#And sometimes even when they tell you they will not tell you clearly!

[ellecdc]

Hi Elle I would love a lil fic with pregnancy scare with Sirius?

thanks for your request! I hope I did it justice <3

Sirius Black x fem!reader who has a pregnancy scare [1.3k words]

CW: pregnancy tests, stress over possible pregnancy, reader is of the mind that she doesn't want to be pregnant (right now or ever is up to interpretation)

It was almost a welcome reprieve to know that the nausea you were currently experiencing was the effect of nerves and not…other reasons.

You hadn’t been nauseous, that’s not why you were here - here being perched on the edge of the bathtub after having urinated into a cup and following the instructions of the pregnancy test now sitting on the bathroom counter as you waited your allotted five minutes. 

You had been late - that was why you were here on the edge of a bathtub as you waited for the piece of plastic to tell you whether or not you were…pregnant. 

Your cycle had always been like clockwork - you could sometimes expect your period down to the minute (an exaggeration, of course, but still) so by the time you were three days late you were officially panicking. 

You didn’t know what you were going to say to Sirius; you wondered if the test came back negative if you would need to say anything at all. Well, other than a warning that the two of you should be more careful going forward. 

But before you had a chance to consider your options, you heard the door to your flat open followed by a quick “hey doll!” as Sirius returned from a pickup game with James.

You called out a quick “hey” in return, wincing at the crack in your voice as your throat was taught with anxiety.

You could hear him following the sound of your voice up the stairs before bodily slamming into the bathroom door that he clearly expected to be open.

“Did…did you lock the door?” He asked incredulously, giving the handle a shake as if to prove his theory. “You did lock the door!”

“Sirius, there are locks on bathroom doors for a reason.” You replied, earning you a derisive scoff.

“Not in our house there isn’t! What’s the deal?”

“There’s no deal.”

“Uhm… There's clearly a deal. Let me in.” He stated simply.

“Sirius, what if I’m pooping?”

A pause.

“Are you pooping?”

You paused in return.

“Come on babe.” He whined dramatically and you could hear him lean heavily against the door. “Why’re you shutting me out like this?”

And you knew from his over dramatic tone that he was only teasing you, but his words struck a nerve.

“I thought we were in this together?” He lamented, and your resolve broke.

You were partners, you were in this together as he said. And you supposed that this affected him just as much as it affected you, even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

You reached over and unlocked the door, holding your breath as you watched him open the door.

“There you are! I was getting wo- what’s going on?” His usual salacious persona falling immediately when he spotted you on the edge of the tub. “Baby, are you okay?”

You had your hand over your mouth as your chin rested in your palm, and you nodded the best as you could as your eyes flooded with tears.

“Baby.” He cooed. “What’s-” his questioning cut short as his eyes surveyed the bathroom and fell on the test.

The silence felt suffocating as he gathered his own thoughts, eyes glued to the test as if he was worried it would disappear should he look away from it.

He did finally - look away from it, that is - in order to look at you; his expression oozing both shock and sympathy. 

He rushed forward to press a forceful kiss into the side of your head as if he was trying to give you strength by means of his lips before he turned and fled from the bathroom.

You could nearly picture his every move as you listened to him flit around your bedroom; he disposed of his gym bag in the closet before stripping off his sweaty clothes, slipping into fresh clothes before tying his hair up and spaying some cologne on his person - you teasingly complained of him smelling like sweat one time when he didn’t shower immediately after a game, and he’d done the same thing ever since. 

He reappeared then, seemingly out of breath but with a look of pure determination on his face. Fuck you loved him so much. 

“How long has it been?” He asked you quietly, though his eyes were on the test. 

You tried to clear your throat and wiped away a few tears that had escaped your waterline. “I…don’t know, probably about five minutes now.”

Sirius nodded his head and stepped towards the counter, holding the test in his hands with the gentleness one would use to handle a baby bird. 

And he didn’t say anything. 

“Siri?”

He looked over at you with furrowed brows and an unreadable expression that had you standing in record time to rip it out of his hands.

Positive. 

No.

“No…” You let out in a breath, shaky hands dropping the test and causing it to clatter in the sink as you quickly fell to your knees.

“No no no.” You chanted as you dug through the lower cabinets for the box of tests you thought you’d only need to take one of and ripping the package open so violently that they all came flying out. 

You started pulling the tabs off of the ends and following the instructions you’d read previously, thankful you didn’t have the wherewithal to dispose of your previous cup before.

“Hey, hey, babe, hang on. Y/N, slow down.” Sirius encouraged gently, placing a hand on each of your shoulders as he stood above you, watching you start three more tests. “Slow down, it’s alright.”

“It’s not alright.” You whimpered, trying and failing to place the lids back on them with shaking hands before a set of tattooed hands took over for you.

“It is alright; it’s okay.” He murmured. “We don’t need to rush.”

He lined the tests up on the counter beneath the positive one before sitting on the ground with his back against the tub and pulling you in between his legs. 

“It’s alright.” He whispered into your hair, and the two of you sat there in silence; the only sounds coming from the street below you, your breathing in sync, and the occasional sound of his hand drawing lines up and down your arm. 

You’re not sure how much time had passed, but Sirius seemed to be of the mind that the two of you would sit here until you felt ready to check, so you sucked in a breath and stood on shaky legs. 

You stared dumbly at the four tests, one old and three new, as if it were a particularly difficult maths equation.

“Baby?” Sirius murmured softly before standing to join you, reading the results over your shoulder as his hands returned to your sides. 

“Okay?” He whispered into your neck as he draped himself over you, your eyes welling with tears again for a new reason.

“Okay.” You agreed.

“It was probably just a false positive, yeah?”

You nodded quickly and wiped at your eyes before turning in his embrace to hug him back.

“I’m sorry.”

He swayed the two of you back and forth as he rested his cheek on your head. “What’re you sorry for?”

“Stressing you out over nothing.” You explained, earning you a hum of disagreement. 

“Wasn’t nothing.” He said simply. “And you shouldn’t have had to stress out about it by yourself; I’m sorry.” 

“It was my fault, I didn’t tell you.”

He pulled back enough to take the side of your face in each of his hands as his grey eyes flit between yours as he stared at you imploringly. “Promise to tell me sooner next time? Please? Whatever the outcome, we’re in it together, yeah? We’ll do it together.”

And though you weren’t sure exactly what the future held for the two of you, you had to agree that together sounded like the best way to do it.

[ebongawk]

ok ok ok ok ok HOW ABOUT a drunken kiss with hellcheer 👀 and if u make it sad so help me god i WILL fly to u and beat ur ass

4. A Drunken Kiss

They were playing fucking spin the bottle.

What kind of full-fledged high school seniors played spin the bottle? Wasn't that reserved for, like, thirteen-year-olds? But Stacie Mancini had drunkenly shouted, "Oh, my God, we should play a game!" and someone had suggested this, so now a bunch of almost-twenty-somethings were gathered in a half-assed circle as an empty bottle of vodka spun around and around.

Stacie landed on Andy Fuckface, and she looked mildly disgusted, which. Good for her. She still sucked his face for a solid five seconds. Andy landed on Tracy Mathews, Tracy landed on Jason Carver. Jason didn't even look at his fucking girlfriend before he stuck his tongue down Tracy's throat.

Chrissy, for all intents and purposes, looked like she didn't even want to be there. She flinched when Jason leaned toward the center, but otherwise made no show of being an active participant in the game.

And Eddie, with his front row seat to the action from the dealer's perch in the corner, had to wonder why no one seemed to fucking notice how uncomfortable she was.

Staying sober for these gigs was a goddamn chore. While it used to be fun to watch the chaos and debauchery unfold, being privy to the disgusting nature of inebriated human teenagers got old.

Maybe he was a little cynical. Because this shit had stopped being fun around the exact same time he caught the aforementioned Ball-Fondling Carver sneaking upstairs at a different party with Theresa Peretti.

It was the first and only time he'd ever considered getting involved.

Like, okay, so maybe sometimes he felt a little bad when he caught people who had significant others mackin' on those who were not the aforementioned significant others. But fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys, right?

He'd ruined that little unspoken rule of his that Monday at school. Seeking Chrissy out, small and drawn and sad as she was, and had straight up told her what he saw. No beating around the bush, no bullshitting.

Whether or not that had anything to do with the fact that Chrissy treated him like an actual human being was meaningless.

She'd just blinked at him. Then, instead of the anger or upset he'd been expecting, she let out this vague little laugh.

"Oh. Um. Thanks, Eddie, but... Could you maybe keep this between us?"

"What? Did you hear me, Cunningham? That asshole--"

"No, I know. And, truly, I appreciate you telling me. Just... Just trust me, okay? I'll handle it."

He'd wanted to scream. To rip his own hair out and throw it at her like that would lift the starry-eyed curtain she was clearly hiding behind. But that was, like, two months ago, and he still saw her tucked under Carver's arm day in and day out, so Eddie had resigned himself to bearing witness to her silent suffering on the off chance he caught a glimpse of her in the hallway or any of their shared classes.

Why the fuck anyone would stay with a whole ass cheater made no sense, so Eddie stopped trying to understand the popularity masses.

"Oh, shit, that's pointing at the freak," someone whispered, drawing Eddie's attention out of his own head and back into Chance Kinicki's hazy basement. He blinked, meeting Chrissy's gaze from the other side of the room, and put the pieces together.

It had finally been her turn to spin the bottle, and it had landed between two of the nearer bodies and was trained on him.

Which. What the fuck.

"Nah, man, let her spin again," Carver slurred, waving a loose wrist in the air. "She's not gonna lock lips with trash. Right, babe?"

Oh, he was such an asshole. Eddie wanted to knock him down a peg or five. Preferably while sober, so he wouldn't have the excuse of his intoxication to blame getting his ass handed to him by quote-end-quote trash.

Chrissy said nothing. She just stared at him, wearing something in her expression that Eddie couldn't identify. After a few tense, quiet seconds, Chrissy stood, stumbling a little through her own drunkenness, and made her way across the room. Shaking off Jason's grabby hands as she stepped around people and bottles before coming to a swaying stop directly in front of Eddie.

"Hi," she muttered, looking down at him with ruddy cheeks and glassy eyes.

Shit. Shit. What the fuck was happening? Eddie's hands twitched where they were sitting on his thighs, staring up at her like she was an angel come to deliver some new commandment.

Thou Shalt Not Lust After Unattainable Girls Who Are a Little Too Intoxicated to Make a Rational Decision. Or something.

"Uh," he managed, the word strangled up from his throat like she'd wrapped her dainty little fists around it. Like all of his oxygen already belonged to her. Fuck, all the oxygen in the room belonged to her. "Hey, Cunningham."

"'M supposed to kiss you," she continued, tilting her head to one side as her eyes wandered along the grooves of his face. Settling on his lips once she'd taken her fill. "The game says so."

"I wasn't playing the game, princess," Eddie reminded her gently, glancing around her to see the audience watching them with rapt eyes.

Chrissy just shrugged. Like that was enough of an explanation.

"That's okay," she answered. "The bottle knew, Eddie. Right? It knew that I..."

Then, before he could react or breathe or fucking think, she was petting his hair back from his face, leaning down, and pressing a slow, soft kiss right to his lips. Like a fucking deer in the middle of the road, he froze, unable to parse together half a thought that wasn't whoa.

Fucking fireworks.

He finally got enough wits about himself to pull away, because she was drunk and he wasn't and none of this was right, which wasn't fair but that was neither here nor there.

"Oh," she breathed, blinking at him, some of the haze in her eyes clearing. Her cheeks had gone even pinker, lips still half-puckered like she wanted to lean back in and taste him all over again.

"Hey!" Jason barked, struggling to stand from the floor, blazing eyes staring daggers at Eddie. "Get off her, freak!"

Dude, he wasn't even touching her.

"Shove it, Jason," Chrissy responded before Eddie could ask him if he was serious. She leaned toward Eddie, half-shielding him with her body, and he really thought she was gonna fall into his lap, she was so goddamn unsteady. She managed to stay firmly planted, using a hand on his shoulder to keep herself straight, and actually stuck her tongue out at her boyfriend.

Eddie wanted to die, it was so fucking cute.

"Babe--"

"I'm dumping you."

The fucking gasps that erupted across the room were actually comical. Eddie couldn't have stopped himself from laughing if he'd tried. Which, he did not, because it was too goddamn funny. The cackle he let out drew the attention to him, but, Jesus, fucking worth it.

Before he realized what was even happening, Chrissy was taking his hand, pulling him along behind her as she escaped up the stairs. Her considerable strength barely gave him a moment to grab his box of tricks as she hauled him from his gig as the weekend fun-bringer.

Why he was part of her little storm-out, he couldn't explain. But he wasn't exactly unhappy about it, either. As it was, for effect, he raised a devil horn at Jason's flabbergasted glare on his way out.

"Wow," Chrissy said as they escaped into the chilly April night. "Wow! I just did that!"

"Yeah, uh––"

"Oh, shoot, we gotta get outta here," Chrissy stated, glancing back over her shoulder. Grimacing and rushing him toward his van just as the front door of Chance's house swung open, an absolutely irate Carver standing in the muted light.

They ran, Chrissy surprisingly steady on her feet, and laughed the whole way to his van. He unlocked the passenger seat, diving across the center console and yanking Chrissy in after him. Carver had slipped at one point, the alcohol probably rushing around painfully in his head, and was struggling back to his feet just as the rest of the laundry basket team finally came out. Chance and Patrick were both obviously trying to hold back their laughter, but Eddie didn't bother finding out what happened next.

He started the van and peeled the fuck outta there.

Chrissy was still laughing, although it was much quieter now. No longer filling the night air with little tinkling notes of her joy, it was more like the soft music of wind chimes outside. Following them as they ate a few miles of concrete in the otherwise sleepy town.

"So, uh. You want me to take you home, or––?"

"No." He kinda expected her to be staring out the windshield or her window, but instead she was looking directly at him. Not offering him a modicum of relief from the weight of her gaze. "I do not want to go home like this, Eddie."

"Uh..."

"Can we, like, go to the lake or something? Please?"

Well, how the fuck was he supposed to say no to that?

The back of the van was stuffed full of blankets, pillows, a mattress from Gareth's younger brother's bunk bed and a few couch cushions off the spare couch on the porch, because he and the guys had gone down to Indianapolis to see Metallica during the week and had slept in the van instead of coughing up the dough for a motel room.

Chrissy made herself right at home, making the bed until it was nice and soft before throwing open the back doors of the van where he'd parked at Rick's house. Staring out over the lake as it twinkled with starlight. Like a bunch of white Christmas lights were hidden beneath the lapping waves.

He sat next to her, trying to breathe around the way she cuddled into him like she fit right in the circle of his arms. Which. Yeah. She did, but if he thought about it too much, he'd drive himself crazy, so.

They talked a little bit about how she'd just publicly dumped her boyfriend. About how relieved she was, now that the farce was finally over, because she'd been wanting to do that since way before he told her about the cheating. How happy she was to be there with him.

Which. He didn't know how to comprehend that, really. So he let it sit in the air, soft and gentle as the breeze that made music of the leaves outside, and breathed it in. Pulling it into his lungs like her little admission would coast through the oxygen in his blood and make itself part of his fucking DNA.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

God, how was she so cute? The sleepy cadence of her tone, still slightly slurred with alcohol.

Shit. Denying her felt stupid as fuck.

"Ask me again when you're sober, yeah?" he said, desperately playing at lighthearted. "Might change your mind in daylight."

"Mmm," she hummed, her voice so fucking adorable. "Doubt it."

Hand to God, he hadn't fucking meant to fall asleep. He didn't know where Chrissy lived, exactly, but he figured he'd let her sleep off the drunk for a little bit before he roused her awake and got her address.

Yeah. Stupid move on his part, awakening when the sun hit his eyes first thing in the morning.

Because now he knew, intimately, the way Chrissy blinked back into consciousness in the morning light. The way the sun's rays, just barely peeking up over the wooded horizon, hit her hair and made it glow like fire. The way she sniffled, looking around in confusion before her eyes landed on him.

The way she smiled, bright enough that her eyes slipped closed and her nose scrunched up.

"Morning," she breathed, rolling over from where she'd been plastered to his side so she could stretch. Said so casually, like she wasn't ruining his entire fucking life just by existing.

"Uh," he started, his voice gravelly. Half-choked and terribly embarrassing. "Morning, Cunningham. Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Chrissy hummed, finished with her stretching. Then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she rolled right back into him. Tucking her face into his shoulder for effect.

Yeah. He was dead. He'd, at some point between school yesterday and Chance Kinicki's house, died, and now he was having those crazy imaginations where his unstated dreams were coming true.

"'S'okay," Chrissy mumbled into his chest. Prompting him to wrap his arms back around her. Because why the fuck not? "I, um. I definitely didn't mind."

Yeah. Heart attack. Stroke. Car accident. Something.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yep?" God, the way his voice broke, you'd think he was going through fucking puberty again.

"Can I kiss you again now?" A breath, like she heard the way his goddamn heart skipped a beat, before she added, "I promise I'm sober now."

Oh fuck him.

"You, uh––" He coughed, clearing his throat. "You actually want to?"

Shit, she giggled, and he fucking felt it against his ribs.

"Yeah," she said, easy as pie. Easy as Sunday morning. Easy as anything. "Yeah, I've, um. I've wanted to for, like, a while now."

He would've sworn he felt Cupid's arrow hit his blackened little heart.

"Chrissy, you can kiss me whenever you want," he croaked. "Like, uh. Now, later, tomorrow. Y'know. Open real estate here for you."

Christ, that giggle. He wanted to swallow her whole.

She tilted her chin back, that gorgeous grin lighting up his dingy van better than any spotlight ever could.

"That's good," she murmured, staring up at him. "'Cause I get the feeling I'll take you up on every offer."

Jesus Christ, he hoped so.

(And she did.)

kiss prompt!

(and a very happy birthday to @astorytotellyourfriends 😘🩷🖤)

[ssa-dado]

1 - Orchids & Knots

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: A young profiler, recently recruited by Jason Gideon, joins the BAU and works with experienced agents, including Hotch and Rossi, on a challenging case involving a methodical killer. Despite initial nervousness, you start to bond with Hotch through wit and shared work ethic, revealing unexpected personal sides along the intense investigation.

Warnings: Usual CM case described in detail, hideous use of one bedroom trope, Gissi implied as a joke

Word Count: 4.1k

Dado's Corner: first part of the upcoming series! Still have no clue of how many parts it could have, just expect a very slow burn. My other fic - Symposium (definitely not platonic love) - is part of the same universe, hence why reader is still a philosophy enthusiast. You can enjoy this pilot as its own or read it before or after Symposium. You do you. Again, I'm aware there might be some mistakes as English isn't my first language so bear with me.

part zero - reading optional, but strongly advised ; part two

Everyone who knew you had assumed you'd take an academic route in your professional life, perhaps becoming a professor or researcher, but something you couldn’t explain had always pulled you toward the darker corners of human behavior.

You weren't satisfied with just understanding the human mind, you wanted to see what happened when it broke.

Now, you were standing still on the elevator on your way to meet Jason Gideon, the legend who had recruited you after being impressed by your sharp mind during a lecture he held at the academy.

Maybe it was because of your passion to philosophy that made you a natural curious person, always asking – sometimes asking way too many – questions, never taking anything for granted.

After that lecture you understood that profiling was a subject that rewarded what many considered to be one of your most annoying flaws. Hence why another reason you probably decide to follow that specific path, out of all the others: you wanted to prove everyone wrong.

What many didn’t see though - and most of the times you didn’t even realise yourself - is that you questioned yourself and your decisions more than anything else. Although for once, trusting more your instincts rather than your reasoning to decide to work at the Bureau, somehow sweetly felt right.

“Y/N, right?” A deep voice cut through your thoughts. You turned to see Gideon standing beside a tall man, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit. His expression appeared stoic, yet his eyes - sharp and calculated - were the most striking feature about him, even more than the smoke coming from his ears as he was focusing all of his energies on you to read through your façade.

As you entered the barely lit bullpen, the weight of the moment hit you. The room was filled with agents, all seasoned professionals busy with their work, pouring over case files, dissecting behavioral patterns, and speaking in hushed tones about suspects and profiles. Their years of experience were palpable, but instead of shrinking, you felt a quiet resolve. You were aware you had something unique to offer - not to be cocky about it - and Gideon clearly thought so too, otherwise you wouldn’t be there.

You were trying your best to be as neutral as possible but you couldn’t deny you immediately felt a wave of adrenaline coursing through you. Knowing you were standing before one most formidable profilers the FBI had ever known and next to him the one you hypothesised to be the Bureau’s next rising star. There wouldn’t be any other plausible reasons for him to stand so close to Gideon otherwise, you thought.

“Yes, sir,” you responded, willing yourself to keep calm. Gideon had introduced you to the mystery man next to him – SSA Aaron Hotchner – or you-can-call-me-Hotch; For a moment you felt so uncool for not having a nickname yourself.

Hotch studied you further for a moment, his face unreadable, but you could tell he was intrigued. His nod was brief, but it felt like a form of acknowledgment.

Gideon smiled warmly. “Good to see you again, Y/N. I’ve been just telling Hotch here about your academic work, very impressive stuff. I’m sure the mix of philosophy, linguistics and psychology will give you quite of a unique lens for profiling.”

“Welcome to the team,” Hotch said simply, though his tone carried weight. With just a sentence he made sure to remind you that you weren’t just another recruit, you were expected to contribute. You hoped his remark would just point out at the overall high expectations everyone had of you, instead of him questioning your presence here due to your young age, less than a week passed from your 21st birthday.

"Thank you," you said, trying to balance out with professionalism. "I’m eager to get started."

Gideon gestured for you to follow him. "Come on, there’s someone else I want you to meet. David Rossi."

Your heart raced. David Rossi, the legend who had co-founded the BAU with the man standing next to you. The picture of you working with him felt surreal. As you, Hotch, and Gideon made your way to Rossi’s office, you could feel Hotch’s eyes still occasionally flicking toward you, still assessing, still quiet. His silence felt deliberate, as though he wanted to see how you carried yourself before making any judgments.

When you entered Rossi’s office, he looked up from his desk, his dark eyes locking onto yours. His presence was formidable, the kind of aura that came from decades of experience. For a brief moment, you felt like he was already profiling you, dissecting every nuance of your appearance and demeanor. Then, his face broke into a bright grin, and he stood, extending his hand.

"So, you’re the philosophy kid," Rossi said, his voice gruff but warm. "Gideon’s been talking your ear off about you."

Philosophy kid, as if you didn’t feel odd enough.

You shook his hand. "That’s me. Nice to meet you, Agent Rossi."

You smiled at that, already feeling some of the tension ebbing away in his presence. There was something about Rossi’s bluntness that was oddly reassuring. He was a man who spoke his mind, no pretense, no games.

"Dave," he corrected, flashing a grin. "‘Agent Rossi’ makes me sound like I could be your nonno. You can call me Dave."

"So, Gideon tells me you speak sixteen languages?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow. "How come? Ever consider becoming a spy?"

"Bisnonno" He quickly grinned, you had just entered his office and already flexing your Italian, he teased you first though. "Got it, Dave.". If there would have been one thing you had learnt throughout the brief 2 minutes you’ve been working at the BAU, is that profilers were no joke about their nicknames.

You laughed softly. "I was raised in a bilingual household, I have a thing for languages"

Hotch, who had been quiet up until now, finally spoke. "It’ll definitely come in handy in the field. We deal with a lot of international cases."

His voice was calm, measured. Although you had read his file; Hotch wasn’t just any profiler - he was methodical, relentless, and someone who had climbed the ranks through sheer dedication. His seriousness wasn’t arrogance, but a reflection of his deep commitment to the job.

Rossi leaned back slightly, his eyes now flicking over your outfit, your well-fitted total black three-piece suit. “I’ll say, I didn’t expect someone at 21 to show up looking more polished than half of the bureau. You sure you’re not here to give a lecture?”

You chuckled, feeling some of the tension melt away. "This is just my definition of business casual”

Gideon smiled but quickly shifted back to business. “I brought the two of you here in Dave’s office because we just got a tough case” He says gesturing towards you and Hotch “And I want all of us to be working together in on it”.

Rossi laughed, clearly enjoying your response. "Gideon, I think you found someone who might out-dress me."

Normally at the BAU they would either work solo or in pairs, sometimes they would even assest the case from the comfort of their own desk there in Quantico, if travelling was not deemed crucial to build the profile. Only when crime would be particularly complex, they would quicky assemble a team, a small task-force of sorts, take their go-bag with them and travel all across the country struggling more with the train connections rather than with the criminals themselves.

You ironically told yourself that there wouldn’t be a much better start on your new job, your heart raced with anticipation. "What’s the case?" You asked trying to mask the slight feeling of anxiety rushing through your veins.

In a matter of seconds, Gideon quicky exited the office and had already came back firmy holding a bunch of manila folders. He handed you a thick case file, and as you flipped through it, your stomach slightly churned, reminding you this wasn’t these weren’t just pictures on your textbooks.

The unsub had left seven bodies in three states, all bound with intricate knots, posed in ritualistic displays. Each victim had an orchid placed delicately on their chest, and despite the grotesque nature of the crimes, you found there was an eerie beauty in how the unsub treated his victims.

"The knots," Gideon explained, pointing to a photograph. "They’re not random. Each one is different, and each one requires a high level of skill. The unsub is precise, organized, and deliberate. He’s treating these murders like a performance."

These killings to you were manifest of the deeply rooted paradox in human experience - beauty and pain - where both often coexist or follow each other closely. You always found amusing how beauty, whether in art, nature, or human life, often emergeed through struggle or suffering.

You looked closely at the images, analyzing the intricacies of the knots, you feel the need to add something else. "It’s not just performance - it’s communication. The knots are sending a message. He’s not killing out of anger. There’s patience here. He wants control, and the orchids, those suggest he sees the victims as fragile, beautiful objects to be perfected, but ultimately destroyed."

Even historically, humankind tended to these opposites because they reflect the full range of life’s complexities, as joy often emerges from pain, and suffering can heighten the appreciation of beauty. You kept the philosophical monologue to yourself, you definitely didn’t want to reinforce even more the prejudice your teammates could already have on you, the lack of field expertise overly compensated by the knowledge of human nature.

Hotch leaned forward, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "He’s someone with discipline, military or maybe maritime experience. The variety of knots points to a deeper knowledge of how they work. He’s not just tying them for show. He’s someone who understands the function of every twist and turn."

Rossi smiled at your analysis, clearly impressed. "Not bad. Not bad at all, philosopher. " You now started to suspect Gideon had overly gushed about this particular part of your background as it seemed to be the only thing your new co-workers remembered about you.

You nodded, your mind racing. "And the orchids, they aren’t just decorative. He’s choosing them for a reason. Orchids are notoriously difficult to grow. They’re delicate but require meticulous care, which suggests he sees himself as a cultivator. He picks his victims carefully, like someone choosing a rare flower, and when they don’t live up to his standards, he... prunes them."

The team continued to build the profile, each member adding layers of complexity. The unsub’s background became clearer: someone with a need for control, a perfectionist likely with some connection to floristry or horticulture. You felt a growing sense of camaraderie as you offered ideas and bounced theories off Hotch, who slowly began engaging with you more directly.

“They do act like an old married couple” Hotch hums in a low voice while pointing at Rossi and Gideon vividly arguing far away from the two of you about something you couldn’t grasp yet. You immediately chuckle at the sight, appreciating Hotch’s efforts to bond with you yet still being very reserved and shielding himself through his rare jokes.

A few days into the investigation, you found yourself paired with Hotch all the times, a tactic you knew Gideon pulled just to make you feel the most at ease, despite the overly reserved nature of your partner.

He continued, “See, they might made you think the fraternization rules exist because of Dave, what they didn’t tell you is that he’s probably secretly married with Gideon and apparently the latter today forgot about their anniversary”. You tried your best not to burst into laughing as the Italian man furiously walked towards the two of you, Gideon quick on his feet following him with an apologetic look on his face. Damn, Hotch might have been right, the similarities in the physical language to the scenario he previously mentioned was uncanny.

“The Bureau changed our accommodation, again.” Gideon sighed “They’ll soon send us the address, we have two rooms, two twin beds each, private bathroom” He ironically emphasised the last part, as if he was offering all of you the deal of your life.

“Budget cut again kiddos” Dave announced, oblivious of the reason why both of yours and Hotch's eyes were almost tearing up trying to hold in the laughters.

“Hood rats.” Rossi flamboyantly replied “So here’s another reason to end this case as soon as possible. Figli di puttana, There's no way I'm sleeping more with Jason rather than with my own wife”. Both you and Hotch gave each other a quick mischievous side-eye that could speak more than a thousand words. As the two of them moved away from you and Hotch enough so they wouldn’t hear your next words, you turned towards him. “Dave didn’t even offer us to sleep with him in his room, you actually might have been right all along”.

“I’m always right” He replied showing the dimples on his face.

“Typical lawyer behaviour, gaslighting their way just to be right in their own distorted reality.” You poke fun at him as you reminded he told you he used to work as a persecutor before landing into the Bureau.

Hotch definitely didn’t expect such a quick-witted comeback from you. “I wasn’t aware philosophers knew humor” he teased you.

“We patented it” you smirk.

You and Hotch later surveyed a potential crime scene—a floral shop the unsub had likely visited. As you both examined the area, you could feel Hotch's eyes on you, observing how you worked, how you processed information.

"You’re picking up on a lot for your first case," Hotch said, breaking the silence. "Most people miss the smaller details."

You looked over at him, surprised by the sudden compliment. "Thanks. I guess looking at things in an unorthodox way helps, all the hours spent on Plato apparently paid off"

Hotch nodded. "It shows. Keep it up."

Together, you reviewed the evidence, each of you adding to the emerging profile. You and Hotch began to form a pattern: he’d focus on the precision of the unsub’s actions, while you offered a more abstract perspective, thinking about the emotional motivations behind the crimes.

Later that evening, after a long day of chasing leads and trying to make sense of the tangled web the unsub had woven, you all finally were set into the new accommodation.

Despite Rossi’s earlier complaints about the budget cuts, the place wasn’t that bad - it was modest but clean, with enough space to spread out the case files and work. You and Hotch were indeed been paired up to share a room, as he previously predicted, with two twin beds crammed into a space that would feel much smaller once your notes and case materials were scattered all across the floor.

As soon as you entered the room, Hotch moved with military precision, setting down his go-bag and immediately pulling out a file. He glanced around briefly, as if taking in every detail of the room in a split second, then sat down at the small desk, already deep in thought.

You, on the other hand, sat on the edge of your bed for a moment, looking around and trying to shake off the fatigue that was creeping in. It was only your first case, and yet you felt the pressure building already - both from the weight of the crimes and from wanting to prove yourself in front of someone as formidable as Hotch. Despite the intensity of the case, you couldn’t help but be amused at the situation.

“So, do you believe their honeymoon suite is just as romantic as ours?” You asked with a smirk, hoping to lighten the mood.

Hotch didn’t look up immediately, as if puzzled on how to choose his next words, though you caught the slight twitch of his lips. “Yeah, nothing says romance like crime scene photos and case files scattered everywhere.”

You chuckled and tossed your jacket onto the back of a chair. “I always knew the FBI had a weird way of doing things, but I have to admit this is next level.”

As you pulled out the case file, flipping through the pages and studying the photos, you found it hard to concentrate, mostly because of how quiet the room turned out to become. Hotch was the kind of person whose silence seemed louder than most people’s conversations, and though you could tell he was intensely focused on the case, you sensed that he was also observing you – amazed at how it was the first time he ever saw someone overworking themselves as much as he did.

Breaking the silence, you threw a glance at him. “You ever wonder what makes someone do this? I mean, it’s one thing to read about it in a textbook, but seeing it in person…”

Hotch set his pen down and leaned back slightly in his chair, his gaze fixed on you. “Every time. You get used to it, but it never really stops affecting you.”

You nodded, taking that in. “It’s just so… deliberate. Every little detail, like the knots, the orchids, it’s like he’s creating something, not just destroying.”

Hotch’s eyes narrowed in thought, clearly impressed by your analysis. “That’s an interesting perspective. Most people would only see the destruction.”

“You know,” you said, leaning back on the bed, wanting to return the subtle compliment “when I first joined the academy, I never thought I’d end up here, sitting in a hotel room with one of the newest best profilers in the country.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Flattery, huh? Didn’t think philosophers believed in that.”

You grinned. “We don’t, but I make exceptions.”

He gave you another small smile, his guard dropping just a little. “Well, I didn’t expect to be working with a 21-year-old who can hold their own on a case like this.”

“I’ve got to keep up with all of you somehow.”

Hotch shook his head slightly, still smiling. “You’re doing more than keeping up, but I’ve already told you this.”

The next morning, while poring over the case, both you and Hotch hit on the idea that the unsub might escalate soon. "He’s been meticulous so far, but there’s a growing desperation in the pattern," you observed. "He’s becoming bolder with each kill, taking greater risks. If he feels like he’s not getting the recognition he craves, he might go after a more high-profile victim."

Hotch considered this, his brow furrowing. "Someone in the public eye. He’d want an audience for his ‘art.’ We should look into upcoming events where he might strike."

Later, Gideon walked into the room with a look that told you something big had just clicked into place. "We’ve got a break," he said, laying down a new set of photographs. They were taken at a local orchid show, a high-profile event that had been held recently. "We missed it before because the show was a private event, members only. But one of the attendees matched the profile. His name is Matthew Carson, a former Navy sailor turned horticulturist."

You leaned over the photos, seeing the man for the first time. Carson was in his mid-thirties, tall, with an air of quiet control about him. "That explains the knots," you said. "He would’ve learned that skill in the Navy. And the flowers - he’s obsessed with perfection, cultivating these delicate orchids. It fits with how he views his victims."

Hotch nodded, already processing the next steps. "We need to move fast. He’s going to escalate, and the orchid show gives him an audience: a high-profile victim pool. He’ll want to make his statement soon."

The team sprang into action, coordinating with local authorities to track Carson down. You, Hotch, Rossi, and Gideon prepared to approach his house, a sprawling property on the outskirts of town, where Carson ran his own private orchid nursery.

As the team closed in, your heart pounded with anticipation. Carson’s house was an eerie reflection of his mind: immaculate, but with an unsettling coldness, orchids lined the windowsills and filled every room with their fragile beauty. It was a place of quiet obsession.

Rossi was the first to spot Carson. The man was in the greenhouse, meticulously pruning an orchid, completely unaware of the FBI’s presence. Hotch signaled for you to stay back as he and Rossi approached cautiously.

"Matthew Carson," Hotch called, his voice steady but firm.

Carson didn’t flinch. He continued trimming the orchid as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. "You don’t understand," he said quietly, his voice calm but laced with underlying madness. "It’s about perfection. I’m creating something beautiful."

Hotch took a step closer. "You’re hurting people, Matthew. This isn’t beauty, it’s destruction."

Carson finally looked up, his eyes hollow yet intense. "They weren’t good enough. The flowers... they have to be perfect."

You could feel the tension in the air while Hotch was doing what he did best, calmly, methodically drawing Carson out, understanding his twisted mind.

"They’re not flowers, Matthew. They’re people," You said as Hotch took another step closer. You continued "You’re not creating beauty. You’re trying to control what you can’t, but perfection doesn’t exist."

Carson’s grip tightened on the shears in his hand, his knuckles turning white. "I can make it exist," he whispered.

Before he could act, Rossi moved swiftly, disarming Carson and pinning him to the ground, he struggled briefly but then went limp, as if the fight had left him entirely. The unsub’s calm shattered, and in that moment, you saw the deep fragility that had driven his madness.

"You think you understand, but you don’t," Carson muttered as he was handcuffed. "I was so close."

As Gideon secured Carson, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The case was over, but the weight of it still lingered but before you could start overthinking, you felt a hand on top of your left shoulder. Your heart skips a beat and you quickly turn around to what revealed to be Hotch “Good job on the case, partner” You shyly smile “Not so bad as your first case at all”

“I could say the same about you, especially on the way you handled Carson, but I bet someone like you is used to the myriad of compliments at this point.”

He rolled his eyes, then quickly moved towards Rossi before you could notice the smile tugged on his face - too late – you could see his dimples still showing even when he was far away from you.

Later, on the train ride back to Quantico, you and Hotch found yourselves sitting across from each other. The case had drained everyone, you glanced at Hotch, who was staring out the window, lost in thought.

"So," you said, breaking the silence, curious to know something real about the man you shared a room with for the past two days "now that the case is over, are you going to admit that you do something other than work? Or is profiling literally your only hobby?"

Hotch turned to you, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," you said with a grin, "You must have to do something outside of this. You can't just spend all your downtime preparing for the next criminal mastermind, or developing conspiracy theories" His eyes went to his side, inviting you to glance at the older profilers. Rossi was conveniently standing up from his seat and leaning in front of Gideon, showing him something on a case file while simultaneously tracing small circles with the back of his pen on the papers the other was holding.

He gave you small smirk, his eyes twinkling with just a hint of mischief, then out of the blue he blurts out “I play the guitar."

You blinked, caught off guard. "You play the guitar?! Seriously?"

Hotch nodded, his expression casual, though you could tell he was enjoying your surprise. "Yeah. It’s something I picked up in college. Helps me unwind."

"Wait, wait, wait," you said, holding up a hand. "Aaron Hotchner, stoic, no-nonsense FBI agent extraordinaire, plays the guitar? I need proof. This sounds like a bluff."

He chuckled, the sound rare but genuine. "I don’t think I need to prove anything to you."

You leaned back in your seat, resting one hand on your forehead. "Unbelievable. I was so sure you didn’t have a hobby. I mean, by the way you work, I was starting to think someone else in the Bureau was keeping another big secret from us, C3-PO"

The unexpected Star Wars reference earned you a genuine laugh from him, then shook his head, a small smile still playing on his lips. "Just because I’m focused on the job doesn’t mean I don’t have other interests."

"Okay, fair enough," you admitted. "But now I’m really curious. What kind of music do you play? Classical? Rock? Please tell me it’s something totally unexpected, like heavy metal."

He laughed again, a sound you were quickly becoming fond of. "Mostly blues, actually."

You stared at him, wide-eyed. "Blues? Wow, that’s... I don’t know, I guess I expected you to say something like jazz or folk, but blues? That’s kind of badass."

Hotch gave a modest shrug. "It’s calming. Helps me think."

"I’m still wrapping my head around this," you said with a smirk. "I’m going to need to hear you play one day. Otherwise, I’m sticking with my theory that you’re secretly a robot who plays FBI agent."

He gave you a side-eye but couldn’t suppress his smile. "I’ll think about it, maybe after the next case if you’re still around"

You pretended to be offended by his words "Is this a threat?!”

“I was just trying to be encouraging”

Maybe working at the BAU wouldn’t be as intimidating as you first thought after all.

As the train rumbled on, you felt a sense of camaraderie with Hotch, a shared respect that had grown over the course of the case. You had proven yourself, and in return, he had let you see a side of him that few people probably ever did.

[innerfare]

Going Down On You - Part 3 

Summary: how they go down on you

Characters: Robin, Nami, Koala, Reiju, Ichiji, X. Drake

Genre: pure smut

CW: NSFW // oral sex, shameless dirty talk, Robin devil fruit shenanigans, toxic Ichiji

——— 

Robin: 

Spawns hands to hold you down while she has her way with you, mercilessly tonguing your cunt until you’re begging her to stop because you’re overstimulated. She’s much more into overstimulation than she is into teasing, and will often use a vibrator on you after making you cum on her tongue because she wants to drag your pleasure out as long as possible, obsessed with the little sounds you make when you can’t even form words. 

She also uses her devil fruit ability on you, has most definitely spawned a tongue while you were all alone in a room, directly into your panties. Once did it while you were not alone, the entire crew together and laughing over nonsense at dinner, something warm and wet suddenly poking into your clit and massaging your most sensitive spot. It quickly got to the point you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom because you couldn’t contain your moans any longer. 

“You looked to be having quite the difficult time at dinner,” she giggles when the two of you are alone later that night. “I think Nami was suspicious.” 

Another time, you were alone in the bathroom when a pair of hands wrapped around your ankles. You tripped and fell into a cloud of hands, which proceeded to twist you into a pretzel as several tongues appeared, two licking at your nipples while two more battled for your cunt, one eventually slipping down to your ass. Many of your most powerful orgasms have been the result of Robin using her devil fruit power for evil rather than good. 

Nami: 

Her absolute favorite is to 69, and she’s the top- always. She loves it because she can hold your legs apart, your body trapped between hers and the mattress, and wiggle her hips in front of your face to tease you, lifting her hips just as you try to push your tongue between her folds, telling you, “come on, you can do it,” when your tongue doesn’t reach. She does other things to tease you, too, such as biting your inner thighs and spitting on your cunt only to do nothing with it, laughing when you complain. 

“You’re being ridiculous,” she’ll scold you with a laugh. “This is why I don’t let you on top. You clearly can’t handle it.” 

While you moan into her pussy, she’s usually attacking your clit, only to bite your thighs again when you say you’re about to cum. She doesn’t tease you too much, but she always does it just a little, going on a bit of a power trip but never abusing her position too much (unless you ask; she’d definitely make you regret it if you did). 

Sometimes, after she uses a vibrator on you, she’ll go down on you just to clean up the mess you made. She gets a little too into the taste of you, though, and usually ends up working you up to another orgasm. Side note: she has most definitely pushed her tits between your legs before, or else had you grind on them before riding her face; she’s come up with all sorts of ways to use them to gets you off and has even held a vibrator to her chest and made you ride it. 

Koala: 

When you’re using toys on her, she’s very much a bottom, and even when she’s using toys on you, she acquiesces to your demands, doing whatever you say and melting especially fast when the two of you share a vibrator instead of you just using it on her. But when she’s going down on you, it’s another story. She’s a little bit obsessed with the sense of control it gives her, as well as the fact that you just can’t seem to keep your legs from shaking when she shoves her tongue in your hole.

The first orgasm she squeezes out of you is usually just with her tongue, sometimes with her fingers, too. Then, she likes to either scissor you or pull out some toys, but it’s different from when you start with toys. When she pulls them out in the middle, it’s usually because she wants to fuck you with a dildo while tonguing your clit. But other times, she really loves grinding her cunt into yours and then tasting the result. Regardless of how you end up, if you start the night with Koala’s face between your legs, you know you’re in for it. 

She also has a habit of kneeling between your legs and pushing her head between your skirt when the two of you are in public. She’ll pull you into store rooms or take advantage of empty RA classrooms, pushing you up against shelves or bending you over a desk. It’s a little habit she picked up from Sabo, wicked devil that he is, and she can’t stop chasing the thrill of someone walking in and seeing the way your bottom lip quivers when she tongue fucks you. 

Reiju: 

Reiju is so mean. Up until she got her face between your legs, you thought she was pretty sweet. Sure, you’ve heard stories of Germa 66, but she seems so much nicer than her brothers. Plus, she has butterfly wings, and how mean can a girl with butterfly wings truly be? You quickly discover the answer to that one night when her brothers are out and the two of you are alone in a sitting room in Germa’s castle. 

It all happens so fast. One minute, you’re both drinking some wine, and the next, she’s bending you over the coffee table and attacking your cunt from behind, smacking your ass and disparaging you for thinking she was so nice, pulling her tongue off your clit when your legs start to shake and you say you’re about to cum, tonguing your ass while you back down from the edge of your orgasm. 

“Did you really think I would make it that easy for you? If you want to cum, you’re going to have to work for it.” 

You don’t know how long she teases you before letting you cum on her tongue, but as you soon learn, it’s not unusual. Reiju is always mean when she gets your panties off and bends you over something, the sight of your poor, leaking hole turning her into a pink-haired demon. She often threatens you when she’s between your legs, too, telling you she’ll turn you over to one of her brothers if you’re not a very good girl for her. And given the wicked gleam in her eye, you believe her. 

Ichiji: 

He’s actually angry about it. He’s the eldest prince of Germa, an invincible fighter and so infamous he’s a literal comic book character. And you’re supposed to be beneath him, but he just can’t get the thought of your creamy pussy out of his head. It was Niji who said it first: “I bet she tastes amazing.” His brother was near-blackout drunk and probably didn’t even remember saying it, but Ichiji remembered, the thought tormenting him until he finally snaps and throws you down on one of the castle sofas, the servants exchanging mortified looks before scurrying off. 

“Niji was right,” he mutters against your cunt, ignoring you when you ask him what he said. And Niji was right. You taste to fucking good. 

He laps at your folds with the flat of his tongue, never one to worry about wasting things yet determined not to let a single drop of your sweet, creamy juices miss his tongue. He may not be above wasting things, but he most certainly is not about greed, and you trigger greed in him the likes of which he’s never before known. 

“You’re mine, now. All fucking mine. If you even think about letting another man do this to you, I’ll fucking kill him.” You’re certain he would follow through on his threat, but you just can’t seem to pull away, not when his horrible words make your pussy throb so painfully. You’ve never had a man between your legs like this, never thought a prince could be rendered insatiable by the taste of you. 

He gets competitive about it from then on, the knowledge that the thought has at least crossed his brother’s mind while inebriated making him smirk as he removes your panties for the thousandth time, pushing your face into the pillows and pulling your ass into the air to admire what he knows others have only been able to imagine. He often ends up pulling you into the air, holding you in his arms while he drags his tongue through your cunt, you struggling to hold on to the sheets as he licks you from behind. 

X Drake: 

This man is so stern, so serious. In public, he projects strength and rigidity, and he has an almost harshness about him that he carefully maintains in order to protect both himself and the people around him, including you, his beloved. But behind closed doors, the facade falls away, and you find yourself in close quarters with a man who might just die if he can’t bury his face in your wet pussy. 

“This is all I’ve been able to think about today. If only they knew.” 

The plumed hat and domino mask both come off, as do most of his clothes, and he kneels between your legs with the intention of placing sweet kisses to your clit, only to dive in when he catches your scent. Try as he might, he just can’t help himself. And when you wrap your legs around his head, he absolutely loses it, reaching up to twist your nipples while you tangle your fingers in his coppery hair. 

He says things against your cunt, but the words are muffled between your thighs. He’s constantly going from your hole to your clit, hardly able to stick with just one thing because he wants it all, and he wants it all now. After your first or second orgasm, he’ll pick you up and drop you on the bed, taking advantage of your shaking legs to fold you up, giving himself better access to you creamy cunt.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[mikashisus]

HSR MEN WITH AS IT IS SONGS !

PAIRINGS: dan heng, aventurine, sunday, jing yuan, blade x gn!reader

CWS: angst

NOTES: all of u can blame gwen and jun for the dan heng section. anyw ive been so hyperfixated on as it is lately bc they just announced they’re coming back from hiatus and RAHHHH IM SO EXCITED, ive been waiting so longgg i missed the pookies sm <//3 ermm this is not proofread sorry for any errors !!

WC: 1.1k

THE FIRE, THE DARK — DAN HENG

“she’s all i want, now that i’m on my own, now that she’s really gone” …

on the days where his mind wasn’t occupied with the data bank or memories of his past life, his thoughts always drifted to you.

you, who always kept him warm with your body heat. you, who always filled the express with constant laughter and chatter. you, who never failed to distract him from his work. your smile that could light up an entire room and your joyful presence that beckoned others to you.

but he let you slip through his fingers. and now, his bed was cold and so was he. his room was quiet, almost devoid of life except for his soft breathing. the parlor car was empty, except for welt and himeko’s occasional whispers. breakfasts weren’t any fun anymore, not when you weren’t there to rile up march and shout “food fight!”

his life was dull without you, the fire that kept him going. now there was a different fire, but it didn’t burn as bright as you. it never would. now that you were gone, traveling elsewhere in the cosmos, you were all he ever wanted.

DIAL TONES — AVENTURINE

“i’ll mend your heart and break it in the same breath, all we ever share are dial tones” …

another night of the same shit. you had been waiting for the inevitable ringtone that always sounded when he called you.

same time every night without fail. sometimes, he wouldn’t call at all. he’d blow off your dates and then gift you things you didn’t need to try and make up for it. but all you really wanted was to spend time with him.

you waited, cuddling a plushie he gifted you to your chest. the clock struck midnight and still no call. you were just about to give up and call it a night, when your phone screen lit up and the caller id displayed his name. you eagerly sat up, reaching for your phone, when you suddenly paused.

he was going to recite the same words. you could feel it. you let your hand drop back onto your bed and sighed as you turned your back to your phone. you wouldn’t answer. not tonight.

when you woke up the next morning, his side of the bed was still empty, but a small note rested on his pillow. you picked it up, only to see the same lame half-assed apology he always gave. you crumpled up the piece of paper and grabbed your phone, dialing his number.

THE HANDWRITTEN LETTER — SUNDAY

“i need you when i’m bruised, i need you when i’m broken” …

he fell from grace. he was no longer the esteemed head of the oak family. he was now… a fallen angel. a fugitive of penacony.

and yet, he came crawling to you for help again. even now, when he knew that involving you meant you would be a fugitive too. but he needed you— needed your smile, your laugh, your presence, your embrace. everything about you.

you always healed him when he felt broken and bruised. you always welcomed him into your home without question, tending to his broken state of mind and allowing him a moment of solace from the outside world.

he knocked thrice, waiting for the door to the shop to swing open like it always did. but there was no answer from the other side, no sign of life. he knocked again, only to realize the sign in the window. the shop was closed, and sold.

you were gone. you didn’t tell him you were leaving. why didn’t you tell him? why didn’t you stay when he so clearly needed you?

he fished out his beaten up phone and sent you a text, only for it to not go through.

THE TRUTH I’LL NEVER TELL — JING YUAN

“how long's it been, it must be months, i swear this time I meant to keep in touch, like always” …

how long has it been? months? years?

he swore he’d keep in touch with you even after you moved to the yaoqing, yet he never took that one step to sending you a text or dialing your number.

it was slowly getting harder for him. his mental health was getting worse. all of his past friends were showing up again, all of them completely different from the people they used to be. they were familiar faces, yet he didn’t recognize any of them.

you were the only one thing that stayed constant in his life before you also left. you moved, and you slowly changed, just like everyone else.

he wondered if you moved on, found a new partner, had kids…

he could easily text you, or call, and ask to catch up sometime. but he was scared. you’d ask about his wellbeing, and he wouldn’t be able to tell you because he didn’t want you to feel disappointed. he didn’t want you to feel guilty for leaving him by himself.

you sent him texts. he read each one. he’d reread them when he missed you terribly. yet, he couldn’t find the courage to reply. you sent him letters once in a while, yet none of them told of how your own life was going. you always asked about him. how he’s been, how yanqing was doing, how fu xuan was faring.

you asked about dan feng once, and that was the only time he responded, telling of his reincarnation. that was the last and only time he replied.

PATCHWORK LOVE — BLADE

“i won’t forget you, i won’t regret through the pain, the years i gave to you” …

he knows you used to love him, but you don’t anymore. you loved who he used to be.

yingxing was the man you fell in love with once upon a time. it’s been years since then. did he even remember that time? you did. you oh so clearly did.

whenever you reconnected, you’d bring it up. you’d talk about all the things you two used to do, where you’d go, the holidays you spent together. it seemed as if your head was filled entirely of memories from the past. as if your heart still beat for the man he used to be, when all he used to do was smile. when all he said to you were words of love and encouragement.

but it’s been years since then. and he was not the same man you knew. he was mara-struck, his mental health unstable and teetering on the edge of insanity at every moment.

yet, you seemed to be the same. somehow. you’d text him now and then, and he knew you felt guilty for what happened, even though it wasn’t your fault in the slightest. he never blamed you for anything.

you’d ask to meetup, and when you did, he saw how you were almost the exact same as you used to be. just, now, your eyes were duller, no longer filled with that wonder he always loved the most about you.

you talked of how your life was going. you were faring well— way better than he was. you had kids. they were all grown up with families of their own. your heart no longer beat for him. it seemed as if you finally moved on.

he wouldn’t ever forget you. he swore he wouldn’t. not when thoughts of you kept him sane. although the past you shared was no more, he still felt himself again when he was with you. as if nothing changed.

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[sxcretricciardo]

rivals forever - M.V

•

The roar of the engines reverberated through the paddock as you walked with purpose, helmet in hand, the unmistakable scent of burning rubber and gasoline filling the air. You had come a long way to get here, breaking barriers as one of the few female drivers in Formula 1, and not just a token driver either—one of the best. You were a force to be reckoned with, consistently competing at the top of the grid, and now, one of the sport’s fiercest rivalries was between you and Max Verstappen.

Max had always been competitive, but so had you. The tension between you two was legendary, lighting up the paddock and thrilling fans worldwide. Both of you fought for every inch on track, trading positions, dueling wheel-to-wheel, and sometimes crashing out in spectacular fashion. Today had been one of those days.

The race had been intense—fast corners, aggressive overtakes, and then the inevitable collision. Neither of you gave an inch. You knew Max wouldn’t. You weren’t the type to back down either. The moment it happened, the sound of carbon fiber crashing echoed in your ears as both of your cars went sliding into the gravel trap, ending the race for the both of you. The frustration was palpable. DNF. Both of you were out.

You slammed your helmet down as you made your way back to the paddock. Max was already there, pacing like a caged lion. His fiery blue eyes locked onto you the moment you entered.

“Are you kidding me?” he spat, closing the distance between you.

You weren’t in the mood for this. “You turned in on me!” you shot back, your voice rising as adrenaline and anger pumped through your veins. “I had the inside line. You didn’t leave any room!”

Max’s jaw clenched. “It’s racing. You don’t just expect me to let you through. You’ve done this before!”

“Oh, I’ve done this before?” You stepped closer to him, not backing down. “What about you? You can’t handle anyone getting past you, can you? Your ego can’t take it.”

“You crashed into me!” Max was livid now, the two of you standing toe to toe, noses nearly touching, the tension sizzling between you.

“Maybe if you didn’t drive like an idiot, we’d both be finishing races,” you hissed.

For a moment, the air crackled with the possibility of something more—more anger, more fighting, more...something. But before either of you could escalate it further, team members pulled you apart, ushering you away, telling you to cool off. But the fire was still burning inside.

Later that evening, the team dinner was subdued, everyone clearly annoyed by the race result, especially the fact that their two top drivers had knocked each other out. You had a drink, then another, trying to shake off the frustration of the day. But it wasn’t working.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the hotel bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. You weren’t surprised when Max appeared at the other end of the bar, also drinking. The bartender gave you both a wary glance but said nothing. The rivalry between you two was the talk of the season, and everyone knew it.

For a while, you ignored each other, focusing on your drinks. But the bar wasn’t that big, and after a couple more rounds, Max made his way over to your end, sitting beside you with a sigh. “Hell of a race,” he muttered.

You snorted, still annoyed. “Hell of a crash.”

Silence stretched between you for a few beats before Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, you drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip. “That’s the idea.”

You both laughed, the alcohol loosening the tension between you, though the competitive fire still smoldered just beneath the surface. As the night wore on, the bar emptied, and the conversation grew easier. You talked about racing, life on the road, the pressures of being at the top. And, of course, the rivalry.

Max looked at you, his expression softening slightly, the alcohol clearly making him more relaxed. “You’re good, you know. Really good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re only just realizing that?”

He grinned, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve always known. Maybe that’s why you get under my skin so much.”

There was a beat of silence as his words hung in the air. You felt your heart race, but this time, it wasn’t from anger or adrenaline. You weren’t sure if it was the drinks, the long hours, or something else, but the tension between you had shifted. What had started as competition and rivalry now felt like something...more.

Before you could overthink it, Max leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, and just like that, the fire between you ignited in a different way. The kiss was rough, urgent, a release of all the tension that had been building between you for months. Neither of you stopped to question it.

Somehow, you made it back to the hotel room, clothes discarded in a blur, the intensity between you never wavering. The night was a haze of passion, both of you giving as good as you got, just like on the track. It was fast, heated, and undeniable.

The next morning, you woke up tangled in the sheets, Max’s arm draped across your waist. For a moment, you didn’t move, your head pounding slightly from the drinks, your body sore from both the race and the night before. You turned your head to see Max still asleep, his face softened in the morning light. It was strange, seeing him like this, without the cocky smirk or the intense focus he always had at the track.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttered open. He looked at you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something you weren’t used to feeling when it came to Max. “Morning,” you replied softly.

For a moment, the world outside the room didn’t exist. There were no races, no rivalries, no expectations—just the two of you, lying there, wrapped up in each other. But reality wasn’t something you could escape forever.

Max propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching yours. “Last night...”

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, and a part of you didn’t want to know.

“I meant what I said. You get under my skin,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “But I don’t think it’s just the rivalry. I think it’s more than that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What are you saying, Max?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I think I...I like you. More than I should, considering we’re supposed to be fighting for the championship.”

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. You hadn’t expected this. But then again, you hadn’t expected last night either. “I think I like you too,” you admitted, the words feeling foreign but right at the same time.

Max smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower, softer. It felt different from last night, more tender, more real. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “So what now?”

You chuckled, tracing a finger along his jawline. “We’ve got a race next weekend, don’t we?”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “Yeah, we do.”

“And I’m still going to fight you for every point,” you teased, though there was no malice in your voice.

“Good,” Max murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The next race weekend was just as intense as the last, but something had changed between you and Max. On track, the rivalry was as fierce as ever—neither of you gave an inch, still battling for every position, still determined to come out on top. But off the track, things were different. The stolen glances, the secret smiles, the late-night rendezvous—it was a secret neither of you were ready to share with the world yet, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface.

As the season went on, the world continued to watch your rivalry, none the wiser to the fact that, behind closed doors, things had shifted. And by the time the final race of the season rolled around, Max had already slipped a ring onto your finger, a private promise that no matter what happened on track, you were in this together.

A year after that first night in the hotel, you stood hand in hand at the altar, surrounded by family, friends, and teammates, the rivalry still very much alive but now accompanied by something far deeper.

Max smiled at you as you exchanged vows, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “We might fight on track,” he whispered as the officiant pronounced you husband and wife. “But off track...you’re mine.”

You grinned, pulling him in for a kiss. “Always.”

[mr-damian-s-power]

Amity doesn't feel like her own person anymore

I feel that the post I made about Amity yesterday that I deleted could have been worded differently. That was the issue with it, I think! People saw the word 'co-dependant' and assumed the worst of me, despite me clarifying that I wasn't stating it as fact. I was even debating telling my true feelings on Amity because I know how people are with their favourite characters. How about I put it more like the title?

What was Amity's character post-S1? She....loves Luz, she wants to spend all of her time with Luz, aaaaaaand.....she's got daddy issues! Hey look, something not related to Luz! But do you see my issue? She doesn't seem to have much to do aside from love Luz and occasionally deal with her crap homelife. I used to think people were exaggerating when they said that Amity is just 'Luz's girlfriend', but I really do think she devolved into just that.

Also, what do the loving pair actually have in common? They...both like Azura! That's it as far as I can tell. But even then, Luz is clearly more into it, while Amity may just have a fleeting interest.

The main issue I see with Amity is that I can't really imagine her on her own. I can't picture her without Luz right there. She's so intertwined with Luz, she's practically been absorbed into her and hangs off like a giant tumour.

Here's my sad point that I thought only I held, until I saw someone else say almost verbatim what I thought. Amity loves Luz more than anything. She gave up everything to be with Luz. She has no goals or ambitions outside of Luz. Luz is Amity's everything! And Luz? Luz, while she also loves Amity and reciprocates that love, only really sees a girlfriend in her. Yeah, she loves Amity, but she also manages to have a life outside of her with her other friends.

And I've said it already in my burn-out post, but I really feel like the Hexsquad are more Luz's friends than Amity's friends. To her, they seem more like 'friends of my friend' where they are tangentially affiliated. I forget sometimes that her and Willow used to be friends! What actually ARE her thoughts and feelings on Gus? Have those two ever even spoken to each other?

-

There, I think I worded that a little better, likely by not using 'co-dependant'. But please still tell me what you think? Does Amity feel like a she's no longer her own person? Am I just speaking out of my arse?

Thoughts?

[misskattylashes]

Okay inspired by @thetruthisfictional post about Milex patterns. I thought I would share some observations I have made in my autistic pattern seeking brain.

I am only looking at the post EYCTE period to the present day, and not everything is in chronological order.

Louise

Louise started to appear around the same time Miles decided to move back to the UK permanently. Rather than Alex split with Taylor, there are rumours of him cheating on her with Louise, creating a reason for him to want to leave LA. It is also a convenient narrative because Miles and Taylor were friends, so the reason that Miles and Alex can’t be seen together is because Miles doesn’t like Louise because of what she did to his friend Taylor.

Which means Alex can come home to London, without it looking obvious that he is following Miles.

Plothole – the reason for his return is so  Louise can split her time between London and Paris to pursue her ‘successful music career’. The truth has since emerged that Louise lives in Paris and Alex lives in London and Louise has no career to speak of.

Louise’s use of social media

A genuine social media account will post day to day happenings, even not every day. Shared songs, interesting meals, something work related. Louise’s posting only ever coincided with events happening around AM. Go and check her account sometime, see how much she posted around the summer of 2022 leading up to the release of The Car. Note also how she has posted every September 21 since 2021 which also coincides with the day she was officially announced in September 2018.

Songwriting

Since EYCTE Alex has not used one female pronoun in a romantic sense. Miles barely has either, nothing to the degree of the previous two albums.

Alex’s image

This is so carefully protected. Most recent photographs were taken several days or even weeks before. Alex is usually in his ‘costume’. One of the most questionable being the recent Eurostar ones. He was sitting there so obviously being ‘Alex Turner’ but the only people who recognise him are a couple of fans who happen to have professional equipment. I suspect there are all sorts of clever wizardry and facial recognition software going on in Meta that stops unfamiliar photos of Alex being published. Before you say ‘How can they do that?’ think about times you may have uploaded a song only for the sound to immediately disappear or you get a message with the list of territories it can’t be played in. This happens in seconds so the technology is there.

The train photos fitted a convenient narrative. Just after Alex was seen coming home from Paris, Louise is seen in the Caribbean with her family. We then get a recent of Alex in NY. Louise comes home from the Caribbean to Paris, but then makes sure to tell us she is going to NY, we then get the pap walk etc.

Why are we never allowed to see Alex walking along Bethnal Green High Street or in the pub with Miles? I think this is less to do with record company pressure and more to do with Alex wanting to keep his private life private.

Miles’ use of social media

Last year when AM were in the UK, I would notice that days Alex was on a break, we would hear nothing from Miles. You might get one official post about OMB that was clearly posted from his social media team. But stories would be empty.

Once Alex went to the US in late August, many a night we were treated to tipsy Miles chatting to the TV, or filming little Maxie getting up to mischief in the house. Soon as Alex came home it stopped.

Earlier this year Miles started the late night posting again and filming Maxie. Lo and behold a few days later we get pics of Alex in NY. Soon as he comes home, it stops again.

Another thing I have noticed. When Miles posts videos he always puts the photographer's name. But he occasionally only puts an 👀. These will always appear when Alex isn’t seen elsewhere.

There are probably many more but I will probably do a part 2.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

i just don't understand people who act like their headcanons are confirmed canon. and i'm not talking about the "X character has _____ because i said so" jokes, those are clearly light-hearted and not meant to be taken seriously.

no, i'm talking about people who will FIGHT you if you tell them that no, their favorite blorbo is not canonically autistic and they can't use that as an argument to justify said character's actions.

sometimes, it's not even about justifying actions. i recently saw someone say that Robbie from Gravity Falls had NPD because he projects his insecurities onto others and is kind of a jerk.

first of all, no, he's just a teenager. most people have some sort of insecurities, especially when they're teenager. Robbie is just a stupid teen who wants to make himself look like a bigger deal than he actually is, especially since people around him don't take him seriously. this is a very common phenomenon, it's not exclusive to people with NPD.

secondly, isn't it kind of shitty to assign this personality disorder to someone just because they're kind of a jerk? especially since the person who said this does not have NPD themselves and they admitted to knowing nothing about psychology, they just diagnosed Robbie with NPD because he reminds them of their coworker who also has NPD and in their own words, they "wanted to protect" themself from people with NPD.

like,, idk man. you have to have some sort of knowledge about this, especially when you act like what you're saying is canon and throw around terms like "undiagnosed narcissist".

people with NPD are already villanized enough. "narcissist" is the new "psychopath/sociopath", people just use that word willy-nilly to describe anyone they don't like.

[miaaluvspaige]

taking care of stewie when she’s sick?

Title: Rest and Recovery

Parring : Breanna Stewart x reader

The apartment was quieter than usual, the usual hum of activity replaced by the sound of soft breathing. You glanced over at Breanna, wrapped up in blankets on the couch, her face a little pale and her eyes heavy with fatigue. It wasn’t often that the strong, athletic forward for the New York Liberty found herself under the weather, but today, she was completely down for the count.

“Are you warm enough?” you asked softly, kneeling beside the couch to feel her forehead. The fever had finally gone down, but she still looked exhausted.

Breanna gave you a small smile, though it was weak. “Yeah, just tired,” she murmured, her voice slightly raspy. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. “I hate this.”

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know you do. But even the strongest need rest sometimes.”

She huffed, clearly unhappy about being benched, even if it was just in your living room. “I should be at practice,” she muttered, though you could tell she didn’t have the energy to stand, let alone play.

You shook your head. “You’ll get back to the court soon enough. For now, your job is to rest and let me take care of you.”

Breanna’s eyes softened at your words. “You’re really good at this, you know? Taking care of me.”

You smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “Someone has to keep you from pushing yourself too hard.”

She sighed contentedly, her eyes fluttering closed as you tucked the blanket around her more securely. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, luckily for you, you won’t have to find out,” you teased, standing up to grab the tea you had prepared earlier. You handed her the cup, watching as she took a careful sip.

“Mmm, this is perfect,” she whispered, her voice sounding a bit clearer after the warm drink. “You really are the best.”

“Only for you,” you winked, sitting beside her as she leaned her head against your shoulder.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, the only sound the soft hum of the TV in the background. Breanna’s breathing evened out, and you could tell she was on the verge of falling asleep.

“Thank you,” she murmured one last time before drifting off.

You smiled, gently stroking her hair as she slept. Taking care of Breanna was easy because you loved her, and even though you knew she’d bounce back soon enough, for now, you were just happy to be the one by her side.

Mia speaks

Sorry this fic was a little short compared to my other ones I am very busy with my job and school so I will be posting more often on the weekends

[sosuigeneris]

why is being feminine seen as catering to patriarchy?

I enjoy putting on my make up, heels, I like looking good, I enjoy traditionally “feminine activities” like baking and cooking, I love a good gossip session with my girls, I’m empathetic and warm when I want to be, I can be very nurturing if I choose to be, I want kids someday and I want to be married. I can do all these things and still work my ass off in my business, close massive deals, be invited to speak for interviews, and conferences, be perceived as a leader without emulating alpha male behaviour.

By saying that doing feminine things caters to the male gaze and patriarchy, you’re putting women down. You’re inherently stating that being masculine is “correct” and “cool” and enjoying being feminine is “weak” and “vulnerable.”

oooooh buT YoUre doInG aLL tHiS fOr a MaN-

and even if I did, sometimes, do those things because I like a boy - what’s the issue?? If I’m invited on a date and I like him, and I want to look great, what’s the ISSUE? If he’s going to show up dressed well and groomed to look good for me, why won’t I? And if you’re going to choose to go out with a man who is an absolute dusty rat that doesn’t care about his appearance and hygiene, sorry but that’s on YOU. The first date might be a human error of judgement which happens, but going on a second date with said rat is unforgivable.

“meN aRe NeVeR subJecTed to tHesE stAndarDs”

by YOU. I sure hold men by the same standards that I hold myself. My standards are high. Just the way I hold myself to a certain standard, I hold men to the same. I’m not going to muck around with a guy who clearly does not meet my expectations. I’ve told off men for bad breath, bad manners, I ensure that my brothers and my closest guy friends are always looking good when needed, and I tell them when they do and don’t. I surround myself with good male friends I know I’d be ecstatic to marry my sister off to. Don’t pretend like your shitty low standards and mine are the same.

I don’t believe in blame game and low standards and it shows.

You guys really need to understand that it is alright to be multifaceted. Just because I enjoy baking doesn’t mean that I don’t like adventure sports, just because I enjoy doing my self care and meditation doesn’t mean I don’t understand politics and history and “Big Boy Subjects.” I may not enjoy F1 and sports but there are girls out there who do, and they also enjoy wearing dresses.

stop the unnecessary labelling and categorisation of people.

[starfxkrreloaded]

⋆｡°✩ being sarahs best friend who moved from the cut, and during a sleepover one day she's just poking through your stuff untl she finds this litle rinky dink camera that she knows you carry around sometimes so she's going through it while you're in the shower. and it's nothing crazy at first--the two of you together, different parties, overall fun moments.

but you scrolls back a little further, about a year or so, and all of a sudden you're somewhere unfamiliar. it's dingier, woodier, more simplistic. it's gotta be back on the cut, and you're not the one holding the camera. someone else is, it's some guy with the lens trained on the way another guy--blonde this time--is gripping your things. you're standing, barely, slurring and leaning on the blonde one for support as he gropes at you in your bikini and tiny shorts.

told you dude, s'like we got our own porn star over here' he punctuates his action with a light bounce to your breast, pulling the damp triangle to the side so the cameraman can zoom in.

cmon jj don't say that, we gotta have some dignity about this'

all 3 of you sounded drunk, and you and jj were clearly far gone--kissing hard and deep as he pinched you nipple and shoved a hand down your shorts at the same time.

the unseen voice grabs your face, turning to his direction and sarah can see a little glimpse of him when he leans in to kiss you; curly brown hair, soft lips. its enough to make you groan, and blonde greedy because you're tugged out of the way so the two can kiss. sarah feels her whole body flush hot, she's used to seeing girls for a guy, but this is something new entirely.

you always do that, john b wanted to kiss me.

there's a bit of a shuffle, and sarah can't see anything, not until he sets the camera down, and she sees you on the bed, the blonde boy behind you holding your leg up as he pushes inside your ass. even in the crappy quality sarah can see you're wet--puffy lips glistening in the low light and she swears she can see a trickle of arousal drip down your thigh.

"oh my god..."

john b hurry up, i can't wait anymore i need both.

alright sweetheart relax, tell our boy to slow it down back there.

jj slows his thrusts just enough for john b to push into your cunt, and sarah almost gasps at how thick he is, he look's like he's gonna tear you in two. but all 3 of you let out some sort exclamation, and sarah's clit throbs at the sight, but the shower's turned off now and she knows there's only so much time left.

fuckfuckfuck oh my god. you're stuck between them, forced to take the dual pounding in a cacophony of moans and grunts as you start to squirm, god i'm gonna cum.

just as your voice reaches a pitch you come out the bathroom, skin still steaming as you finish rubbing your lotion in and sarah only had a split second to sit on the camera. hoping the minuscule chaos helped cover the sound as she shut it off

"the fuck's wrong with you?" you giggle as you walk past her to your dresser, dropping the towel leaving sarah to stare, watching you bend down to pull your panties on.

she glances in the mirror, and sees how flushed she looks, "oh just, opened the hidden replies on twitter. wasn't expecting that."

you snort, throwing on an oversized shirt that says Hayward's Seafood, and turning around, "don't know why it's always some crazy shit. come lady down i wanna watch a movie."

sarah does what you say, her body finally calming from the scene she witnessed but now all she can focus on is the warm vanilla scent of your skin and a picture she never paid too much attention to above your headboard.

"so, who are those two guys you're with here?"

[elysiaheaven]

𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞-𝟏𝟕-(The Fox's wedding)

Words:2682

You walked through the bustling streets of the Luofu, you adjusted the fox mask on your face, feeling the familiar weight settle over your features. Jiaoqiu glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow at the sudden reappearance of your mask.

"Why are you wearing that again?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity. "I thought you were done with it for now."

You laughed lightly, shrugging as you turned your head toward him. "Oh, this? I just feel like a chipmunk," you said with a grin, your playful tone making light of the mask. "It suits the vibe, don't you think?"

Jiaoqiu gave you a skeptical look, his lips pressing into a thin line as if he didn't believe a word you were saying. "A chipmunk?" He repeated the word as if testing it on his tongue, clearly unconvinced. "You don't even know what that means, do you?"

You chuckled, sidestepping his question. "Of course I do! It's all about attitude and style. You wouldn't understand," you teased, sticking your tongue out behind the mask. "Besides, it gives me an air of mystery."

Jiaoqiu sighed, shaking his head but not pushing the subject further. He knew there was more behind the mask—something you weren't willing to share just yet. Still, he decided to let it go for now, even though the tension between you two simmered just beneath the surface.

The two of you continued walking, the lively sounds of merchants and travelers filling the air. You felt a slight pang of guilt as you kept the mask on, knowing you weren't being fully honest with him. But hiding behind the mask had always been a way for you to protect yourself, especially when it came to the more vulnerable parts of your heart.

After a moment, Jiaoqiu spoke again, his voice quieter this time. "You don't have to wear it around me, you know."

You paused for a second, feeling his words settle heavily in your chest. "I know," you replied softly, not meeting his eyes. "But sometimes, it's just easier this way."

He walk in front of you. Took your mask away.

Why! Now! STOP!

Tears streamed down your face as you stared at Jiaoqiu, your body trembling as you tried to compose yourself. You reached for your mask, the one you wore when you felt too exposed, too vulnerable, and quickly put it on, hiding behind its cold exterior.

"I enjoyed doing what I did," you said, but your voice cracked under the weight of the lie. You hated it—everything about your past, the choices you made, the lives you hurt. Yet, here you were, trying to convince yourself, convince him, that none of it mattered.

Convince yourself you hurted them!

You did all of those.

Lie, Lie and Lie...So this kind-hearted fox won't leave you to live.

You couldn't..

Jiaoqiu's sharp eyes narrowed at you, catching the quiver in your voice. "If your voice breaks, you're lying," he said softly, but with a firmness that cut through the air between you. He stepped closer, his hand gently touching the mask's edge. "What happened in your past?" he asked, his voice gentler this time. "Tell me."

You looked away, unable to meet his gaze, the words sticking in your throat. "It's no use," you muttered, swallowing down the emotions that clawed at your heart. "Talking won't change anything. It's too late for that."

Jiaoqiu stayed silent, his frustration evident, but he didn't push further. He knew that whatever was haunting you was deeper than words could fix. You pulled away from his touch, your hands trembling as you turned your back to him.

  You couldn't face the past—not yet. You needed to bury it a little longer, hide behind your mask and move forward, pretending everything was fine. "There's no point in staying here."

Jiaoqiu sighed, knowing you were deflecting. His eyes softened, but he didn't stop you. "Fine," he said quietly. "But this conversation isn't over. You can't run from this forever."

You walked ahead, the silence between you and Jiaoqiu felt suffocating. The mask on your face was a barrier you couldn't seem to lower, even as every step felt heavier.

"Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice broke the silence, and you stopped, your heart racing, knowing what he was going to say next. "I need you to open up to me."

You didn't turn around, your hands clenched into fists at your sides. His request was so simple, yet it terrified you. He stepped closer, and you could feel the warmth of his presence behind you.

"You can't keep running from whatever it is that's eating you up inside. I see it, Y/n," Jiaoqiu's voice softened, a strange mix of care and frustration. "If you don't trust me, if you don't open up... how can I help you? How can I even begin to understand?"

You closed your eyes beneath the mask, biting your lip to keep yourself from breaking. The pain you had been carrying, the guilt, the darkness—it was like a storm swirling in your chest. "I'm not... ready," you whispered, barely audible. "I can't... I don't even know where to start."

Jiaoqiu moved in front of you, his hand gently lifting your chin so you had to face him. His eyes bore into yours, filled with an emotion you weren't ready to face. "Start with me," he said quietly. "Start with the truth. I'm not asking you to spill everything all at once, but you need to let me in. Just a little."

You shuddered, feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze. The weight of his words pressed down on you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you could crack. "You won't understand..." Your voice broke again, the mask doing little to hide the tremor.

"Try me," Jiaoqiu said, his tone unwavering. "I'm here, aren't I? Even after everything, I'm still here. So stop pretending like you're alone in this."

"...................!!!!!!!"

Your heart pounded as you felt the familiar wave of fear and guilt rise within you, but instead of surrendering to it, you forced a twisted smile onto your face. The mask was back—this time, not on your face but in your words, in the way you carried yourself. You laughed, a hollow sound, and turned away from Jiaoqiu.

"Ah, there it is," you said with a mocking tone, stepping forward with a sway in your hips. "You really fell for it, didn't you? All that crying and pretending to be broken... so easy to get your sympathy." You tossed your head back with another cruel laugh, refusing to look at him. "God, you're so gullible."

Jiaoqiu stood frozen behind you, his eyes narrowing as he tried to understand the sudden shift. His expression was a mix of confusion and something darker, like he was searching for the truth behind your words. "What are you saying?" he asked, his voice calm but with an edge of warning.

You smirked, turning just enough so he could see the coldness in your gaze. "I'm saying it was all an act. The tears, the confession. I knew exactly what to say to make you pity me." You shrugged, nonchalant, though your insides were twisting painfully. "And it worked like a charm, didn't it?"

Jiaoqiu's eyes hardened, his jaw tightening as he watched you carefully. He wasn't buying it, not entirely. But you could see the doubt forming in his mind, the uncertainty creeping into his features. It hurt to see, but you couldn't stop now. You had to push him away—had to make him believe you were the monster you always feared you were.

You walked ahead, turning your back on him, keeping your head high. "I can't wait to kill you, Jiaoqiu," you said, your voice sickeningly sweet, like it was all a joke. "Maybe not today, but soon. It's going to be so easy."

The silence behind you stretched painfully, and for a moment, you almost stopped—almost turned around to take it all back. But you didn't. You couldn't. You were too far gone in this act, and the pain inside you was too deep.

But he didn't respond the way you expected. No sharp retort, no anger in his voice. Instead, Jiaoqiu's voice was calm, steady. "You're lying."

Your steps faltered, but you didn't turn around.

"You think I can't tell?" His voice was closer now, soft but certain. "You're trying to push me away because you're scared. But this—this isn't who you are, Y/n."

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms. "What do you know?" you spat, but the venom in your voice was faltering, cracking.

"I know enough," Jiaoqiu said, his hand brushing your arm lightly. "I know that everything you just said is a lie. You don't want to kill me. You're scared of losing me."

You laughed, a wild and bitter sound, pushing away the tenderness of the moment with a cruel edge. "You're an idiot," you sneered, the words coming out sharper than you intended, but you leaned into it, masking the pain in your chest. "Such a damn fool. I hope the worst for you." You stepped closer, grabbing the front of his shirt, and pulled him into a kiss—harsh, needy, and far from loving. It was filled with desperation, as though you were trying to convince him, or maybe yourself, that you were still in control.

Jiaoqiu's body tensed against yours, and when you pulled away, you saw the confusion in his eyes, the shock. "What... what are you doing?" His voice wavered slightly, not with fear but with a kind of disbelief. He searched your face, like he was trying to find the real you beneath the mask you had thrown on.

You laughed again, leaning back as you waved your hand dismissively. "The lust, Jiaoqiu. That's all it ever was," you said, voice dripping with false amusement. "That's why you care, right? Why you're so obsessed with me?" You tilted your head, a twisted smile curling your lips. "I mean, who wouldn't be? That's all this is—a game to feed your desire. And when you're done, I'll just kill you."

You laughed, the sound hollow and bitter, though it masked the trembling inside. "You're such an idiot, Jiaoqiu. An idiot for even trying to understand me." You pushed against his chest, but it wasn't to break free—it was to pull him closer, as if mocking your own pain. "I hope so many bad things happen to you. I hope you regret everything."

Jiaoqiu's face twisted, a flicker of something dark flashing in his eyes as he stared at you, unsure whether to believe the cruelty in your words or the pain you were trying to hide.

"I can't wait to kill you," you repeated, your voice breaking as you forced yourself to smile, to laugh. "Can't wait." The laughter felt foreign, bitter, choking you as it tumbled out. You moved closer to him, your breath hot against his skin. "Now kiss me again. Like it's all about lust. That's all it is, right?"

He hesitated for a moment, the weight of your words sinking in. But then, as if something inside him snapped, he grabbed your waist and pulled you into him, his lips crashing onto yours. You kissed him back with the same intensity, frantic, desperate to make him believe your lie, even though it hurt more than you could bear.

You cried as you kissed him, your tears wetting your cheeks, but you laughed in between, trying to mask the truth. "See? It's all lust," you whispered against his lips, laughing even as the sobs wracked your body. "That's all it's ever been."

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, his face tight with frustration and something else you couldn't place. He cupped your face, his thumb wiping away your tears even as he kissed you again, trying to silence the lies you kept feeding him.

Jiaoqiu's lips crashed against yours, his kiss rough, trying to shut you up. But you kept laughing, each kiss making the laughter more manic. "It's lust, Jiaoqiu! All lust!" you giggled between breaths, your voice rising with each word, mocking the bond you once shared. You could see the conflict in his eyes as he kissed you, but it only made you laugh harder. He was falling for your lies, the very lies you'd built around yourself like a shield.

"More lies on top of lies," you whispered against his lips, your laughter hollow and sharp. "It's so easy to fool you." Your laughter filled the small alley, echoing off the walls as if you were trying to drown out your own emotions.

He didn't stop. His grip tightened on your waist, and his kisses became more desperate, as if he were trying to make sense of the chaos you were creating. He could feel something was wrong, but he couldn't see past the mask you'd put on. Your tears mixed with your laughter, the contradictions within you swirling into a mess that you couldn't untangle anymore.

"Lies... so many lies," you kept saying, your voice shaking now, the laughter sounding forced, like it hurt to keep it going. "I'm so good at this, aren't I?" You kissed him again, biting his lip just enough to make it sting, as if punishing yourself for every word.

Jiaoqiu pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his eyes searching your face for something—anything real. "Stop this," he muttered, his voice low but firm, as if he didn't know whether to be angry or heartbroken. "Stop lying."

You laughed again, louder this time, pushing him back playfully, though the ache in your chest grew heavier. "What's the matter, Jiaoqiu? Can't handle the truth? Or is it that you can't handle the lies?" You laughed, but it was more of a sob now, your body trembling as you forced out the sound.

You wanted him to see through it, to call you out, to make it stop. But instead, he kissed you again, and the bitterness of it all consumed you. "Lust... lies... lust," you chanted between kisses, the weight of your own deception crushing you inside.

You grabbed Jiaoqiu's face, pulling him closer, your hands trembling as they cupped his head. Your laughter was broken, the sound manic and desperate as you choked out, "It's all lust, Jiaoqiu! Just lust!" You laughed, but your voice cracked, betraying the real emotion underneath.

Your fingers dug into his scalp, and his eyes locked onto yours, searching for something, anything that would make sense of your words. But all you could do was laugh, the sound twisted and hollow. Tears streamed down your face as you clung to him, your laughter bordering on hysterical, the pain in your chest threatening to tear you apart.

"It's all lust!" you shouted again, your voice raw as the tears continued to fall. But the laughter wouldn't stop, even though it hurt, even though you knew it wasn't true. You laughed like you could drown out the truth, like you could bury the pain under your lies.

Jiaoqiu's hands gripped your wrists, trying to steady you, his eyes filled with confusion and pain. "Stop," he whispered, his voice hoarse, almost pleading. But you couldn't stop. You didn't know how anymore.

"It's just lust, you idiot!" you cried out, forcing a grin, trying to convince him, trying to convince yourself. But the laughter gave way to sobs, and you collapsed into him, burying your face in his chest as you broke down completely.

Your shoulders shook as the sobs wracked your body, and Jiaoqiu held you tight, his arms wrapping around you, no words left to say. He didn't care about the lies you told. He could see past them now, see the torment in your eyes, the pain you couldn't hide anymore.

Your voice was barely a whisper now, muffled against his chest. "It's all lies..."

[peachjagiya]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachjagiya/761756391370293248/what-i-find-really-interesting-now-that-we-see-tae

I just went to watch that episode of Suchwita with taekook in it again, after reading this post and I must say I don’t agree that tae knew but was pretending because his reaction seemed genuine. Yoongi mentioned that Jk’s album was originally supposed to be a mini album or an EP and you could see Tae nod his head abit while eating but when yoongi mentioned that it turned into a full track album and asked how many tracks were in it, you could also clearly see tae’s shocked reaction like he was hearing that for the first time and he repeated the “huh” more than once and then went “suddenly?” I know he is an actor but no one is that good of an actor plus I don’t see why he would react so dramatically if he really knew and honestly he had no reason to. There’s been other times when he’s known about things but he usually just keeps quiet or comments about them but never that kind of reaction and I think it is a bit of a reach to claim that he was pretending so he doesn’t spoil anything or gives Jungkook his moment. Yes there’s been cases where the members have known about things but still acted like they didn’t just for effect but you can almost always tell when that’s the case.

The way I see it, Jk was recording at the company and Tae was probably there too and then passed by to check on Jungkook, just like Jungkook stopped by to check on Jimin when he was doing the Live for his documentary or just like Namjoon stopped by to check on Jimin when he did his birthday Live. Us seeing tae there at that time doesn’t mean he had knowledge about the process of the album just because he was there to see Jk record for a moment.

I usually have issues with this kind of takes because I don’t think they paint taekook in a very good light and I understand that they do lie but there is a difference between a necessary or white lie and people lying for no good reason. If someone were to ask taekook if they are dating, I wouldn’t expect them to say yes, they would definitely lie about it but that doesn’t mean I would think Jk lied when he said he didn’t know where Tae was when asked during Inkagayo Live. How does knowing where tae is prove anything? If he could admit to Tae being the first one to listen to his song or if Tae could tell us that Jk sings a song for him then why would Jk lie about something as unimportant like not knowing where Tae was?

I noticed that taekookers claimed that Jk lied after that Inkigayo Live and after we go the bangtan bomb of Tae visiting Jk at Inkiya, many Taekookers including you Peach, took that as proof that Jk did lie because he asked Tae “where have you been” but how does that prove he knew where Tae was? Doesn’t that actually instead prove that he really didn’t know where Tae was? The same thing is happening now with Tae’s reaction to Jk’s album process and you are using this seconds of clips we have gotten as proof that Tae did know but how does this prove that he knew? It is like saying that Jk knew all about Jimin’s album process just because we saw him stop by to check on him during his practice or just because he did background vocals in “letter”. Sometimes it is ok to take their words and actions at face value but you only seem to take things at face value when they work for you and I don’t think that is right. Also I find it funny the kind of useless things you want people to believe taekook lie about, like Jk randomly lying about Tae’s whereabouts even though he has admitted to other things that could be more damning that that or Tae just being a master pretender for the hell of it when he could have just stayed quiet or not reacted at all. I don’t think that is a good way to potray taekook. They are not some impulsive liars and pretenders. They probably lie when they absolutely need to but I don’t think they lie or pretend about things like this.

Let's play a game in the comments, TKK friends, cos this one nearly fooled me in the first paragraph.

At what point did you realise this wasn't a TKKr?

It was "nobody is that good of an actor" for me.

[themoodyestj]

Ok, I think I have something to say about the current hot topic

Have you ever felt like you were dropped into a weird wicked dimension when all laws and science and logic and pretty much everything that makes sense flies out the window? I have to say I go through it all the time, and sometimes with major whisplash. But it's AA world for you guys, nothing makes much sense, and pretty much everything is twisted. I read recently that the Kween herself had deemed her clearly inferior husband worthy by professing the following words... "You'll do." And I already know what the AAs are going to say, it's playful banter, these guys don't know anything about relationships, they dont understand love, yada yada. It's not, and it's very dangerous to consider this playful banter. For the following reasons. 1 - I would consider this playful if there was a balance of negative and positive. However, Im yet to see Duhneel say anything positive (let alone sweet) about her husband.

2 - If this is playful banter, then she's oblivious to how she must behave. She goes to cons, tv segments, putting the finger on all the things J does wrong. The man works in television, he's a public figure and he depends on his image. This is pretty much the equivalent of having your significant other's boss for dinner and then ranting about how much of an unreliable idiot they are. It's stupid to spit on your breadwinner, really. And of course, it's classless, but we can all expect that from her in this point in time. I don't know for a fact that abuse is happening here, because I'm not there, but this is First Grade Moronic Nastiness if i ever seen it. And honestly, I wouldnt put it past her to verbally abuse her husband, because if she has the nerve to do it in public, where she must keep an image, imagine what she does in private. And come on, just like the SPN easter eggs he plants on the shows he works on, he also drops a few in cons about their marriage. "We work better apart", calling her Scary Spice, the vague non committal compliments he makes about her to save face... It's all there. Wales Con was an eye opener if anything, so much so that it divided the AA community. The guy was so tense he was about to snap his jaw! The body language was so telling that you really have to have your head in the sand while covering your ears singing lalalalalalala (or like i read in a comment about me CAN THEY SHUT UP, JENSEN HAS GROWN, WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT) not to notice. In fact, I hate comparisons, but this illustrates my point, so... Check this:

And compare to this:

The look on his face... He is literally turning away from her, except he can't because he's in public. And she's giving this mean girl vibe, vapid woman, "look at me, im a hotshot, i can diss your fave and you idiots still love me" vibe. In fact, can I mention her clothes? She's trying so hard to play the part of strong independent woman and failing so hard at it (I can guarantee you that's a comunity that won't claim her) that I'm pretty sure she wouldn't know what is like to be a strong independent woman even if it hit her in the face. But I digress and thats for another post altogether. In a nutshell, I don't know how people can defend these types of behaviours and consider them normal. Just a testament of their own lunacy, I guess, where everything is fair as square as long as they get to self insert. Where rules of compassion and respect do not apply because youre a celebrity (and its quite the stretch calling D a celebrity) and people can be bashed for shits and giggles. Im not the Jensen hater here.

[loyalhorror]

It's so damn difficult to accept that some things are beyond my control and that even if I made a mistake, if I wasn't given the chance to be made aware of and fix that mistake, then there's no point in me self-flagellating over it. If something about me, or my friendship, wasn't good enough for someone else or it was somehow actively harmful to them despite my best attempts to be supportive and considerate of their needs and to communicate, and I wasn't given the opportunity to rectify that, then there's no damn point in me beating myself up over it.

It feels, of course, like if I just figure out exactly what I did wrong then I can somehow fix it - but I can't. I have to make my peace with that.