space to breathe. Just the wall, and him.

I can feel him crouch, feel the air shift around me as he lowers himself down. He’s close now—too close. Close enough that I can hear the faint rustle of his apron, the soft exhale of his breath. I know without seeing that he’s brought himself to my level. To eye level. But I won’t look at him. I can’t.

He sighs—long and heavy—a groan that carries the weight of boredom more than rage. From the shadow of my hood, I see his hands fall between his knees as he crouches there, knife dangling loosely from one hand. His fingers are relaxed, his posture unguarded. There is no tension in his grip, no flicker of concern that I might strike, claw, or even try to run.

“I’m going to try to make this easy…” he begins, voice smooth, almost soothing in its coolness. Under different stars, in a different room, it might have even been relaxing. Calm. Patient. Disarmingly gentle.

“Just tell me anything and everything that you know about the Marleyans’ plans…”

My heart stutters, then plummets. The Marleyans? The question rings in my ears, bouncing around the hollow of my skull like a bell toll. What could he possibly think I know? I’m barely more than a peasant girl, one whose only tether to influence was her father’s meager achievements— respected by a few, forgotten by most. I know nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Seconds crawl by and I stay silent. My mouth parts slightly, but no sound comes. Heat rushes to my face—burning beneath the soaked folds of my cloak, stoked by the salty streak of tears I can’t stop. A single drop slides past my lips, bitter and salty. I taste it as I try to swallow the rising panic.

He sighs again, shorter this time—more decisive.

And then the boot comes.

Without warning, it crashes into my ribs with brutal, sickening force. Pain erupts in my chest like a lit fuse. My lungs explode, the air ripped from me in a gurgled shriek and my head is slammed backward against the wall. The impact pulls the hood from the nape of my neck in one violent snap. Cold air rushes against my exposed face. I gasp, desperate for breath that won’t come, choking on thick phlegm as it bubbles up and sprays from my mouth.

I’ve never been kicked like that before. Never by a grown man. And somehow, I know he wasn’t even trying.

Still I refuse to look at him. My gaze falls to the floor, to the blood-streaked apron swaying just above my line of sight. But I hear the rustle of fabric as he crouches once more, slower this time. Closer.

“I… I don’t know anything about the Marleyans. I swear it.” The words scrape out of my throat, spoken between gasps. They sound small. Pathetic.

Then I feel his slender fingers reach for me. I flinch, try to twist away, but his grip is firm, not violent, but inescapable. He seizes my chin, forcing my face up with a slow, deliberate tug. My cheeks ache beneath the pressure of his fingers as he squeezes—testing, measuring—and I’m made to meet his harrowing grey eyes at last.

He studies my face with idle scrutiny. His eyes narrow even more, but the flat line of his mouth never shifts. Just the same terrifying indifference, like he’s deciding what to do with me.

"I wasn't told you were just a girl," he says flatly, his voice as devoid of emotion as ever - cool, measured, monotone. "I apologise. I wouldn't have resorted quite so quickly to violence."

The words hang in the air like smoke—insubstantial and half-hearted. Despite what he says, there’s no trace of regret in his features. No flicker of guilt, or even discomfort. Now that I can see him clearly—his whole face exposed under the dim torchlight—there is still… nothing. A blank canvas. An unreadable slate.

He’s younger than I expected. Perhaps only a few years older than me. His face is smooth and sharp in the way marble statues are—something beautiful and cold carved by someone who didn’t believe in warmth. There’s an eerie cleanliness to him. His hair is damp and hanging over his forehead, but his pale skin is strangely free of sweat, as if the strain of cruelty doesn’t touch him the way it does others.

He lifts a hand with casual elegance, running it back through his hair to push the dark strands from his brow. The motion is slow, deliberate. It doesn’t feel like a nervous tick. It feels like a performance—a slow unveiling, so he can study me without obstruction.

"Please..." I rasp, my voice barely above a whisper. "I swear, I don't know anything..."

My eyes sting with fresh tears as I look up at him. I hate how I sound-how small and breakable I feel-but it's the truth. All of it. I don't know anything. I was never meant to be here. My words crack and dissolve into silence, and my gaze clings to his, silently begging him to believe me.

He raises his hand again.

My entire body flinches. A sharp breath catches in my chest, and I brace for another blow. But it doesn't come. Slowly, he lowers his hand to his side again, his expression unmoved.

"Ugh," he mutters, not even to me, almost to himself. "Your comrades already told me everything I needed to know. There's no point in torturing a young girl."

Relief explodes out of me like air from a punctured lung, the first full breath I've taken in what feels like hours. It comes out shaky and uneven, and the second is no better. My chest rises and falls rapidly, like I've been running. My shoulders quiver with the effort to contain it all.

I almost thank him.

The words dance on the edge of my tongue.

Thank you. Thank you for sparing me. Thank you for stopping. But I choke them back. I refuse to shrink myself further than I already have. Instead, I look at the ground, blinking back tears, forcing my breathing into something steadier.

“So, who exactly are you?”

His voice remains unhurried, as he glances briefly at the iron bars, checking for the presence of the guard. I already know what he’ll find���or rather, what he won’t. I heard the guard’s steps echo away a few minutes ago, swallowed by the corridor’s darkness. Now, somewhere distant, the faint sound of laughter drifts in, along with the unmistakable clink of cups. The low hum of voices around a fire, maybe with meat on a spit and bread in their hands. Heat and comfort. Two things I’d give anything for right now.

I have no choice but to engage in conversation now and something inside cracks open. The words spill out of me before I can catch them, tumbling over each other in a tangled, breathless rush.

“I’m just cabin crew. I’m just trying to be a good Eldian, give my family a better life. I have nothing to do with anything that’s going on here. All I know is that this place is called Paradis and it’s where my people are sent when they don’t follow orders. That’s all I know. I’m no one. This was my very first journey to the island… I’m not even twenty yet.“

My voice breaks on the last word, like it realizes too late how small it makes me sound.

For the first time, something changes in his eyes.

In the dimly lit room, those sharp, unreadable eyes seem to finally catch something softer. He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stares. And then, slowly, he shakes his head, his gaze dropping to the space between us. He’s quiet for so long I begin to wonder if he’s disgusted with me, if he sees weakness and nothing more. Perhaps he had no problem with interrogating my comrades; full grown men, soldiers - but my gender and my status may be the only things saving me here. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter.

“I can’t let you out of your cell,” he says. “And I won’t. But… I’ll tell my commander what you are. That you’re no more than a young girl.”

Something wells up in me, something warm and fragile, and I nearly reach out to him. I almost touch him. His words don’t save me—not really—but they feel like the closest thing to mercy I’ve known since I was dragged from the ship.

I stop myself, of course. Instead, I dig my fingernails into the cracks between the stones beneath me, bending them back just slightly enough to ground myself with pain.

He moves to the door, already turning away when he speaks again.

“You’ll be brought bread… if we can spare it.”

The words are practical, hollow on the surface. But to me, they’re hope. I draw in a breath—still shallow, still shaky—but enough to push my weight up off the ground. My legs are like reeds, quivering beneath me, but I stand.

“Thank you…” I whisper.

He pauses. Turns his head slightly, just enough for his dark eyes to meet mine again. His head is bowed, like he hadn’t expected me to speak, let alone thank him.

“What’s your name?” I ask, suddenly needing to know. Needing to hold onto something, even if it’s just a name.

He unlocks the door with a smooth turn of the key and slips out into the corridor, his back to me now. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t hesitate.

“Levi,” he says simply.

And then he’s gone.

(chapter 3 here)