#does this guy even know they put him in a book

[yourstrqly]

  ➳   PILATES + F1  ⁺   ✢

you ask the drivers to join your pilates session. includes the f1 grid 2025 (except aston martin & lawson) and dilfs (räikkönen, vettel, webber, button)

ᡴꪫ my poor bby alex but nico was on fire (how did a tractor beat a ferrari?) Also hello, my hiatus ends with this

ᤎ༉ williams

aa23 — wakes up one morning and decides he wants to see (not join) what pilates is about — you make him wear athletic wear, saying that he can get a glimpse for a few minutes and then do his required workout — but suprise! joins the class when he's asked by the pilates instructor if he wants to try — "its torture bunny, how are you doing it once a weak? Can't feel my arms" (he's all sweaty, a massive grimace on his face while you pout sweetly, body just slightly covered with sweat) — redemption arc incoming

cs55 — gifts you pilates reformer so you both can workout from home — doesn't think to even try it out but his fitness coach sees it and makes him use it — it becomes part of his daily workout routine — buys a second reformer because now you can do his routine together — "look at us mi amore, finally a couple workout routine" (he looks like a puppy saying it, bright eyes, big smile)

ᤎ༉ mercedes

ka12 — kimi and you plan dates based on the tiktok trend 'alphabet dating' and its your turn to plan a date based on the letter p — for a while now you wanted to try pilates but didn't go so it's the ideal idea to do it with your emotional support bf — "its horrendous cuore mio, don't make me do it again" (you won't, but you can't wait to show his sister the video)

gr63 (platonic!reader) — you and carmen plan the monthly girl's day at her and george's place, and you decide to ask carmen to join you for a class as you have seen pilates trend all over social media — george the ever so chatty guy, comes in at the moment and wants to know what pilates is — so you book a pilates class for the three of you — george is into it and gets every penny out of the class

ᤎ༉ alpine

pg10 and kika! (love herrr) — kika is the first to try pilates and swears by it, thats why she's making you tag along to her pilates classes (she even bought you matching sets!) — you don't enjoy it much but do it anyway because you feel stronger and love kika's excitement whenever you join her — pierre, feeling slightly left out, watches the pair of you get ready in matching pink sets and decides to swap his morning run (and black clothes) for a pilates session (and pink shirt and shorts) — like you, pierre doesn't like it as much as kika though he loves the fact you're all doing it together and secretly likes the colour coordinated fits

fc43 — doesn't get the hype around it — you try to bribe him with a paid dinner, shopping spree and other things but nothing seems to work till he comes around and makes a suggestion — "i'll join you if we'll have car sex guapa" — will spill the fact he had sex in his car in an interview

ᤎ༉ racing bulls

ih6 — "that's a torture device, bebe, to stretch and kill a man. i won't go even near it." — he does after encouraging words (and a week long sex ban) — very hesitate to use it and mostly lays on it, watching you putting all work it — is very vocal on how good you look and compliments your flexibility

i dont write for liam, sorry!

ᤎ༉ red bull

mv1 — doesn't care for the sport and you can't get him to join — still is a supportive bf and buys you cute sets and trinkets but also pays for the classes

yt22 — takes one look at it and regrets his decision — powers through the class, face mirroring his hate for it but tries and fails to put on a brave face — afterwards he sips on a strawberry matcha, eyes wide as you happily talk about buying a reformer for your shared home (he can't say no when you're that excited but is dreading the view of the toture device in his home gym)

ᤎ༉ ferrari

cl16 & alex — alex and you see pilates all over tiktok and decide to give it a go — while you stay consistent, alex much rather enjoyes her cardio and does it in the meantime — but once in a whild she will join you for a beginners class (its just a hobby, you don't take it too seriously) and books it for the three of you, so charles doesn't have an out — he's pretty confident he'll be better than alex but his confident attitude dwindles when you arrive and he's the only man — a man in a women dominated field! — after adjusting a few times, he'll definitely end the class on a high, cocky smirk on his face

lh44 — isn't too happy about it and doesn't enjoy it a bit but will be better than you — is definitely planning a revenge

ᤎ༉ kick sauber

gb5 — "you want me to do what?" — he's not thrilled but his ego will absolutely push him to do his best and top yours — will make you pay for the class and matcha afterwards — occasionally joins you when you go to a class just to brag in front of your girlfriends that he's better than you — doesn't realise that his cocky attitude is a big reason why you continue with pilates (he's hot like that)

nh27 — he'll do it without complaining but you take one look and know he doesn't like it but will push through the class (he does the sets more or less lazy) — class finished? great now he can freely gossip about the pilates moms' drama — "Nein, nein, she said that Claire's chocolate cake isn't made out of fresh ingredients but cake mix box. But says it's her grandma's recipe. Poor granny, her reputation might aswell be gone." — asks you once a month to book a class for him too just for the gossip

ᤎ༉ haas

ob87 — is doomscrolling when you get ready for your first pilates class ever, nervous smile decorating your lips as you put your hair up — instantly asks you about plans and if he can drive you — the class has free space which gives you the chance to pleading look up your boyfriend "can you join? i'd feel so much more secure" — will do it even though he doesn't exactly wear the right stuff but he's a man in love and how can he say no to your beautiful face?

eo31 (bff!reader) — its estie bestie who has to listen to you complain about wanting to pick up sports again but you don't — thats why he books you a pilates class — doesn't realise the consequence of his action because you will book him a pilates class too under the disguise that you're joining his workout routine

ᤎ༉ mclaren

op81 — come on, that man is gone for you and will do it once for you without protest — during the class his irritation will grow but he'll keep it to himself and lets you rant about your difficulties and accomplishments when you share a snack on your way home

ln4 — he views pilates as a typical girl's sport and doesn't even think about doing it himself but you catch him off guard when you make him join you in front of the tv, a video on its display and a few things like towels and weights laying besides the mats — you'll absolutely destroy him but won't notice it because you're locked in — he's panting at the end, laying sideways to watch you

ᤎ༉ dilfs

kr7 — complains about back pain for days, so you ask him to join you — immediately says no — but you stay persistent and search for pilates at home videos on youtube — finally get him to join you but only because you'll give him a massage afterwards

sv5 — on tuesdays, he religiously pulls out everything that's needed for a good pilates session at home — its a ritual and it started with you wanting to be fitter after seeing him workout (he didnt pressured you, it motivated you) — is a dedicated motivation speaker, says stuff like "Meine Süße, two reps and then breath", "You're doing amazing, oh look at you, legs toned and abs on display"

jb22 — honestly he doesn't care for pilates at all but seeing you wear those cute sets? sign him up — which you did — "She wants us to do that? Hell no" (does it anyway) — as long as you go to his sport with him, he'll go to your sport

mw (whats his racing number? 15? someone tell me pls) — supportive but won't go to pilates or do it at home after seeing videos — "I love you but i'll not do it. Hush it, stop with your eyes, darling." — will ask lily, oscar's girlfriend, to go with you and pays for it

[justaz]

I beg. Please. Reread the books. I need the reliance on fanon to stop. Canon is right there.

No one “debated saving Nico”. They all agreed immediately to save him:

When Percy was dreaming of Nico trapped in the jar he said: “‘Nico,’ Percy said, ‘where is this place? We'll save you....’” - Literally the first time he sees Nico, he decides that they’re going to save him

Then after Percy tells everyone at the table, their reaction is: “‘The giants are trying to lure us," Annabeth said. ‘They're assuming we'll try to rescue him.’ / ‘Well, they're right!’ Hazel looked around the table, her confidence apparently crumbling. ‘Won't we?’ / ‘Yes!’ Coach Hedge yelled with a mouthful of napkins. ‘It'll involve fighting, right?’ / ‘Hazel, of course we'll help him,’ Frank said. ‘But how long do we have before... uh, I mean, how long can Nico hold out?’” - Of course Hazel agrees immediately, as does Coach Hedge and Frank

After discussing the seeds, Piper says: “‘That's not much time,’ Piper summed up. She put her hand on Hazel's shoulder. ‘We'll find him. At least we know what the lines of the prophecy mean now. 'Twins snuff out the angel's breath, who holds the key to endless death.' Your brother's last name: di Angelo. Angelo is Italian for 'angel.'’” - Piper agrees immediately and brings up the prophecy which reaffirms the importance of Nico and a key part he plays in the quest, which means they need to save him

Percy introspection and final vocal agreement: “Percy stared at his jelly donut. He had a rocky history with Nico di Angelo. The guy had once tricked him into visiting Hades's palace, and Percy had ended up in a cell. But most of the time, Nico sided with the good guys. He certainly didn't deserve slow suffocation in a bronze jar, and Percy couldn't stand seeing Hazel in pain. ‘We'll rescue him,’ he promised her. ‘We have to. The prophecy says he holds the key to endless death.’” - Which is the set up for what people are actually in such an uproar about, the questioning of Nico’s loyalty even though the question is completely valid as Percy points out here. Nico is more a rogue agent, he does his own thing like when he lured Percy down to the Underworld to receive information about his mother. Sure he didn’t know what Hades would do, but Percy didn’t know there was a deviation to the plan in the first place - a plan in which he was already risking his life, trusting in Nico only to be betrayed even if Nico didn’t mean for it to be one.

Argo II scoreboard right now is 5/8 vocally agreeing to save him, no matter what the rest say, the votes are in favor of a rescue mission, especially with the importance the prophecy places on Nico. The only ones who haven’t vocally agreed to save him are Annabeth, Leo, and Jason.

Leo starts the vocal questioning of the safety and security of the plan: “‘Uh...’ Leo shifted in his chair. ‘One thing. The giants are expecting us to do this, right? So we're walking into a trap?’ / Hazel looked at Leo like he'd made a rude gesture. ‘We have no choice!’” - Leo is simply questioning the plan and Hazel reacts viscerally because she’s so focused in on Nico being in danger that the slightest hesitation seems like a worse problem than it is. Nothing against Hazel, I’d react the same way if it was my brother, but still Leo never said “let’s not save this emo loser” he’s just saying that there is a clear threat posed here that they’re walking right up to

Leo and Jason voice the same opinion: “‘Don't get me wrong, Hazel. It's just that your brother, Nico... he knew about both camps, right?’ / ‘Well, yes,’ Hazel said. / ‘He's been going back and forth,’ Leo said, ‘and he didn't tell either side.’ / Jason sat forward, his expression grim. ‘You're wondering if we can trust the guy. So am I.’” - They don’t question saving him, they question the plan and Nico’s loyalty. For good reason. Again, Nico is established more as a rogue agent. Who’s to say he didn’t side with the giants and is in cahoots with them to lure the Seven into this trap for Gaea to bring Bianca or his mother back? They’re pointing out concerns and questions, it’d be idiotic to go into this situation with a half-baked plan and no backups if they don’t consider all possibilities and Nico’s loyalty has always been up in the air which is a huge red flag in this situation

Climax of the “debate”: “Hazel shot to her feet. ‘I don't believe this. He's my brother. He brought me back from the Underworld, and you don't want to help him?’ / Frank put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Nobody's saying that.’ He glared at Leo. ‘Nobody had better be saying that.’ / Leo blinked. ‘Look, guys. All I mean is-‘ / ‘Hazel,’ Jason said. ‘Leo is raising a fair point. I remember Nico from Camp Jupiter. Now I find out he also visited Camp Half-Blood. That does strike me as... well, a little shady. Do we really know where his loyalties lie? We just have to be careful.’” - And then Hazel blows up and storms off. Frank reassured Hazel that no one was saying that then gave Leo the push to make it clear that wasn’t what he was saying and that’s what Leo was going to do (clarifying his point) before Jason cuts in and defends Leo from the offense that Hazel is on. He reaffirms that they’re just questioning his loyalty, they have to be careful when going to rescue him, they never said they would leave him to suffocate and rot.

Please stop this propaganda and reread the books or at least the wiki. I swear fanon has y’all in a goddamn chokehold.

Anyways, here’s the apology scene so y’all will maybe shut up:

“‘…Sometimes demigods make bad choices.’ He looked sheepishly at Hazel. ‘Like sometimes we're too suspicious. And we speak without thinking.’ / Hazel stared at him. Slowly it seemed to dawn on her that he was apologizing. / Jason elbowed Leo. / ‘Ow!’ Leo yelped. ‘I mean, yeah...bad choices. Like not trusting people's brothers who, you know, might need saving. Hypothetically speaking.’” - Apologizing for being suspicious and not trusting Nico, not apologizing for not wanting to save him, apologizing for their suspicious words against Nico’s loyalties hurting Hazel

[sweetstrawberryys]

i love you and i loveee your works, pls don't die<3

can i have a story about skinny!reader with peepaw price pls? i'm greedy, you serve simon with a skinny reader and now i want one with price

"Worthy of Every Glance"

Summary: You have body insecurities while on a date with John Price, but he looks straight through your doubts and makes you remember just how loved and wanted you actually are.

Rating:  Fluff. Peepaw Price being a gentleman. Body Image Angst. Gentle Reassurance. Warm Bath & Tenderness

Masterlist

---

Her dress hugged her body in areas she wasn't used to. Not snug—John had put comfort first—but tighter than the loose sweaters she swam in at home. The mirror had not been her friend when she got dressed. Her collarbones stuck out too much, her arms too thin. Her thighs didn't touch, and she hated the vulnerable feeling. She was dating John Price—John damn Price—and he looked like he'd be at home in a gritty cologne ad, salt-and-pepper beard slashing sharp against his jaw, eyes intense and impenetrable. And she felt like an afterthought. Like someone guys like him didn't generally give a second look.

He was seated across from her in their cozy booth, hand over hers, thumb tracing lazy patterns on her skin. She melted a little each time he did, because it was so intimate, so deliberate. So him.

"Y'alright, love?" he asked for the third time since they'd taken their seats, voice low and gravelly, with a hint of worry.

She pretended a smile. "Mhm. Just tired."

John's eyes narrowed slightly, reading her like a damned book. "Tired?" he said again, glancing down at their joined hands. "Or turning circles in that lovely head of yours again?"

God. He knew. Of course he knew.

Her gaze flicked past him, to the women two tables over—curvy, glowing, incandescent. A peal of laughter carried from their direction, and she couldn't help the sensation of being an imposter sitting across from a man like him. Of being a placeholder until someone more 'his type' came along. Her stomach twisted. Her appetite had been gone ages ago. But she took another bite nonetheless.

"I just—" she started, but faltered. She looked down at the tablecloth. "I don't know why I'm here with you."

John leaned in. The noise of the restaurant faded for her. Not because it grew quieter—but because he was suddenly her whole world. His warm hand cupped her jaw, thumb brushing the corner of her lips.

"Sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't do that. Don't you dare do that."

Her throat ached. "They're just. so much more than me. I feel like I'm disappearing next to them. Like I don't even exist. And you—you're…"

"Yours," he cut in fiercely, voice suddenly serious. "I'm yours. And you're mine."

She blinked. Her lip trembled, but he was already leaning in closer, keeping her right there with him.

"Look at me. Look at me, love."

Her eyes met his, and he gave in at once. That deep, weathered kindness dissolved her faster than any harsh reality could.

"Do you think I want anyone else sitting across from me? You think I don't notice the way you look at me when you think I ain't looking? Or how good that dress looks on you? You don't need curves to be sexy. You don't need to be louder, or taller, or softer, or bigger. You're you. And you drive me bloody insane, y'know that?"

She let out a shaky laugh, and he grinned.

"I brought you here to introduce you. Not to make you feel small," he said, drawing her hand to his lips, where he kissed her knuckles. "But I get it. I do. Your mind lies to you sometimes. Mine does too. But if it's alright with you, I'd like to be the voice that whispers back when it gets too loud."

She nodded, attempting to swallow the lump in her throat. She had the urge to kiss him there and then.

"Can we go home?" she whispered.

His eyes sparkled. "Only if you let me draw you a bath."

---

His room smelled like cedar and clean clothes. Homey. Safe. She sat on the edge of the tub in his big shirt while he activated the warm water, adding that chamomile stuff he remembered she liked. When she reached to draw back her hair, he was there—touching hands taking over the motion.

"You're meant to take up space," he whispered, voice right against her ear as he kissed his way to her temple. "With me, you always do."

The bath was heaven. Heat enveloped her bones, finally easing the ache. John sat on the edge of the tub, sleeves rolled up, fingers tracing idly along the surface of the water.

"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he whispered, voice full of reverence. "You don't even have to try."

She did not say a word. She simply extended her hand to him. And when he bent to kiss her, she allowed herself to believe him.

---

Hello my berries 🍓! I had so much fun writing this request. Hope you enjoy. 😚

[penig]

Went back to our friend's to watch Episode 4 of Murderbot today and was not disappointed! Two out of the three game-changers that land in this portion of the book hit, and hit very well. A+ flying from the lesbians, Dr. Mensah is, in fact, an intrepid galactic explorer, and the moment MB turns the gun on itself makes it very clear to an audience that hasn't read the book that it is, for the first time, fully exerting its freedom at the moment it is being taken away again. It still doesn't know what it wants, but it knows it doesn't want to kill these weirdos that came to save it and it does not want the actual culprits to get away with mass murder and making SecUnits the fall guys!

Also, Sanctuary Moon theme song, who doesn't want that?

I trust good old Ratthi gets to redeem himself at some point - it's true that this is the guy who falls into acid mud pits but it's also true that he's the first person MB tags as "my human friend." He's impulsive and has the good sense God gave a golfball but he's not stupid and he's got the best people skills in the survey apart from Mensah. He doesn't deserve to be made into the survey buffoon.

And I think they missed an easy thematic point by making all the SecUnits have different faces. I was hoping - expecting, even - that all the SecUnit faces we see would be Skarsgaard, to bring out the self-loathing element that sneaks up on readers of the series when we put together its stalking of the DeltFall units with some remarks it makes in the later books, and also to twist the knife in the viewer when it has to take down and steal the armor from one of the combat overridden units later in the book. The fact that when Murderbot fights other constructs it's fighting people who could easily have been it, instead of the people who are causing the actual problem, lurks behind a lot of conflicts in the series and should not be ignored. (I think the only actual source of trouble it gets to take out is Tlacey? Well, TargetControlSystem, which is a team effort.)

My friend has now read All Systems Red and is able to complain about plot changes. He said he didn't like the ending and I told him the reunion was in Book 4, so as to give him a goal. I fully expect him to have read at least Artificial Condition by next week, if he can get his hands on it.

[rextrafan]

Because there aren't enough Gravity Falls AU that put Stan through the wringer and people like @dark-lord-of-awesomeness inspired me with all of their own AU's, I've decided to add to his suffering with my own AU idea.

Wendigo!Stan

Wendigos, in some mythologies, were once human who had to result to cannibalism through one reason or the other. I'm putting my own spin on it, so it's not fully sticking to the known mythology.

Stan is very good at ignoring red flags. After all, if he doesn't acknowledge something, it isn't real right?

So he ignores the fact that he has no money and tells himself that it won't be much longer until he has the million and then he can get Ford back.

He dismisses the danger he is in after borrowing money from Rico, because he will make it big and pay it back! With interest even!

He waves the nagging suspicion away that he will collapse soon, because he just ate 5 days ago and can last a bit longer. He needs the money for more important things after all.

All that leaves him in quite a pickle, when Rico does catch him before he has his money and stuffs him, as well as another unfortunate sad-sack, in the trunk of a very beat up truck and drives of into the desert.

Stan's pleading falls on deaf ears, and the only thing he can hear himself is the laboured breathing of the other guy, the crack of a gunshot and a hand patting the roof of the trunk before another car drives off into the distance.

Leaving them trapped in the trunk, being cooked alive.

Stan chews his way out, but too late to save the other guy.

He is alone, in the middle of a desert, spitting broken teeth into the dry sand, with a corpse and car with a leaking gas-tank. On the brink of starvation. Not great.

He knows he was as good as dead. He has made it out, but he is starving, the next city is nowhere in sight and there is no food.

The soon-to-be-dead man sat in the car's shade for a long time before he makes a decision.

He wouldn't die today. He couldn't. He still has to make it up to Ford.

Stan doesn't really remember what came after that. (He remembered each bite.)

But somehow he made it to the next city. He even got back to the Stanmobile, and he booked it as fast as he could, as far as he could. Tried to forget about what he had to do out there. How the vultures picked clean th-

Stanley Pines is good at ignoring many kinds of red flags.

The constant hunger that nagged at him was normal, he went hungry all the time. Maybe he just managed to steal the shittiest gas station sandwiches, those with the super cheap veggies that were already on the verge of being tossed or something.

He ignored how his frame became almost skeletal. Fat gained from unhealthy meals melted away, leaving gaunt cheeks, prominent ribs, and the need to tie his pants with an old frayed rope so he wouldn't loose them.

He ignored how only meat seemed to at least reduce a fraction of that nagging hunger.

He absolutely ignored what happened with that roadkill the other day.

What he couldn't ignore anymore though, was what happened after Rico found him again.

How his body stretched, how his head hurt, how the man actually flinched back in fear at whatever he saw, how Stan's mind was screaming at him, to rip, to tear, to devourer the other.

What he couldn't ignore anymore, was how the hunger, his constant companion, actually lessened.

What he couldn't ignore anymore, was how he suddenly was back to his normal height, his jacket full of holes along the spine. His shoes absolutely busted.

What he couldn't ignore anymore, was how the hand, that Rico shattered with a gunshot, healed itself after just a few days.

So he runs. Because outrunning and ignoring his problems always worked right?

He runs until the hunger turns into agony, and tries to forget each incident when was stopped from running, be it by foes, by police, by random people.

Until he decides to ditch civilization all together. Because if he is in the woods, he can't hurt people. Just animals. And that had to be enough.

Until he found a postcard on the passenger seat of his car.

Please come!

-Ford

Edit: There I go and make a new blog to keep my own ramblings on a separate blog, only to accidentally post it to my everything goes blog, whoops xD

Future AU ramblings will be here: @rextrafansrambles

[tiktaalic]

different guy who also read the goldfinch recently. yippee book club!! theo really is something. voluntary lavender marriage in 2013 is crazy. even crazier that he's doing this as like a decoy beard situation to cover up his fake infatuation with beard prime (pippa) (as soon as she quits her job leaves her fiancé and moves back to the same continent as him the wedding is back on). even CRAZIER that he tells us outright that he is in love with boris and he knows it. and then simply moves on. also i don't know if i really get boris' deal yet but i am loving adult boris' outward attitude of like. this is my gay friend theo who is gay and in love with me. which i will not be discouraging. because i am an #Ally. we used to have sex which was gay of him but i was literally just being nice. in my role as my gay bestie's straight boyfriend. don't worry about it :)

YAYYYYYY. It’s awesome Theo is literally playing 3d chess in his mind at all times. It’s very every comic about L trying to figure out Light and Light trying to throw him off doing 2 minutes of thinking in ten seconds to say something like. I love tennis! Except no one’s trying to entrap Theo they’re just like. Being friendly. While he has charts and a whiteboard and a room of analysts to figure out his response should be “oh definitely! I’ll check my schedule. Good to see you.” The convo they have about it is insane. Its INSANE. Boris voice I have something I need to tell you about when we used to hang out. That you don’t remember. [sees Theo blanch and try to walk out] NOT. the gay sex. Ok? I’m not going to talk to you about the gay sex. Stop freaking out. Well but now that we’re on the subject we might as well. I literally had no gf and lived in an empty suburb of course I hooked up with you what else was there to do. And you were in love with me but it’s okay because now you’re getting lavender married to the perfect sort of beard. Congratulations! Very happy for you. I have a hot wife and can sleep with women in other countries. you have a hot wife and she can see her guy while you do drugs at a gay club every weekend. Look at us! Perfect lives! Their complete opposite methods make things really funny. Where Boris especially adult Boris is extremely upfront all the time about how he feels even/especially with dramatic declarations of affection. And Theo has never been upfront about anything in his life. I don’t think Boris is Actively Offering This Information Up To Other People. But he’s also not Actively Compartmentalizing It Every Second. He’s like ah kids they get up to some crazy stuff huh. And I think does view it as a natural extension of their circumstances + friendship and not like. Active and Specific desire for a man/theo. And I think they Could sleep together as adults while Boris continued to handwave it ala. Eh we’ve done it before so it’s not really anything crazy just two guys who are best friends who trust and love each other having some fun! Vs Theo who is at all times calculating the Least Gay Response he can have to anything that is said to him. If he was even 2% less repressed he’d be socially making cracks about how being a straight young antiquer means every woman he meets is 70 years old and in love with him. But he isn’t 2% less repressed so he is terrified of voluntarily putting the word gay/straight in the same sentence as himself in any form in case people start going hey wait a minute. That doesn’t sound right. He DOES know he was/is in love with Boris he DOES know it’s gay to have sex with a man but he’s like. That’s really bad news because I’m not gay. Oh god what do I do about that. The fact that I have done gay things. But can’t be a gay man. And the answer is play 3d appearances chess at all times at every innocuous thing someone says to him. And if/when they slept together as adults he would wake up in the middle of the night to splash water on his face and look into the mirror haunted. And is serving silently gathering his belongings to slip out before Boris wakes up so he can go and sit stock still in his room. And then Boris wakes up and is like hello! Have to go do big business. I’ll see you tonight! And leaves. They’re crazyyyyyyy. 🧡

[hikariyaps]

synopsis ☆ satoru gojo, most popular boy on campus, has had loads of flings i mean, it's not his fault girls are all over him right? he has everything he wants, everything he needs. so when he meets you, shoko's best friend plain and unassuming he brushes it off, however one random thursday something happens. something that changes the way he thinks of you entirely. and then he just has to have you, but you won't let up that easily.

☆series masterlist

Chapter Four

you spent the rest of the day with shoko, after she kicked gojo and geto out of her house. you hadn't had a girls night in god knows how long and she was right, you guys hung out every day but you didn't talk to each other. so you and her did your skincare and smoked cigarettes while telling each other what exactly was going on in each others lives.

you told her about sukuna, she already knew most of it but you told her anyway. she told you about the cute guy she'd been eyeing in class. before you knew it you guys were laughing your asses of to funny beaver videos and and planning the weekend. like how it was before sukuna.

you were so much better without sukuna and when you voice the thought out loud, shoko wholeheartedly agrees and cusses out sukuna in such a way that you were crying because of how hard you were laughing.

‘you were livelier before sukuna’ she says ‘you were you, now you're a muted version of you, it kinda hurts to see you this way.’

you sigh.‘i know, that bastard really ruined my life didn't he?’

‘yup’ she says popping the p.

‘anyway, i'm fine now, i'm over him and even if i do see him, i'm probably just going to choke him’ you declare.

your phone buzzes.

‘holy shit!’ you exclaim

‘what the hell?’ shoko says, shooting you a look but stopping when she sees the excitement on your face.

‘what happened?’

‘vivienne westwood just asked me to model for them!’

‘are you fucking joking’ shoko says, snatching the phone out of your hands and reading the email yuki had forwarded to you.

‘oh my fucking god! congrats gorgeous!’ she yelled, clearly overjoyed for you.

you guys chatted late into the night and fell asleep on the couch.

shoko literally kicks you off the couch in the morning.

‘ouch, what the hell?!’

‘wakey wakey, my little ray of sunshine’ a voice says.

whose voice is that you think to yourself, eyes still glued shut with sleep. wait, that's-you open your eyes to see satoru gojo staring down at you. shoko chuckles.

‘what the fuck are you doing here?’ you question scrambling to get up, when he bends down and swoops you up as if you were no heavier than a pencil.

‘put me down!’ you squeak as you squiggle against him. and he does. drops you straight onto the couch.

‘hey!’

he flashes you a smug smile as though he'd just done you a favour by breaking your ass.

‘shoko why are all your friends so annoying’ you grumble.

she just shrugs and says ‘you're my friend to you know’ and gojo laughs, you scream into a pillow.

‘you were late so i decided to check up on your ass’ he says to you. you stop screaming into the pillow and look at him ‘late for what?’

‘breakfast.’

‘i didn't realise it was a daily thing.’

‘it is. you're my breakfast buddy’ he says matter of factly.

'breakfast buddy?'

‘mm hmm’

so as to not disappoint your self proclaimed ‘breakfast buddy’ you get ready and drag shoko along with you to breakfast, thankfully you still had time before classes started so you enjoyed a nice breakfast of waffles with butter and maple syrup while listening to shoko and gojo talk. this routine continued for around a month with geto joining you a few times.

you weren't very open to talk about yourself, all you talked about were the books you read and how boring your classes were. gojo and shoko took up most of the yapping. but as time went by, gojo stopped addressing you directly, he would talk to the group more and only walked you till wherever shoko walked you till.

you didn't notice, completely wrapped up in your own head. you had done two shoots over the past week and you had a bunch of assignments piled up.

plus you'd been hanging out with shoko and yuki way more this week because your birthday was coming along and they were planning the most obscure things for your twentieth birthday.

gojo eventually stopped coming around for breakfast, making excuses like he was busy or he had a date or something. geto came from time to tome and shoko was always with you but you’d gotten real close with him over the past month. and you were surprised to find that you,

you kinda missed him.

a/n: ajshdsddkfhsdfh i love this chapter but its going to get a little angsty

©hikariyaps2025

[bloopitynoot]

Reading TGCF: Chapter 120

For those who don't know, I am reading TGCF for the first time and sharing my thoughts!

If you have not read it, there will be spoilers! Consider this a warning.

Also- if you want to follow along, I am aiming to post updates daily. You can find all the posts in the tag Bloopitynoot reads TGCF. You can also check out the intro post for context on my read BUT if you followed along with my SVSSS read, the rules and vibe are the same.

It is market day!

I bought SO many tomatoes- I can't wait till skylar and I process them for a delicious roasted soup tomorrow. It's not soup season lol but it is tomato season so I'm stoked.

Today with my read, I have a pot of oolong tea.

Let's get into chapter 120!

The preceptor is just jumping to conclusions like he's in a hurdle race. Stalking for 800 years- pfft. That dishonor goes to Jun Wu. p245

He did however get Xie Lian with the "sharing of spiritual power" LOL BUT Xie Lian is enthusiastically consenting so really, it's non of his business. p246

I saw the all caps and just KNEW it was Qi Rong. I didn't even have to read what was being said LOL p247

I'm on board for Guzi gentle parenting Qi Rong. p248. Honestly I'm just happy this kid is still alive.

Preceptor! LOL! Stop roasting Hua Cheng by accident. First he's talking shit about this guys upbringing and now he's going off about how shit his handwriting is. pls LOL p249

Once again our reigning queen, Lord Rain Master is saving the day. p251

At first I thought- holy shit how does he know they were out? Then I realized the brocade immortal gave it away immediately. Also. Jun Wu lifting the blankets off of Xie Lian gave me the ICK. p253

How the fuck do they plan on hiding two grown men under the covers? How thick are these blankets? Like Jun Wu isn't going to be suspicious as fuck that Xie Lian's volume just doubled randomly. p254

Qi Rong needs to chill. This guy is always out here trying to start shit with everyone when he could just be relaxing. p257

Oh god. Jun Wu really set Xuan Ji loose on Pei Ming. p259

RIP NOPE. It's actually all of Pei Ming's enemies trying to kill him at once. p260

Jun Wu is such a pos. He's really trying to coerce Pei Ming into unleashing human face disease now. p261

I hate the manipulation!

Jun Wu is the worst. He just keeps putting people in life or death situations and then swooping in "saving them" when they do what he wants (which are all TERRIBLE things).

There are handful of chapters left in this book. I just need someone to stab Caesar.

[marciaillust]

the patrician is just a guy to me

[the-ghost-king]

I'm terrible pjo gay rep because I fucking love the Cupid scene and won't shut up about it. I think it's an excellently done outing scene and it saved my life. Sorry you didn't like it because it scared you and I'm sorry that we live in a world where queer kids have to feel that way but as someone who has repeatedly been put in the position nico was in that scene I need you to know that the way Cupid was obviously painted in a villainous light and the way Jason reacted 100% gave me the strength to carry on at multiple points in my own life when I was in really terrible situations as a kid facing people like Cupid. It was a triggering scene for many I'm sure and I don't mean to minimize that, but that scene literally changed my world view in so many ways and helped constantly remind me that there were people like Jason who would be there for me if I could live long enough to find them. It's fine to criticize it or question it, but sometimes you also need to take a step back and ask "is this scene for me or is it for someone else" it may not have been what you needed but it was 100% what I needed and I'm so greatful that I read that scene when I was young and all that the memory of that scene carried for me and gave me.

[lala-blahblah]

I will never make this because it would be for an audience of one (me) but ever since reading "If we Were Villains" (story about serious drama kids in college who perform shakespeare and deal with a murder) I have been entertaining the thought of a crack fic crossover with High School Musical The Musical The Series where the staff decides they will no longer put on shakespeare after the tragic accident that happened at Thanksgiving, because Shakespeare plays would only increase the tension and drama. So they hire Ms. Jen who decides their spring play will actually be High School Musical (which exists in the 90s in this universe) and it ruins the vibe so much that everyone gives up on being dark and mysterious because they're universally pissed at Ms Jen for making them learn choreoraphed basketball dancing.

[wabblebees]

thought id update to say; i survived opening night!!! and not only that, it went REALLY fucking well, and people seemed to REALLY REALLY like it omfg... god this is so crazy

[xplicitviewz]

“Who’s calling?” Your husband, Nanami, huffs from above you, his hips snapping into you. Your teary eyes glance at your phone while you let out small whimpers. “I-it’s our son.” You breathe out, your thighs tremble beneath his hands holding them down beside you.

Nanami groans and stuffs his dick fully into you, a whine escaping your lips as he picks up the phone. Between his work schedule and your 4 kids, there isn’t time for you and your husband to partake in a your shared activities other than the few times you guys got creative.

There was this one time you guys had your oldest watch the kids while you guys went to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine, which ended in a quickie in the dark parking lot before heading home.

Or the other time you guys had a pool day and you went inside to start getting the snacks ready. Nanami followed shortly after to have himself his own quick snack. Both of your days are pretty busy, but Nanami never fails to make some time for you and your pussy. You can admit sex hasn’t really been a priority, until tonight. Upon realizing all the kids would be gone, you immediately called Nanami to be sure he brings his ass home when he is off and not do any overtime- yes you used your mom voice too. Nanami agreed not wanting to be scolded.

When he did get home, he noticed a few things, there was any tv on, or music blasting from your two oldest rooms. There weren’t toys scattered in the living room or the dining room table from your two youngest, no yelling or screaming from all of them in general, it was just quiet. He smelt food in the air, he usually does every night he comes home but it’d be already eaten, or everyone will be eating at the dinner table (he insists not to wait for him because he often stays late) but since he left early from work, it isn’t ready just yet. He quickly rushes up the stairs, starting to feel the panic seep in just a bit, all the kids rooms are empty.

He opens his shared bedroom to see you just laying on your stomach, in the silky robe he got you, reading a book. He calms down because if you were okay, surely, the kids were too. His eyes gaze down your figure, your feet are in the air crossed, while you read. The robe sits at your upper thigh, and since it’s so thin, your ass pops out in the most desirable way possible. “Honey?” He eyes you suspiciously, taking a breath as he starts to settle down, “Where are the kids.”

You heard the front door shut, squeezing your thighs together, feeling the arousal hit you even more. The book you have been reading had been in your mind, and hearing your husband come home really made you ready to take him, full. You had dinner cooking in the oven, almost ready to serve for just Nanami and you. Your oldest son is at a movie with his friends and they are going to go eat after. Your second oldest daughter is spending the night with her best friend, and your two youngest are sleeping over with their grandparents. To say you were practically rushing your oldest son to leave already, since he was the last one to go, was an understatement.

“They are busy and safe.” You closed the book and turn your body towards him, your eyes hungry before you looked at him, but damn near starving when you did. That damn suit and tie. You explained where they all were as you sat up in the bed, impulsively pushing your chest out as you leaned back on your arms. Nanami didn’t ignore the lustful look in your eye, the way your nipples perked against the thin fabric, only assuming you had nothing on underneath. He quickly put a few things together, why you called him to not do overtime. He knew what his wife wanted, at least he thought so.

When your sweet loving husband started off kissing your neck, waiting to use the few hours to just worship your body, you, your hands cupped his chin and looked him dead in the eye, “Honey, I love you so much and I know that you do but tonight-right now I need you to fuck me like you don’t. I want y-“ His eyes darkens more at your plea, how desperate you were truly. How can he ever say no to his gorgeous wife. He cuts you off with a kiss before he started fucking you every way loose. Yes exactly what I said. But of course no matter what time it is, you guys are parents after all….

“What?” Nanami answers the call, still buried deep inside you, grinding against you as his thumb circles your clit.

“..Oh Hey dad, where’s mo-“

“She’s busy, are you okay, why are you blowing up her phone?” Nanami cuts your son off, his eyes focused on you squirming around, biting your lip to keep any lewd sounds hushed while he was on the phone with your son. He speeds up his movements on your clit, softly sucking in a breath when you clench tightly around his dick.

“I wanna buy some snacks and get some food after the movie, mom said she’ll send me m-“

“How much?” Nanami asked wanting him to get to the point so he can get back to his wife. He slowly pulling out before pushing himself back in. Your hand quickly covers your mouth as you shut your eyes. Your legs were shaking crazy. Your husband wasn’t one to always be rough in bed, but the times he is, you would feel it for days, in the best way possible. (He has that dog in him😞) Nanami definitely isn’t holding back, not when it’s been this long you guys were kid free for a few hours and together at that. Nanami was making up for lost time, fingering you until you couldn’t talk properly, eating your pussy like it personally offended him, fucking you left, right, up, down, diagonal, all up until your phone kept blowing up.

“Like about $40.”

“Okay, give me a moment.” Nanami grunts, as he bottoms out again, the way you squeezed his dick nearly knocked him out cold. He feels his dick throb inside you and pulls the phone away from his ear, breathing heavy.

“Thanks d-“

Nanami hangs up the phone and tosses it beside you before leaning in closer to you, peeling your hand away from your mouth and pulling it above your head. “Tell me something honey.” He hums kissing your swollen lips.

You whimper as he fucks you again, slow but rough this time, ”y-yes?” You gasp as he hits your cervix.

“When the kids ask for money, do you send it to them from my account?” He looks into your eyes, sweat dripping down his head watching your reaction to his question really his dick.

You’re screwed. Both literally and physically.

“Not alwa- o-ooh shit.” You moan, his hips moving faster than light. Nanami absolutely hates when you use your own money, hell, even when you were working. When you guys first started dating he already knew you were going to be his wife. Nanami would always say you didn’t need to work but you didn’t want him to be the sole provider. Eventually, you guys moved in together and you were still working. Though, he convinced you to work less hours and took you out on a date when you agreed. It wasn’t until you got pregnant with your first baby, did his wish come true. Shit, he was more excited when you both went down to your job to quit than he was to see the 2 pink lines.

“All the hours I work, being kept away from our family, my perfect wife -ngghh- my perfect wife’s pussy. And you still insist on usi-fuck- using your own money when you have access to my money- no our money, shit your money.” He moans grabbing your other hand and pulling it above your head with your other.

“Y-you pay for e-ever-“

“I’m supposed to baby. I want to.” He interrupts you, lifting your legs to his shoulders, and grabbing your phone with his free hand and sending your son $100 from his account. “Why must you make things complicated, love. I am the man, it’s my job to take care of you, our family. Let *thrust* me. Use my money for the kids, the house, the cars, whatever it is, I have enough, more than.” He kisses your lips softly, opposite to his thrusts. “Use your money I give you for you, whatever you want for you- shit for you. Everything I do is for you, everything I make, it’s yours, ours on paper, but it’s all yours. All for you.” He grunts into your ear, as if he’s teaching a lesson. Technically, he is.

“Don’t let me find out you aren’t using my money first again, okay hun?” He hums at you, a moaning teary mess.

“Now where were we?” He smiles before pulling out and flipping you on your stomach, lifting your ass up and spanking it. “Oh, right.” He chuckles as he spreads your cheeks apart, seeing your drooling sensitive pussy, clenching on air.

*edited but not proofread*

More:

Pussywhipped!Choso | part 2

Married!Eren x Maid!Reader

Ex-husband!Eren

Sylus mini

Nerd!Armin x reader x boyfriend!eren

Best friend!jean x reader

[oveliagirlhaditright]

So, I don't know if I'm ever going to watch the 5th Wave movie based on reviews I've seen for it now (even though I also feel bad saying this--and think maybe I should--because I'm also someone who thinks you should judge things for yourself), but I have watched a few amvs for it... and just based on that (though I admit that that might not be a fair metric to base it on), I do agree with people who think that Evan Walker was miscast (it also might have been direction issues). He just seems too earnest to me? Too trustworthy? And that's sort of a problem, of course, because you needed to have so many moments in the film where you didn't know if you could trust the guy or not. And based on the scenes I've seen, he doesn't seem mysterious/sketchy enough. He also doesn't give off the vibes where Cassie was like, "I'm going to kill Evan Walker!" because he was pissing her off so much. IDK. -shrugs-

[webism]

pornstar!shiu who started out as your agent. he’d book your gigs, stand and watch with cigarette in hand as you were fucked on film for a fat check that he’d take a cut of.

pornstar!shiu who would take you out for celebratory drinks after landing larger acts—be it a shoot for a dirty magazine or a collaboration with the current biggest name in adult film. shiu is good at getting you in—and he doesn’t much mind watching your artwork either.

pornstar!shiu who helps you set up a secondary source of income: an onlyfans. he helps you garner an audience, set your prices and start looking for guest stars. he lines a few up, lets you pick from them and even pours them a drink when they come over to film. shiu lets you have privacy with these shoots, but insists on staying in the house just in case anything goes sideways: they never do, though. most of the guys you film with are put off by the look shiu gives them when they first walk in. mean.

pornstar!shiu who slowly starts to get sick of accommodating the men you film with. it's just work, sure, but he doesn't get jealous like this of the girls that his other client Toji works with. he doesn't watch their videos back on repeat to make sure their hands don't wander where they aren't welcome. he doesn't fuck his fist at night thinking about him. it's just a you thing.

pornstar!shiu who gets an email one day from a well known pornstars agent practically begging to hitch up a collab between you and him. satoru gojo is a name shiu has heard plenty times before, be it through the business side of being your agent or through his computer speaker when he's edging himself to mindless porn in the dead of night. he knows he fucks good, seen it first hand.

pornstar!shiu who knows you're excited for this shoot, to finally get to try out the guy known for giving real orgasms in hopes of a more raw shoot. shiu almost feels bad when he tells you, twenty minutes before your shoot, that gojo can't make it. that he's sick with something nasty and you'll have to reschedule if his calendar opens up for you.

pornstar!shiu who listens to you whine about how you promised your online audience something good tonight. nods as you beg for him to find someone else on such short notice. he pretends to scroll through his phone and send a few texts as you stress your pretty mind over leaving your followers hanging. shiu can't help but smile at your desperate pout when he tells you that no one can make it on such short notice... but that he does have another idea, albeit an unconventional one.

pornstar!shiu who, within twenty minutes, has your face pressed into your pillows and his hand forcing your arch so he can fuck you just that little bit deeper. the moans you let out, even though they're muffled by your satin pillow, are nothing short of pornographic. it's fitting, and pulls a smile onto shiu's face because he's hearing better moans from you than he thinks gojo could ever pull. and god you feel better than he'd ever imagined: he wonders how he'll ever lay down for another person again know that he's felt you wrapped around his cock.

pornstar!shiu who insists it's just a favour: just work. he's given you five orgasms and a dirty movie to show for it too. you two fuck for an hour and he showers at your place before helping you edit and post it over dinner. it's casual, nothing awkward, but when the comments start rolling in about this new man that makes you cum like none other has, you swear he blushes.

pornstar!shiu who quickly becomes a regular on your page. goes from being your agent to somewhat of a partner in film. over the course of a few weeks, you have more money than you know what to do with: people keep subscribing to watch you cum on his cock in the mindless way it seems only he can pull from you. your library grows daily, with videos of him fucking you on the kitchen counter, whipped cream eaten straight from your chest, to videos from his perspective as he takes drags of a cigarette while you get your fix from your lips wrapped around his thick cock. he's somewhat of a pornstar himself now.

pornstar!shiu who, for someone who insisted this was just work, gets into the habit of kissing you through your orgasms. or conveniently forgetting to press record so that your marathon sex session on his couch stays for his eyes only. or starts leaving things at your house on the off chance to have someone else over to film with, so they'll see his hair gel or large shoes by the front door and realise you're spoken for, even if he doesn't have the right to speak for you.

pornstar!shiu who's asleep in your bed one night, his cock still nestled deep inside of you after making love to you for the first time. you're littered with lovebites and your mind is hazy with feelings you never thought you'd have for your agent of all people. the night is dark, and as you're cockwarming the man who is much more than just a co-star to you, your phone dings. he stirs, and you check it to find a message from Satoru Gojo, who is asking after you. he says he's upset you didn't get to film together the other week but he hopes you're feeling better. your sickness seemed pretty nasty, from what your agent said when he cancelled on your behalf.

what a shame!

[lotuswish]

𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

link(s): (masterlist)

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

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