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dcxdpdabbles · 5 months

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So Danny is just a bunch of good that takes a humanoid shape, and we've seen him stretch and warp himself. What is sometimes he just leaves bits of himself behind. He has restoration so he can heal himself and others so when he realizes he left a foot behind he just grows a new one.

Batman: We've found more of the meta, 3 left feet all genetically identical, either were dealing with a cloning operation or someone using a regenerative meta as an organ farm. The most recent finds washed up between Gotham and metropolis.

Meanwhile Danny: I've gotta visit Dani more Madrid was beautiful can't wait to show Jazz the photos, tried to land and eats it, Damn it I though I fixed this!

Danny loves his new power- he likes to call it "Play-Boo" as a pun on playdough because it allows him to shift and change his body as he sees fit.

It was hard to mentally change his appearance as his core was tied to his idea of himself. Still, he can make his hair longer at will, shift to a younger or older version of himself, and even slightly change his coloration, though that takes a bit more concentration.

Danny is sadly unable to shape-shift into someone else. He thinks being able to regenerate is an okay trade-off. Especially when Danny accidentally leaves bits of himself behind with his new warping technique.

It's not the kind of warping he would like- seeing as he could only go a few yards from his original spot- but he hopes with time and practice, he will be able to fling himself from one side of the country to the other, much like opening portals.

But unlike the portals, he won't have to step into the ghost zone as a layaway.

One day, he'll be able to think, "Star City!" and bam will be there without having to destabilize his whole body or lose limbs. Or some internal organs. Like his left kidney.

Which was currently somewhere in Gotham as his warping has developed to the point that he can send himself to the area within eyesight, and he had traveled to metropolis in this method instead of flying to try to perfect it.

"Shoot," He grumbles, falling into a booth across from Dani. She had asked that he visit the big city with her, do a few sights, and then the two would fly downstate to check out some national parks.

"Lost something again?" She asks, sipping the soda she had ordered while waiting for him. Dani had been in the city for about three days and had fallen in love with the diner they were eating at.

She insisted they meet up there just so Danny could try some of their roast beef sandwiches. The favorite food of the two siblings.

"My left Kidney." He sighs, patting his side. Thank goodness his Play-Boo allowed him to not feel pain. He hated to have to feel every time he lost one of his body parts. "I need to eat my troubles away until a new one grows back."

"I'm not paying for your meal."

"But Dani! I'm down a kidney!"

She snorts. "It'll grow back by the time we leave, and you know it. But fine, you big baby, I'll pay for lunch. You have to cover the diner."

Satisfied, he lets her call over a waitress who quickly takes their orders and vanishes to the back, where the cook will likely make "the best damn roast beef" for him. He leans back, asking Dani about her travels.

She eagerly starts talking about the local art she has taken pictures of. At one point, her travels had turned into photo albums, documenting everything she saw and experienced.

She made some money this way, selling some of her photos, but mostly, Dani preferred to keep them for herself or the family.

As she talked about the light reflecting on some large News building- the daily planet- and the great lengths she had to go to get close enough to capture the sunlight, the door to the dinner chimed.

Two men in suits ushered in, one wearing a dark blue that seemed far cheaper than the deep black of his companion. Danny instinctively turned towards the sound, but he quickly looked away as the two men found a seat in a booth furthest away from him.

"I met this guy, Jimmy, who promised to have my photos submitted for a junior photographer contest. It's to help promote tourism, so it's based on the "Metropolis' beauty," but first place is five hundred!" Dani eagerly tells him, her eyes sparkling.

"I know you'll win. You'll make a name for yourself in no time as the best photographer of our era." Danny smiles at his little sister. He lowers his voice "Maybe with that money you win we won't have to sell my organs for a while."

She laughs, adding to the joke like it's second nature, "But you're so fun to harvest! Side's it's not like Vlad will allow you to walk away from the operation. He already has two more kidney orders from Gotham waiting for you."

Danny grimces. "I just lost one this morning. Why does he overbook me so much."

"I can do it if you-"

"Not on your life. I can regerate. You can only cry."

Dani kicks him hard in the shin. She waves her coffee spoon at him like a wizard banishing a wand. "Are you calling me a crybaby?"

"Well, I'm not calling you a cry-lady." He laughs as she scoffs. She opens her mouth to say something when her eyes lock with something over his shoulder. Her face closes down at once, hardening into someone who has traveled through the roughest parts of cities and towns.

Danny used to be worried that her instance of traveling alone at such a young age would ruin her childlike wonder and innocence, but he knew it would be worse to keep her at home.

Even with Vlad finally getting the much-needed help, the fact that Dani has existed for two years now didn't mean she was comfortable with being tied down.

Twisting around, he doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. The two men are casually eating their meals by the far window- too far for them to hear, the waitress is sitting behind the counter flipping through a magazine, and the chef can be seen through a little window making something at his gril.

What had alarmed Dani so much?

"We have to go," She hisses in ghost speech, eyes never leaving the man in the blue suit. Was it him? He seems to unthreatening with his big bulky glasses and easy smile. "I don't know why, but I don't like that guy's vibe."

Well, he won't argue with her about her gut feelings. Those were never important to ignore. "Let's take the rest of this to go."

She raises her hand, calling over the waitress, flipping open her wallet to leave enough to cover their bill and leave a generous tip. Danny quickly gathers their food in take-home boxes, keeping his body in front of Dani to block the men's view of her.

He's grateful that he had pulled on his hood, as his ears had gotten cold from the warping. With the fact he never turned around once since they walked in and his trusty hood, his face has been kept hidden from the men.

A small victory.

Hopefully, he won't see them again after this.

"Come on." He tells Dani, as she quickly gathers her stuff. "Vlad is going to have my arms and legs if we late meet him. I don't want to be just a torso again."

"I mean, it's your fault for trying to run away." She sighs. "You know how he gets. At least you didn't have to entertain his guests."

"Yeah laying in a dark room hoping to regrow my limbs is much better than letting those freaks touch me." Danny agrees thinking back to the big gala Vlad had invited them to.

To show goodwill and try to move past their hostility, the Fentons' children- Jazz, Dan, Danny, and Dani- had all agreed to go with him, under the condition that they be on their best behavior.

Danny had been running late due to a ghost attack and had chosen to use his wrapping far past the agreed limitation his parents, and Vlad had set for him.

He got to Vlad's castle but none of his limbs had followed him. Mom had been so outraged by his reckless behavior he's been grounded staying in one of the guest rooms without tv to "think about what could have happened!"

Dad and Vlad had merely nodded to their wife's punishment for their child. (And he was still getting used to the idea of Vlad being married to his parents.)

Jazz, Dan, and Dani were left to the gala, where Jazz had intellectual conversations with college professors Vlad was funding or where Dan was talking up some pretty men and women with a drink in hand, Dani as the youngest was left to affluent old ladies pinching her cheeks and giving her backhand compliments on being a "lady."

The Dannies hated being touched by strangers, and those higher-class old ladies had no concept of personal space.

"Don't worry, I'm almost too old soon." Dani chirps, holding the door open for him. "Soon Vlad will have to find other kids to flaunt in front of rich people."

"That would be the day." The two exit the dinner, switching the conversation to the idea of dessert- deciding to search on their phones a local frozen yogurt place.

Neither notice the two men- one whose fork has crumbled in his grip and another who is clicking away on his phone with a look of outer disgust on his face

"Bruce?"

"I'm already messaging Babs. She's following them with the city cameras as we speak. Don't worry, Clark, this "Vlad" isn't going to get away with it."

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #Practice makes perfect Au #Basically Clark started heard them with his superhearing #He thought it was cute when she talked about the photo contest that quickly grew into alarm at the rest of the convo #Misunderstandings all around #Vlad married Jack and Maddie two years ago #Now he the chill step dad #Danny is 16 #Dani is 14 #Jaz is 18 #and Dan is 17

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really-fanny-longbottom · 15 days

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SECOND CHANCE - PART TWO

Pairings: Inner Cirlce x Reader, Azriel x Reader

Summary: Feyre finally meets Rhysand's favorite person.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive and tons of fluff.

Words: 2.9k

Author Note: Hi everyone! So, as promised, here is part two. I hope you like it just as much as the first one. I also want to thank you guys for your support and comments. It made me really happy. Enjoy!

The flight to the House of Wind was a quick one. Feyre recently learned that she loved to fly. She loved the light of the sun on her skin, the sweet breeze on her hair, but most of all, the view. Feyre was in Rhys' arms. He held her tight against his chest while she gazed at the city below her. She would never get tired of this view or the sounds. There were children laughing and playing by the Sidra, musicians playing melodies while some couples danced around, artists painting and people walking through the market buying fresh vegetables, flowers, among other things.

Cassian was flying ahead of them, and he, too, was enjoying the view of the city of starlight.

A few minutes later, the House of Wind came into sight. They made their way towards the house and landed on the balcony that was connected to the kitchen. Rhys set Feyre back on the floor, and the three of them headed towards the threshold of the balcony and entered the House.

As soon as they entered the kitchen, they could hear the laughter and the voices of the Inner Circle through the hallway that led to the main living room. Cassian was the first to move, Rhys went to follow his brother when he realized that Feyre hadn't moved from her spot by the entrance of the balcony.

He turned around to approach her, and a frown made its way to his face. "What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"I...hum..." Feyre realized at that moment that she was nervous to meet you. You weren't just someone. You are Rhys and Cassian's little sister. You are Azriel's best friend and probably something more. Rhys didn't mention your relationship with Amren and Mor while they talked about you, but she had absolutely no doubt that you were equally loved, cared, and important to them as well.

She didn't want to make a bad impression. She didn't want to disappoint you, but more importantly, she didn't want you to dislike her. She hadn't thought about these things before, but now that she was here, only a hallway and seconds, maybe minutes away from meeting you? Feyre couldn't help but wonder what would happen if things didn't go as well as she wanted. What if she said something wrong and ended up hurting your feelings? She had no doubt that Amren would rip her head off if she dared to hurt you in any way.

Rhys hand waved in front of her face and broke her from her worries and doubts. She met his violet eyes and saw concern in his face. Rhys spoke before she could. "Are you ok? I just called you three times, and you didn't even move."

"I'm fine," Feyre said with a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. The look on Rhys face told her that she didn't convince him.

"Are you sure? You look a little pale, and your heartbeat is really fast." Rhys insisted, trying to make her talk to him so he could help her with whatever was troubling her.

Feyre bit her lower lip, something she had always done when she was nervous since she was a child. "I think.." Feyre paused, releasing a long breath before she continued. "I'm nervous to meet Y/N. What if I make a bad impression and she doesn't like me?"

Rhys gaze softens at her worries, and the frown is replaced by a smile on his lips. Putting a hand on her shoulder in order to provide her a little comfort, Rhys replies, "I can assure you that you have nothing to worry about. Y/N is sweet and kind, funny and sometimes a little loud" Rhys chuckles, earning a giggle from Feyre, "she's very talkative, like really but really talkative, your only worry should be at the fact that there's a very high chance that once she starts talking with you, she'll never shut up."

Feyre can't help the laughter that erupts from her, smacking his bicep. She says, "Stop it."

"I'm serious! She talks a lot, she also loves to hear herself talk but," Feyre laughs more and Rhys joins her, a big smile on his lips "that's one of the reasons why she's such a good emissary. But seriously, Y/N gets along with everyone, even Beron, believe it or not. In all the years that I have known her, she never disliked anyone."

Feyre relaxed immediately, her worries and doubts completely forgotten. "How old is she, by the way? I meant to ask you that earlier, but Cassian came into the room before I had the chance."

"She's 122. She's still young." Rhys says with a hint of irony in his voice.

Feyre chuckled, replying with the same irony. "Right, young."

Rhys opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a new set of laughters sounded from down the hallway, making both of them look in the direction of the sound. Rhys turned again and met Feyre's gaze. "Ready?"

She gave a firm nod and added, "Yes. Let's go meet the girl that gave you those." Feyre mentioned while gesturing to his hand where the tooth bites lay.

Rhys could only chuckle before he turned around and guided the way towards the living room where his family awaited, Feyre following him.

When Rhys passes the threshold to the living room, Feyre stops just for a second to give a deep breath before doing the same.

The moment she walked in, she saw you immediately. Your back was facing them. You were in the middle of your family, and you were talking with Amren while pointing at a jewelry box she held in her hand. A pair of earrings shined inside of the box. Rhys was only a few steps ahead of her when he called you by your nickname, "Little star." Feyre couldn't see his face, but she didn't need to. She knew that the only thing on his features at that moment was love.

You turned your head around at the sound of your big brother's voice. "Rhys!" Was the only thing you managed to say before you started running in his direction.

Rhys opened his arms, and you jumped into his embrace, holding him tightly around his neck while he held you back, spinning you around in the process.

Rhys put you down and kissed your cheek. "I missed you." He said.

"Rhys, I have only been gone for six days." You responded with a scoff and rolled your eyes.

Rhys chucked at your antics, "How was Winter Court?"

"Cold and snowy." You answered, earning chuckles from your family at your irony. "It was good, you'll have a report on your desk tomorrow morning."

Rhys nodded before asking you, "Why did you return earlier? We were expecting you in only a few hours," Rhys questioned.

"Because I'm amazing at my job," you said. Amusement all over your face, your family scoffed, and Rhys lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly knowing there was another reason for your early arrival. You sighed, accepting defeat, "And because Kallias and Vivienne are newly mated, and I didn't want to be a witness of their frenzy bonding in case I ended up seeing something that I really shouldn't."

Your family laughed, and it was now Mor's turn to talk. "Oh, you poor baby, still traumatized from walking in on Cassian with that pretty nymph?"

"Ugh! Please don't remind me of that. I swear I had nightmares because of it." You protested.

"Hey, no one told you to enter without knocking first. Lesson learned, sister." Cassian told you while ruffling your hair.

You swat his hand and look at him. "What are you talking about, Cass? You guys were in Rhys office. You weren't even supposed to be there in the first place." You turned to look at your other brother who happened to have his mouth open at the new information, obviously unknown to him. "I hope you cleaned every surface and thing you have there." You paused for a second before speaking again. "You know what? Thinking better, you should just replace everything. It may be safer that way." You finished with a disgusted face.

"What?!" Rhys asked with a firm voice. His High Lord voice.

Cassian shot you an irritating look. "Dammed you Y/N. He didn't know that." Your only response was an innocent smile.

Rhys moved to his left in order to get an explanation from the events that occurred in his office, making Feyre enter your camp of vision, and that's when you locked eyes with her.

You approached her and started the conversation. "Hi, you must be Feyre. I'm Y/N." You said while extending your hand to her and offering a sweet smile.

Feyre grabbed your hand and shook it. "It's so nice to finally meet you." She told you while smiling.

Now, with Rhys out of the way, Feyre was able to have a better look at you. And Cauldron, Feyre couldn't take her eyes off you. You were beautiful, your white hair was loose and curled down to your waist, your blue eyes, and your slightly pale skin. And then, your dress. The dress was white and light blue, the skirt reached your feet and had a pattern in waves that reminded of snow, the sleeves went all the way to your wrists, fluffy white fur laid at the ends of your skirt and sleeves. You looked like an angel.

"Thank you." You answered with a warm smile, and it was only then that Feyre realized she said that out loud. A hint of confusion settled at your face when you asked her, "Did Azriel tell you to say that?"

Now, it was Feyre's turn to be confused. Why would you think that? "No, he didn't. Why?"

"Oh, it's just...hum," you paused, your cheeks starting to blush a little. "That's what he calls me. It's his nickname for me." You answered, a little more blushed than before.

Feyre laughed. Azriel was right in calling you that. "I thought your nickname was 'Little star'." Feyre responded amused.

You chuckled and replied, "That's the nicknames the others use for me. Except Amren. She keeps calling me 'child'." You said with a roll of your eyes.

"Because you are a child." Amren answered you from her place next to Mor while she was contemplating the earrings in the jewelry box. Rhys and Cassian are still arguing about the office events and Azriel watching them amused.

You turned your head to her. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Granny." You said with amusement in your voice.

Feyre stilled for a moment. Thinking that Amren was about to launch herself on you for what you just called her, but then she saw Amren laugh with a genuine smile on her lips before returning to stare at the earrings. Feyre relaxed and joined the laughter while looking at Amren's earrings.

You followed Feyre's gaze, and that's when you remembered. "Oh, right." You returned your eyes to Feyre. "Wait for a moment." You told her.

Feyre saw you turn back around towards the couch from where you pulled a dark purple bag and a small box.

You walked to Rhys and extended your arm to give him the bag. "Your gift." You said and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Rhys thanked you for your gift, giving you a quick kiss on your forehead, and returned to argue with Cassian. You made your way to Feyre, and when you reached her, you gave her the small box. "Here. It's for you."

Feyre accepted it, with surprise all over her face. She studied the box for a moment. It was a simple box made of wood and on top of it had a mountain with three stars above. The insignia of the Night Court. She looked at you again. "You brought me a gift?"

"Of course. I couldn't just bring gifts to everyone else and not one for you." You explained with a smile.

Feyre returned your smile, at your kindness, she asked with curiosity dancing in her eyes. "What is it?"

"It's a music box. To help you with your nightmares." Feyre stilled at your words, and after a few seconds, you continued. "It has all of Velaris' melodies. There's a few from the other courts, too, but it's mostly Velaris. It's enchanted so it can play for as long as you want or need. The melodies are soft and calm, so it will help you sleep and keep the nightmares away." Feyre had no words. She didn't know what to say. Just a few minutes ago, she was worrying about you not liking her, but here you are, offering her one of the best gifts she has ever received. Those worries and doubts seemed silly now. Her eyes darted to the music box again, but she looked up at the sound of your voice. "Azriel gave me one a few years ago. I used to have nightmares about my childhood and also from some of the things I saw over the decades as a consequence of being part of this world. I had hard nights where I couldn't sleep, haunted by those nightmares. So Azriel, ever the Spymaster, gave me one of these," you said, gesturing to the box. "I have played it every night since. It brings me comfort and reminds me that I'm safe and I'm not alone. I gave one to Rhys after he came back from Under the Mountain. It helped him a lot, so I thought of doing the same thing for you." You ended with the warmest smile.

Feyre's eyes were filled with tears at your gesture, she couldn't get any words out, so she just nodded and then opened the box. A soft and sweet melodie reached her ears, and Feyre immediately recognized the sound. It was the music that Rhys showed her that night on the cell Under the Mountain. The music that saved her life.

Feyre closed the box and launched for you, involving you in a tight embrace, one that you didn't hesitate to reciprocate. She still didn't have any words, so she said the only thing she could at the moment. "Thank you." She squeezed you even more. "Thank you so much."

You held her for a few more seconds before letting go. You grabbed her free hand and said, "Mor and I are going shopping this afternoon. Why don't you come with us? I'd love to get to know you more."

"Yes. I'd love that, too. Thank you." Feyre answered, her voice trembling a little at the emotions she was still feeling. You squeezed her hand one last time before releasing and moved to stand next to Azriel.

Rhys approached Feyre. "So, how did it go?"

Feyre could only smile, "Amazing. She's amazing. You and Cass raised her well."

Rhys chuckled, "Thank you, but we can't take all the credit. That's just how she is." Rhys nudged her with his shoulder, "I told you, you had nothing to worry about."

Feyre smiled and squeezed the box that she still held. "Yeah, you were right." She said while looking at him. He was indeed right. You were sweet, kind and funny. Feyre noticed when she first walked into the room, how comfortable and relaxed everyone seemed around you. How little of an effort you had to make in order to make them laugh or smile, how the air was lighter and brighter, and how you illuminated the room just by your presence.

They fell in a comfortable silence, Feyre looked forward, and that's when she saw it. She couldn't believe it at first. She blinked her eyes a couple of times to make sure it was real and it was. Feyre remembers Mor telling her about Azriel. How he is more quiet, reserved, discret, and colder than the rest of them. Always with a stoic and indifference in his face and a rigid composure, she even saw that Azriel in the last days since she arrived in Velaris. But that's not the Azriel that is standing just a few feet away from her. No, this is a different Azriel. His shoulders are relaxed, there's a bright smile on his face, a softness in his eyes and his arm is around your waist with his hand resting on your hip, holding you close to him while he's looking at you talking about your last days in the Winter Court. This is not the Shadowsinger or the Spymaster. This is Azriel, just Azriel. The shadows are dancing around your feet and ankles, like they are happy too for your return, happy that you are safe and back to their master's side. Feyre knows at this moment that you two are not just friends and that there has to be something more going on.

Her suspicions were confirmed a few hours later at night when she decided to go to the library for a book so she could practice her reading before going to bed but ended up finding you and Azriel instead. He was sitting on the couch with his hands on your hips while you sat in his lap, straddling his waist, your hands on his hair while you two made out. And by the way both your cheeks were flushed, Feyre knew that you had been kissing each other for a while.

Author's note: Thank you for reading! I was thinking about mabye making a part about the night the batboys found the reader? Let me know in the comments if that's something you would like. 😊 Also, the beautiful dividers belong to @tsunami-of-tears

Prequel Part One

Taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii

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leonstoenailunderhisbed · 29 days

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First Date, Huh?

Summary: The human race is at danger of extinction. The government had come up with a plan to increase the level of population throughout the country that involved you and a very good looking man.

Warning: unprotected sex. oral (both receiving). creampie. slight degradation. overstimulation. male and female anatomy. afab reader. impregnating. breeding kink (kinda?) aftercare. mentions of medical procedures (I forgot what it was called lol). not proofread. wrote this right after my dream sooo…

Word Count: 5,155

A/N: I had a dream about this and I woke up thinking I was pregnant😭 (be safe out there y’all) anyways, I picked up far cry 5 again and I’m literally eating that game up

“Falling for a stranger, good gracious. I might even fly out to Vegas. I’m thinking maybe you’d be down to do it,” Love Talk (demo), WayV

The world population had been declining after the rise of a deadly disease. People died in groups and the government had tried to prevent the spread.

But their attempts were in vain.

Decades after the virus had finally been tamed. The world had been left with only one third of its population remaining. The economies across the countries crashed and people had to rebuild themselves slowly.

However, that all came to a halt when the government suddenly introduced a new bill.

They had planned for a procreating program. In which scientists were able to develop a new technology wavelength that can determine what person is more biologically compatible with another person.

The government had ordered people to come to the nearest available clinics in order for the scientists to collect a sample of their blood. Of your blood.

Months passed after the collection of blood and suddenly a group of soldiers, along with scientists, stormed inside the houses of people and marked them with bracelet bands.

The soldiers sedated everyone and transported them to an underground warehouse. The warehouse itself was an underground bunker with scientists roaming around in their lab coats.

The underground facility was huge- it could be considered an underground city if the president decided to. But he didn’t.

When you woke up, you noticed you were inside a room with white walls. The floor and ceiling were white. Even the lights were white. Everything was white, except for the red bed you were currently in.

They had laid you down on a bed full of pillows and blankets. Your eyes blurred as they adjusted to the lights of the room.

Sitting up, you’ve noticed- and probably felt- the presence of someone laying down next to you. You looked over at the person and noticed it was a man.

He was waking up as well. He had dirty blonde hair and looked to be tall and broad. His features were rough and masculine, with his stubble being noticeable under the harsh lighting. As you sat up, he slowly sat up as well and took in the environment. When both of you laid eyes on each other, you both let out a gasp and quickly got off the bed.

You quickly realized what either of you were wearing. They had changed you into a skimpy satin nightgown while he was wearing a silk pajama set that revealed his chest due to the V-line cut.

The intercom from the room turned on and a person spoke,

“Good morning to you two. I’m sure you’re both confused and scared but afraid be not. We’re ensuring your safety at this establishment. As you both can see, you’re both wearing the same color of wristbands.”

You looked down at your right wrist and saw the green wristband, your eyes trailed towards the man and his was also green.

“This means that both of you are biologically compatible. Our goal here is to not hurt you. We’re simply trying to bring back the population back to where it should be and we need your help.”

Your eyes widened and so did his. The man’s eyebrows pinched together as look of suspicion and anger appeared on his face. But he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sure you both know what this means. You have the remainder of the day to get started. We expect positive results since we’ve run extensive research on your genetics. That is all, get started.”

Essentially, they wanted you to have sex with a stranger. That’s revolting.

You turned your gaze back to the man, his blue eyes stood out from his features. Neither of you said anything. It was all too…awkward. You glanced at the bed and then back at him. How do you even start something so intimate?

“Um-“ you started quietly, “So…we’re compatible.”

The man simply stared at you and then back at his wrist. He nodded, “Yeah. Seems so.”

“Should I-“

“We don’t have to do anything,” he interrupted you, “What’re they going to do if we do nothing? They can’t kill us. Those mad scientists need as many people as possible and if they killed you or me then what’s the whole point of this?”

You sighed and nodded. He was right in a way. Even if you disobeyed they couldn’t kill you, right?

Sitting at the edge of the bed, you begin to wonder everything that has happened so far. They’re making everyone breeding machines- is what you thought.

Before all of this, you were living your life the way you wanted it. And now you were forced to have a baby with someone you don’t know. All for the sake of humanity.

It was cruel.

“What do we do instead?” You asked quietly.

“Find a way out of here,” he responded as he walked around the room and tried to find an exit. There was no door. No windows. Nothing. As if you two were put in a white box.

He was getting frustrated that he had been put in this position. He didn’t want any of this, not with you. It wasn’t personal but he didn’t know you.

“There’s no way out,” he spoke after some time. It didn’t take a genius to know that you two were locked in this space.

“Do they really want us to…” your voice trailed off as you stared at him. He looked back at you and shrugged, “Maybe. Those crazy bastards are probably stressing about the human race dying or whatever.”

After a moment of silence, you could smell something. Something that smelled good.

“Is that you?” He asked. He also smelled something.

“I was just about to ask if it was you too,” you replied.

He furrowed his brows and sat next to you. He leaned closer to your neck and inhaled softly.

“It’s the both of us,” he whispered. You stared into his eyes at the proximity.

What was happening?

Did the scientists do something? Why did he suddenly look more attractive and smelled enticing?

You leaned back and got up from the bed. Panic started to run through your veins. “Do you think-“

He raised a brow and sat in the edge of the bed as he watched you pace around the room. You hadn’t noticed but he was secretly checking you out in that nightgown. He felt shame and quickly looked away- this wasn’t him.

“Do you think they put something on us?” You asked, your tone laced with anxiety.

The man sighed and ran a hand through his blonde hair, “I don’t know. But they sure know what they’re doing.”

“We should just get on with it. They won’t let us out anytime soon. But maybe they will once we had sex, right?” You asked with a rushed tone. Thoughts occupied your mind and all you wanted to do was get out of this sick and twisted place.

He looked at you with a worried expression, “Are you sure? I mean, we don’t even know each other’s names and-“

“Y/n. My name is y/n,” you interrupted him.

The man raised his brows in surprise and let out an airy chuckle, “Well okay. Name’s Leon.”

He extended his hand out for a handshake and you hesitantly took it. His hands were rough and calloused. Almost made you wonder how they’d feel inside your wet and tight-

What.

You quickly withdrew your hand and looked away. What was going on with you?

“You really want to do this?” He asked softly. You looked at him and swallowed hard. Did you? Or was it whatever the scientists gave you that spoke for you? Either way, you still wanted to get out of this place.

“If fucking you is the only way that could get us out of here then so be it,” you muttered and walked back to the bed.

You sat next to him, shoulders touching.

“Okay then…” he replied quietly, “Guess this is our first date, huh?” He joked.

You looked at him with furrowed brows, how did he have the spirits to joke times like these? Men.

You sat down next to him on the bed, staring at him. He stared right back at you and his gaze fell to your lips. He then leaned in to whisper in your ear, "Can I?”

He put his hand on your cheek as his other hand landed on your thigh. You silently nodded and closed your eyes as he leaned closer to your face.

His breath fanned your lips and all you could do was close your eyes as he finally put his lips on your lips.

The hand on your cheek traveled to the back of your head as he pulled you closer, your hands traveled to his shoulders as you deepened the kiss.

It was a slow, passionate kiss- albeit the current circumstances.

His tongue grazed your bottom lip and you parted your lips just enough for his tongue to delve inside your mouth, exploring every crevice.

The hand on your thigh went higher up to the hem of your nightgown, squeezing the skin gently in between his finger. You moaned into his mouth as he gently hit your bottom lip.

You’ve already started to feel aroused and wet, even though there was a lingering thought in the back of your head telling you that this is wrong.

He leaned closer to you, pushing you down gently until your back finally touches the bed. Leon’s hands moved around your body as he kissed you, his knee right in between your legs causing you to moan quietly.

He smirked at your reaction and moved his lips down to your neck as he pressed his knee into your wet cunt. You couldn’t help but grind on his knee as he sucked your neck. Leaving bruises and hickeys for you to worry about tomorrow.

Your hands wrapped around his biceps as his hands held your waist and squeezed just a tad bit.

He slowly brought his lips down to your collarbone before one of his hands pulled the straps of your nightgown down. Causing the dress to slip down to your waist, revealing your breasts to him.

He pulled back and stared at your hardened nipples with a slight smirk. His fingers hovered over them as he kept teasing you. Then he leaned down to suck the right one, as his hand began to roll your nipple in between his fingers. Your back arched against him and that only caused him to groan at the bliss of sucking your tit.

Your legs squeezed around his as he rubbed it slightly against your covered cunt. He could feel the wetness seeping through the fabric of your panties and that only turned him on even more.

His erection, confined against his clothes, rubbed along your stomach. You could almost feel it twitch as you felt it. Almost.

He pulled back from your right breast and moved on to the second one. His teeth grazed at your nipple as his hand gripped the previously sucked one.

And all you could do was moan and squirm under him.

He moved his lips down from your breasts to your stomach before ripping your nightgown apart and throwing it down on the white floor. Leaving you in your panties.

His lips trailed kisses until he met the waistband of your panties. His fingers ran down your thighs as he slowly parted them, lowering himself until he felt his knees touch the floor. His head was right in between your legs and he stared at the wet spot on the slit of your panties.

He brought a finger and stroked the slit from top to bottom, he made sure to apply just enough pressure for you to not only feel how wet you were but also to feel the way his fingers wanted to prod inside.

You closed your eyes tightly shut as your toes curled. This was all too much and he hasn’t even started. He chuckled lowly, seeing how you were reacting made his pride increase just a little.

He firmly pressed your thighs down on the bed as he brought his face back to the waistband and began to pull your panties down with his teeth. Once they had reached your thighs, he pulled them off with his hands and let them fall on the floor.

You were shining and glistening. His mouth watered and all he wanted to do was dive in. And so he did.

Almost immediately he struck his tongue into your wet hole, licking around as he savored you. He moaned as he tasted you, he’d never tasted something like you and he wanted more.

His thumb circled around your clit, his speed shifting from fast to slow as he watched how much that affected you. He dragged his tongue all the way up and down, sucking your wall and letting them feel just how spongy they are. He then pulled back and moved his thumb away from your clit- which caused to whine in protest.

He gave you a look, one that made you more wet. His eyes piercing yours as he thrusted one finger inside you. He let his index finger stay there for about ten seconds before he actually began to move it. He curled it around as he experimented with what way got you most closest to your orgasm.

His finger curled inside you as he kissed your clit. Sucking it and gently pulling it with his teeth. He took out his finger and then thrusted two fingers inside, causing your mouth to gaze open and let your head roll back against the mattress. He scissored you- fucked you with his fingers.

Pulling out and thrusting all the way back in. His callouses rubbed against your walls, bringing new sensations that you never thought you’d ever experience.

One his index finger hit the spot that made you moan a little too loud, he knew he’d found it. He curled his fingers even more rapidly as he rubbed that spot inside you. Brushing the pad of his middle finger against it, igniting something within you. Your body felt warm and sweaty.

You were coming undone by a complete stranger that is allegedly compatible with you. Your hands traveled to the top of his head and pulled his face closer to your hide. His nose bumped against your slit, his chin hitting fingers. But he didn’t mind, he knew you were close and he wanted you to cum on his face.

He licked your clit as you grinded against his face, your breaths became short and your grip tightened. With a gasped moan, you came on Leon’s face. Your cum spilling down his fingers and chin. He pulled out his fingers and licked as much as he could, swallowing the grace that came out of you.

Once he finished licking you clean, he pulled back and stared at you with dilated pupils. The black consuming all of the blue as he stared at you like a hunter. He got up from the floor and stared down at you as he became mesmerized with your body.

He pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his broad and muscled chest. He then pulled down on his pants, revealing the bulge in his underwear. Pre-cum leaking through the fabric.

You almost drooled and quickly sat up. Crawling your way to him, you sat on your knees as he caressed your head, encouraging you to do whatever you wanted with his dick.

Your hands cupped his bulge and he instantly inhaled sharply. He shuddered at your touch and so you slowly pulled the waistband of his underwear down, watching in awe as his cock sprung free.

The pink tip leaking ore-cum as aforementioned was a sight to behold. Your hand wrapped around his base as you brought your lips over to the head. Kissing it softly as your hand stroked up and down his shaft. He closed his eyes and gripped on your hair, strands meddling in between his fingers.

Your tongue dragged all the down to the bottom, to his ballsack. He shuddered and bucked his hips against your face, smearing pre-cum along your cheek. You parted your lips and slowly took him inside your mouth.

Your hands found his balls and you slowly massaged them, causing him to groan and moan loudly as his grip tightened.

As his dick was inside your mouth, your tongue flicked down the frenulum- just the underside of the tip where the head and the base join. He gasped softly and moaned as he felt you flick your tongue on his sweet spot.

Your tongue slowly moved down from his frenulum to his base, tongue slurping and swirling around as you took him deeper and deeper into your throat. Not deep enough that you’d start gagging because that would probably not feel good.

Instead, you took one of your hands and resumed stroking the remaining parts of his base as you sucked on on the part that fit in your mouth.

Leon was a complete mess; moaning and whimpering as you took him in your mouth. His feet flat on the floor as he looked down at you with pure list and desire. Your eyes met his and he only felt even more turned on.

His cock started to twitch in your mouth and you knew he was about to cum. You continued to stroke his balls and base as your tongue worked its magic on his head and frenulum.

With a loud groan, he gripped your head and forced his entire cock inside your mouth and shot his cum down your throat. Tears pricked at your eyes as you moaned softly as the sensation of his juices spilling down your esophagus. It was warm, you thought.

He pulled back breathlessly and watched as you swallowed his cum. Once he pulled back, some of his cum smeared on your lips and he watched as you licked it back in your mouth. The sight turned him on again and his cock got hard.

Leon got on the bed and slowly pushed you down again. He took hold of your thighs and brought them up to your chest, “Hold,” he demanded in a sultry and low voice.

Your hands wrapped around the back of your thighs as you held them pressed up against your breasts. He aligned his cock to your entrance and slowly pushed in.

“Fuck- so tight,” he muttered as he gasped for air. You rolled your head back and whimpered as he pushed himself all the way through. His pelvic bone making contact with your bone as he slowly began to thrust- not fully out though.

He rolled his hips in a way that wouldn’t allow his cock to leave you completely just yet. He was going slow and gentle, making sure you’ve adjusted first before he picked up the pace.

Once he saw your reaction- face scrunched up in delight as you moaned quietly and breathlessly. He pulled out and then pushed back in with force.

Leon couldn’t control himself anymore. His hands pushed your knees even more down against the mattress, your hamstrings flexing as he pushed this position even more further.

Your breathing increased- chest heaving up and down. His ballsack slapping against your asshole, causing your wetness to spread throughout your both bodies. His tip gently brushed up against your cervix as he plunged in. One of his hands went down to your clit and began to circle it.

You writhed and moaned even more as he simultaneously triggered your two sweet spots. It was all so overwhelming and your mind went blank.

He was fucking you dumb and you loved it. Your jaw went slack, drool coming out from the ends of your lips. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you still held on to your thighs.

He left go of your knees and gripped your hips, the sound of wet skin smacking echoing through the room.

“Gonna cum,” he muttered. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I’m gonna breed you…fuck- gonna be a good girl f’me right?” He grunted as he kept pounding into you.

His knuckles were turning white from how hard he gripped the fat skin of your hips, as if he was holding on for dear life. You nodded, “Yes,” you breathed out shamelessly.

He grunted some more against your ear and that only caused you to grow closer to your second orgasm. This man was so vocal but it was hot.

“Ngh- fuck,” he moaned as he shot his cum deep into your cunt. Cum spirting into your womb, making sure you took everything without spilling it.

He pulled put and motioned for you to roll over. You obliged and rolled over until you laid down on your stomach. He took hold of your hips once again, raising your ass to his level as he thrusted his cock inside you from behind.

Your face planted against one of the pillow and your hands gripped the bedsheets as your moans came out muffled. Somehow, he hit deeper in this position. His hands went from your hips to your waist and he squeezed it gently.

As he continued to pound into you, your ass cheeks juggling from the force of motion, he took your hair in one hand and pulled your head up. Your eyes were closed as you moaned. This was all so much but you needed more. Completely drunk on his cock is what you were.

He leaned down as he pulled on your hair, “Like it when I fuck you like this, huh?” He taunted. His words were sent straight to your pussy as it caused you to clench around him. You nodded and blabbered stupid yes’s.

“Gonna show me how much you like it?” He whispered as he pulled one and forcefully thrusted in you. You whimpered and moaned as you replied a breathy yes. He chuckled and continued fucking you like a mad dog.

He let go of your hair and wrapped his hand on the back of your neck, his fingers gently pressing on the sides of your throat. You felt lightheaded as he did so but it also added to how hot and turned on you were.

You felt your orgasm near as he continued. Your cunt clenched and pulsated around his cock and it only caused his moans to get short and breathy.

“Feel’s good,” he grunted in your ear. You could only mewl, moan, whimper- all of those sounds were the only things escaping your lips.

His other hand went down to your clit and he pinched it gently, causing a big moan to erupt from your mouth as you came on his cock. Essence spilling down from his shaft and onto the bed but neither of you cared. He groaned and his thrusts faltered slightly as you came on his cock, it felt even more tight and he closed his eyes for a moment as he continued.

But not long after you did he also cum inside you. For the second time. And it felt better than the first. You whimpered from the overstimulation as he shot his cum even deeper, the tip of his head brushing your cervix as his cum (and you were convinced) entered your womb with certainty.

He let go of the back of your throat and slowly pulled out of you. His cock softening as cum oozed out of your cunt and down on the bed. Both of you were left panting and you starting to feel sore and tired already. He looked around to try and find something to clean you with but couldn’t find anything.

So, he resorted to using his shirt to clean you off, “This might hurt,” he spoke softly as he gently pressed the fabric on your cunt and wiped the cum off. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he heard you take in sharp breaths. You were overstimulated and he started to feel bad for how hard he went.

He helped you lay down on your side and dressed you up. He put on your panties but then realized he had torn your nightgown.

“Sorry,” he mumbled shamefully. You shook your shoulders and looked at him with tired eyes, “It’s fine. They weren’t mine anyway.”

You both chuckled at that. You two had almost forgotten the situation you were both in, and maybe that was a good thing.

He pulled on his underwear and pants- since his shirt was used as a towel- and pulled the blanket over your body to give you some privacy. Even though he just fucked you.

He laid down behind you and wrapped his around your waist as he pulled you to him. Both of you closed your eyes and slept for a while, him nuzzling into your hair as your hands rested on top of his arms around your waist.

It was comforting. You felt cared for and that was all that mattered.

The two of you woke up to the sound of a door opening. Your eyes fluttered open almost immediately and you covered yourself with the blanket as Leon watched the scientists come in with a suspicious look. He narrowed his eyes as he saw them approach you.

“We’re going to take both of you to the examination room for testing,” one of them said. The other scientists gave you some new clothes before speaking, “We will wait outside.”

After they left, you exhaled loudly. You had forgotten you and the rest of the people were taken for insemination.

You slowly began to pull your new clothes on and walked out of the room with Leon next to you. The scientists saw you both and began to guide to a room down the hall, with two guards following behind you.

They had told Leon to wait in the lobby as they took you to a more private room. A female scientist came up to you and out on some elastic gloves, “I’ll be the one performing your pregnancy test. I’ll be taking your blood so please relax and take deep breaths for me.”

You sat down on the bed and followed her advice. There was no point in fighting or arguing since she clearly looked exhausted, probably overworked. But you couldn’t feel bad. You felt bitter at the fact that you now had turned into a baby machine- along with the rest of population.

With a sigh, you relax your tensed muscles as she took your arm gently and injected the needle on your vein. Blood began to draw from your arm and into a tube. Suddenly, you felt a wave of washiness. Fatigue overtook your body.

The test was over after a few minutes. The doctor withdrew the needle and put on a bandaid, “Okay. Off you go. Test results should be back in a couple of days. For now… I don’t know,” she shrugged tiredly as she moved over to the side of the room where she stored your blood sample with the rest.

There were at least 100 other blood samples. The mere sight disturbed you and you found yourself leaving the room hastily. Walking back to Leon, he looked at you concerned and gave you a once over to make sure you’re okay. Once he silently approved that you were okay, he spoke with a soft tone, “How do you feel?”

“Like shit,” you muttered. “Did you know that there’s a bunch of us here?” You whispered as your eyes searched around, “I don’t think we can leave.”

He furrowed his brows and looked at you, “Why not? We’ve done the deed, shouldn’t we be free to go home?”

You shook your head, “No. I don’t think so. I have a feeling we’ll be stuck here if the results come back positive.”

He sighed and looked away as the information set in. Freedom was so close, yet so far.

“So now we just wait?” He asked quietly to which you nodded.

“And now we wait.”

Days have passed and you two were called to a room. A scientist sat in the middle of the room, on his chair where he had stacks upon stacks of papers. Both of you sat down in front of the desk and waited for the scientist to notice you two.

“Ah- you’re here,” he muttered as he swiftly began to look for some papers.

“Alright… just to confirm the information is correct. You’re both Leon Kennedy and Y/n L/n?” The scientist asked.

The two of you nodded silently and the scientist continued, “Okay so, we have the results. You are pregnant. Which means we’ll have to keep you both under surveillance. You are to stay in this facility until the birth of your child. You will be assisted with the birth as well as the raising. We will provide all the essential services required for this procedure, all you two have to do is remain healthy. And please, for the love of God, be kind to the child. The couple before me kept on arguing so the least you two could do is pretend you love each other in front of the kid.”

You and Leon exchanged a glance and then looked back at the scientist. You knew this would happen, it was inevitable.

“Before I forget, you two got assigned a new room. On the second floor. Good luck and congratulations,” he said as he dismissed you both.

The two of you stood up and left the room, only to be met with two guards to escort you both to your new room.

You were to share a room but at this point, you didn’t care. You were too focused on thinking about the pregnancy that you had forgotten about Leon.

The more you hung out with Leon, you didn’t know if it was by force or nature, the more you realized how kind he truly is. He looked cold and mean on the exterior but inside he was just a man looking for love. Just like everyone else.

The pregnancy went just fine. Leon was there to support you 24/7 and so were the scientists.

When you had to give labor, Leon stood next to you and held your hand.

You gave birth to a beautiful boy. He had your hair while he had Leon’s eyes. You held your son in your arms and watched as Leon looked at you with awe.

What you weren’t expecting at all was that you fell for Leon. Even before the birth of your son, you and Leon actually began dating. The two of you shared some interests and actually liked to be around each other’s presence.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Maybe this was a new type of freedom for you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon smut #leon #leon kennedy smut #re6 leon #smut #x reader #resident evil 6 #resident evil leon

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hollyoongs · 1 month

Text

THANK YOU, JAKE ✦ S.JY

pairing tasp!jake x news intern!fem reader

summary when you told your friend about the challenge that your boss put you on in order to work on the company, which was taking a picture of the amazing Spider Man, Jake makes it come true.

genre fluff

warnings both of them like each other, cameo of Jay and Ri-Ki, everything is NYC and I tried to make it short for the other one that I'm planning to make it in the future <3

a/n I can finally get this one up here, I'll do the second part with smut, but Jake's fluff is already needed in this profile. This is my last little present for my em @cmoundiamante (and worst of all, it's late, but I blame my country for that :p), but I'm glad to finally publish it. I know you had an amazing time on your birthday and I want you to look at this little gift as something that can cheer you up for everything you've been through, I'll be there for you and I hope you like it very much. shout out to the editor of THIS Jake Spider-Man, my jupi @glitterjay and also to my lovely moot @ja3yun, this is the spidey!jake I was preparing ;) [PART TWO: 🕸]

wc +3.0k

It was one of those days where everything seemed to conspire against you. As you trudged through the bustling streets of New York City, your camera bag heavy on your shoulder, you couldn't shake off the feeling of exhaustion that clung to you like a stubborn shadow. The sweltering heat of the summer sun only added to your irritation as you made your way to the Daily Bugle, where you were interning as a photographer.

Your future boss, Mr. Jameson, was notorious for his gruff demeanor and demanding nature. Today seemed to be no exception, as he barked orders at the staff, his voice reverberating through the newsroom like thunder. Your friend, Jay, was massaging his forehead, and you couldn't help but go there first. He looked up to see you and gave you a tired smile.

"Rough already?"

"And it's not even 9 a.m." Jay spat in anger, and you opened your bag to give him some of the jelly you always carry around. He took them slightly happier, opening as he started talking again. "He's putting stupid challenges on everyone here. Rumor has it that he's getting jealous of the other newspaper company since they took the #1 place from us."

"Well, wish me luck." You braced yourself for another onslaught of criticism as you approached his desk, hoping to avoid his wrath.

"Ah, there you are," Mr. Jameson said, his tone dripping with impatience. "I've got a special assignment for you."

You felt your heart sink at his words, knowing that whatever task he had in store would likely be arduous and thankless, just like Jay said. But you nodded, steeling yourself for whatever was to come.

"I want you to get me a picture of Spider-Man," he said bluntly, his eyes narrowing in a challenging glare.

Your jaw nearly hit the floor at his request. Spider-Man? The elusive vigilante who swung through the city was a hero to some and a menace to others. Getting a photo of him in action was no small feat, and you knew it.

"But how am I supposed to…" you began, but Mr. Jameson cut you off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"I don't care how you do it; just get it done," he said firmly. "And make it front-page material, or you'll be out of your ear."

With that ominous warning hanging in the air, you felt a wave of panic wash over you. How were you supposed to capture a photo of Spider-Man when you could barely catch a break in your own life? Desperation clawed at your chest as you racked your brain for a solution. He looked at Jay, and he was with his mouth open. She was simply screwed.

The hours passed slowly, and 7 o'clock of the night finally reached, which made you fly to the only place you find comfort at the moment. Shim Jake's place. Feeling all the weight on your shoulders, you sigh as you knock on the door. His aunt opens before your knuckles can touch the door.

"Hey darling… Oh no, bad day?" like a button, your eyes got watery, and she hugged you. You hold your tears as she loses you in the warm hug. "I'm going to buy food. Jake and Ni-Ki are in the room. I know what you like."

"You are truly the best, May."

"I know, darling. Go." She left you, and you entered the house, going directly to the Australian boy's room. You knocked, and you heard things falling.

"Who's it?"

"Who else, Ni-Ki? Come on, I had a bad day, and I need you guys."

"Hold on a second!" A few seconds passed, and Jake was the one who opened the door, his messy hair, sweat pant and big white shirt and hsi big glasses that made him look more handsome than usual in front of you. "Hey lensgirl, what's wrong?"

You went for a hug, this time with tears going down and your crying getting noticeable.

Jake was taken aback by your sudden display of emotion, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he murmured softly, rubbing your back soothingly. "What happened? Why are you crying?"

You sniffled, trying to compose yourself as you pulled away slightly. "It's just… work," you managed to choke out between sobs. "Mr. Jameson… He wants me to get a photo of Spider-Man for the front page, and I- I don't know how to do it. I'm so screwed, Jake."

Jake's expression softened with understanding, though you had no idea just how much he truly understood. "Hey, it's okay," he repeated, guiding you to sit on his bed. "We'll figure it out, okay? You're not alone in this."

Ni-Ki, hearing the commotion, poked his head out from behind the doorframe. "Jake can help," he said, and you could feel Jake getting tense. You looked up to Ni-Ki.

"What?"

"Jake knows Spider-Man. You could get the picture." You open your eyes as your eyes travel again to Jake's.

"Since when?!" You practically shouted at him, and he gave a shy smile, which you loved, but the thought of him being friends with the hero and not telling you was in your mind.

"I'll tell you right after you clean and calm yourself. You know what? Go to the bathroom." As you were protesting, Jake obligated you to go inside. The boys went straight to the room and locked it, Jake basically punching Ni-Ki for opening his mouth.

"Are you being serious?! Why did you say that?"

"You know I'm fond of her, and I can't stand her crying. And also, I'm doing you a favor; you've liked her since forever, and with this, you can make a move. And you know that she loves Spider-Man. I consider this a win."

Jake's heart raced as he processed Ni-Ki's words. He couldn't deny the truth about them. He had harbored feelings for you for what felt like forever, but he never found the courage to act on them, and because of the sudden powers he got after being bite by a spider, the dangers were too much to the point he would rather die with the secret in order to keep you save. That's how much he loved you.

But at the same time, he couldn't help but feel the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. Keeping his identity as Spider-Man a secret was crucial, and now, with you unknowingly on the brink of discovering the truth, he felt the pressure mounting.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Jake turned to Ni-Ki. "Okay, okay," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in agitation. "But we have to be careful. She can't know about this, Ni-Ki. It's too risky."

Ni-Ki nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I won't say anything else, I promise. Only you have to stay cool, you get to nervous around her. I'm surprise you're not right now" he assured Jake.

"Because someone open his mouth"

"Stop crying and be grateful. I pulled a move that you couldn't make for the past 4 years."

It has already been two days since that weird conversation and the explanation of Jake being friends with Spider-Man. It was so odd to you, but the most odd thing was when he told you by text, "I will send you the address where he's going to be."

And here you were, going into the alley for him to arrive. It was getting late, and you could feel your heart beating fast when you saw a few guys in there, cigars in their hands, their auras as bad as how they looked.

"Hey, sweetheart," one of them said, which you ignored completely.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ignored the leering comments from the men in the alley. You clutched your camera bag tightly, feeling a surge of unease as you realized just how vulnerable you were in this dimly lit space.

Just as panic threatened to overtake you, a familiar sound cut through the tension—a whoosh of air followed by the distinct thud of impact. Before you could even process what was happening, Spider-Man descended from the shadows, landing gracefully in front of you with his trademark agility.

"Hey there, fellas," Spider-Man said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I don't think the lady appreciates your company."

The men scoffed, eyeing Spider-Man with a mixture of defiance and uncertainty. "And who are you supposed to be, huh?" One of them sneered, taking a step forward. You started taking your camera out of your bag, setting it up for a good shot, and to make it take as many photos as you could as both men focused on the hero.

Spider-Man's demeanor shifted subtly, his stance becoming more assertive as he addressed the group. "Let's just say I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and I'm not too keen on seeing people hassle innocent bystanders, especially this pretty girl," he replied, his tone firm.

The men hesitated, sizing up the masked vigilante before them. But before they could make another move, Spider-Man sprang into action, his movements a blur of speed and precision. With calculated strikes and well-timed dodges, he swiftly incapacitated the would-be troublemakers, leaving them groaning on the ground in defeat.

You watched in awe as Spider-Man effortlessly dispatched the thugs, a surge of gratitude welling up inside you. Once the immediate threat had been neutralized, Spider-Man turned to you, his masked eyes meeting yours with a sense of warmth and reassurance. You took your camera and looked at the pictures, so many good enough to be front page material.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, his concern evident even behind the mask.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you in his presence. "Yeah, I'm okay," you stammered, still trying to process the whirlwind of events that had just unfolded before you. You felt some drops of water falling on your face, looking up at the sky and wondering if more drops were falling. "Damn it, it's raining."

"Then let me take you out of here." without a warning, his hand wrapped around your waist, both of your bodies covering the camera. "Hold on tight lensgirl," you frown at the nicknmae. There's only one person that could call you like that, but you couldn't think much of it as you held dear life to him as he swang you around places.

You ended up on your apartment building—in your balcony, to be more exact—and the roof kept both of you off the water, you went inside for a moment to leave the camera in your bed and return. He was hanging from the ceiling as you watched him, forcing you to believe that everything that happened in the past ten minutes was not a dream.

"Don't you want to stand up? So you don't get dizzy."

"I like it this way. Don't worry. Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you."

"No problem, that's my job."

"Because you're a hero," the masked guy sighs in front of you. making you feel slighty sad for it.

"Some people don't think so." and it was true, all the fake rumors to paint him as a bad guy made you think about how much free time all this people have to just tear the life of someone who really wants to help.

"But you are, at least I think that."

"It's nice to have a fan as pretty as you."

"Let me say thank you."

"But you already did."

"I meant the trip, not you saving me." You approached him more, and the sound of the rain at the back made the scene more lovely. Then slowly took the mask, only showing his lips. You were surprised by the familiar shape, making your mind go wild. No wonder Ni-Ki and Jake got nervous; no wonder Jake was the only one that could help you with the hero; and there's no wonder why he called you "Lensgirl."

Jake was Spider-Man.

Leaving your thoughts behind, you place your lips on his. The kiss was electrifying, a rush of emotions coursing through both of you as your lips met in a tender embrace. Raindrops fell softly around you, adding to the surreal moment as you shared this intimate connection with the masked hero who had just swept you off your feet—literally.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a sense of clarity wash over you. Everything suddenly made sense—the mysterious conversations, the unspoken tension between you and Jake, even the strange nickname he had given you. It was all because he was Spider-Man, the hero you had admired from afar, and now he was the man whose lips were pressed against yours.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the world fading away until it was just the two of you tangled together on that rooftop balcony.

"Thank you, Jake," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

"Wait… how?"

"You let out "Lensgirl," and I've stared at your lips too much to actually know the shape," he finally dropped himself, taking off his mask completely, revealing his red cheeks and normal shy demeanor.

He actually searched your face for any sign of rejection. "I know it's a lot to take in," he said softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "But I wanted to tell you, not in this way; I've got to learn to also shut my mouth up. I… I care about you more than you'll ever know."

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached up to cup his face in your hands, the weight of everything finally sinking in. "I care about you too, Jake," you admitted, your voice trembling with emotion. "I just… I never imagined…"

Before you could finish your sentence, Jake leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss, sealing the unspoken words between you with a promise of something more.

With a smile on your lips and love in your heart, you leaned into Jake's embrace, letting the warmth of his touch chase away the chill of the night as you watched the city skyline glitter in the rain.

"Please write a good news about me."

"Trust me, you'll sure have it, Spidey."

"I just realized that I've to thank Ri-Ki, damn it."

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monzamash · 2 months

Text

to be loved — carlos sainz

carlos sainz x you — “i can take care of you. you won't need anyone but me.” requested by @dancininseptember masterlist

The short stroll from your office to the apartment never really bothered you. In fact, you typically enjoyed the fresh air and the chance to enjoy the city you loved. But it was early February; rain was threatening the Spanish skies and the frost bitten breeze stung your already tear-filled eyes. It was a crappy end to an even shittier week, your energy wasted on people who didn’t deserve it.

You practically flung yourself through the door of the apartment and shed all remnants of the day – coat, beanie and scarf, all strewn haphazardly, and in that order, on the floor of your small entryway. It took every ounce of energy you had to kick off your heavy boots, each one hitting the wall much harder than you intended. Maybe it was an unconscious way for you to let out frustration, the scuff marks on the white wall a stark reminder of your last straw.

The smell of fresh bread and bolognese sauce hit you as you slunk down the hallway, your tummy grumbling on instinct. You hadn’t eaten since yesterday, a terrible habit you had fallen into lately and Carlos had noticed. He was home more during the cooler months, easily picking up on your little habits that both endeared and worried him. So he made sure, while he was close to you, that you came home to a warm meal every night – because looking after you was his calling in life.

“That smells incredible.”

Carlos briefly glanced over his shoulder and gave you a bright smile before turning down the stove and grabbing a washcloth to clean his hands. You loved him like this; soft and relaxed, in his element. The kitchen was his playground and you remember the sigh of relief that left your lungs when he told you he loved to cook on your first date, because you weren’t particularly gifted when it came to the pots and pans.

“Hope you’re hungry,” He sang, circling the island in the middle of the kitchen to say a proper hello to his beautiful girlfriend, “How was your day?”

A rigid sigh fell from your lips as you fell into his arms, the loving embrace triggering tears to spring to your eyes for the third time today. Carlos held you tight and brushed his hands down your back, comforting you through the sobs wracking your aching body.

“Ay, mi amor,” He soothed, “Breathe for me please.”

Carlos guided you through a couple of deep breaths, chests rising and falling together in synchronicity until your sobs subsided, air finally filling your lungs again. A tight squeeze around your waist brought you back to the man holding you in his arms, worried eyes searching yours for a sign that you were okay as you pulled back and gave him a soft smile.

“I’m okay, I’m sorry.” You sniffled, head shaking.

Carlos tutted as he thumbed away the trail of tears from your face, “Do not say sorry, my love. Talk to me…”

Anger replaced sadness as you told him about how your sister had completely disregarded your feelings for the millionth time, accusing you of only caring about yourself while she’s all alone and stressed about wedding planning. Carlos has managed to get you to sit up on the counter beside him while he finished dinner, but not before pouring you a glass of red wine to nurse while you purged all the negativity from your day.

“She called me a bitch and then uninvited us from the wedding, which by the way I didn’t want to go too to begin with,” You huffed, hands animatedly flying around while he tried to keep up with the drama.

“And all I said to her was that work has been stressful and that us trying for a baby hadn’t been… fruitful, I guess. She flipped out when I said that because her dickhead fiancé doesn’t want kids and she thinks she can change his mind…”

You took a sip of wine and noticed Carlos' eyes rolling like they always did when the topic of your sister came up. He was as sick of her shit as you were, unapologetically scoffing at her selfishness. Making you feel bad when all you needed was someone to confide in was one thing, but lashing out on you was something he couldn’t stand by and watch. He knew he couldn’t do anything right now; maybe he would make a stern phone call tomorrow once the dust had settled.

So instead of getting upset, he put down the wooden spoon coated in the most delicious sauce you had ever tasted and nestled himself between your swinging legs. His warm chocolate eyes stared into your soul as he planted his palms on your thighs, tethering himself to you.

“You know I can take care of you, mi vida,” He said, voice deep and barely above a whisper, “No matter the problem, you won't need anyone but me, I promise.”

For the first time in weeks, you felt your heart slow down and return to a normal rhythm as Carlos pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. You softly moaned in unison and gripped the grey shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders, pulling him in closer – not that he had any plan on going anywhere.

No, all he wanted was for his girl to feel heard and to be loved because all he needed was you.

a/n — loved writing carlos again. inbox detox is still open !!

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #carlos sainz imagine #f1 x reader #monzamashmasterlist #inbox detox

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dickgraysonsbitch · 5 days

Note

Hi! Just found your blog and it’s the best thing ever honestly. I was wondering if you could do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader deals with migraines and sensory overloads? If not that’s totally cool, have a nice day!

thank you so much for your ask!! this was actually my first request ever 😭 nonny you will go down in history 💖 a psa that while i do have mild sensory issues, i don’t have migraines, so any and all criticism is welcome!

warnings: pills/migraines | 1.2k words | dividers by @cafekitsune | requests open !

You fell onto the bed, tucking your knees in close to your chest. Fifty minutes. This goddamned headache had been the bane of your whole existence for fifty minutes, and you couldn’t even catch a bloody break. Every week, it would come back like clockwork, and while you had your routine (two advils, an eye mask, and soothing ocean noises all while sitting in a dark room with a singular, mildly-scented lavender candle with two out of three wicks lit) it didn’t change the fact that every minute that you lay there, the throbbing sensation around your head came back worse than before.

Grasping the tip of your nose, you tilted your head back in order to swallow the pills next to you. If you didn’t, you’d eventually gag on the water, and that wasn’t really a pretty sight to see. It was a miracle that you could even work as a hostess, especially on the graveyard shift, because it was taking every ounce of your willpower not to throw up at even the most tamest memories—a sleepy child with food flying out of their mouth, or a costumer shouting about how ‘insane’ you were when you had only gotten through your second advil of the day. It wasn’t enough, clearly, because if it had been, you wouldn’t be holed up in your dark room like a vampire with chronic pain.

One knock on your window jolts you from your ibuprofen-fueled haze. Two knocks. Three knocks—god, who doesn’t have patience in this stupid city? Not everyone can be a metahuman that travels at the speed of sound.

You open your window, head still pulsing, but all thoughts of another cup of mildly sweetened honey tea dissipates when the Red Hood smoothly slides into your living room/kitchen (it’s Gotham! Rent may be low, but you are poor as hell), removes his helmet, and shakes his head like a wet dog, the domino mask he was wearing underneath somehow not falling off. He shoots you a crooked grin before plopping himself on your couch, resting his legs on your coffee table.

“Shoes off,” you grumble. “And for the millionth time, I have a door for a reason. And I put food on that table, and I don’t want to see your nasty feet on it.” While other people might be a bit more reserved when talking to a Bowery drug lord, you had never given yourself the same boundaries. He’d crashed into your apartment when he was injured one night a few months ago, and since then, the Red Hood swore to one, pay off your window, and two, make sure you were safe. In his words, it was the best way to repay you for saving his life—even though you didn’t really do anything of the sort. Basic stitches that you learnt in high school, because that was what they taught when a vigilante could collapse in your house due to blood loss any minute in Gotham.

“Woah…” he raises his hands up in mock surrender, his eyes glinting with mirth. “What’s wrong? Rough shift?”

He can always tell, and you’ve decided to refrain against trying to lie to the only crime lord that you’ll likely ever be friend with, unless the Penguin unexpectedly decides to lumber up your fire escape. (Hood’s gotten you a spiked baseball bat for occasions like that, because you complained about any firearms). A pang of pain from you head. Mental note, put out the candle, no wicks. Darken the room even more, try and fail to go to sleep. You have your second job in the morning tomorrow. Mental note, take a melatonin if you can’t sleep, pack a few pills of ibuprofen and acetaminophen if you can’t get through your morning shift. It’s two AM right now, you could still get three hours of sleep if you—

A rough, calloused hand gently caresses your cheek, sending a tingling sensation down your jawline, all the way down to the base of your spine. Okay, woah. “Take a deep breath, baby.” Hood’s deep, gravelly voice shakes your from your stupor. Oh. You were slipping back into your anxiety induced panic attacks, and you hadn’t even noticed. You take one deep breath, but instead of feeling like you’re stuffing an oversized pillow into a kid sized cover, you’re at ease, letting fresh air flow into your lungs.

“How you doin’ tonight, huh baby? I saw your kitchen light on, thought I’d stop by.” Red Hood rubs a simple circle pattern into your back, letting you lean onto him.

“I bet…” you take a shallow breath. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

A smile cracks through onto his face. “Nah, baby, just you. All the girls have nothing on you, baby. You want to tell me about your day?”

Maybe it was just his voice, but you were almost immediately more at ease than you wee moments ago. Red Hood would’ve had a great calling as a therapist, or even a guidance counselor, but you weren’t sure that he’d like it if you called him, arguably the most fearsome man in Gotham, a service worker. Men were weird that way.

“C-can you talk to me, Hood? I don’t know… you have a nice voice, I guess. Makes me feel safe.”

You could swear that you heard his voice crack before he cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. So… I guess I didn’t do much today. Oh! This one sleaze-bag was trying to rob this eighth grader, and I’d never seen this old guy, okay? The kid, his name’s James, he immediately just swings his backpack at him. And I come in, this dude’s already gotten a broken nose…”

He keeps talking about the unexpected things that happened during his day, but your eyes are just trained on Hood. His sharp jaw, his toned arms, his hair and the decent-sized white streak that runs through it, his soft lips and the J scar that covered his left cheekbone, and you wondered what it would be like to know him without the mask on. Would he still be the same, sweet guy that you knew?

In a sudden moment of courage, you take Hood’s hand and squeeze it, your heart pounding nervously against your ribcage. “Thank you, Hood.” You whisper. “I don’t know… I don’t know what I would be done if you weren’t here. I’d probably be still having a killer headache right now.”

He smiles, something that you’ve been seeing him do a lot more often than he’s known for. Red Hood, vigilante, drug lord, crime boss? Nowhere to be seen. You try your hardest to gaze past the white lenses over his eyes, concealing his eye color.

“Jay,” he mutters softly, soft enough that if you hadn’t been sitting so close, you wouldn’t have been able to hear a word that he said. “Call me Jay.”

The head comes come back sometimes, but you usually tend to ignore the headaches after a dose of acetaminophen and a head massage from who might be the world’s best vigilante, Jay. You may not know his full name yet, but you know his heart, and under all that armor, under the Red Hood, is a man with a heart of gold.

please please please let me know if i got anything wrong so i can edit it!

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #dc robin #jason todd x oc #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd fanfiction #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood imagines #cinna’s asks #dickgraysonsbitch

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macfrog · 6 months

Text

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #sex on fire

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powdermelonkeg · 5 months

Text

Gale of Waterdeep assorted headcanons:

He has photographic memory, hence his accuracy when recreating his tower during his last night

He was born during, and named for, a particularly bad storm that smacked into Waterdeep

He's 38 years old and 5'8" (173cm)

The Scroll of True Resurrection was his magnum opus, something he intended to use to bring back someone he cared deeply for, but with the orb, he was forced to repurpose it for his death protocol

He used to go on seasonal ventures with Tara. He'd be on the hunt for magical items and new knowledge, she'd be on the hunt for beholder jerky. It's where he got the stash of artifacts he had before the orb consumed them all

Is he a sorcerer? He'll tell you no. He's a very studied, very LEARNED wizard, thank you. He was casting Fireball, a 3rd level spell, at 8 years old. Of course, he could also fly at 8 years old, because that's also a 3rd level spell. That Storm Sorcerers can fly as a bonus action after spellcasting is mere coincidence.

He and his mother greet each other with a peck on each cheek and a hug

His previous romantic ventures, before Mystra, always fell apart at his magic. He'd be grand and impress them every which way, they'd ask what else he could do and want more, and he'd launch into whole lectures about the craft. It would always peter out about then; either they always wanted him to one-up himself, or they got bored of his studies and frustrated with his focus on them. Mystra was the first that felt like true love to him because she fell into neither of these pitfalls—but the absence of expectation made him nervous and lit a fire under his ambition, because how could he ever be enough?

He has his mother's eyes and hair, but his father's smile and jawline

He knows how to deal with panic attacks, not because he himself is often subject to them, but because his magical shenanigans when he was young often sent the housekeeper into a state, and he felt bad about it. Particularly after the magma mephit incident burned a hole in the carpet. His own first panic attack was just after he got the orb; Tara sat on his lap and purred like a motor to help calm him down

The man is demi. He has to believe there's a hint of interest in him in order to start seeing the attractive parts of another. Because of that, he thinks "smash or pass" style conversations to be pointless and trite. Of course, he reads into things too much, so he might THINK there's a spark of interest in him before there actually is one and react accordingly

He gets his articulate vocabulary and speech patterns from his time in the Blackstaff Academy, his tendency for jokes and his wild gesticulation from his father, and both his proud and romantic outlook from his mother. His wonder for the world around him has always been in his heart, ever since he began playing with magic

He and his father generally got along, but they had a series of arguments when Mystra came into the picture. Well-intended, civil arguments, none that ever ended in shouting or anything; more a quiet damage of disapproval that left Gale frustrated and feeling like his family didn't understand how great an interaction like he'd earned was

His father died in a carriage accident shortly after Gale moved into his own place. Gale had been trying to make a scroll of True Resurrection to get him back, but...well...

With the orb, statistically speaking, Gale should have gone to Laeral Silverhand about his artifact problem. With his search for "elder wizards" to address his condition with when you talk to him, as well as her ability to CREATE magical artifacts, she seems the best solution. But he hasn't gone to her, nor Vajra, the current Blackstaff of Waterdeep, because he was afraid that if they learned of his condition, he'd be evicted from Waterdeep for the rest of the city's safety (to speak nothing of how much it would hurt to see their disappointment in him)

On that same note, the reason he (according to Tara) left without so much as a note was that he'd gotten an impulsive decision to go to Silverymoon and ask help of Lord Methrammar Aerasumé, Alustriel Silverhand's son. And that's why he was in Yartar when the Nautiloid attacked

On the whole "who meddled first, Mystra or Elminster" topic: Mystra was alive but severely weakened, believed dead until she revealed herself to Elminster. As her Chosen, she'd have known his whereabouts; Elminster interacted with Gale when he was 8, and that's when Mystra became acutely aware of Gale's existence and began interacting with him, BEFORE she began speaking with Elminster (hence Gale's line about "she revealed herself to me")

Same note, when Mystra first appeared to Gale, it was as a child his age. Equal parts enamored with this prodigy who held innate understanding of her Weave, and "keep your enemies close" in regards to caution around where he could lead himself unguided

Their romantic interactions began after she came back to her power in full, though. I fully believe that she paid him the time of day in that regard because she could sense his love for her through the Weave, like how he can sense your intentions during his magic lessons. It was a moment of opportunity, both to indulge herself and to weave (heh) herself further into his future

The Blackstaff Academy gave quarterstaff self defense lessons. Gale was never particularly GOOD at it, but it got him enough to get by. Between that and the various staircases in his tower are why he's built the way he is

He's confident in his appearance, but very conscious of showing too much skin; he doesn't like feeling exposed, hence his camp outfit being as conservative as it is

He can make something palatable out of just about anything, but his cooking style prioritizes flavor WAY over health. Everything is fluffy and delicious and well-seasoned, and also drowned in garlic butter and cream sauces

Despite this, he's a picky eater on his own terms. Give him shelf-stable rations, he'll find some way to make a meal out of the parts he likes, then avoid the rest. Absolutely eats all the M&Ms out of the trail mix

What he drinks depends on his setting. At the bar? Waterdeep whiskey on the rocks. Romantic setting? Arabellan dry wine. Pleasant company to chat with? Tea. Late night studies? Coffee with a stirring of cinnamon. His wedding? Neverwinter ice wine

Besides Mystra, the deities he pays most attention to are Oghma, Sune, Azuth, and Lliira. His patronage at the House of Beauty in Waterdeep is one constant that's never been shaken by his studies

Sometimes, he pretends to be dramatic in the mirror: Doth thy mirror crack? (Thanks for the research, @galedekarios!)

Fully believe Wash My Pain Away to be his personal theme song, independent of the tadpole events

Despite owning a piano, he doesn't actually play it; there's a reason he's spelled it to play songs for him

He was born in late spring, and the season is one of his favorite subjects of poetry

He has sincere potential to be the next Blackstaff: THAT entered his deck of cards when it let him wield it back at the academy

#bg3 #gale dekarios #headcanons #long post

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 month

Note

Topic: Genshin impact.

au: Sagau.

idea: So what if you had the powers of every character you played as in every game you played and then get isekaid into genshin impact with imposter au. I imagine it goes smth like

Zhongli: “I will have order!”

reader, Who played Roblox as someone who lagged the game (explanation: I’m pretty sure ping is also how time works in games. If you can control the flow of ping you can control the flow of time in games.): “ZA WARUDO!”

Heyyy!! Thanks for waiting for the reply/response from my slow ass :0

So they did clarify what they meant/expand so imma just copy paste that here!

“k now I remember. So basically imma write it here since it’s easier: Basically you don’t have to (but you can) transform into the character that has those set of powers but if you do those powers are enhanced.”

Sun: Reader (”you”/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish, Light Imposter AU (as in, NOT Yandere/Dark), mild crossover elements bc Shapeshifter Shenanigans™️

Stars: bro idek

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: mild cussing, genshin typical mild violence, & Trigger Warnings: none known.

Please comment if I missed any. /gen

☆

so fair warning,, ive never seen jojo bizarre, but i appreciate i come off well-read/watched? LMAO

so im just gonna kinda,, guess? like just cycle thru diff. random media, and im hoping both me and you reading this will have a fun time (as this is a little challenge, but i like it so ill give it a shot, dont kno if its a good one but- 😅)

so to set the scene, of how u got to this point, ykno of running like ur life (maybe?) depends on u running around different teyvat countries,

u thought it was weird everyone knew a little too much about you?? (ofc theyve heard u during gaming, they know u the same way we all know Markiplier, get it?)

then a bunch of NPCs/Vision users/Archons?? were REALLY invested in talking to you, which freaked u out even more

and by the time you saw Zhongli, yknow, just the oldest god in game, making a fast-walk towards you, ykno the retired god who didnt move an inch when an old water god attacked Liyue for a test, is now hurrying to you???

ur logically get so fucking scared sm shits abt to go down, u just start running

it isnt until ur reaching for a ledge and some webbing shoots out of ur arm (from a glitchy little spot on ur arm, where it could be coming out of ur skin, but sometimes its a blue and red bracelet)

it latched onto the nearest building, and thats how u find out u can grapple ur way, literally Spiderman style, out of the harbor

and bro, idk if it would be fun, or confusing and stressful, or maybe both?? to just find out u can use any video game power from any game youve played before as you go running from countries bc for some freaky reason they know too much abt you/are pursuing you-

dUDE- they had small statues of you in like every little section of their cities

u head to Mondstadt and as Venti comes screaming and flying at you (in excitement, but ur freaked), u go to hold a hand up and suddenly ur holding a heavy stone tablet that unleashes some holographic yellow chains that freeze him in place-?? why is this familiar-

oh my god u have the sheikah slate from Breath of the Wild,

and as ur booking it out of there, u manage to get ahold of a sword, and u know exactly how to use it to knock back favonius knights trying to stop you (they are concerned for their god who is just unleashing random powers on ppl, pls let Grandmaster Jean just talk to you Your Majesty-!!)

by the time you teleport ur way to Inazuma, (bc u still have this worlds access to ur player/traveler’s powers), ur trying to find a nice place to stay for a little bit

at least in that sweet spot of the Raiden not noticing/finding you, while things cool down on the main continent, before moving on,

and u get some tools to help fashion just a little shelter, bc u dont have any money/mora rn, and ur able to literally build a house???

a mailbox pops up and thanks you for renting with Tom Nook???? As in Animal Crossing-

and rlly if the BOTW/slate thing didnt clue u into video game powers, then this definitely would tbh lmao

right as u see Yae Miko circling ur house, with an armful of books? ..is she planning to thru them at you??, u get the hell out of dodge before her favorite god can follow along

(she knows ur prefrences in books and got authors/trends to start so youd have plenty to read, and she was making sure it was ur house before politely dropping them off! how was she to know thatd spook their favorite God, Ei?!)

u get to Sumeru and think ur safe, hiding in an abandoned forest watcher outpost (1 person treehouse rlly) when Nahida shows up in ur dreams,

and u just,

walk out of the dream, into reality, and possess a nearby ruin guard so u can sleep in peace, bc she cant access a robot,

that one baffled u as you re-possessed ur own body before realizing-

Five Nights at Freddy’s. 💀

U cant do that forever, so u try Fontaine, hoping Neuvillette/Furina wont rlly give af abt you, plus theyre the latest region, so maybe they have the least exposure to whatever the other archons didnt like abt you??

u get there and are immediately summoned to court, and right as the mekas show up to escort you, jfc they have a mecha army

(meanwhile, theyre thinking, yknow. high profile guest/our god of gods. ofc we need state of the art mekas to escort them, its only polite-)

meanwhile ur cape has now become wings, and a mask covers ur face as you glide and fly ur way over the city in an attempt to get to where u assume Snezhnaya is

it doesnt occur to you the game until ur running out of stamnia and catch ur reflection in the waters of fontaine, Sky: Children of the Light

u hope the Tsaritsa’s dislike for other gods/Celestia doesnt extend to ur otherworldly presence so ur just hoping for the best atp tbh

tbh youd forget what all powers you have, and the absolute chaos ur causing urself as u try to desperately rememeber what games youve played thru ur entire life is NOT helping to reduce confusion when u randomly wake up with elf ears (legend of zelda/botw) or get dragged into another ruin machine when u fall asleep/faint/do smth u guess mimics death lmao- (fnaf) 💀

…

(meanwhile the Tsaritsa does get wind ur coming this way, and just, makes the people have a parade/festival to celebrate you coming,

she did also have to get Pierro/Captaino to physically restrain some of them from going ahead to meet/escort you to the palace, she’d heard how the others scared u off, and was, ironically, hoping the warm welcome would clear things up)

☆

well that was, something. 😃🫠

sorry lil car, that was such a fun idea idk if i did it justice!! i thought itd be too op to include every media youve consumed ever, so i kept it to video games, (which, could u cheat the system if youve played smash bros??)

i hope it was at least a decent read, and sorry im half asleep so i was not v funny this time around, but, again, hope u got smth out of it 😭

</3

on another note, im having my wisdom teeth surgery this friday, send whatever u got my way, prayers, blessings, good vibes, ill take anything im nervous 🙃

have a good week guys!

Safe Travels Lil Car,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily / @justinsomniachild / @nanithefuck / @questionotmystopit / @chinuneko / @silvers-tongue

If ur tag doesnt work, pls check ur settings to see if ur a "searchable blog"!! Its not the same as the Ai selling data thing.

#genshin isekai #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin imagines #genshin impact #my asks #genshin impact sagau #genshin x reader #aqua asks #aqua chats #10/10 rlly fun idea #this was fun to juggle and even tho i feel like i kinda flopped it #it was still a fun idea for future sagau endeavors tbh #:) <3 #no but srsly im getting wisdom teeth surgery pls send everything good u got my way im nervous #its just intimidating to be knocked out and drugged up what can i say #might even write some sagau angst abt it when im languishing my fate in bed afterwards

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ro-written · 1 year

Text

Take a Ride - K.Y

Tags/Warnings: phew boy…18+ ONLY! MDNI! AT ALL! SMUT. There’s definitely plot there, biker!yeosang, no pronouns really used for reader but there are feminine pet names, very light alcohol drinking, heavy making out, fluff, I barely reread and edited this sorry

Smut Tags: exhibitionism (sex on a motorcycle), oral sex (reader receiving), p in v sex, reader has a coochie, pet names towards reader (pretty girl, good girl, baby, doll), fingering, begging, grinding, scratching, PROTECTED SEX, Yeo’s got a big dick, Yeo keeps his condoms in his wallet (don't do that lmao), love at first fuck(???)

Word Count: 5.6k

Playlist:

“Fly - FKJ Remix” by June Marieezy “Body Language” by Doja Cat “Harley’s in Hawaii” by Katy Perry “Pink + White” by Frank Ocean

Being able to vacation days off from work was difficult, especially in your profession. So when it was offered to you by your supervisor, you agreed without hesitation. As soon as you got home, you messaged your best friend. You had both talked about having a little vacation and going to an island, away from the hustle and bustle of your usual lives, and taking in all the more tropical views that you never got to experience living in a city. That same night you had your bags packed and plane tickets booked for the next morning.

The Airbnb your friend had chosen was stunning. The backdoor opened up directly to the sight of the ocean and the trees surrounding the view. The window in your room offered a similar view. As soon as you opened it, a breeze filled the space, bringing in the salty smell of the ocean with it. It made your shoulders relax a bit, eyes closed as the heat of the sun refreshingly warmed your face. For once you weren’t thinking of all the work that sat waiting for you, or anything that was on your to-do list. You were instead listening to the birds chirping, the waves crashing against the rocks nearby, the leaves on the trees brushing against each other with every waft of wind.

After a few minutes of standing there and swaying gently back and forth with the wind, your friend finally knocked on your door.

“Hello hello,” they peeked their head around to make sure you weren’t occupied. You smiled and waved them in, going to sit on the bed.

“What’s up?”

“Well…there’s this bar nearby that I believe is calling out our names. Wait–” they gasped before grabbing your arm. “Can you hear that? It was just there!” You rolled your eyes at their ever-dramatic antics.

“So you wanna go drinking when it’s,” you shifted to look at the clock on your phone. “It just turned 3:10.” They nodded back excitedly, grin wide on their face.

“And we can get shitfaced and go walking on the beach that’s right outside our doorstep during the sunset!”

…It all did sound very tempting. You mulled it over as your friend sat next to you, bouncing up and down in anticipation. You finally nodded, coming to the conclusion that you were on your own time, not needing to hold back from enjoying yourself. They flung their arms around your neck before getting up and running to go change.

—

For it being a Friday, the building was surprisingly barely busy. There were a few people here and there, drinking and either talking to someone or watching whatever the bar had on TV. You and your friend grab a corner booth. After writing down your order, your friend went to the bar to get your drinks from the bartender. It was then that you heard motorcycle rumbles from outside the building, and through the very tiny window, you could see two bikes parking in one spot. Both people on the bikes got off, and one immediately took his helmet off. He was a bit taller than the other one and had short black hair and a sharp nose. The second motorcyclist had been in the middle of unclipping his helmet when your friend suddenly appeared at your side.

“Here you go! I got a double shot for mine but yours is just the regular amount. I didn’t know how hard you were going tonight.” They said with a smile. Your attention was brought back to the drink they had set in front of you on the small napkin. It was a deep red color and while it had a strong smell, it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Thank you so so much, I owe you one.” You smile at them as you use the tiny black straw to taste the drink, dubbed “The Icey Crab” on the menu. Corny, but the drink is damn good.

At that moment, the two motorcyclists you saw before swung the door to the bar open. The taller one walked in first, leather pants and boots appearing before the rest of him. He stepped in and to the side, as the other biker came in. The other one, the one you didn’t get a chance to see take his helmet off, was…gorgeous, to say the least. His face looked as if it had been carved from marble. There was a slight dark mark on the side of his face and it accentuated his beautiful eyes. His long dark hair framed his face perfectly. Not to mention his arms. His muscle tank allowed his muscular triceps to be on display. And you were certainly taking it in.

“Hey.” Your friend snapped their fingers in front of your face, bringing you back to what they had been saying. Their eyes followed yours over to where the two men had come in and were setting themselves up at the bar.

“Ahh, I see how it is then. Which one were you eyeing?” They smirked and nudged you repeatedly, making you lightly hit their arm and roll your eyes. “I’m going to guess it’s the long-haired one? Definitely your type.”

“Please, I don’t have a type.” Their eyebrows shot up at you over the glass held to their lips.

“Don’t just lie like that, I’ve known you for way too long.” They giggled, eyes going back over to the two men. One of them, the taller one, seemed to look right over at your table at that exact moment, catching your friend’s eye. They grinned and raised their glass in greeting the new man. He returned it back, smirking as he said something to his long-haired friend who was simply sipping on his drink and seemed startled when the tall one spoke. He too followed his friend's view over to your booth, and his eyes landed on you.

“Well, I think I’ve snagged his friend, if you want alone time with him, yeah?” They said as they looked back at you, excitement glimmering in their eyes as they downed the rest of their drink.

“And what happened to us headed to have a little drunk walk on the beach?” You crossed your arms over your chest, a smile on your lips as your voice stayed playful.

“Well, we can do that any other night, right? We have some vacation days, let’s really use them.” They wiggled their eyebrows at you, making you let out a laugh. You see a figure approach the table from the corner of your eye, something you could only assume belonged to the tall man at the bar. You brought your drink up to your lips to hide your smile, as your friend stared at you in amusement.

“Hi,” the tall man’s deep voice seized your friend’s eyes from you. “I couldn’t help but notice your drink was empty.” Your friend looked down at the glass in fake surprise, as if they hadn’t realized what they were doing. Even though they knew exactly what they were doing. It was a tactic they used quite frequently, emptying their glass and waiting for whoever they had been eye-fucking to buy them a new drink.

“I didn’t even notice, how astute.” They smiled at him and raised their glass up in front of his face.

“Maybe we can change that?” His eyebrow quirked as he lightly grabbed the glass.

“Sounds like a deal…?”

“Park Seonghwa,” He introduced himself and looked over at you for the first time, giving you a smile. Almost as a sign of good intentions, ensuring you he didn’t plan on doing anything of ill will towards them. You nodded and looked at your friend, who stared at you. You both had each other’s location tracker on and you knew they had protective measures.

“Alright, Mr. Park, let’s see if you can guess my favorite drink.”

The two of them walked away, and you watched with a smile, feeling glad that your friend could find something to distract them. You knew how busy they had been with their job and family. It was rare for them to go out anymore. If anyone needed time to be a little irresponsible, it was definitely them.

“So, your friend fell for the ‘Your glass is empty’ line?”

A deep voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you looked at the man standing next to your booth’s table. It was the other biker, the one who had come with Seonghwa. His attention on you made your face burn, and it took you a few seconds to realize what he had said.

“Well, your friend fell for the ‘Oh, my glass is empty?’ bit. Maybe they were made for each other.” You smiled at the long-haired man as he laughed, looking down at the table for a second. His smile was very pretty, especially with how his eyes curved when his cheeks pushed up. His black hair fell into his face, and some impulse within you wished to reach out and push them back.

“Maybe they were.” He looked over his shoulder to the two of them at the bar, laughing about something. You could see a vein popping out in his neck, running all the way down to his broad chest. He was definitely your type, your friend was right. Especially with the way his hands looked as they rested on the table. Fuck it, if they’re gonna have fun tonight, I am too.

“I’m Y/N.” His eyes came back to you as you stuck your hand out in greeting. He took it, a jolt going through you at the feeling of his skin.

“Yeosang.”

Once he sat down on the other side of the rounded booth, the two of you spent hours talking about various things. What brought you to the island, what kinds of jobs you both did (he was a mechanic), what towns you lived in, what town you originally came from, et cetera. He was very interesting, not to mention very intelligent, and while he seemed reserved initially, he slowly opened up to show a more comedic side. The two of you had almost completely forgotten to check on your friends until Seonghwa came by to let Yeosang know that he and your friend were headed out. You gave your friend a good once over, making sure they weren’t shitfaced and still coherent. Relieved to find them acting their usual self, you had no reservations about letting them head out without you.

As soon as they were both out the door, you watched through the window as they climbed on the back of Seonghwa’s motorcycle, putting his helmet on. Yeo laughed at his friend, apparently trying to “act cool.”

“There are times when he struggles to even talk to someone, but then there’s moments where he’s got massive game. I don’t even know how I keep up with him.” You smiled as he kept on talking about his friend, the genuine fondness showing through his words. Something about how he talked about Seonghwa was so deeply endearing. It made your heart flutter a little in your chest.

Your talks kept up as more people filtered into the bar, creating a hotter and stuffier atmosphere. He inched closer and closer to you, both of you struggling to hear the other as more voices came into the building, and the music got louder. After a while, you two just looked at each other and laughed, finding it ridiculous. You couldn’t help but notice, however, just how close he was. Merely inches apart as he leaned into your ear.

“I think we should head out.”

—

Yeosang parked the motorcycle right in a hidden clearing, taking your hand and bringing you to the edge of a cliff a few feet from the bike. You looked over it, deciding that if he was a murderer, he really wouldn’t have been able to kill you with the drop. Sure, maybe some bruises or a scratch, a bit of muscle ache, but definitely not death.

“I’m not trying to murder you, you know,” he lets out with a low chuckle, reading your mind. “I just wanna show you my favorite view out here. Especially with the sun setting. You have to wait a few more minutes, but it’s so worth it.” He smiles brightly at you, and you couldn’t help but look at how the light from the lowering sun made his skin glow. You smiled back, watching as he walked back to his bike to lean against it, his toned legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed and showing off his muscular build. He patted the spot next to him, beckoning you over. You obliged, leaning your body against the seat of the bike, arms brushing his as he stared out at the view and watched the different birds crossing over the water.

You struggled to look at the view, eyes constantly straying over to him and his face, the birthmark next to his eye standing out. It took your restraint to keep from listening to your impulsive thoughts to reach out and trace it.

You wanted to brush back his long black hair to get a better view of it, maybe even gather it up in your hand. That brought on a new wave of thoughts, ones that included your grip on his hair, pushing him in between your legs, eyes closed as he–

“It’s impolite to stare you know.”

Your face burned as you turned away towards the ocean, eyes looking downwards. His chuckle reverberated into your chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him look over at you, one eyebrow raised and a smirk gracing his face. He managed to look both devilish and angelic at the same time, a feat you never realized could be done before.

“Sorry, just…lost in thought.”

“It’s okay, pretty girl. Maybe you should take a picture next time, hm?” His smile widened a bit after that, and you rolled your eyes, even though the smile playing at your lips contradicted the movement. The water crashed against the shore, providing background noise surrounding the two of you. You had expected him to have turned his attention back to the shifting sunset, but you could still see him focused on you.

You tried to ignore his eyes piercing you, dragging down the length of your body. His tongue peeked out behind his lips, swiping over them in a way you wished to do. Gathering your thoughts that melted all together you slightly turned your head toward him, eyebrow raised.

“You don’t practice what you preach?” You bit out. Something in the way he smiled tossed your stomach in a way not unpleasant. His eyes kept shifting between your eyes down to your lips, eventually losing the battle and fixating themselves on the way you brought your bottom lip into your mouth to lightly bite at it.

“Why don’t you let me do that, hm?” Was the only thing he said before a hand reached out to grab the side of your face. He gave you a chance to pull back, and as soon as he realized you didn’t plan to, he leaned in. You sharply sucked air in, his lips brushing gently over yours as your eyes fluttered closed. After what felt like minutes of building anticipation, he pressed himself against you. Both hands grasped at your face as he deepened the kiss, tongue lightly swiping at your lips.

Maybe it was the one drink in your system, or maybe it was the way your body felt like it craved every possible touch from him, but you let him take complete control. His body pushed you against the seat of his bike, his hands coming down to either side of you to cage you in. This time your hands came up to grab either side of his face, your body pressing into him as if you could get any closer. His hips moved into yours a little, wanting to show you the effects you already had on him. He was strained against his pants, gently rocking into you to find some sort of relief. It made you grin a bit against his mouth, knowing how much power you had over this man you only met a few short hours ago.

His mouth left yours to start trailing against your jaw and down your neck. He sucked harder in some areas that you knew would leave sensitive purple marks in the morning. It was when he reached down the base of your neck under your ear that you let out a sound that fell between a sharp sigh and a squeak. At this, he smiled into your neck, lapping at the spot before gently nipping at it.

“I love your sounds, pretty girl,” he noted before continuing around the column of your neck. It was agonizing, wanting him to finally get to where you truly needed him. You whined as his hand moved to your thigh, slowly starting to make progress toward your core.

“Yeo please–” He hushed you as you started to plead.

“I’m gonna make sure you get what you need, baby. Patience.”

The hand on your thigh came back up to wrap around your waist, gripping so tight that you were sure bruises would form in the shape of his fingers later. Your hands made their way into his hair, lightly gripping the strands and tugging a bit to encourage him to move faster. His eyes fluttered closed and the deep groan that came out of him made you clench around nothing. How could someone make such a sinfully beautiful sound like that?

His eyes opened and it felt like they were staring into the very depths of you. Something dark and exhilarating floated in his pupils, sending a shiver through you as his hands gripped you impossibly tighter, arms flexing in the loose muscle tank.

“Lean back on my bike, doll.” His voice had dropped several octaves and it reverberated in your body, nodding as you listened to his instructions. You place both hands on either side of your body as you lean your weight backward, allowing him to move to the waistband of your jeans and undo the buttons and zipper. Pushing both your pants and underwear down, you kicked them off over your sneakers. As he watched, he caught a glimpse of the damp spot on your underwear and smiled.

“We’ve barely done anything baby.” Your face burned as you rolled your eyes, trying to not fold under his charms.

“Whate– shit.” His fingers cut off your rebuttal as they lightly skimmed over your slit, humming in mockery of your reaction. Your head tilted back as your hips moved up, a futile attempt at trying to get him to press just a little harder. He refused to put any more pressure besides gentle brushes, occasionally nudging your clit when you move your hips just right. His feather-light touches drew out small whimpers from you as you endeavored to keep most of your sounds in.

After what felt like forever, he moved his hand away, making your head dizzy at the sudden shifting. Before you could complain, he was sinking to his knees, gloved hands grabbing your thighs to bring them on his shoulders, shifting your weight around so you were fully reliant on both him and his bike. One of your hands came up to grab his hair on instinct, gripping it between your fingers.

His breath ghosted over your wet lips, making you shiver and tighten your hold on his scalp. The tip of his nose rubbed along your slit, causing you to buck your hips again into him. You looked down, mouth opening to complain about his teasing. However, the sight below you distracts from the whine that had been at your tongue. Yeosang’s eyes meet yours, half-closed in a drunken state. He somehow looked even more ethereal this way, his senses completely filled with just you.

“Please” was all you could muster out. He nodded his head, understanding your plea, and his tongue came out to separate your folds, licking up the wetness he had thoroughly spread. Your body felt as if had simultaneously relaxed from the end of his initial teasing, as well as tensed up from the sensations he gave. His tongue flicked against your clit, making you jolt upwards in surprise. You felt his tongue circle around your clit before he began to suck it into his mouth gently, tongue going back and forth over it. Your stomach tightened up, your grip on his hair pushing him more into you. He hummed at the pressure, causing ripples of pleasure to roll through you.

He released your clit to move downwards, his tongue dipping into your cunt and curving up. Your other hand, the one not in his hair, came up to cover your mouth from releasing the long moan on the verge of slipping out. He continued dipping his tongue in you and flicking up, making it harder and harder to keep your noises in. Your thighs clenched around his head, and his fingers tightened to help keep you steady.

He leaned back a bit from you, allowing you to have a deep breath as you clenched around nothing. You looked at how his mouth shined from your slick, a smile gracing his features as he took a second to breathe. One of his hands released your thigh, and using his nails he lightly grazed across your skin until his hand was at your entrance.

“Is this okay, doll?” He looked up at you with concerned eyes, checking to ensure you were okay. You smile and nod, thumb rubbing his scalp and pushing some of his hair back. He nodded with you, and slowly pushed two fingers into you, allowing you to adjust to the thickness. Your eyes fluttered closed, focusing on the way his fingers opened you. It had been a while since you had anything other than yourself inside you, so the stretch was a welcome burn.

“Breathe.” He gently whispered, making you realize you had been holding your breath the entire time. Your inhale was a bit wobbly, but you finally exhaled and relaxed around him.

“Good girl.”

His fingers started to move, not fully leaving out of you before they were pushed back in again. He curled them upwards, looking for something inside you.

“I need…please…faster,” you shakily managed to get out. He huffed out a light chuckle, and you looked down at him through hooded eyes.

“My baby is so good at begging.”

His fingers picked up their pace, leaving you to struggle to catch your breath. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, as your back arched when he prodded at one spot within you. With your eyes closed, you sensed him pause and move below you, before feeling his mouth suck your clit in again. The new sensation, along with the continuous pressing on the sensitive area in you, had you unable to hold back your moans. Your senses were completely overwhelmed in the best way possible. And the pressure in your stomach started to build more and more with every hit of his fingers.

“Is my pretty girl gonna cum for me?” His voice rocked through you, not letting up his movements. Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes closed tightly. It was too much to try to hold back and with a few final movements, both hands flew to his head. You held him as close as you could, the pressure on your clit not stopping as you clenched tightly around his fingers.

He could hear you call his name as you finished, and it didn’t do anything to help the pressure in his pants. But he knew that if either of you wanted to move to that, you’d have to take at least one more finger to prepare. So as you came down with deep breaths, he pulled off you. Your head was still spinning as he kissed your inner thighs, bringing you back down.

“I want you in me, Yeo,” you managed out. You could see how much he was straining against his pants, and you wanted to help relieve some pressure for the both of you. His smile was soft and endearing, a switch from the man who just gave you a transcending orgasm.

“I know baby, I want to. But we need to prepare you just a bit more for that, okay?” His words took a moment to process. You thought you had prepared to take him, but as he slowly started to push three fingers in, you realized that you might have trouble walking tomorrow.

“Oh shit,” was all that came out, as the stretch made your eyes roll back. All the pain was masked under the slight overstimulation you felt. It was almost too much, but you desperately wanted to feel all of him in you, and if this is what it took to get there, then you wouldn’t complain.

It wasn’t an unusual feeling, you had experimented with three fingers before, but having someone else do it was what made you dizzy. Especially when his fingers were already so thick, it was more of a stretch than you were typically able to give yourself.

You took a breath, trying to relax around him. It was difficult though, as you kept clenching every time he moved back in. Watching as you sucked him in again repeatedly had him almost drooling. He couldn’t help from going back in, attaching himself to your already abused clit. It made your eyes jerk open in surprise. It made it even more difficult to relax, as you gripped him rhythmically.

“Yeosang, please!” Your voice cried out like music in his ears. He could feel the way your thighs shook around his head, tightening more and more from his attack. He knew he couldn’t hold on any longer, and just as your eyebrows started to furrow up again, he pulled away. His fingers left you, and he watched in a trance as you fluttered around nothing. A whine was pulled out of your mouth, bringing him back to you.

Gently placing your thighs off his shoulders for a moment, he stood, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. Out of it he grabbed a condom and placed the wrapper in his mouth. He quickly grabbed his shirt off, then unbuckled his belt, undid his pants, and hastily pushed them down with his boxers, kicking them off to the side.

Your mouth involuntarily dropped open. That’s definitely why he wanted me to have three. His dick hit his stomach as he focused on putting the condom on. To say he was well endowed would be an understatement, and you were starting to wonder if he shouldn’t have possibly used four fingers to open you up a bit more. It made your mouth water a bit at the idea of having that stretch you out. You had yet to have a partner with such a gift as Yeosang has, and you were quite excited to see if he knew how to use it.

He gripped your thighs again, putting them around his hips. One hand stayed holding a leg while the other grabbed around your waist. His dick rubbed between your folds as he slightly ground into you. With every motion upwards it caught on your clit, dragging along and making you cling to his shoulders.

“You still okay with this? We can stop now if you want.” It made your heart skip hearing him. He was being considerate, even with how much he was definitely holding himself back from ramming into you. His teeth were clenched, his jaw tense and defining his jawline. He’s so fucking beautiful.

“Yes, Sangie.” The nickname rolled off your tongue without a second thought, and it made you both stop and look into each other’s eyes. Something within his chest twisted hearing the way you said his name. And seeing you this way…it was something he knew he needed more of.

Your teeth caught your lip, looking down to watch how his girth spread your lips apart.

“What did I say about letting me do that.” He leaned down towards your face and kissed you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the touch of his soft lips against yours again. Your entire face felt tingly, allowing him to take over control of the kiss. As he pulled away, he bit down gently on your bottom lip, pulling it out slightly before letting it go. And as he rest his forehead against yours to look into your eyes, he finally adjusted his hips to slip in you.

The stretch was almost unbearable. Almost. You were beyond thankful that he prepared you thoroughly. And between your first orgasm and the heated makeout session you two had, you were virtually drenched with desire and need.

He stilled as he completely bottomed out. The feeling of him filling you up completely was overwhelming in the best way possible. Every sense was completely overtaken by the need for more of him. His taste, his smell, his touch. All of it. And after a while, you moved your hips to try to get him to continue.

“Move…please move.” You looked through your eyelashes at him, giving him your best pleading eyes. And looking at how pretty your eyes were in this scenario, it took him all he could to keep from pounding away. He slowly left your body, not fully taking himself out before thrusting hard into you. The movement jolted your body along with the bike under you, and he continued with the pace and force he wanted to use.

You brought a hand up to bite, an attempt at keeping your moans in at the feeling of being so full. He moved his hand from your thigh to grab at your hand muffling your sounds, pulling it away from your mouth and placing it on his chest, before he returned his hand back to your thigh.

“I want…I need to hear my pretty girl,” he groaned out, punctuating his words with particularly hard thrusts causing moans to spill out. You felt him twitch inside you with every sound drawn out of you. “Can you feel what your pretty noises do to me, baby? You sound so beautiful.”

Your nails dug into his skin, running across his chest and grabbing his biceps. Red streaks followed your fingers, and you felt his hard biceps ripple every time he pulled you onto him. His strength only served to turn you on more, clenching around his length. That erupted a deep groan from his chest, an enchanting sound that you would definitely keep engrained in your memory.

The coil in your stomach tightened more with each thrust. You knew you needed just a little bit more, something to truly tip you over the edge. You took one of your hands off his upper arms and moved to circle your clit. That was it. You were thrown over your precipice as your eyes rolled back into your head. All you could think was Yeosang, Yeosang, Yeosang.

He watched as your back arched into him, chest pressing against his as he slowed down a bit, letting you ride your waves. You eventually came back down, eyes hazy and glazed over. The slow drags of his cock helped to ride out the aftershocks. Your body fell limp into him.

Yeosang eventually started to pick up the pace, the dazed look in your eyes spurring him on. His low moans in your ear signaled the nearing of his end. His thrusts became sporadic as his grip tightened impossibly more on your thigh. He was using you to get off now and it made a rush of heat fill your body. His hair fell in front of his face, his eyes shut tightly as he focused on his own pleasure.

“Cum, Sangie. I wanna see you cum, please please please.” You whined into his ear, the overstimulation of his continual pace causing every nerve in your body to be lit on fire. Your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, and they made their way to his back, dragging angry red lines across the expanse. You felt how his cock twitched at that, and a deep groan emanated from his throat. There it is. You kept dragging your nails across his back feeling as his pace started to lose its rhythm. And finally, with one last deep moan, he stilled in you, his face buried deep in your neck.

You felt his breath fanning across your neck, your eyes blinking shut at the sensation. It all felt truly perfect. His deep breaths in your ear, the feeling of being so full of him, his body weight resting slightly on yours, arm around your waist keeping you close to him, the smell of the ocean and your bodies mixed. He slowly started pressing delicate kisses down your neck and into your shoulder, causing a shiver to wrack through your body.

“That was…that was really good,” he giggled in his deep voice. You nodded, not trusting your voice just yet. He moved away from your neck to look down at you and your blissed-out face. He swore he could stay like this forever, watching as the light from the sunset cast beautiful colors onto your skin, giving you a glow.

And then your eyes opened to meet him again, and something about the way you smiled at him made him realize that this was not just a one-time thing.

~~~

Do not repost or translate any of my work anywhere else.

All comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome!

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez smut #kang yeosang #kang yeosang x reader #kang yeosang smut #kang yeosang ateez #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang imagines #yeosang x reader #yeosang ateez #yeosang smut

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stinalotte · 10 months

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Happy 19th Birthday, Stargate Atlantis!

On July 16th, 2004, the pilot aired. Here's a handy little primer for anyone who doesn't know what the heckity heck this show is about. Everything is totally accurate, 100% true and very, very serious.

So.

This is the lost city of the Ancients, Atlantis, in the Pegasus galaxy, about 3 million light years from Earth. (The Ancients can go fuck themselves. Long story.) Atlantis is a city/spaceship approximately the size of Manhattan. She's semi-sentient, but not really, except actually yes, maybe, sometimes, totally. The whole city can go underwater or into hyperspace. Loves her humans. Home. Declaration of independence imminent.

The Atlantis expedition consists of civilians and military from at least 34 countries (in later seasons, the original expedition was just over a dozen). In no particular order:

Dr. Elizabeth Weir. The first leader of the expedition. The only adult. Sometimes. Okay, not very often. Is not above a little war crime for the good of the galaxy—or at least, for the good of Atlantis. Left a boyfriend and a dog on Earth, but we all miss the dog more than the boyfriend. Eats UN representatives for breakfast. Is terribly awkward on dates and really good at solitaire. Loves her chaos children. Which are:

Lt. Colonel Suicide Mission John Sheppard. Walked through the Gate and Atlantis said, "dibs". Thinks people who don't want to fly are crazy. Not good with emotional stuff. (He's getting better.) Loves his found space family and would die for them, often literally. Stop that. Also loves Ferris wheels, things that go fast, and Rodney McKay. And no, we don't know how he gets his hair to go like that.

Dr. Meredith Rodney McKay. Four degrees, two of which are PhDs, none of which are in social skills. Smartest man in two galaxies. Used to be an asshole, but got himself some friends who loved him such a stupid amount that he had no choice but to change. Still a work in progress. We love to see it. Blew up three quarters five sixths of a solar system. (It was uninhabited.) (Mostly.) Deathly allergic to citrus. Loves fully charged ZPMs, arguing with Dr. Zelenka, MREs, and John Sheppard.

Lieutenant Aiden Ford. Went ass first through the Gate with a grin and a whoop on his very first trip. One of the youngest members of the expedition. Is not allowed to name anything, ever. Mild case of hero worship when it comes to his commanding officer, which is totally understandable. A cautionary tale of how addiction messes up not only you, but the people around you.

Ronon Dex. Used to be hunted by the Wraith, lost his people in a terrible war, and is now a member of Sheppard's team where he gets to shoot things and beat up bad guys. Doesn't talk much, but when he does, he has something to say. Good friend. Excellent hugs, but have Carson check you out for any cracked ribs after. Is one bottle of Athosian wine away from staging an intervention regarding the Sheppard/McKay situation.

Teyla Emmagan. In possession of the team's one brain cell. Leader of the Athosian people. Will rock a baby to sleep and then go outside where a Wraith is dangling from the highest tower of the city and stomp on his hands until he falls 800 feet. Can either beat you up in the gym or force you to meditate on your problem, your choice. Has the aforementioned bottle of wine ready and loaded.

Dr. Radek Zelenka. Keeps the science team sane because Rodney sure as hell doesn't. Loves pigeons, cursing in Czech, and overseeing the thriving black market underground economy that has developed in the city. (Thanks @shaddyr for that lovely headcanon). Zachránil všechny naše zadky víc než jednou.

Chuck the Technician. Aggressively Canadian. Doesn't have a last name, doesn't need one. Is ALWAYS in the control room, seriously man, when do you sleep? Reads trashy sci fi novels on night shifts and organized a betting pool in 5 different currencies when Ronon was fighting Teal'c. Needs to share his eyelash routine because we're jealous.

Dr. Carson Beckett. The most Scottish Scot to ever Scot. Brilliant medical doctor who is not above the occasional unethical unorthodox treatment method. Sweet cinnamon roll of a man. Beloved by all. Loves his mom and wee baby turtles. Someone should take him fishing soon. 🥹

Colonel Samantha Carter. Member of SG-1. Legend. Awesome. Boss. Absolute BAMF. Punched a Goa'uld system lord in the face once. We all have a crush on her.

Dr. Jennifer Keller. Is very doctor-y, for better and for worse. Was all of us when she freaked out being on an alien planet for the first time, like a normal person would. Should totally have gone on a date with Captain Vega in that one deleted scene. [WE COULD HAVE HAD IT AAAAALL]

Jeannie Miller. Rodney's sister. Gave up a career in science to be a mom. Solved Rodney's math problem in her spare time, with finger paints. Loves her brother even when he's being an idiot. Fanfic canon says: her house is always open for him and certain Air Force Colonels to crash in. Don't you dare get a hotel room. Yes, the guest room has Only One Bed, Mer, what's your point?

Major Evan Lorne. If you are a moron and get yourself captured and imprisoned off world, he will swing by real quick with a couple Marines and bust you out. Co-parents Atlantis with Dr. Weir. Is actually a really talented painter. Needs a raise, a holiday, and a drink.

Colonel Steven Caldwell. Grumpy. Has to deal with Elizabeth's chaos children on a regular basis. Will make the enemy ship go away with a big boom and save your sorry ass in space. AGAIN.

Richard Woolsey. Used to be a New York City lawyer, one of the most ruthless creatures in the universe. His wife got the Yorkie in the divorce. Broke his heart. Is actually pretty cool if you let him do his thing (like get you out of an intergalactic war crimes trial by bribing the judges).

I know some characters and all the villains are missing, but this post is already longer than a trip on the Daedalus, so there you have it.

Stargate Atlantis. A show about wormholes, life-sucking aliens, ancient civilisations, space battles—and family, friendship, allowing yourself to love and be loved, and what it means to be home.

Happy birthday, fam.

#stargate atlantis #happy birthday #sga #found space family #elizabeth weir #john sheppard #rodney mckay #teyla emmagan #ronon dex #aiden ford #samantha carter #look I can't name them all

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violynt-skies · 2 years

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How Leo’s role as face man prevents him from confiding with his team

Watching throughout the entire series we see Leo constantly keep up with his role as the face man of the group

While on missions he can use his charisma and persuasion in order to get people to go along with his plans without letting people know what he’s really thinking

But he never seems to put it down

•Leos Emotional Guard

At first glance Leo’s entire personality revolves around being lenient laid back and chill, and to everyone else it makes him seem like a very open book, and that’s why the face man role works out for him

But it means that no one is really aware of anything beneath the surface. They never bother to ask because who would need to?

However, this also includes Leo’s family

Despite his chilled back personality Leo is one of the most emotionally guarded ones out of all of the brothers

Throughout the series we can see little moments of vulnerability from each members of the family, digging deeper into their emotions and their insecurities and then go on to discuss said feelings and gain some form of comfort or closure from their family. Most notable ones shown below

Donnie in “Donnie vs Witch Town”

Raph in “Anatawa Hitorijinai”

Mikey in “Hidden City’s Most Wanted”

April in “Always Be Brownies”

Splinter & Donnie in “Turtledega Nights”

•How Leo is Different

Similar to everyone else, Leo is shown to have these moments sprinkled in too but they never occur with his family

The two most memorable moments we have are shown in “Portaled Jacked” with Senor Hueso and during his one-on-one conversation with Casey

Why these two characters and not one of his close family members?

Because it’s easier talking about problems to strangers and people who don’t know you as they have no previous knowledge or connotations of you to fall back on and there’s no feelings of burden or guilt if you believe the topic will never be discussed with them again. There’s less feelings of consequences that comes with being vulnerable towards people who don’t know you well. Because if you open up more to the people who do, the risk that their opinion of you will change gets higher

Then we add in the fact that Leo is already extremely guarded of his emotions. He doesn’t want his brothers to think less of him because he already isn’t confident of his place in the team already and thus doesn’t confide in them

•Deflecting with Humor

And then the two moments where we do see little slips in Leo’s carefully constructed masks that occur around his family, which we can find in “Minotaur Maze” and “Many Unhappy Returns”

He ends up immediately backtracking and deflecting with humor, thus changing the subject and preventing anyone from delving into it further and reacting to the quips instead

“You know it’d really help me if you guys said that I was your champion.” “Just open it!”

“This whole situation was my plan all along. If it wasn’t, then why’d I ask your tailor to make me this outfit?” “So we could both perish looking super fly?”

What makes it worse is that Leo has such a habit of doing it that his family expects it, which then causes them to believe there’s no underlying issues beneath the surface and thus don’t react accordingly. (with the addition that both parties had valid reasons for being upset with him at the time)

But it causes a situation of Leo internalizing his emotions, and if he doesn’t expand on the topic himself, then his family won’t see a reason to either nor think there’s an issue to begin with

•The Movie

To add onto this point, we see Raph and Leo arguing over Leo’s role as leader. As usual Leo deflects the argument with humor and avoids the situation. But we can see during the argument that how Leo privately lets down his guard and for a second the audience is able to see how he’s really reacting to Raph’s words. However, it is apparent that Raph doesn’t see this side of him and most likely never really has

“You just don’t get it Leo”

Now as the audience it is very easy to draw to the conclusion that Leo has clear issues with his role as the leader and most likely many insecurities regarding it thus why he acts the way he does. Like any other serious situation, he copes with, he deflects with humor and tries to avoid it

This argument then implies that in the two years since Leo was made leader of the group, he never revealed his internal issues with it and never made it apparent to his brothers either because he hates being vulnerable

The face man role works for him because it requires skillful work in that you can manipulate people the way you want to without ever letting them know what your thinking. And Leo carries that role with him when it comes to his brothers and family as well. But this doesn’t work out for him anymore when he becomes the leader and communication becomes so important to the team. (I talk about this more on a different post)

Thus the events of the movie and why things played out the way they did

Naturally he learns how to trust in his team more when the situation becomes dire enough that he realizes he can no longer keep deflecting

But even after all the traumatic events that he went through. When it comes to the one time we see him really cry. He still only lets himself cry when he’s completely alone within the prison dimension

TLDR: Leo’s role as the face man is kept on both on and off duty as we find that he is really one of the most emotionally guarded out of all of his brothers as he doesn’t want to let them know what he’s really feeling out of fear that they might think less of him as he is already insecure of his placement in the group and would rather confide in people who don’t know him well over his family where he runs the risk of them treating him differently

Honestly, “Mr. Emotionally Unavailable” has some real competition ahead of him

If we were being completely blunt, all of the brothers have trouble when it comes to letting go of their real emotions, Donnie just being out of his depth with them and it being uncomfortable, Raph wanting to be strong for his brothers, and Mikey most likely wanting to focus on his brother’s emotions over his own as the Therapist of the group, but i believe the Leo definitely has the worst case out of all of them.

#back at it with the long winded analysis #can you guess which turtle i kin the most lmfao #they all need sm therapy fr tho #there's a lot more i wanted to add but it was getting kind of longggg #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise leo #rottmnt leo #leo angst #rottmnt angst #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #save rottmnt #rottmnt analysis #character analysis

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molinaesque · 8 months

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Okay I mentioned that I had a bunch of Raphael thoughts and basically made a whole essay (in literally no actual format, this is just me vomiting out parsing thoughts and using it when lore dumping onto my friends). This is written based off of stuff you find in the game, some Wiki diving and my own thoughts.

Feel free to hit me up with some topics that we can talk about. And remember, these involve are my own thoughts and headcanons at the end of the day, so please act normally and don't come at me with pitchforks just because I have something that doesn't align with your specific HC.

A Prince's Tale: The Story of Raphael

In the universe of Faerûn, there exists a heaven and hell, or in this case the Heavens and the Hells. There are the Nine Hells of Baator, all ruled and lorded over by various archdevils. Raphael is the son of the ruler of the eighth circle of Hell, the archdevil, Mephistopheles. Raphael is a cambion which consists of a fiend and a mortal. Cambions then are considered "results of unnatural and unholy communion". In Raphael's case it's a bit more complicated because the fiend in this equation isn't just some lower being like an incubus or some other demon but a true Devil, making Raphael leagues above, both in power and rank, other typical Cambions, just purely due to his association and blood of being Mephistopheles' offspring.

The system in the Hells is extremely rigid and hierarchical (it's a system that has been upheld for eons. Many of the systems that make up the universe of D&D are as deeply rigid and rooted). Many of the themes of the characters of Baldur's Gate 3 consist of them either repeating the cycle or breaking its hold, which in the D&D verse is an extremely hard thing to do because of how long standing these systems are. In regards to the Hells, it works like a pyramid. The top of the food chain and order are the archdevils. There are many archdevils that reside and rule over each circle of the Hells, one however rules all and lives in the Ninth circle, Nessus; Asmodeus.

So what does Raphael want? The integral key item and centerpiece of the main plotline of BG3 dubbed only as 'The Crown', created by Karsus. Karsus was a very powerful, most would say perhaps THE most powerful wizard who ever lived. An archwizard/demi-god responsible for creating and casting a spell that would steal the power of a deity and transfer it to the archwizard who casted it. Eventually, this was a mistake, for one of the responsibilities of the deity of magic was to regulate the flow of magic to and from all beings, spells, and magic items in the world. He did not have the ability to do so properly, causing magic to surge and fluctuate, threatening that balance. This caused the flying cities of Netheril to plummet to the earth. The last thing Karsus sees is his entire civilization being destroyed because of his actions. This will be known as 'Karsus' Folly'.

Raphael tells you about this story and how he was there to witness it happen all those years ago. He wanted the Crown to himself but it was stolen and put into hiding. He later finds out that Mephistopheles, his father was the one responsible for stealing it. Now, here's a way to explain the fucked up power levels and why it plays so much of a factor especially in the Nine Hells. I mentioned how Raphael is not a typical Cambion, BUT even though he is technically a prince by birthright and a half true devil, it doesn't make a difference under the likes of archdevils like his father (who doesn't help at all with Raphael's behaviour because Mephistopheles is a MEGA asshole. I mean, there's a reason why Raphael never utilised his name to invoke influence and power, doesn't even call him father, that's how much he hates him. You only find out about it through Haarlep. He even had another child, a daughter, who he cared more about by making her a trusted double-agent against one of his rivals. Meanwhile, he treats Raphael like nothing and acts as if he doesn't exist for the most part). Basically, unless you are an archdevil in the Hells, you are never TRULY free. As power, literally = freedom in the Hells. Raphael realises this and so began his lifelong ambition to get that power. That came with the events of Karsus' Folly. Realising that this is the opportunity and power Raphael needed, he attempts to steal it only for it to be taken by none other than his own father. Now, you think "ah Mephistopheles wants that power for himself, right?" No. Here is how far apart the levels of power are between beings like Mephistopheles (beings such as archdevils/archwizards/demi-gods/gods/etc) and beings like Raphael, who is already a pretty substantial and powerful Devil by his own right.

Raphael has been coveting the Crown and its power for 10 centuries, a thousand years, essentially. It's his one source that can possibly give him the chance of taking even more control of the Hells and ultimately make him TRULY a free devil. It's his life's mission that has been going on until he's practically in his middle age in devil years (his human appearance showcases this, and we also see a younger Raphael in his devil form with Haarlep). Half of his (immortal) life. It is very crucial and important to him.

And yet… to Mephistopheles, it's just a souvenir. A trinket. Or as Raphael puts it, "a museum piece".

This, undoubtedly angered Raphael so much and made his hatred towards his father even more so (Raphael mentioned how he raged for a decade, understandably). The fact that not only does his father treat him as if he doesn't exist, but to add insult to injury, did this while mocking him by not taking him seriously. One of the things he did was to send an incubus, Haarlep, made and glamoured to be an exact copy of Raphael, to distract him. It could also be seen as a message of "here is my gift to you and it is one of the only few things that will ever be 'truly' yours; a copy of yourself". Raphael would have been the first image that Haarlep acquired, thus why the constant form that you see him with is of Raphael (Haarlep tells you this if you kill him and speak to his corpse). Haarlep's corpse also tells you that "Raphael only loves himself." I wonder why. Haarlep also has a contract that requires him to obtain 1000 souls (the runes on his harness have been translated to the number '1000') in order to be free. This is why the archivist in House of Hope tells you that special guests can reside in the boudoir, as this is a primary way for Haarlep to collect more souls. If you sleep with him, and allow him to have your heart and soul, you die. If you promise your body only, you live but he now has a full copy of you entirely. Additionally, we know Gortash was sold to be in Raphael's services when he was a boy. We know that Gortash and the other Chosen eventually stole the Crown from Mephistopheles' vault. What's interesting is if you explore the House of Hope, you can find a portal to the eighth circle of Hell, Cania, where Mephistopheles resides. I believe that Gortash utilized this to obtain the Crown. Imagine the sheer rage and embarrassment Raphael had to endure because of this. Not only did the Crown get snatched from under him once but TWICE. Once by his father, and then later by a boy who was under his charge. I can completely imagine Mephistopheles utilising that as additional ammo and lording that over Raphael's head.

In pertaining to Raphael's character and behavior, all of this explains additionally as to why Raphael is the way he is. It's selfish, insecure behavior that also explains the portraits he surrounds himself with. Notice how all the paintings are of his true form. He also has many lines of dialogue depending on what you pick during your various meetings where he truly gets angry. One of these lines is him shouting "I AM NO MORTAL" when you simply ask why he would succeed where Karsus had failed (which is ironic because, my guy, you are part mortal, so was Karsus but he was very powerful for many other reasons other than pure association and blood. Raphael even tells you how foolish of a notion it would be if you suggest that you could take the Crown for yourself, telling you that archdevils, wizards, and gods have worn the Crown, "it would tear you apart" he warns you). The portraits of his Devil form in House of Hope surrounding him is a way of constant reminder to himself of what he wants to be associated with. He HATES that he is part mortal (he has showcased his disdain for the mortal realm very clearly during your encounter in House of Hope) and wants to see himself as only a Devil. To say that dude's got major issues and complexes is a huge understatement. He's a deeply insecure being who's controlling and manipulative (most of it stemming from his father and his predicament of essentially living a half-life), but he's also a pragmatic, self-aware character. He's very much the epitome of Lawful Evil. If the players choose to only see him as a one note character who's just "self-centered and evil", you can. That's the beauty of Baldur's Gate. These things are true,but you can also add on top of that when you choose to find out and explore for more lore and characterization.

Interestingly, the way he treats someone who opposes him compared to those who don't are very stark in contrast. You see it with the prime examples of Hope (naming the house after her due to her being the one soul who he cannot convert and have on his team completely) and of her sister Korilla, who has mentioned that she loves being in service of Raphael completely as he has treated her with respect and given her more freedom than her previous master ever did, who in her own words, "constantly would beat me and feed me scraps". "Better to be free in the Hells than go begging in the Heavens", she tells you. She's also not blindly following Raphael or under any thrall. In fact she makes light of him and his antics to you completely of her own volition. She made a bet with Raphael whether you would survive and get to Baldur's Gate (which Raphael bet FOR you to succeed btw). You can find the Five Soul Coins they bet for in the safe hidden behind the portrait in HoH. And she doesn't sing his praises completely, saying that she's more skeptical of you than Raphael is and is fearful of how wrong he would be banking everything on you, saying "Raphael can be so very wrong". She basically tells you that Raphael won't shut up about you. She also tells you that Raphael is, in her own words, "by no means altruistic" and argues that Raphael truly wants to not have the world destroyed because it would simply mean, as she puts it "the boss did the balance sheets. No world, no souls". In fact, she BEGS you to reconsider if you didn't take the deal in the first place.

One could argue that Raphael residing in Avernus and having him in proximity of mortals more in comparison to the deeper levels of the Hells, gave him more perspective. He even tells you he doesn't want Baldur's Gate to be destroyed. He tells you, fondly, he couldn't possibly want that to happen because the city is "an object lesson of moral excess". Why would he want a huge primary source of deals and contracts for him gone. If you explore the House of Hope, many of his deals range from complex, twisted deals to simple, straightforward ones with no caveats (for example there is a debtor who tells you that he sold his soul for enough money to keep his family well fed. Done. No trickery. That was the end of it. Even the architect of Moonrise Towers attested to Raphael keeping his word and defeating Ketheric's forces way back then). In Raphael's own words, "I'm a man of my word" and he wasn't lying. There's a reason why he has practically a 99.9% conversion rate (his one big failure being Hope and why he's so obsessed with converting her is because he truly cannot understand how one can be so pure of a soul. She's a puzzle, and Raphael HATES it when he can't figure something out). If you're wondering why can't Raphael (or any other devil) force or lie about the contracts they have made, well that's literally by design. Asmodeus created a law that bars devils from doing so, and devils will get punished severely would they ever take advantage of that. That's also why devils have to be extra sneaky when being contractors because if they die, it doesn't matter. The contracts they made while still alive still stays intact until they are completed. Meanwhile, the contract just gets given to another devil. When Raphael tells you in HoH if you asked him for no more bloodshed, he tells you "you've given me no choice". He means this, as it would mean both you AND he would be punished regardless if he were to let it be.

Mol is another example of a straightforward transaction. He wasn't lying when he said he'll keep Mol safe from harm in exchange for becoming her patron. It's not for something nebulous like "she has to become the leader of the guild in the next 20 years" or something extreme, it was just "I'll be your patron in return for your safety and security". He sees her as a long standing investment. Raphael mentioned that he hates children, but there is ONE thing he values above all else and admires when he recognizes it. "Ambition." He tells you he sees that in Mol during the meeting at Last Light Inn. It's also believable that he sees himself in Mol (especially his younger self) and thought "I respect it and I get another easy contract. Win-win". The dude loves underdog stories since his own is practically one as well. In fact, Mol doesn't like it when you treat her condescendingly. If you remember the chess scene in Last Light Inn, there are ways she can lose but also various ways she can win (and no, you don't have to only pick helping her cheat for this to work). If you help her cheat, she wins. If you help her by giving her an offensive strategy, she wins (in fact Raphael knows that she cheated, and if she won legitimately, even comments about the move and stating that it's a legit maneuver in chess and praises Mol for it saying that it's "exactly what I would've done"). Either way, Raphael praises your suggestions when Mol leaves. If however, you don't offer advice, or tell Mol to be defensive, she looses, prompting Raphael to comment on how being non committal or weak will not help Mol in the long run. If you stole her contract, she doesn't mind it too much BUT if you killed Raphael and told her about it, she will HATE you. Hating how you killed her patron, "Big Raph" as she calls him, that would ensure her safety and security as long as she's under contract. It's another additional interesting subplot that doesn't really have anything to do with the grand scheme of the game, but adds even more layers to already fascinating characters.

This dichotomy is what makes Raphael a very complex and interesting character. He's a devil who wants Ultimate Power, make no mistake, but he also is pragmatic enough to realise that he does not want another "Karsus' Folly". In fact, he could have easily just done an Emperor to gain your trust wholeheartedly and then turn on you the moment you have the Crown. It would have been easier for him. But he chose to bank on you being a long term investment maybe even beyond the Crown, meeting you head on and reveal his true nature to you from the first meeting. If you listen to everything he tells you, he never actually lies, he omits things here and there, but he never lies to you (in fact if you become even more on his team, there is a line where he straight up tells you that he "likes you"). It's a similar relationship with Korilla, in that she has complete free will but is for his team. He mentions that he does not like it when people beg or kiss his ass (there are many examples of this, his conversation with Voss for one and also whenever you choose dialogue options that make you seem like a spineless whimp). He even tells you at points that he likes the way you do things (even if they're a bit unorthodox), and if you took his contract but chose to break it (or just stole the hammer, it's the same regardless), it makes it even more personal because he genuinely was shocked to find that you were the one breaking into his house. This is one of the few times we see Raphael truly angry. No fancy words, no charm, no smarmyness. Just anger and even sheer disappointment that you chose to, in his own words, "become like Karsus, disregarding everything and burning your world to ash" (remember, Raphael truly believes that his method with the hammer and Orpheus is the ONLY way to defeat the brain, that's the unfortunate part of obsessing and planning for this goal for so long that he truly believes there are no other alternatives. He mentions in one of his diaries that he has planned a dozen ways to obtain the Crown, but he concludes that there is only one way for it to actually work and it involves Orpheus, hence the creation and naming of "The Orphic Hammer". There's even a book about its creation in HoH). Hell, even one of the dialogue options where you say "there's no need for more bloodshed", you would think he'd just be like "HAHAHA evil dialogue, i planned this all along, you're nothing, blah blah" but instead he actually says in his own words, "I have no choice" because we know that breaking contracts means death, and death means he has to collect your soul. Even if you didn't sign the contract and break in, he still genuinely did not think you would go so far as to do such a thing especially with the offer he made to you. He basically blames you for being too proud to do such a thing.

Even when you don't take his contract at all, when you meet up with the Emperor again in the Astral Prism during the battle against the Netherbrain, choosing to betray the Emperor will cause Raphael to appear for a final time. Does he just offer you the contract again? Yes. But not before scolding you for being an idiot and genuinely being pissed off at you for not taking his deal to free Orpheus. He even tells you in his own words, "we could have been allies, partners… FRIENDS!" If you try to beg him for help, he shouts at you, saying how you are in no position to make demands anymore because of your reckless actions. You made your bed, you have to recognise it. If you still refuse his offer, he doesn't try to force you, or twist your arm in any way… he just tells you, quote, "Goodbye. It's been unforgettable" (which is his way of saying "i won't forget you… but i also won't forget how much of a fucking blind idiot you were) and then leaves you forever. If you take the deal, he tells you it's no longer as equals anymore, you are now considered a lowly servant to him. He genuinely wanted you to be partners, but doing all of this basically leads him to conclude that you aren't worth it anymore. The way the writers chose to have the Emperor and Raphael parallel each other but in different ways is genius. They are two sides of the same coin. Both want true freedom, both try to manipulate Tav, the main characters for their own cause, both are extremely pragmatic and set in their own ways and goals. The irony is that instead of portraying Raphael as this pure scheming, one note character - is flipped on it's head by making him honestly, one of the most truthful characters in the game. It's just that he's a Devil. As Korilla states when you ask her back at the brothel, "why can't Raphael just be clear with me if we are on the same team?" she tells you as if explaining that the sky is blue…

"He's a Devil. It's in his nature. He has to make his dues."

This speaks of how ancient and deeply rooted these laws and systems work in their universe. Typically, characters says stuff like this to be hyperbolic/dramatic. But in the case of Raphael as a Devil, she means this literally, as souls keep the Hells functionable, and as we know by now, souls = power, and more power = more freedom.

Now, to address the epilogue and what happens if you do make the pact with him and delivered upon your promise. He comes to you and tells you that he and his forces are already taking over Avernus and overthrew Zariel. He tells you that he has various archdevils already coming to him to make concessions, his father included. He also tells you that he'll be knocking on your door soon. This is open to interpretation, but remember he has sworn to you during your deal that he would never use the Crown on a mortal (trust me, with his obsession with the Hells and how he envisioned on ruling it, in his own words "more order, efficiency, and control", he is definitely more interested in dominating the Hells only, it's too much work anyhow to be interested in anything else. Also he swore to you as part of the contract, he literally cannot break this, if he does, it's immediate punishment for him, so he's not lying). So, more than likely, he finds you to be a very important potential ally to further work with in the future. Also, depending on how early you signed the contract, his tone/line can be interpreted VERY differently.

Now here's the most interesting part… if you aren't familliar with D&D lore, that epilogue would lead you to believe "oh damn he's going to be ruler of the Nine Hells just like he wanted, good for him", but that's easier said than done. Because not only the deeper the Hells go, the more powerful these archdevils will be. I have no trepidation about him defeating them or them conceding to him, that's already happening. The one obstacle he truly needs to worry about… is the keeper of the Ninth Hell, the ruler of all the Nine Hells of Baator, Asmodeus. The creator and overlord himself. Just to give you a concept of how the power levels work in D&D… level 12 and above, are almost levels of godhood. Think the likes of Hercules. At the level Asmodeus is at, however, a former deity (speculative) and creator of the laws and system that permits the balance of life and the universe itself, Raphael even with the Crown will have… a VERY slim chance of overruling him. At the very least he could take over the other realms or instill his way of order and control, and appeal to Asmodeus, because funny enough, Asmodeus' personality and behaviour and goals is VERY similar and akin to Raphael's (Asmodeus is the primal embodiment of Lawful Evil and a supreme strategist of unparalleled skill. He's good at warfare but even better at words, planning, and subterfuge). Another thing is Raphael might even change his own mind, because Asmodeus isn't just the ruler of the Hells, his primary existence is to keep the balance of life and death and the existing universe in check. I personally don't see Raphael being interested in such a huge responsibility but that's another topic for another day.

Another fun fact, many of the characters in D&D are existing characters in various cultural stories/mythologies. Many of the archdevils included with the likes of Mephistopheles, Baalzebub, Mammon, and yes even Asmodeus. The writers most likely looked to biblical texts for inspiration of Raphael, but the irony is they took the one famous character in Christian biblical text, Raphael, who is not a devil, but an archangel and then flipped that character on its head. One of archangel Raphael's most famous stories is literally called, 'the Battle Against Asmodeus', where Raphael fights against Asmodeus, a fallen cherub and dubbed, "personal adversary" of Raphael. What's even cooler? The battle was not one of might, but of intelligence, wisdom and influence. Exactly like how D&D's own Raphael and Asmodeus operate. Raphael certainly takes more after Asmodeus than he does his own father.

Speaking of which, what about his father? Raphael mentions that he was there amongst the midst of other archdevils coming to Raphael to make concessions. Raphael is smart enough to know, though, that his father is not there solely out of "you did it, my boy" or anything like that, or perceiving him as a true threat still. Besides knowing how Raphael is seen by Mephistopheles, back at the diabolisk shop, there is an orb charmed to keep an eye on Raphael at all times. If you had defeated him in House of Hope, you will witness Mephistopheles holding the broken body of Raphael over his mouth and eating him. It's a nod to 'Saturn/Kronos eating his son(s)'. Basically, if you chose this ending for Raphael, you close the circle and end this story of Jacobean tragedy of an underdog prince who has been seeking validation and freedom from the sheer inescapable nature of the Hells and it's systems. In a way Raphael also has the same themes of your other companions who are also trying to navigate their fates. Whether to repeat that cycle in perpetuity or break free of it, it all hinges upon your choices throughout this journey of Baldur's Gate 3. Basically, Mephistopheles is just waiting patiently to witness his own son's downfall should he become overzealous and overtly ambitious, before swooping in to consume his son and all that additional power for himself, power that he doesn't even need, mind you. He's just there for the vibes, and to add even more pressure on his son. Parents, amirite?

If you're on team Raphael (like me) and gave him the ending he wants, the only thing I can really say is "Good luck, little prince. I'm actually rooting for you. You're going to need it."

Will our little princeling be able to break out of his own cycle and come out on top? Will Raphael be able to even get to the ninth circle let alone confront Asmodeus? Will Raphael finally get one over his dear ol' dad? Will Raphael ever get to finally make due on his promise ("I'm a man of my word"), and have that wine with Tav?

Hard to say, for his journey is just beginning.

#Raphael #baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #bg3 raphael #baldur's gate 3 raphael #Text #bg3 hc #Again PLEASE do not come to my inbox with some contentious stuff... I KNOW how some of you think esp in a bigger fandom #I'm too old for that shit so don't even try #I'm just here to vibe and make gifs and do fanart #bg3 thoughts

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twice-inamillion · 5 months

Text

Ambush

Angst (Anguish,Fear, Embarrassment, Hate, Sadness)

Chapter 218

2935 Words

( A post Sana made might be more serious that it seems to be.)

“I was born in the Heisei era, so I am sad to see it end. I would say ‘good job’ to Heisei. Toward the first day of the new Reiwa era, I will spend the last day of Heisei with a fresh mind.”

—————

“Better write that in her own diary.” - Anon

"It was rude of her to post that.” - Anon

"They have an official Japanese Instagram account too. She should've posted it there. Not liking this at all.” -Anon

"TWICE didn't post anything on Korea's Independence Day. Why is she posting that there in all Japanese?" - Anon

“Why is she posting that if she’s working in Korea as an idol? Didn’t she have a little bit of decency?” -Anon

“If she likes Japan so much, why doesn’t she go back?” -Anon

“This comes to show that idols don’t have a brain. Doesn’t she know what she is doing? JYP really needs to have a leash on her.” -Anon

“It’s always the Japanese idols. Why don’t they go back to their own country.” -Anon

“You can tell that Sana doesn’t have any idea about Korean history even if she works in Korea. I bet she just has fun and lets herself be used by male idols. -Anon

-“Haha yeah, I bet she gets passed around by the male idols in JYP.” -Anon

-“You’re probably right. She has nothing in that brain, just sex. I bet even JYP uses her himself”- Anon.

“If I were to see her in person, I would give her a piece of mind. Korea is better than Japan.”-Anon

,-“If I see her, I would spit on her face.” -Anon

-“Instead, she would let us fuck her as an apology for being an ignorant fuck.” -Anon

“I’m with you. How about we all get together and pass her around? She’s already getting passed down by the; why male idols, why not us?” -Anon

—————-

Some of these comments were seen on the Twice Instagram post from Sana, one of Twice’s Japanese members. It spread like wildfire over the internet, with hundreds of posts from anonymous commentators.

————

“Oppa is asking if you want him to pick you two up,” as Sana reads the text from Nayeon early in the morning before flying back to Korea with Dahyun.

“No, it's okay.”

“How about the managers?”

“We’re fine. We didn’t bring a lot of stuff with us.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, Dahyun says it's okay, too.”

“Okay. See you back in the company then. Just message us when you get here.”

“Okay, see you in a few,” she said, turning off her phone before boarding the plane. She looked at Dahyun, who was in the window seat and had put on her mask to get some sleep before arriving in Korea since she had been up late the previous night.

A few hours pass, the two of them arrive at the airport. They grab their bags and head to the exit to catch a taxi.

“Want to go to the shopping center?” asks Sana.

“I don’t mind going.”

“Okay, I’ll order the taxi to take us there,” as she waves for the taxi.

The taxi arrives, and the driver asks,” Where to?” “To the shopping city that’s downtown.”

“Got it.”

The two of them enjoy a twenty-minute ride to the shopping center and pay the driver once they arrive. “Thank you for the ride.”

The first place they go to is a local restaurant that serves brunch. They enjoy their meal in a booth and talk about their upcoming events.

“I can’t wait to go to the States,” says Sana.

“You said you wanted to go to Los Angeles and New York, right?”

“Yeah, I do. I want to go and eat the food over there with Momo. She made a list of places where to eat. How about you, Dahyun?”

“Hmm… I don’t know. I want to bring Daeun, but I don’t think she will be able to handle all that traveling.”

“Jihyo and Chaeyoung’s mom said they can watch her doing it during the tour.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but still…”

The two of them continue to talk about their worries as they eat their food. They both decide to go to a couple of shops and buy something for all the members.

They pay their bill, exit the restaurant, and do a bit of window shopping. As they walk around, they see a couple of ajummas staring at them. They keep on walking and stop at an ice cream shop. Once they exit, they see the same group of ajummas sitting across one of the benches. The two of them sit at one of the many tables and enjoy their ice cream.

One of the ajummas walks towards them and asks, “Are you the Japanese idol Sana?”

Sana, with a warm smile, responds, “Yes, I am. Nice to meet you.”

Out of nowhere, the ajumma with the cup in her hand splashes her with water. “If you like Japan so much, you should go back to where you came from. This is Korea!”

Sana, frozen from what just happened, doesn’t know how to respond. Dahyun, shocked, tries to wipe Sana off with some napkins as the group of ajummas laughs with a satisfying grin.

The rest of the other women laugh and repeat what the first ajumma said and point at the soaked Sana.

“I don’t know what's going on, but let’s go, unnie,” she says as she tries to help Sana stand up. “Yeah… let’s go.” The two of them stand up and walk toward the entrance of the shopping center. The ajummas follow and harass Sana as they walk behind her, attracting a crowd of people.

“Yah! Don’t you have manners, girl? Why are you talking about Japan when this is Korea?”

“We’re not done with you!”

Sana and Dahyun don’t understand what’s going on. Why are these ajummas so upset? They get to the street and see a taxi from across the street. As they try to look both ways, one of the ajummas tries to grab Sana by the arm, but Dahyun pulls her away before she can. They ran and crossed the street in panic, but just before making it to the taxi, Sana tripped on one of the sidewalk cracks. The ajummas laugh, making Sana turn red of embarrassment before Dahyun helps her stand up.

They get into the taxi and ask the driver to head to the JYP building out of instinct. Dahyun looks at Sana who is covering her face with her hands and asks, “Are you okay, unnie?”

Sana doesn’t respond but remains with her face covered. She can hear Sana’s muffled crying and tries to comfort her, only to see her bleeding knee from the fall that just happened earlier. “Ohh no, unnie you’re bleeding.” Dahyun opened her purse, took out some sanitary wipes to clean the blood, dried it, and put on a bandaid.

Not knowing what else to do, she searches for her phone and pulls it out, only to notice that it’s still off. She turns it on and sees the amount of missed calls and messages from the members and manager unnie. She calls Nayeon, who immediately asks where they were. “Sorry unnie, we landed a while ago and just remembered to turn my phone on. Why are you all messaging us? Did something happen?”

“Wait… you don’t know?”

“No, what’s going on?”

“Is Sana with you?”

“Yeah, she’s right here with me, but she doesn’t feel good right now.”

“Oh… where are you to right now?”

“We went to a shopping center, but something happened, and now we are going to the JYP building. We are about two minutes away. Maybe.”

“Wait… don’t come here; it’s not good right now.”

“Why?”

“Actually, tell the driver to come through the back instead.”

“Okay, but what’s going on?”

“Hmm… just keep your heads down when you pass by; Jihyo and I are going to meet you at the back entrance.”

“Okay, we are turning the street right now.”

“Okay, hold on. We are going inside the elevator…”

The call cuts off, and Dahyun sees some reporters with cameras and a couple of people with signs. She looks and reads the signs and is upset with what she sees. She grabs Sana’s hand and places Sana’s head on her chest to prevent her from looking.

The driver pulls up to the back of the parking lot where Nayeon, Jihyo, and manager unnie are waiting. They help Sana out of the car as manager unnie brings up their belongs and pays for the fare.

“What’s going on?” asks Dahyun.

“We’ll talk about it when we get to the practice room,” says Jihyo.

They make their way to the practice room, where the rest of the members are waiting. Some of them, like Momo, notice the scrape on Sana’s knee and ask what happened. Sana immediately begins to cry, remembering the event from earlier. Dahyun recalls what happened, from the nasty ajumma who threw water at her for no reason, getting followed by the elderly group, and her falling and scraping her knee while everyone was looking.

The members look upset about Sana’s experience and try to comfort her, and Nayeon and Jihyo pull Dahyun to the side.

They explain that last night, Sana uploaded a post welcoming the new Reiwa era on the Twice Official page, and some people were offended and posted hateful comments. Nayeon shows Dahyun her phone, showing the comments from the hateful people. Dahyun can’t help but feel upset that she couldn’t do anything to protect her earlier. The members try to comfort and get her mind off the situation. They play a couple of games and watch videos in the practice room before heading home.

———-

The members arrive home and get together to make Sana her favorite dishes. Jeongyeon, Momo, and Tzuyu work in the kitchen as the rest of the members hang out in the living room. They try to keep Sana off her phone and entertained as much as possible. Once dinner is ready, they call everyone to the table and show off their cooking skills, which have been improving.

Once they are done, some of them stay at the table while the rest go to the living room and watch the kids play. Sana can’t help but think about the incident earlier today and starts to space out, but she is interrupted when Ari comes waddling to Sana and throws herself at her.

“Awww, Ari, I love you very much! Thank you for cheering me up!”

With a smile, Ari pats Sana’s head and places herself between Sana’s legs. They watch Jisoo running around the carpet and throwing herself at the rest of the members. It is only when the kids begin to yawn that they all decide to head back to their rooms and get ready for bed.

“Bye Bye,” waves to Ari to Sana as she walks towards Mina’s bedroom. She kneels down and waves goodbye, “Bye-bye. Good night.”

Ari smiles and waddles to Sana, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Surprised, Sana picks her up, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and hugs her tightly.

After leaving her room, she gets ready for bed and takes a hot shower to relax after a terrible day. She still remembers the event from the afternoon and asks herself why it happened. Stepping out of the shower, she sat on her bed before drying her hair and pulling up her phone. Sana notices that her phone has been off the whole time and turns it on after not having used it for the whole day. As she turns it on and watches a couple of YouTube videos on perfumes and baby clothing before watching a movie. After a couple of hours of being on her phone, she decides to go to sleep, but not before going on Twitter and seeing if anything is interesting. She apps the app notices the newest trends and sees that her name is ranked high. She clicks on it and sees people commenting on her most recent post on Instagram.

Sana scrolled down and read every post; little by little, she began to tear up by the hateful comments. She can’t seem to understand how people can be so mean and hurtful to someone. She didn’t think uploading a Reiwa-era post would get negative attention.

“Why are they so mean?”

“If I knew people were going to get mad, I wouldn’t have posted it.”

The more she reads, the more emotional she gets until she can’t help but cry herself to sleep.

The next day, Sana wakes up at noon and sees new articles talking about her post, attracting more attention. This time, she sees the post on the Twice Instagram page with Once and anons arguing with each other. “Please don’t fight with each other,” she begs as she tries not to comment on the post and make it worse.

She gets called down for breakfast by the members and notices the bags under her eyes from her crying as she makes her way to the table. They try to comfort her as much as possible, but once she takes a bite of the food, she stands up with her hand covering her mouth and runs to the bathroom. Some of the members follow her to the bathroom and see her gagging and throwing up in the toilet. Momo holds her hair and pats her back as Sana throws up. “It’s okay, Sana, we’re here for you.” Sana turns around, looks up at them, and begins to cry.

Jihyo and Momo help her get up and wipe the leftover residue off her lips. Jihyo notices Sana’s blushed cheeks, touches her forehead, and sees how hot she is. “Sana, you’re burning up!”

They help her to her room and tuck her back in. Dahyun stays behind and tries to make her as comfortable as possible while Jihyo comes back with some items to make her fever go down. Jihyo and Dahyun stay with her for a while. She falls asleep, and they check up on her every so often to change the towel on her forehead.

————

Sana wakes up a bit after midnight, hurting after being asleep for half a day. She makes her way from her bed and wakes towards the bathroom. She looks at herself in the mirror with pale skin. She washes her face and complains about how awful she looks. Sana sits on the toilet and tries to pee, only for her to feel a slight pain in her pelvic area. She touches her pelvis and applies a slight pressure, only to feel a bit of pain.

Sana finishes, stands up, and immediately feels dizzy. She leads on the sink, closes her eyes, and tries to relax. After her dizziness slowly faded, she washed her hands and returned to bed. She covers herself with her blankets, stares at the ceiling to clear her mind, and falls asleep.

Only being asleep for about two hours, Sana wakes up in pain, crying. Her heart is beating fast, and her pelvic area is hurting much more than before.

“Ouch, it hurts.” she has her hands around her stomach in pain. Sana tries to get up from her bed, but the pain gets stronger as she lifts herself, “Owww!”

She tries multiple times to get up from her bed, but every time she tries, the pain comes. Wanting to use the restroom, she looks for her phone and searches around her bed. She finds her phone and texts Momo, but she doesn’t respond. Sana calls Nayeon, who picks up her phone, “Sana, what’s up? It’s two in the morning.”

“Unnie, help me. I’m trying to use the restroom, but I can’t get up.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there.”

Nayeon hung up the phone and turned on the lamp across her bed to search for her slippers. Jeongyeon turns over and slowly opens her eyes to the light, “Nayeon, what time is it?”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Hmm… okay. You going to the bathroom?”

“No, Sana called me and said that she’s having a hard time getting up and wants to use the restroom, so she called me and asked if I could help her.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll come with you then. Jihyo said she had a fever, so she might need some help.”

“Thanks.”

The two of them make their way to Sana’s room and hear a crying Sana. “Sana, what’s wrong?”

“My tummy hurts, and I really need to pee.”

Nayeon walks into the dark room towards Sana and extends her arm. With the light from the hallway, Sana grabs Nayeon’s hand and helps her stand up. Sana moans in pain, but with the assistance of Nayeon, she’s able to get up.

Sana and Nayeon walk slowly to the restroom before Sana asks, “Jeongyeon, would you mind getting my scrunchie? It should be somewhere on my bed.”

“Yeah, sure.” Jeongyeon enters the room, turns on the light, walks to Sana’s bed, and looks on top of the blanket but sees nothing. She turns over the heavy blanket and covers her mouth at the sight of her bed, completely wet.

Suddenly, Jeongyeon hears Sana scream from the bathroom and rushes towards the two of them, “What happened?”

“There’s blood” as Sana looks at the Nayeon and Jeongyeon with a terrified expression.

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