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bettys-redwinesupernova · 19 hours ago

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BLOCK ME OUT

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: haunted by her ex’s cruel words, y/n wishes she could block herself out. but rafe sees her differently—like she hung the stars in the sky.

based on this ask !! thank you for this anon, apologies that it’s taken so long, but i hope it’s what you asked for and you enjoy it :) <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: appearance insecurities, angsty with a soft ending, soft!rafe, rafe thinking violent thoughts (nothing unusual😝), past emotionally/verbally abusive relationship (reader’s ex), crying, cursing, allusions to sex. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the features she had long since memorised yet never quite accepted. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows, making every perceived flaw stand out even more—the uneven texture of her skin, the way her cheeks seemed too full in certain angles but too hollow in others, the faint blemishes she could never quite cover no matter how much makeup she wore. Her fingers ghosted over her jawline, then moved to her lips, hesitating as if debating whether they were too thin or too full.

She sighed, dropping her hand and looking away. It didn’t matter. It never did.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice echoed from the hallway, warm and familiar. He must have noticed how long she had been in here. She took a breath and composed herself before stepping out, her lips pulling into a small, forced smile.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that soft yet unreadable expression he sometimes had when he thought she wasn’t looking. His blue eyes flickered over her face, taking in every detail as if memorising it. She knew he was about to say something—probably a compliment, because he always did. And just like always, she prepared to ignore it.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Y/N scoffed quietly, shaking her head as she crossed the room. “No, I don’t.”

Rafe frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern, but he didn’t argue. He never did. Instead, he just watched as she climbed into bed beside him, her body curling up instinctively, as if trying to take up less space. He noticed that too.

It had started small, the little deflections. The way she would dismiss any compliment he gave her with a wave of her hand or a disbelieving laugh. At first, he assumed she was just being humble, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it was something else.

Something deeper.

A wound that hadn’t healed.

Rafe didn’t push. He didn’t ask. But he noticed.

Like the way her smile always faltered for just a second when someone called her pretty, as if the word physically pained her. Or how she always changed the subject when he told her she was beautiful, shifting the conversation so quickly it was almost seamless. If he wasn’t paying such close attention, he might’ve missed it.

But he was always paying attention.

Y/N knew she should appreciate Rafe’s compliments, knew that he wasn’t just saying them to be nice. But she couldn’t make herself believe them. Not after everything.

Not after him.

Her ex’s voice still lingered in the back of her mind like a ghost, whispering cruel words she could never quite erase.

“You really think you’re all that? God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure it’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know why you even bother with makeup—it doesn’t help.”

“No one’s looking at you the way you think they are. You’re just… average.”

She had spent so much time believing those words, internalising them, letting them take root deep inside her until they became an unshakable truth. And now, even though he was gone, even though she had someone like Rafe in her life—someone who looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—she still couldn’t silence that voice.

Rafe had never once made her feel anything less than wanted. He never criticised, never made offhanded comments that chipped away at her self-worth. But that didn’t mean she knew how to accept kindness when it was given to her.

She felt his fingers brush lightly against her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You tired?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

She nodded, grateful for the easy out. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Rafe didn’t question it. He just reached over and pulled the blanket up over her, as if shielding her from whatever weight she was carrying. And maybe in his own way, he was.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, but she could still feel his gaze on her, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

For a moment, she let herself pretend that it was enough.

—

The night had started out perfectly.

Dinner was casual, nothing extravagant—just the two of them at his place, sitting across from each other, laughing between bites of food. It had been easy. Light. Y/N had almost felt normal, like the weight of her insecurities wasn’t pressing so hard against her ribs.

Rafe had been extra touchy that evening—his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a glass of wine, his palm resting at the small of her back as they moved through the house. Small touches, each one sending a shiver down her spine.

And now, here they were.

Y/N lay beneath him, the world shrinking to just the two of them, just the warmth of his body and the way his lips moved against hers like he couldn’t get enough. His hands skimmed her sides, slow and teasing, as if memorising every inch of her.

The air in the room had thickened, charged with something electric.

She should’ve been lost in it.

But she wasn’t.

Because the moment his fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, inching it up over her ribs, that voice came creeping back.

“You think he really wants to see you?”

“You think he won’t notice how bad you look from this angle?”

“God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure, it’s pathetic.”

She tensed.

Rafe noticed immediately.

His lips paused against her neck, and she felt his breath, felt the slight hesitation in his movements. “You okay?” he murmured, voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a nod, forcing herself to push through it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t overthink it. Just let him love you.

But then his hands moved again, slipping beneath the fabric, and panic surged through her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore. She was back in that old apartment, standing under fluorescent lighting as her ex tilted his head and examined her with a critical gaze.

“Your stomach isn’t as flat as you think.”

“I mean, yeah, you look good from the right angle, but not always.”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest.”

Her breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Her chest ached.

She didn’t even realise she was shaking until Rafe pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn’t place. “Talk to me, baby.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she was already spiralling.

She shoved at his chest lightly, needing space, needing air. And Rafe—sweet, perceptive Rafe—moved immediately, sitting back on his heels, giving her exactly what she needed. But even with the distance, she couldn’t breathe right.

“I—I can’t do this,” she choked out, her throat tightening. “I just—I don’t—”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt pathetic, completely unravelling in front of him over something so stupid.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t rush her. He just watched her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to piece together what had broken.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breaths coming faster. “I just—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel good enough for you.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and suddenly, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed of how easily she was falling apart.

“Y/N…”

She felt the mattress dip as Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. He just waited.

Waited for her to speak.

Waited for her to let him in.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears, but more came. “I—I don’t get how you could look at me like you do,” she whispered. “I don’t get how you could actually—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “How you could actually want this.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a wet, bitter laugh. “I see myself, Rafe. I see what I look like from different angles. I know what people see.”

Rafe was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You don’t know what I see.”

She swallowed hard. “I just—” Her voice trembled. “I worry that… that you’re not actually attracted to me. That you just think you are.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

And then, softly, carefully, Rafe asked, “Why do you think that?”

She exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to open that box. But he deserved to know.

“My ex,” she finally whispered. “He… he made sure I knew what was wrong with me. All the time.”

Rafe went rigid.

She saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, but she could see the fire behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “Tell me what he said to you.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. “He told me I wasn’t as pretty as I thought. That my body wasn’t as nice as I thought. That I only looked good from certain angles.” Her voice cracked. “And I believed him.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, looking away, his hands gripping the sheets like he was barely holding himself together. She could see the anger simmering beneath his skin, the way he wanted to break something, to scream, to hurt the person who had done this to her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned back to her, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of something even stronger than rage.

Love.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And not just from certain angles. Always.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You think I don’t notice the way you brush off my compliments? The way you never believe me when I tell you how fucking perfect you are?” His voice wavered slightly, but he kept going. “It kills me, Y/N. It kills me that someone made you feel like this. That someone convinced you that you weren’t enough.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Rafe…”

“No.” His voice was raw now, his emotions spilling over. “You are everything to me. Everything. And I don’t just want you—I crave you. Every part of you. Every inch of you. I don’t care what angle, what lighting, what bullshit insecurity you think you have—I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

Her lip trembled. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are enough. You are more than enough.”

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body, and Rafe pulled her into his arms, holding her like he would never let go. He whispered into her hair, his voice soothing and warm, telling her over and over again how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him.

And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe him.

Because when Rafe Cameron looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He didn’t see imperfections.

He saw the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see them too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute and emotional one :’) i had this written up before i went away but finally got to editing it, just spending eh next couple days editing and posting the requests in my drafts !!

i hope this is what you asked for anon !! and as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) don’t hesitate to request <3

#bettys asks !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#drew starkey #rafe cameron #bettys work !! ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚#outer banks #fluff #rafe cameron x reader #obx #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron x yn #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron outer banks

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smolkooks · 2 days ago

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joshua hong's recipe for valentine's

summary: jisoo knows you like the back of his hand. he hopes. (he does). which almost makes asking you out for valentine’s day even more intimidating.

pairing: joshua (svt) x you

genre: college au, fluff

“hey alexa,” joshua called out into the emptiness of his bedroom, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

the sound of jeonghan’s quip cut through the air before alexa could even process joshua’s complaint, “don’t think ai is equipped to help with your relationship problems.” jeonghan rounded the corner and popped his head through the door, an amused smirk quirking up the corner of his lips.

“there are no relationship problems!” joshua buried his hands in his hair, “there’s no relationship problems, that’s the problem,” his tone trailed off hopelessly as he banged his forehead onto the table hoping that the brief pain would knock some sense into his brain.

“haven’t you two known each other for like, most of college? i’m sure she won’t mind no matter what you do,” jeonghan offered, and joshua knew he was trying to be helpful but the advice only made him feel worse.

“you know that feeling,” joshua began, spinning around on his chair to face his friend, “when you know someone too well? when you feel like they’ve seen everything and nothing will surprise them? fuck, she’ll probably notice something in my expression the day before or like sniff me out when i slip up on a sentence or something.” usually, he loved how detail-oriented you were, but in moments like these, he wished you were a bit more oblivious.

“you’re giving her too much credit, man,” jeonghan said with a shrug, “don’t think she’s going to be that perceptive.” he appreciatively eyed the pastel bouquet and origami paper that joshua had strewn across his desk and then said, “there’s no way she’d see all of this coming.

“you don’t know her,” joshua groaned, already fearing the worst. he’d spent the better part of the week planning all your valentine’s day gifts—brainstorming and ripping his hair out and agitating over making every detail perfect. he was not about to let you sniff anything out or become at all suspicious beforehand.

he truly did know you too well, because his very first dilemma arose just an hour later, after jeonghan had left for his evening class and he was alone in his apartment, putting together your gift when his phone had pinged with a message.

from: y/nnie

josh wyd

to: y/nnie

lmao wtf so random

immediately he knew he’d fucked up. because texts at this time from you were a daily occurrence, and his response was too fucking unnatural. but unfortunately he’d been so preoccupied with folding origami puppies and tucking them into the bouquet he’d picked out earlier this morning and surprised by your text that he replied without thinking.

as he went to edit the message, your read receipt came through and he resisted the urge to cry as your typing bubble showed up.

from: y/nnie

don’t be weird...

from: y/nnie

if ur free i’m gonna come over i’m dropping something off

from: y/nnie

jeonghan said ur home

joshua’s eyes widened as he cast a glance over the ginormous mess on his desk. he’d been planning to meet you later tonight anyway, yes, but not immediately! he still had to put together the last of the origami animals and also finish off wrapping your actual gift...

but then again, if he said no, you would for sure instantly know something was up anyway, so there was absolutely no winning. not unless he became an origami monster immediately and finished your bouquet within the next five minutes.

panicked, he started to type a response:

to: y/nnie

give me like twenty min pls

from: y/nnie

alr

cya

tossing his phone onto his bed, he locked into the origami flower youtube video that he was up to. he didn’t think he’d ever been so focused before, not even during his final exams, not even during his driving test, not even ever. there were high stakes at play here, and he was not about to let all his plans fall apart. in fact, he tried to convince himself, you coming over was a blessing. the thought of seeing you did put a smile on his face, as stressed as he was about the lopsided paper tulips that he was currently mass producing.

within ten minutes, he’d tucked the final ones of his origami projects between the pastel petals of the bouquet he’d picked out earlier in the morning and began to survey his next project: the actual gift.

gritting his teeth determinedly, he set to work.

joshua was being weird, you’d decided, as you switched off your phone with a frown. why did it feel like he was so nervous? you visited him and jeonghan’s dorm all the time, it wasn’t like an out of the blue event, right...?

the doubts continued to cloud your train of thought as you surveyed the gifts that you’d prepared. flowers, of course, for your best boy. bead sets, a new phone case, matching smiski hippers for the two of you, his favourite snacks...you’d gotten everything he’d mentioned wanting. (except for the apartment by the seaside. you weren’t financially successful enough yet for that. one day).

as far as relationships went, yours and joshua’s was relatively fresh despite having known each other ever since the first week of freshman year. you’d been together for two months give or take, just in time to settle down for a proper valentine’s day—your first with a boyfriend, and you were determined to make it the best.

you’d even purposefully visited him almost every evening so that your visit today wouldn’t seem as suspicious. you hoped he wasn’t suspicious. as you switched your phone back on and read over your chats again, you realised maybe you did come across a little nervous...drop something off? you were lucky he didn’t question it today. it was so vague, and at the same time, lowkey obvious considering the date...

you hoped he’d overlook it.

the trek to joshua and jeonghan’s apartment wasn’t far at all. in fact, he lived one building down the road, so carrying all your gift boxes wasn’t that much of a hassle. you’d made the walk so often that you knew it better than the back of your hand, so when you arrived at his door, you couldn’t help the familiar smile that curved on your lips.

“josh!” you called out alongside your knock.

you heard his faint response and then some banging around before the door finally opened.

“HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY!”

your overlapping voices made your eyes widen in shock. when you finally registered the sight in front of you, you realised joshua was also holding an armful of gifts—a massive bouquet of origami and real flowers blended together so prettily, and another bag of pristinely wrapped presents.

he seemed equally as shocked—his hair a little unkempt but still cute, glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose as he blinked at you through the doorway—at all of the stuff that you were holding out to him.

“y/n,” he managed, as you huffed a laugh of disbelief, “there’s—what—wait, i was going to surprise you.” he glanced down pointedly at all the things in his arms, and you laughed in earnest.

“you did, josh,” you said with an amused giggle, finally stepping into the apartment and letting joshua shut the door behind you, “i think we scared the shit out of each other.”

you set down the bouquet you’d brought on his dining table as he did the same to the bouquet he had prepared, before he was ushering you to sit down, a faint blush on his cheeks as he said, “i can’t believe this.”

“great minds think alike!” you exclaimed, as you noticed the little puppies he’d tucked into the flowers, “wait, josh, hold on—,” you did a double take as you looked closer at the bouquet, “did you put sonny angels in the flowers?”

he sat down beside you and rolled his eyes in an ‘obviously’ way, “they’re your favourite, aren’t they?”

“stop it,” you said in disbelief, your surprise continuing to multiply, “you’re so crazy josh. this is why i love you.”

“because of the sonny angels in the flowers?”

it was your turn to roll your eyes as you shoved him a little, “no, idiot. because we know each other too well.”

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zeropro · 6 hours ago

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can i kindly ask for a summary of how time is measured in your au? mostly the cycle/year stuff, im not sure if it's lifted from elsewhere or your own creation — either way i think it's really cool :) world building is awesome

very sorry if you've already gone over this elsewhere

Oh sure! I spent way too long figuring this out so i might as well explain it.

The cybertronian calendar goes in one direction forever unless a new Prime decides to reset it. Nova Prime reset the calendar when he declared the new Golden Age of Expansion, which is why Megatron’s canon Birthday is so small (1st cycle 012) as he was among the first Cold Constructed mechs onlined, and that started with Nova.

The only unit of measurement that we seem to have solidified is Vorns, which is 83 earth years (earth years=stellar cycle). The calendar’s cycles are measured by vorn, the first number counts vorn, and every 24 vorn the second number ticks up. after 24th cycle 12 it would become 1st cycle 013 and then 2nd cycle 013.

There…actually is no unit of time for the second measurement as far as I can tell, so I have no idea what to call it, but essentially you would say Megatron’s birthday as first cycle O’twelve, and people would know he was born 23904-ish years after Nova Prime’s calendar went in effect.

24 vorns is roughly 2000 years and every 500 dates on the calendar is roughly one million years.

I developed this calendar system based on the actual dates we do have in IDW1, I decided 24 vorns are when the calendar turns over because the war starts about a million years after Megatron’s birth and the canon dates for most of those events are in the 500s. I did have to ignore the single canon date set in the 51st cycle for this, but all the other dates are within the 1 to 14 range. And this is taking into consideration that the calendar probably reset some time under Zeta Prime (which is why the Battle of Sherma Bridge where Megatron and the newly anointed Optimus Prime allegedly duked it out for the first time happens in 2nd Cycle 087 even tho Megatron was beat up by Whirl in jail before the war in 4th Cycle 496). Some of the inconsistencies I also chalk up to some bots still using the old calendar. the only date I really cant figure out is 6th Cycle 356 being confirmed to be “half a million years ago” like?? Eh?? Ultra Magnus’ last fatality was pre earth pretty sure and that happened in the 3800’s (of nova’s calendar pretty sure). Maybe they missed a zero at the end of the date or something idk XD 3560 would make so much more sense for half a million years ago.

Also, 83 years is a long time and it does seem like they have smaller units of dating called chords and arcs but I just assume thats like days and months to us and I cant be bothered to figure it out. not enough info about it anyway. I’m sure one of those tracks stellar cycles and the other tracks cybertronian days.

i think the only other unit of time I've used is deca-cycles, just cuz I like how it sounds. a deca-cycle is about a month, or three weeks.

Megatron and Skywarp were constructed earlier on (012 and 023 respectivly), Thundercracker was constructed closer to when the matrix “ran dry” probably in the 100s, and Starscream was commissioned by Cryak at the end of the millenia, in the late 400s, after they’d stopped constructing seekers entirely. He must not have been more than a few vorns old when he met Thundercracker.

Starscream and Skyfire’s expedition would have taken them 40 on the calendar to get to earth, based on Skyfire’s shuttle speed. Starscream probably would have been able to make it back to cybertron a little bit faster.

I referenced this and this page of the wiki while working on this. Most of my worldbuilding is extrapolation from canon.

yes i did all this for one joke.

A few more timeline stuff: Megatron is about .7 million years older than Starscream, and Starscream is about half a million years older than the start of the war. The war lasted 3 million years before they crash landed on earth after which they went into stasis for one million years. Some time after they landed on earth, Shockwave successfully clones Sunstorm.

and in case you were wondering, sunny's serial code is referencing his Collector's Edition toy's ID number (089). SC stands for Seeker Class. they run out of glyphs slots after 999 so they sort them into batches. Sunny is the 089th frame built in batch 16. whether that means his frame was already built and left empty in storage somewhere and then repurposed by Shockwave, or Shockwave built him from scratch based on the blueprints and just continued the serial code sequence, I haven't decided. but either way, it means there was a finite number of seekers brought into the world and they dont even make up a whole united states city's worth of people. Lots of them are dead by now anyway. The whole cybertronian race is so small now they are all on first name bases with each other XD. But i digress, none of that has to do with time or calendar stuff, just thought it was fun.

thanks for asking!!

#transformers #transformers calendar #transformers worldbuilding #transformers units of time #transformers 2005 idw #transformers idw1

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worthlessnepenthes · 3 days ago

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So I reblogged this because it’s funny but then I thought about YQY for a second, and reblogged again so I could talk.

This isn’t going to be any new, profound thoughts for the fandom I’m sure but they’re new to me and I wanna talk for a minute.

I, personally, do not like YQY. I don’t HATE him, but I don’t like him. But I do feel sorriest for him, out of all the SVSSS and PIDW characters. I often forget that when he left SJ, he too was a literal child. Yes, he probably could have done better—told his master he needed help to save his brother, heck, told a fellow shidi or shixiong once he got to the peak. He was probably popular. I can’t imagine no one would have been willing to help him. But he was also a child, so I forgive him. He suffered and hurt himself, grievously, permanently causing himself a chronic condition in his attempts to get back to DJ. I don’t know that I think he did everything he COULD, but I do believe he did everything he THOUGHT he could.

And then Shen Jiu shows up, much like a feral cat, and constantly lashes out and hurts YQY. Their strained relationship is absolutely caused on both ends. It’s hard to say, ‘Well, YQY should have just KNOWN that SJ wasn’t going to the brothels to sleep with whores/didn’t kill LQG/wasn’t abusing Ning Ning/whatever other terrible things he was accused of,’ when SJ was, in fact, very verbally abusive and physically abusive to at least one disciple (lbh. Do we even get a canon reason WHY he hates him so much?), and verbally abusive to YQY, and to most likely many other characters.

However, maybe if YQY had actually stood up for SJ and said ‘No, this is a misunderstanding, this is not what happened,’ instead of just assuming that SJ had done whatever terrible thing and then covering for him in a sense of guilt, maybe things wouldn’t have been so bad. Or if YQY said, ‘take out your anger on me, it’s all my fault, but leave the others alone’. (It wasn’t, and SJ is wrong for acting this way.)

Honestly if they had ever fucking COMMUNICATED instead of just assuming the actual fucking worst of each other, while still deeply loving the other (in whatever romantic or platonic way they had, they loved the other) no matter whether they ever said it or not, a lot could have been avoided. Like PIDW YQY’s death.

Or hell, if Airplane had ever written about Xianxia mental health care instead of probably curing depression with papapa!

But the relationship between SJ and YQY is almost worse and more horrifying after SY comes through. YQY KNOWS it isn’t SJ, but every test they do show he isn’t possessed. So maybe it really is SJ, and all SJ needed to become happy was simply…to forget almost everything, but especially any time SJ and YQY spent together before they became Peak Lords.

So YQY is still trying to make it up to a person that he both thinks is there and thinks is not there, never knowing for sure. Every emotion he has towards this ‘new’ SJ feeling like a betrayal, ‘if only SJ could have acted like this before!’

Yeah. It’s really horrifying. He never gets the comfort of knowing for certain that SJ is gone, never gets to properly grieve and burn incense for him. But he also always feels just slightly off kilter with SY, and then feels guilt, because this is SJ! And even if it isn’t…what can YQY do about it?

YQY has many sleepless nights, wondering, after SY shows up.

I don’t like YQY, but I feel sorry for him. He is the most pitiful character in the book to me.

Shen Qingqiu, pissed off during a peak lord meeting: when I die I want Shang-shidi to lower me into the earth, just so he can let me down one last time

Shang Qinghua: bro c'mon

Yue Qingyuan, abruptly overcome by jealousy so intense that he's on the verge of a qi deviation: but I thought I was the one who let Xiao Jiu down the most...?

#svsss #shen jiu #yue qingyuan #SJ #YQY #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #SY #just fucking bullshit #sqq

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utilitycaster · 1 day ago

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Forgive me if you've already been asked something on this topic, but I was curious about your opinions re: Laudna's epilogue. Specifically, about how her lifeforce and aging is now tied to Imogen's in a 'marriage' ceremony even though they've only been dating for a few weeks in-game. It felt like an extension of the flaws baked into her entire arc that Laudna bound her soul to yet another magical woman, and in a way that would discourage any conflict between her and said mage. Laudna's epilogue with Imogen being considered a 'happy ending' really hinges on the idea that those two each other's perfect matches

So this is an interesting approach! I have to admit: I don't find the choice to age to be particularly bad, nor discouraging of conflict. I think it just means that she'll live around as long as Imogen will, as a human woman. I think if they were to break up, or if Imogen were to meet an untimely end, it just means Laudna would still live to a typical human lifespan.

But this is an interesting point that I think I touched on briefly when interacting with that weirdo last night, which is that it really feels in the end that Laudna never has her own life. Hell, Liliana manages to more satisfyingly say "huh, I've spent my entire life from probably my early 20s to my 50s either effectively on the run and alone, I fell into the hands of a very powerful wizard who treated me as a vessel, I never really unlearned my brainwashing from that, and now that it's over I think I need to go out in the world and figure out who I am as a person because my entire adulthood was lost to that" and Laudna never does. Even the ritual to make her live a typical lifespan feels very much a having your cake and eating it too - it's always been interesting that Laudna made these sort of intermittently expressed overtures towards liking her weird gross undead state and that mechanically Marisha leaned into it beyond the rules of Hollow One but then she does not get the unwilling immortality because of yet another quite literal Deus Ex Machina. It feels like just one more case of this party getting to have it both ways, for free, without ever having to choose, and the dumbest people alive shrieking at me that what I find to be a desperate saccharine dying dream of an ending is happy and that because it is "happy" any criticism must be a personal failure (and then some other rando will weakly bust through like an incontinent kool-aid man to fart out how unfortunate it is people are so uncivil and unkind and attacking people's intelligence and morals this campaign, meaning, of course, me for existing while holding an opinion and not breaking down in tears and capitulating to everyone who comes on my posts, but not the people who come on my post and call me stupid and unfeeling, because they agree with those people, because campaign 3 appeals, as I've said many times, to the posers who can dish it out and not take it, and not to like, intelligent adults.)

I don't find this ending happy because it's so divorced from reality it feels like weightless nothing, in the end; that's my feeling on all the lack of consequences, actually - as one of my mutuals said, easy come, easy go. Laudna never has a story; she never lets herself out of her own cages to have a story. The only framing people can even come up with to make it happy is "she had TRAUMA and now she has an ENDING where she's left alone" and even then it's like. Personally my feeling on anyone who treats their trauma as the reason they are interesting should be made to retrace the steps of the Franklin Expedition, which will make them interesting and/or at least temporarily remove them from my vicinity. If being left alone to do nothing is happy, why aren't you guys giving me a happy ending.

I meant to be a bit more reserved in this answer, and I have a similar ask to get to as well but I think what I'm trying to express and slowly losing my mind over is that the people who like Campaign 3 and loudly defend it are increasingly quite literally not of an intellectual caliber or level of interpersonal empathy to even join in the discussion with those of us who found it lacking. It's like explaining quantum physics to toddlers. We find ourselves having to define words as basic as "conflict" and "consequence," and repeatedly, with eroding patience, explain "sometimes, I think it is interesting when bad things happen to pretend people, and it is boring when good things happen to pretend people, because they are pretend, and sometimes different people have different feelings, and that is okay! but you need to let people have different feelings. Someone saying they don't like the blue truck doesn't mean you can't like the blue truck! But you can't make them like the blue truck."

#anyway.#answered #anonymous #what's also frustrating tbh is as you can see i'm literally just answering asks at this point #like there's not enough meat of c3 to write meta; i'm just going to answer questions and focus on like. better works of fiction.

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voidofsunlight · 19 hours ago

Text

Lead Me to You

Word Count: ~1,050 words~ Trope: Enemies to Lovers?

Summary: Forced to partner in Yule Ball dance lessons, Mattheo Riddle slowly finds himself enjoying your company—until he overhears you have a date with Cormac McLaggen. That’s when he decides to take matters into his own hands.

A/N: Someone asked me to write the next part of this [link] so I tried my best! Please be kind—I’ve never really posted my writing anywhere before. I’ve been writing for myself for years, and I’d love to hear your thoughts! Feedback is appreciated. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!

✦ ✦ ✦

The moment your hands met, you knew this was going to be a disaster.

Mattheo’s grip was too tight, fingers curling around yours like he was bracing for battle rather than a dance. His movements were rigid, his body tense—like he expected the entire room to explode at any moment.

"You’re supposed to follow the rhythm," you murmured, trying to guide him.

"I don’t take orders," he snapped, yanking you into a turn so abruptly you nearly tripped.

A sharp snicker came from your left. Theodore Nott, watching with barely contained amusement as he danced with Pansy, smirked.

"Damn, Mattheo. Are you dancing or trying to hex her?"

Mattheo shot him a glare, but it didn’t change the fact that he was comically terrible at this. He moved like someone who had never had to be gentle—someone who had spent his whole life preparing to strike first, not to hold.

The moment McGonagall dismissed the class, he tore his hands away as if burned, muttering something about a waste of time before stalking off.

✦ ✦ ✦

The next lesson wasn’t much better.

Mattheo was still stiff, still completely incapable of grace, and still refused to meet your eyes. His movements were jerky, his grip too firm, and when you stumbled over your own feet, he scoffed.

"Pay attention."

You huffed. "You’re the one leading."

"Yeah, well, maybe you should keep up."

Despite his sharp words, something was different this time. His frustration wasn’t as venomous, his insults not as sharp. He was still tense, still scowling, but… he was trying.

And when he finally twirled you without disaster, his brows lifted—just for a second—before he masked his surprise with a scoff.

"Not bad, Riddle," you teased.

He only huffed in response, but when the lesson ended, he didn’t shove you away this time.

✦ ✦ ✦

The teasing started soon after.

Theodore, being Theodore, couldn’t help but jab at Mattheo for his own entertainment. Every time Mattheo’s gaze lingered on you for too long—whether it was in the corridor or across the Great Hall—Theo wiggled his eyebrows, grinning like he knew something Mattheo hadn’t quite figured out yet.

"You’re staring," Blaise remarked one afternoon, smirking over his coffee cup.

Mattheo scowled, stabbing at his food. "I’m not."

"Right," Theo drawled. "And I’m a Gryffindor."

Mattheo rolled his eyes, but he didn’t glance your way again. At least, not while they were watching.

✦ ✦ ✦

Then came the overheard conversation.

"I still can’t believe you said yes to him," your friend huffed, nudging you as you packed up your books.

You shrugged. "Well, he seems nice."

"Cormac McLaggen?" She scoffed. "You Hufflepuffs are too nice."

Mattheo hadn’t meant to listen. You were just so close—your group settled at the Three Broomsticks, bags at your feet, probably from dress shopping. But the second he heard you said yes—something in him went rigid.

His jaw clenched, fingers tightening around his drink until his knuckles turned white.

You had a date. And McLaggen, of all people.

The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

✦ ✦ ✦

By the last lesson, the steps had become familiar.

His hands were no longer hesitant, his movements less aggressive. He didn’t treat you like something fragile—nor something he wanted to break.

But something else was happening.

He caught himself watching you—the way your hair brushed over your shoulder, the way you focused so intently on perfecting every step. It was irritating. Distracting.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly.

"You got a date?" he asked suddenly, voice carefully neutral.

You blinked, surprised. "Why?"

He shrugged, feigning boredom. "Just wondering who’s got the misfortune of dancing with you all night."

But there was something behind his words—something sharp, something possessive.

And when you smiled, amused, and answered yes—it made his blood boil.

✦ ✦ ✦

The night of the Yule Ball arrived, and Mattheo was restless.

He hadn’t planned to care. He hadn’t planned to even think about it.

But then he saw you.

And worse—he saw someone else dancing with you. A Gryffindor. Of course.

Something inside him snapped.

Before he could second-guess himself, he strode forward, cutting in without so much as a glance at your partner.

"I’m taking over," he said, smirking—but there was an edge to it, something dangerous, something real.

And when your hands met this time, he wasn’t stiff. He wasn’t hesitant.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t just dancing.

He was claiming something he hadn’t even realized he wanted.

You arched a brow, amusement dancing in your eyes. "So you finally figured it out?"

Mattheo exhaled sharply, tugging you just a little closer. His voice was low, rough, edged with something undeniably certain.

"Shut up," he muttered. "Just let me have you."

You laughed softly. "You could’ve just asked me, you know."

He smirked, the cockiness returning—but this time, there was something else behind it. Something raw. Something real.

His fingers brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before trailing down to your waist. And then, with a confident pull, he dipped you back—holding you firmly, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"I want to kiss you," he murmured.

A challenge flickered in your gaze. "Then do it."

And he did.

✦ ✦ ✦

PLEASE DO NOT COPY / TRANSLATE OR REPOST AS YOUR OWN!

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hottiesforhockey · 13 hours ago

Text

jealousy, jealousy ⏐ e.pettersson

pairings: elias pettersson x reader genre: fluff ⎜ established relationship ⎜ romance ⎜slice of life? ⎜ warnings: none tbh... this is just short and sweet synopsis: your best friend invites you to a birthday get together with some of his teammates - it's pretty hard to socialise when he refuses leave your side. word count: 2.6k authors note: this is pretty short and sweet - I think we all lack a little EP40 in our lives so here's enough to get you by. (p.s. I know the poll said "the big oopsie" first but hear me out - this one just happened, okay. Auston's fic is in progress and about half way done!)

(unedited)

The moment Elias asked you to come with him to a "casual, no-pressure, totally chill" birthday get-together with his teammates, you knew two things:

One - This was absolutely a setup.

And two - He owed you. Big time.

Because let’s be real—walking into a room full of professional hockey players who’d probably judge your entire existence based on your drink choice and your ability to keep up with their insults—chirping, as Elias had recently explained—was not exactly how you planned on spending your Friday night.

But then Elias hit you with that look—the one that made it impossible to say no. The one that practically screamed I need you to come so I don’t have to suffer alone without him actually saying the words. His big blue eyes locked onto yours, unwavering, waiting for the inevitable ‘yes’ he knew was coming.

And, well. You were weak.

Pathetic, really.

So here you were, standing in the middle of the crowded entryway, regretting every single life decision that led you to this moment.

"Relax," Elias murmured, his voice low and smooth as he leaned in close, the warmth of his breath fanning against your ear. His hand settled at your hip, grounding and insistent, as he pushed the door shut behind you. "You look like you’re bracing for war."

"That's because I am," you muttered back, your eyes darting to the cluster of guys he was leading you toward. They were loud. Too loud. Someone was already chirping someone else about a missed goal from two games ago, and there was an entire debate happening over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. (It did. You would die on that hill.)

"Come on," Elias nudged you forward, his grip tightening slightly, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t about to let you fend for yourself. "They're not that bad, I promise."

"Says you," you shot back. "I’m the one walking into a testosterone-fueled lion’s den with no backup plan."

"Your backup plan is me," he said, his hand now resting low on your back as he guided you through the crowd. "And I’m excellent at sticking to plans.” Before you could fire back a snarky response, the group had fully spotted you both. The room fell silent for what felt like an eternity, eyes flicking between you and Elias before conversations slowly picked back up.

"Petey!" someone called, and suddenly you were in it, surrounded by an overwhelming mix of aftershave, expensive cologne, and the undeniable energy of men who spent way too much time together—probably more than they did with their own families. Elias sent out quick, easy smiles as he navigated through the crowd, dropping his present onto a table before immediately shifting back to your side, his arm wrapping firmly around your waist like a silent claim.

“Everyone, meet my—” Elias hesitated, his gaze flickering down to you, something unreadable flashing across his face before he looked back at the group.

What was he going to say?

Friend? Girlfriend?

“Someone very special to me.” He relents, the knowing glances exchanged between his teammates weren’t subtle. Elias quickly added your name, his voice measured, controlled, as he rattled off quick introductions, keeping you close—like he was afraid you’d bolt if he let go.

You wouldn’t, of course. But it was cute that he thought you might.

The group was momentarily distracted when food was announced, shifting toward the massive dining table in the backyard. You settled into your seat at the far end, Elias beside you, his knee knocking into yours, his palm resting casually on your thigh as he slipped into an animated conversation with the guy beside him.

But it didn’t take long before the attention turned to you.

"So, you're the famous best friend," one of them—Quinn, maybe?—grinned, resting his chin in his hand as he studied you like you were an interesting new puzzle. "Petey talks about you all the time."

Your eyebrows shot up. "Does he?" You grimaced, clearing your throat to cover the surprise.

Elias tensed beside you, shifting slightly in his seat, his grip on your thigh tightening. “I wouldn’t say tha—”

"He does," another guy—JT? Brock?—confirmed without missing a beat. "A lot. Like, a lot a lot. To the point where I think he might be obsessed.”

"Huh." You turned to Elias, biting back a smirk. "That true, Petey?"

"Don't let them get in your head," Elias warned, sending his teammates a sharp look. "They're just messing with you."

"They don’t have to try very hard," you teased, nudging him with your elbow.

And then it happened.

The telltale red creeping up Elias’s neck, his lips pressing into a tight line as his jaw tensed. Because apparently, the guys loved you.

Way more than expected.

One of them pulled up a seat beside you—shoving Elias slightly out of the way—to dive into a deep conversation about movies. Another leaned forward, peppering you with questions like you were the most interesting person in the room. Someone else (you were pretty sure this one was Brock) actually went wide-eyed when you mentioned your latest book obsession.

And Elias?

Elias was seething.

It wasn’t obvious—not to anyone else, anyway. But you knew him too well to miss the signs. The barely-there twitch in his jaw. The way he sat up a little straighter, his grip on his drink a fraction too tight. The flicker of irritation in his eyes every time one of his teammates made you laugh.

It was hilarious. To you. To them. To everyone except Elias.

"Wow," you said, leaning in close enough to ensure he could hear you, your voice laced with amusement. "You never told me your teammates were this charming."

Elias’s gaze tracked Quinn as he handed you his phone, grinning as you typed something in. His arm draped over the back of your chair, fingers grazing your shoulder with clear intent.

"They're not usually," Elias deadpanned, his tone flat.

You smirked. "You sure? Because I think I just got invited to a game night."

Elias made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl.

"Oh my God," you whispered, eyes widening in exaggerated shock. "Are you jealous?"

"Of them?" he scoffed. "Not a chance."

"Uh-huh," you drawled, dragging out the syllables. "That’s why your death glare is currently burning a hole in Quinn’s head, right?"

Elias exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "You are insufferable."

"And you," you mused, leaning into him, "are adorable when you're possessive."

He shot you a look, but the corners of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile.

"I should’ve left you at home."

"But then you’d have to deal with them alone."

Elias huffed, exasperated. "Honestly? Might've been worth it."

You grinned, nudging his leg under the table. "Too bad. You’re stuck with me."

And despite himself, Elias smiled.

Elias exhaled, shaking his head like you were the biggest headache and the best thing that had ever happened to him all at once. His fingers flexed against your thigh before he finally leaned back in his chair, conceding defeat.

"Fine," he muttered. "But if one of them starts planning a wedding in their head, I’m walking out."

You snorted, taking a sip of your drink as Quinn—oblivious to Elias’s growing torment—grinned at you. "Speaking of weddings," he said, resting his forearms on the table. "Petey ever tell you about his dream proposal?"

Elias nearly choked on his beer. "Quinn—"

"Oh, this I have to hear," you interrupted, perking up. "Go on."

Quinn smirked, clearly revelling in Elias’s distress. "So, Petey’s always said that if he ever found the one, he’d want it to be—"

"Okay, that’s enough out of you," Elias cut in, reaching across the table to swipe a fry off Quinn’s plate and shove it into his mouth like that would somehow shut him up.

You turned to Elias, amusement dancing in your eyes. "A romantic, huh? Should’ve known."

Elias swallowed hard, glaring at his teammates, who were barely holding back their laughter. "I hate all of you," he grumbled, but the tips of his ears had turned pink.

"Sure you do," you teased, nudging your knee against his again.

The conversation moved on, but the warmth of Elias’s touch never left your skin. The longer you sat there, the more comfortable you became, letting yourself fall into easy banter with the team. At some point, someone dragged you into a heated debate about which Marvel movie was superior (you refused to back down from your stance on Captain America: The Winter Soldier), and Elias—despite his continued attempts to look unimpressed—was definitely watching.

His gaze lingered whenever you laughed, softened when you absentmindedly stole a fry from his plate, flickered with something almost unreadable when Quinn leaned a little too close while showing you a picture on his phone.

And then, as if he’d finally had enough, Elias shifted.

His arm slid fully around your shoulders, tugging you just enough that your bodies were pressed together, your side flush against his. His fingers traced absentminded patterns along the curve of your shoulder, the casual intimacy of it making your stomach flip.

"Comfortable?" you murmured, tilting your head slightly to look at him.

Elias didn’t miss a beat. "Mhm." He hums, his fingers showing no sign of stopping their minuscule movements.

The night continued, and despite your initial nerves, you were actually having fun. The team was rowdy, sure, but they were also hilarious, treating you like you’d been part of the group forever.

Elias, however, was barely holding it together.

At first, it was just the occasional twitch of his jaw or his fingers tightening on your thigh whenever someone got a little too comfortable in your space. But when one of the guys—Brock, of all people—decided to get extra friendly, Elias reached his breaking point.

"You’re actually the best for putting up with Petey," Brock said, shaking his head in mock sympathy. "Can’t believe he kept you hidden this long."

You laughed. "Oh, he didn’t hide me. I just don’t usually spend my Friday nights in a room full of hockey players."

Brock smirked. "Tragic. We could’ve been best friends by now."

You grinned, about to respond when Brock suddenly draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a half-hug like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Don’t worry, I’ll make up for lost time," he declared.

Elias was out of his chair before you could blink.

His arm hooked around your waist in one smooth motion, tugging you out of Brock’s grasp and straight into him. You barely caught yourself, your palms landing on Elias’s chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

The entire table went dead silent.

"Alright," Elias said, his voice deceptively light, but there was no mistaking the edge beneath it. "Think you’ve had enough time getting to know my date, Brock."

Your breath caught. Date?

Brock raised his hands in surrender, grinning like he’d just won something. "Easy, Petey. Didn’t realise we were claiming now."

Elias ignored him entirely, his full attention locked on you. His hand settled at the small of your back, pressing just enough to keep you close, his fingers flexing against the fabric of your shirt.

"You good?" he asked, voice quieter now, just for you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse stuttering. "Yeah, he was just being friendly” you murmured, taking in his tense posture and the glare he’s shooting over your shoulder at his teammate. “Are you?" You question softly.

Elias exhaled sharply, his gaze flickering over your face, searching. "No," he admitted, so low you barely heard it.

Your heart flipped.

And then, before you could think too hard about it, before logic had the chance to kick in, you reached up, threading your fingers into the short hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down—

And kissed him.

Elias made a quiet, almost surprised sound before he melted into it, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, tilting your head just enough to deepen the kiss. His lips were warm, firm, but not rushed—like he was savoring it, like he’d been waiting.

The world around you faded—no loud teammates, no teasing voices—just the steady, intoxicating press of Elias against you.

When you finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath a little uneven.

"Wow," Brock muttered somewhere in the background. "Should we clap, or…?"

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers still tangled in Elias’s hair as he groaned.

"Ignore them," he murmured, lips ghosting over yours like he was already thinking about kissing you again.

You smiled. "Already forgotten."

And when he kissed you again—slower this time, more sure—you knew you weren’t walking out of this night just as Elias’s friend anymore.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed there, wrapped up in Elias, but when you finally pulled back, your face felt warm, your lips tingling from the lingering press of his.

Elias looked just as wrecked as you felt. His blue eyes were darker now, still fixed on your mouth like he was debating going in for a third kiss, his grip on your waist firm like he wasn’t ready to let go.

"Well," Quinn finally broke the silence, his voice full of amusement. "That was unexpected."

Elias didn’t even glance his way. "No, it wasn’t."

You bit back a laugh, your fingers still resting against the nape of his neck. "Oh, so this was the plan all along?"

His gaze flicked back to yours, and instead of answering, he just looked at you—really looked, like he was trying to memorise this moment, brand it into his mind.

And then, with a slight smirk, he murmured, "Worked, didn’t it?"

Your stomach did an embarrassing little flip.

Someone wolf-whistled, and Elias finally, reluctantly, let you go—though his fingers still trailed down your arm before fully releasing you, like he couldn’t help himself.

Brock leaned forward, grinning. "So, does this mean you're officially off-limits, or do we still have a chance?"

Elias shot him a look—one that would have sent lesser men running.

Quinn snickered. "Dude, I’ve never seen Petey glare this hard in his life."

You rolled your eyes, though the warmth of Elias’s claim still buzzed beneath your skin. "I don’t know," you mused, sending Elias a teasing glance. "Are you officially staking your claim, Petey?"

His jaw twitched, his fingers tapping idly against his glass before he leaned in just enough that only you could hear him.

"I think that kiss made it pretty clear," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

You swallowed hard. "Yeah?"

His lips twitched. "Want me to do it again just to be sure?"

God, you hated how easily he got under your skin. How a simple look, a soft-spoken challenge, could turn your thoughts to mush.

But you weren’t about to let him win that easily.

You tilted your head, considering. "Maybe you should, just to be thorough."

Elias exhaled sharply, like he was barely holding on to his patience, then—so fast it made your breath catch—he tugged you back in, his lips pressing firmly against your cheek, the feeling of his lips spreading out in a grin as he moves away with a loud “mwah”.

It was a kiss that said mine.

When he finally pulled away, he settles his chin on your head, chuckling softly as your hands hold his shirt tightly, a pout on your lips.

"You’re going to be a problem, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with something fond.

You grinned. "Absolutely."

And from the way he looked at you, from the way his hands still lingered, you had a feeling Elias didn’t mind one bit.

#elias pettersson #elias pettersson x reader #elias pettersson fanfic #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl x reader

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ficsinhistory · 2 days ago

Note

Do you have any headcanons for SCU!Amy?

You give me WAY to many power, anon. Let's go!

Amy comes from Little Planet. That's it, you can't convince me otherwise.

Because she was born on Little Planet, Amy can use her chaos energy for temporal manipulation. See the future and past, travel through time, etc.

Her people are a more pacifist, technological, diplomatic and peacemaking society. They believe in the power of the collective and that love transcends time. Hence part of her personality. They also believe that the flow of time has to be free from interference…something she doesn't agree with so much.

Amy actually knows Sonic, but neither of them remembers it because Little Planet only appears once a year for a month and she shows up the last time before he ran away. Amy landed on the island one day and ended up bumping into Sonic. They spent the month playing before she had to return for good and promising to come see him the following year. Amy never found Sonic again.

I believe Amy is a very powerful chaos energy user, especially since she is also a hedgehog. All of them, like Shadow and Sonic, have enormous and innate powers and I believe she does too. This even puts a target on her back.

She wasn't much older than Sonic when Little Planet was taken over. The whole thing was extremely traumatic for Amy who saw everything she knew and love die and the feeling of helplessness she felt motivated her to never be so helpless and incapable again.

She was captured by the creator of the Metal Sonics (probably Ivo) because of her powers when she was younger and had a quill stolen from her before could escape. This is how robots travel through time and why they have pink energy. They also can track her because of this. She blames herself for being the reason these threats are running wild and tries to make up for it.

Like Sonic, Amy was sent to Earth by a guardian who loved her, but she was instructed on a mission to protect (possibly protect the Time Stones and even Sonic) at any cost, even her own life. Contrasting Longclaw's instructions to Sonic which was to protect himself. Yes, it's so mess up to her as it's sounds.

She is on Earth at the same time as Sonic. However, she never left the New York area and being so good at hiding, never knew about him nor he about her.

Her hammer came from a factory of Little Planet, which canonically has an advanced industrial hub. She get it during the invasion to protect herself.

Amy has been fighting Metals for years and they always come back more refined and better. The only reason she hasn't been defeated is that her powers give her an advantage with vision of the future and Amy is naturally a strategic and inventive mind.

It's unnerving for her to destroy the Metal Army because they look similar to Sonic. Her mind can't remember him, but subconsciously, she knows she's seen that face somewhere. She's thrilled when she finally meets the real Sonic.

Just like Sonic's, Amy's powers are linked to emotions and since the trauma of the fall of Little Planet, her temporal abilities don't work very well. More specifically, her ability to see possible futures and remember her own past, is very scary for her. It's only when she meets Sonic again and they commit to dealing with the past together that it return to normal.

Amy's emotions in general are a mess. She is traumatized and lonely, while also being loving and optimistic. Because of her mission, she is afraid of putting even more people she cares about in danger, which leads to self-isolation. And just like Sonic, she tries to distract herself by wandering around New York and observing friends, couples, and families.

She's obsessed with musicals. She's also crazy about magical girls and has stacks of manga in her home. Amy also loves writing.

She lives in the post-credits park, in her own cave. In addition to manga, she has fairy lights, musical posters, various pink things, fashion magazines and exterotypically feminine things. Cloths? She loves it. Pop white girl music? You can bet. Rom-com? Please, she's a New Yorker.

The moon reminds her of Little Planet because it is also a satellite. Imagine her shock of seeing it split it.

She has survivor's guilt and thinks the Metals are her fault, so Amy has very little self-preservation. This leaves everyone, especially Sonic, a nervous wreck.

Amy believes in unconditional love, and is a lover of all living things. Following the philosophy that all life is valid and precious. Love is the only thing that transcend time.

When Amy meets the Wachowskis, she is delighted and excited. She has finally found people she can be around without fear, who she gets along with and who are part of her mission. Yes, she loves Maddie and Maddie loves her.

This girl collects friends and allies as Pokemons. Tom and Maddie? Folded for this cute, pink girl. Tails and Knuckles? Automatically siblings. Even Shadow can't handle this girl's absolute resolve for friendship. He knows resist is useless.

She and Sonic have a mutual crush, but they're really bad at it. Between the traumas and the similarities, it's just… amazing and scary to have someone understand you like that. Love is being seen, and Amy doesn't know how to feel about being so seen and vulnerable like that. All Amy knows is that she loves this boy very much and would hate to be responsible for taking him away from his family. That said, she can't hide it. Is so obvious.

Although she is in love with Sonic, her favorite Wachowski brother is Tails. They're tech siblings and strategic pals.

Knuckles and Amy get along very well. She has heard of his reputation as a warrior and he knows the stories of the mysterious Little Planet. They are both happy to finally have a sparring partner.

Amy's fighting style is very aggressive and destructive. She feels a lot of anger towards the Metals and this is quite a fuel. It reminds a bit of Shadow's practicality and brutality.

She is so empathetic and kind to the point of being disarming. Amy can get the truth out of anyone like that. One look into those green eyes and you are doomed. She will win you over with the power of unconditional love and non-judgmental listening.

Empathy plus temporal powers allow Amy to know everything about someone. It's scary and she knows it and likes it.

She is very good at hiding and uses this to her advantage when she visits New York. Although sometimes she likes to mess with people she finds rude by revealing herself a little and saying "no one will believe you" before smiling and walking away.

Amy has a temper and is very angry. And she is in New York. Pretty much the best place for her to hide.

She can love everyone but herself.

#sonic movie 3 #sonic movie #Sonic movie 4 #sonic the hedgehog #sonic 3 #sonic the hedgehog 4 #sonic movie spoilers #amy rose #sonamy #Sonic the hedgehog #Sonic #character analysis

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princess-of-the-corner · 1 day ago

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ML AU - Public Divorce

So, before Origins, sometime over … whatever break/vacation Paris kids have between school years, André finds out about Audrey’s “Other Family” (Zoé & Mr. Lee) in just about the worst way possible. What follows is a very loud, ugly, chaotic mess of a VERY PUBLIC divorce, as Audrey and André use their various platforms to slander the other. It is brutal, and not particularly dignified. They attack each other’s character, their appearances, their hobbies, even diets. Anything they appear in suddenly turns into being stuck at your friends house while their parents argue. At some point, in a “stick it to my ex” kind of move, André starts “dating(??)” other woman, trying to prove … something? That he doesn’t need Audrey? That she’s replaceable?? Anyway, Audrey decides fair’s fair, and starts publicly toting around her array of “side pieces” that she’s had for years.

Of course, none of this is actually GOOD for either of their popularities - Audrey opinions as the “Style Queen” starts to tarnish, André starts losing in the polls. But then. Then, after several MONTHS of this nonsense, André finally gets reminded, “oh yeah! We have a kid!” and starts using Chloé to slander Audrey. How she SUCKED as a mother, was never there, how he basically was raising Chloé as a single parent. And Audrey starts going on about how she never WANTED kids, how André was so DEMANDING, how trapped she felt in their marriage, How it isn’t HER fault she barely knows anything about Claudine, André never wanted her around!

Anyway, Chloé starts the school year, not as the returning Queen Bitch, but an exhausted girl who would appreciate it if everyone just knocked it off and let her sleep, please and thank you. She’s spent most of the break camping out at either Sabrina’s or Adrien’s, whenever Daddy wasn’t dragging her out to show how much he was still a “family man” or whatever bullshit he’s trying to do now. This Chloé has officially reached her limit. She’s watched her parents devolve into literal toddlers, gone through an emotional death coaster, and landed on a very bitter, resigned acceptance. As far as she’s concerned, nothing she can do will make any difference, so fuck it! Let’s wear hoodies all day! Let’s swim in the Seine! How about I burn all my clothes! Who gives a shit!? She’ll spend almost a week doing nothing but sleeping, then go on a shopping spree for knives. She’s giving into whatever random impulses strike her, and otherwise just not giving a single fuck. Sabrina and Adrien have been taking turns as her impulse control, preventing her from doing anything TRULY nuts, but they fear it’s only a matter of time.

Other assorted notes:

- there’s no prank on the first day, Chloé is too tired for this shit. She’s camping outside to make SURE Adrien doesn’t get derailed, and then she is taking a nap.

- Alya, being an aspiring reporter, has been following the Bourgeois Breakdown on the news. She gets a little too excited on realizing that Chloé is in her class, and asks several blunt, too personal Questions about how Chloé feels about the divorce. Chloé, who has been dealing with this shit for months from “real” reporters she isn’t allowed to “snap” at lest it affect her mom or dad negatively, punches Alya in the face. Alya at least admits later she probably deserved it.

- honestly, Chloé’s just more ready to throw hands in general. She’s swinging between total exhaustion and “Tired of Being, Time to go Apeshit”.

- she is, at all times, two (2) seconds from either kicking the shit out of someone, or taking a nap.

- Everyone, bar Sabrina and Adrien, is a little awkward around Chloé now, cause how do they handle “girl who was kind of a bitch to all of us since kindergarten, but now all her family’s shit has been airing on live TV for three months?”

- Marinette and Chloé kind of have a shaky truce, since Chloé ran into the Dupain-Cheng Bakery to escape a hoard of reporters, and Marinette hid her behind the counter and got said reporters to leave. They’re not really friends, but they aren’t enemies, nor are they “I leave you alone, you leave me alone”. It’s weirdly tense, but both girls are refusing to break the awkward stalemate.

- Bustier keeps trying to recommend Chloé to see the school guidance Counsellor, Chloé keeps saying no cause, “He didn’t do shit about me picking on Dupain-Cheng for literal years, this is DEFINITELY above his paygrade”.

- Chloé is refusing to take any blame for the divorce. Oh, she’s definitely had the thoughts of “are they splitting because of me?”, but how the pair of them are HANDLING the divorce? All the public mudslinging and arguments, and screaming at each other on the nightly news? That, Chloé is refusing to acknowledge as in any way relating to herself. It’s mostly spite, but also the healthiest part of her mindset regarding the whole thing

- André gets Akumatized about 6 different times as “Homewrecker”, before Chloé grabs a butterfly on purpose to go “Hawk Moth, if you turn my dad into a divorce Akuma one more fucking time, I am going to track you down with the express purpose of ripping out your spine, beating you with it, and then putting it back by feeding you each individual vertebrae”. When Homewrecker 7 turns up, someone posts a video of Chloé just screaming obscenities at the sky.

- André does lose the next mayoral election, at least partially as a result of this nonsense. D'argencourt also loses, so instead we have the dark horse of the mayoral race, Onyx Beauty, who was honestly not expecting to win. She’s kind of in shock the first week.

- Zoé and Mr. Lee find out about all this by accident, on the nightly news. How exactly do you handle finding out you are part of an affair destabilizing Parisian politics?

- the Miracuclass starts getting dragged in, cause André and Audrey start an extremely petty “funding race”, trying to boost their popularities by supporting “up and coming youth talent”. Chloé starts giving out cards that say “Sorry you got stuck in the middle with me”.

- both André and Audrey are rich enough they can drag other celebrities into their nonsense. Jagged Stone is, so far, the only one who managed to escape. Clara Nightengale called him for a week straight with horror stories.

- We find out that, after the Akuma shit started, lots of people took their business out of Paris, so yes, Bob Roth IS, in fact, one of the only people in Paris funding stuff. He keeps egging Audrey and André on, cause all their shit is making him lots of money. A tabloid calls the three of them “Paris’ Most Toxic Throuple!”. Chloé posts a video that is nothing but an adorable parakeet screaming bloody murder for two minutes.

- Lila comes in all prepared with extravagant lies that will make her new class swoon over her, but everyone is so burnt out on any kind of celebrity related drama that it isn’t nearly as effective as she wants it to be. She has more success supplying cool random facts, Italian cultural knowledge, acting trivia, and cute fox videos. Her entire plot gets derailed because she isn’t lying much, if at all, and everyone loves her as herself.

- Gabriel is actually getting kind of uncomfortable Akumatizing André and Audrey over the divorce, so he starts giving them really lame powers. Or at least, powers he THINKS are lame. After the third glitter related disaster, he starts running ideas by Nathalie, and keeps a specific list of “useless” powers he can give to Audrey and André.

Thoughts? Feelings? Opinions? How you’d write something like this?

I am loving this tbh!

#submission

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jjscrybaby · 3 hours ago

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could you do kook!reader spoiling jj? like, they're surprisingly really good friends and she's always getting stuff that she thinks he might need or want, like he comes over and she's doing skin care and she'll do his, or bringing him lunch, even buying him rings or surf supplies and everytime he gets all choked up and red because she's so sweet to him, just wanting to make him happy, and all his friends tease him for it calling her his sugar mommy and everything (all cutesy, sfw ^^)

jj maybank x kook!fem!reader | fluff | (sweetheart!reader, both are massive simps honestly, reader spending too much money on jj, lotta fluff!)

finally getting to my requests! hope you enjoy baby🩷 after writing this i’ve realised i have an obsession with jj and a sweetheart kook so if anyone has any requests for them i’m allll ears!!

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One thing about JJ was that he wasn’t used to being spoiled. That made sense, with the way he’d grown up and the people he was friends with. The Pogues all adored each other, but they showed their love with banter and loyalty not with gifts and affection. That was probably the reason he turned into a teenage girl every time you were around, because you always had something for him.

It was a known fact that you had a crush on him, ever since Sarah had started dating John B and dragged you along with her you’d thought JJ was cute. At first, he wasn’t a huge fan of you, you were a Kook and in his eyes that made you the enemy. It only took a few days for that novelty to wear off, once he realised there wasn’t a cruel bone in your body.

It was after a couple months of friendship that the never-ending string of affection began. Showing up to his work with his favourite sandwich in a paper bag — a heart drawn on like you were his mother sending him to kindergarten — buying him a new board after he was complaining about how old his was getting, realising there was hardly any body wash left in the bathroom so ordering three bottles for next day delivery. He’d blush and stammer over his words every single time, you just had that effect on him and he couldn’t work out why.

“There she is, JJ’s sugar mama,” John B teased as you came skipping into the Chateau with a shopping bag in hand; nothing out of the ordinary.

“Shut up,” JJ grumbled, shooting him a look before turning to you. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Hi, guys,” you beamed, sitting down on the couch beside the blonde. Your knee was bouncing excitedly, just waiting for one of them to ask you what you’d brought.

“What’s in the bag?” John B finally asked, a smirk on his face.

You instantly opened it up, grabbing a shirt from the top to throw his way. You didn’t want him to feel left out, although Sarah spent enough money on him that you didn’t feel quite so guilty for showing up with presents for JJ and nothing for John B.

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” John B laughed, catching it with ease. He held it up, grinning at the shirt. You imagined he was similar to JJ in the sense that he didn’t get a lot growing up, although you always smiled in the same way whenever you bought yourself a cute outfit.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes!” You exclaimed, a cheesy smile on your face. You liked treating your friends, it was probably the thing that brought you the most happiness.

“Well, I appreciate it, thanks kid,” John B smiled, standing up to give you a pat on the shoulder. “I’m guessing everything else in there is for Mr Maybank here.”

JJ’s cheeks instantly lit up, looking away to try and cover it before his friend could make fun of him. John B stifled a laugh as you nodded sheepishly. You knew that they’d all worked out how you felt about JJ, you’d always drunkenly told John B and Sarah that you wanted to have his babies so that probably gave it away.

“I’m gonna go try this on,” John B decided, ruffling your hair before disappearing inside the Chateau. JJ took a moment to thank God for that, he hated reacting like an idiot in front of the others.

“You know, us inviting you ‘round doesn’t mean you have to bring presents,” JJ stated, scratching his chin awkwardly.

“I know,” you shrugged. “But I was at the mall, and there was so much cute stuff! I got this skirt, too.” You tugged on the end of your baby pink skirt and he let out a soft laugh.

“Go on then, show me what you got,” he sighed, watching as you squealed and started to empty the shopping bag.

There were at least six new shirts in there, a pair of cargo shorts because he’d ripped his at a kegger, some new rings just because and a sweatshirt he himself had been saving up for. He had the same reaction as always, a lump in his throat as he wondered what he’d done in his past life to deserve such kindness and a blush coating his cheeks as you rambled on about how good you thought he’d look in the shirts.

“Do you like them?” You asked softly, after he’d been silent for longer than usual. Normally, he’d stutter out a thank you, kiss your temple and flip off the Pogues as they laughed at him.

“I— yeah, of course I do, but I don’t know if I want you to keep buyin’ me stuff,” JJ said, running a hand over his face.

He could see the way your smile dropped, a look of confusion and hurt in your eyes. “Why?” You asked quietly.

“Because, babe, I— I can’t return the favour, y’know? I don’t have enough money to go ‘round buying you a bunch of stuff, as much as I’d love to. Makes me feel guilty,” he explained, placing his hand on your arm to show he wasn’t mad.

The hurt faded from your face and instead you gave him a soft smile, one reserved for him. “I don’t want you to buy me stuff, I don’t care about that. I like getting you stuff. Besides, it’s not like you don’t do anything for me.”

“What do I do for you?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing as he tried to think.

“Lots of stuff! You make my coffees when I stay over, and you give me your extra fries. You scare away the boys at parties and you always say I look pretty,” you listed, this time a blush coated your cheeks.

He’d never really thought about it like that, like he was actually doing something for you. In his mind, he knew you liked a coffee so he’d make you one before waking you. He knew the Wreck’s fries were your favourite, that was a given from the way you’d scoff them down, so when you ran out he didn’t mind sharing. The scaring away boys was more for him, he didn’t want any of them swooping you off your feet whilst he was trying to work out how to do that himself. And calling you pretty? Well, you were.

JJ didn’t say anything, an idea came to mind. He reached behind him, undoing the shark tooth necklace he’d been wearing ever since he could remember. You watched him in confusion as he moved your hair out of the way and did it up, grinning as it rested just above your cleavage.

“I know it ain’t designer or anything, and it probably doesn’t got with any of your outfits, but it’s my favourite—” he cut himself off, watching as tears ran down your cheeks. You threw your arms around him and he was quick to wrap his around your waist, letting out a chuckle. “It was, like, a few dollars. No need for the tears, baby.”

“I love it,” you sniffled into his shoulder.

He felt himself pressing a kiss to your cheek, hand stroking over your back. Maybe one day that kiss would be on your lips, and instead of a stupid necklace he’d be buying you a damn ring. Not today though, today he was content with just knowing you’d be wearing a piece of him.

#jj maybank #outer banks #jj mayback x reader #obx #jj maybank prompt #jj mayback imagine #sweetheart!reader

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disgruntleddemon · 2 days ago

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i've racked my brain trying to figure out an in character way for Shifty to be integrated into the better world timeline main cast, but i'm throwing my hat it. they can be a little ooc for this. this is pretty long, so i'll put it under a cut:

sometime after Fiddleford moves in, but before him and Ford are officially together, the trio goes to check on the bunker (ford mentions planning on doing this in j3, so yayyy, an excuse for them to be there)

they quickly realize the cryotube is broken, and shifty has escaped (how did this happen? is that when shifty escaped in cannon? i have no idea, man) anyway, Fiddleford needs to go in with them to fix it, so Ford and Stan are on shifty hunting duty. meanwhile, shifty saw them, and assumes Stan is another shapeshifter

at some point, Ford and Stan get separated, so Shifty goes to Stan like "idk what that guy told you, but it's probably a lie. lets help each other escape!" Stan uses this to lure him to Ford lol

this is where we get the big confrontation/conversation between everyone. shifty wants out cause he was taken by Ford and Fiddleford for the sole purpose of being experimented on and being used to test the cryotubes. he wanted the journal to get new forms as a defense, and to use it as a guide for escape and life on the outside.

he's been playing nice at the moment and not attacking anyone to prove he'll be fine now. he just wants to go to the surface and live his life like he was supposed to if Ford had never found him.

every one else is not sure what to do. well, mostly Ford and Stan. Fiddleford is pretty set on the "put him back in the tube" approach

Ford is really flip flopping, he has a lot of trust issues after Bill, Shifty's original betrayal affected him, and it hurt Fiddleford (which was probably the worst part to Ford). but, he does see Shifty's perspective and feels kind of guilty.

i think i've spent like a week trying to figure out how they settle things, and i'm kinda calling it quits with that too. my best idea is a microchip. basically, Ford points out the cryotube thing really was unethical, and it broke before so it might again. plus, if they just leave shifty down there, he might tunnel his way out anyway, he's already forming some. and finally, killing him would also be unethical, and also a waste of an incredible scientific discovery .

so they decide to chip him and keep him at the cabin as a trial run. not great that shifty's still a prisoner, but i couldn't see them just letting him go. the chip, made by Fiddleford obviously, alerts them when shifty changes shape, if he manages to get it out, and prevents him from going too far out of a certain radius.

as time goes on, shifty is allowed to go further and further, and they trust him more. it's a very slow transition, that's mostly a matter of shifty becoming part of the daily routine. one of those "you can pretty much get used to anything after awhile" things.

i think they realize also, that shifty's still a juvenile. he's true form is still growing and changing. i put him somewhere in the 12-14 range. i haven't decided how they go about raising him just yet, but his human disguise is pretending to be Stan's son. between the mystery trio, stan having a random son makes the most sense.

shifty likes to keep his form kinda close to looking like himself, so if ppl ask about his appearance, he just says he's albino.

the transition period from not trusting him and being a prisoner, to being a proper member of the cabin is one i'm still very undecided on. but for now, i think the summery works well enough. once he's more comfortable with himself and his place in the house, shifty becomes very mischievous and adventurous! he likes doing pranks and getting into stuff

anyways, if anyone has any suggestions about him, i'm very open to it!! he's a hard character to figure out/integrate

#better world timeline #gravity falls #gravity falls shifty #fiddleford mcgucket #ford pines #stan pines

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malk1ns · 3 days ago

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february 7 @ rangers, 3-2 win

NEITHER of them playing??? my god, they're purposely trying to make this harder on me i think.

previous installments: 1 2 3 3.5

Whenever Sid isn’t allowed to travel with the team, he chafes.

Normally it’s from injury. The dark days of the concussion and neck injury aren’t that far behind him, but even with those memories lingering in his mind Sid’s much more used to the monotony of being out hurt: check-ins with Vyas, long sessions with the trainers, at-home rehab exercises, and not a lot more. At least he gets out, though, to Cranberry for his appointments and PPG to watch home games, and in his free time whenever he wants to go.

This is different. Sid and Geno are supposed to be sequestered, stuck in Sid’s house while the team waits to see if the pregnancy took and the lawyers argue over Geno’s unplanned mating bite.

The first few days were the worst. Geno was distraught, barely able to be in the same room as Sid without looking like a kicked puppy, and constantly on the phone spitting out upset-sounding Russian as he paced through Sid’s home.

Sid gets it, kind of. Geno’s a professional, this is part of what he does for a living, and he made a mistake, tied himself to Sid without meaning to because he lost control in the middle of what was essentially a job for him. There’s no easy hockey comparison, but Sid imagines making a mistake of that magnitude during a game and thinks he’d probably be reacting much, much worse than Geno is.

The bond Geno tore into them isn’t going away, though, and eventually he drifts back to Sid’s side.

He’s hesitant at first, tentative and apologetic, but Sid eventually manages to convince Geno that he’s not mad.

It’s not how he expected to get bonded, really. But Sid had come to terms years ago with the fact that it might not be up to him. He spent his entire life being warned that alphas can’t always control themselves around an omega in heat—that’s why he had to be so careful once he got a little older and realized the value of his breeding rights.

And he could do worse than Geno.

Sid doesn’t go more than a couple hours without having flashbacks to Geno holding him down and crooning in his ear while his knot swelled inside him. His face gets hot and his scent must turn, because Geno always looks at him.

He won’t touch Sid, though, no matter what Sid does.

Part of why they’re stuck inside is because the team is convinced that Geno’s too aggressive to be in public. The unexpected bite is held up as fairly damning evidence, and the specialists argue that in the early days of the bond settling Geno might catch someone looking at Sid and go feral.

There’s a part of Sid that wouldn’t mind seeing that, but he really, really doesn’t think it would happen. Geno had one moment where he lost control, sure, but he’s been respectful to a fault since, even when Sid’s been trying his best to change that.

They sleep in the same bed because the one time Geno tried to use the guest room neither of them got more than half an hour of sleep. Sid initially hoped that maybe he could start something that way, but Geno stays on his side of the bed, touching Sid’s hip gently before pulling back.

It leaves Sid cold every night. He’s determined to change things. Technically he won’t know if he’s pregnant or not for another week when they’re able to run a blood test, but Sid knows his body intimately, and he knows it didn’t take this time—and the idea of having to wait for Geno’s touch again until he goes into heat next is untenable.

“Fuck,” he swears, letting the knife clatter from his hand and leaping back from the kitchen counter. “Oh, damnit.”

He sticks his finger in his mouth and eyes the knife balefully. He’d woken up before Geno for the first time all week and had the idea that he’d have breakfast waiting when Geno came downstairs, set out on the table like a good little omega might for their alpha.

Instead, his finger slipped while he was trying to chop tomatoes for an omelette and now he’s bled all over the cutting board.

“Sid?” comes Geno’s sleepy voice, and Sid cringes, turning to face the kitchen door.

“Morning,” he mumbles around his finger, watching as Geno frowns around the room and scrubs a hand through his hair. “Sorry.”

“You hurt?” Geno says, ignoring Sid’s apology and the mess in favor of crossing the room and tugging Sid’s hand down from his mouth, cradling it in his own palms. “Oh, lyubimyy, you’re bleed, let me help.”

He tows Sid over to the sink, running cool water and pushing Sid closer to the counter so he can stick his hand under the stream. Geno stays close behind him, a tall, warm presence at Sid’s back, and Sid shivers.

Geno curls his hand around Sid’s hip. “You okay?” he says quietly, leaning down to peer over Sid’s shoulder at his hand. “Looks like it’s not so bad.”

“Yeah,” Sid says breathlessly, pulling his finger back from the water and fumbling for a paper towel. “I think probably just a bandage and I’ll be fine.”

He steels himself for the rush of cold when Geno steps away from him, but it doesn’t come. If anything, Geno presses against him more, sliding his hand from Sid’s hip to his low belly.

Sid goes still. He’s afraid if he so much as breathes too loudly, Geno will realize what he’s doing and put that respectful distance between them again.

“Don’t think it take this time,” Geno says, rubbing his palm over Sid’s stomach. Sid wants to go liquid, to fall back into his alpha’s arms and let Geno have his way with him, but he grits his teeth and stays upright. Geno’s scent this close, calm and happy with an undertone of arousal that’s become all too familiar—and frustrating—to Sid over the last two weeks, is almost too much; Sid’s going to start slicking up his sweatpants soon.

“It didn’t,” he replies breathlessly, shifting his hips back the littlest bit, pressing against Geno’s body. “I mean…we won’t know for sure until they test me next week, I guess, but I don’t feel like it did.”

“Hmm,” Geno hums. He’s still moving his hand over Sid’s body, slow and warm. “Guess we have to try again.” He puts his face down to Sid’s neck, rubbing their cheeks together before he inhales open-mouthed over Sid’s scent glands, fitting his teeth to the marks he left. “Smell so good,” he groans, pulling Sid flush against his body.

Geno’s tongue on Sid’s neck almost sends him into a swoon. His throat has been so sensitive since he woke up the day after Geno bonded them; the slightest touch is enough to make his skin prickle and send shivers down his spine. Geno’s focused attention is almost too much, and Sid gets hard so fast he feels dizzy.

“Geno, please,” he gasps, reaching back blindly and groping at Geno’s side.

Geno’s mouth drags down the back of Sid’s neck as he sinks to his knees, yanking Sid’s pants down and shouldering his legs apart.

Sid doesn’t even have time to feel embarrassed before Geno has his tongue up his ass.

“Oh fuck,” Sid gets out, bracing himself against the counter just in time to stop from falling. Geno’s big palm on the small of his back encourages him to lean forward and stick his ass out further.

Sid’s face burns, but the shame of the position falls away as Geno spreads him open and licks at him, obscene in the morning quiet of the kitchen. Sid’s dripping wet now in response to the stimulation and Geno’s arousal, and all he can do is hold on.

Geno’s holding Sid so tightly Sid wonders if he’ll have bruises later, dark purple fingerprints smudged all over his ass and thighs. They’ll hurt when he sits down. The thought makes his dick throb, and if Sid weren’t so unsteady on his feet right now he’d reach down and take himself in hand.

Geno pulls back and presses two fingers to Sid’s hole, pushing in with no warning and no pause. Sid jolts, but Geno curls his fingers and strokes against something inside him that makes Sid’s stomach twist.

“So tight,” Geno murmurs. “I’m only one who has you like this, yes?” He pets the rim of Sid’s hole with a third finger, ducking down to suck at Sid’s balls.

“Yes,” Sid wails, legs shaking as his dick twitches and leaks up against the cabinets. “It’s just you, it’s just you, please.”

“Shh, sweetheart,” Geno soothes. “I get you there.”

If Sid were able to do more than clutch at the edges of his sink and moan, he’d beg Geno to tug him down onto the floor and knot him right there in the kitchen. He feels frantic, hot all over and desperate for more, but all he can do is gasp open-mouthed as he stares blindly out the window above the sink and let Geno do what he wants.

Geno knows exactly what to do, how hard to thrust, when Sid’s ready for him to add a third finger and worm his tongue in alongside. And when Sid’s so close he’s practically out of his mind, scrabbling at nothing on the countertops, Geno knows when to wrap his other hand around Sid’s dick and stroke him once, twice, until Sid’s coming all over his nice wooden cabinets.

He almost falls, but Geno catches him around the waist and eases him down, positioning him in Geno’s lap. Geno’s dick is between his legs, nudging against his balls and over-sensitive dick, and Geno wraps his arms around Sid’s waist to move him, humping up between Sid’s thighs as he chases his own pleasure.

Sid lets his head fall back against Geno’s shoulder, turning his head into Geno’s neck and mouthing at his tendons. Geno’s scent glands are right there, and Sid thinks he might be drowning, totally surrounded in scent and the feel of Geno’s arousal building in the back of his mind where the bond is.

When he scrapes his teeth against Geno’s glands, not even enough to leave a mark, Geno shouts, clutches him close, and comes all over Sid’s legs.

Sid clenches his thighs around Geno’s knot, shivering at the feel of it pulsing against him. That was in him not two weeks ago, and if Sid gets his way he’ll have it in him again soon.

He’s not letting Geno avoid him, avoid this, anymore. Geno mated him, and Sid wants everything that’s meant to go along with that. And Sid always gets what he wants in the end.

#sidgeno #hockey rpf #my writing #my fic #24-25 series #stud geno

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mylovesstuffs · 9 hours ago

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Objection, Your Honor ! – Lee Chan

Genre: Non-idol au, legal au, detective-prosecutor au, workplace romance and enemies to lovers

Pairing: Dino × fem!reader

Content: Office romance, crime-solving duo/trio, tension, banter, flawed characters, detective/prosecutor dynamic, explicit sexual content MDNI! strong language, intense arguments, suggestive comments, making out, lotssss of kissing, Dino is cocky, reader loses her patience 99% of the time

Word count: 8657 words

A/N: Had to add the word razor every chance I got, lol. I expanded this picture of him with ai since it didn’t fit before. I changed his hair strands, skin, and stuff—and even his eye lenses myself meticulously (not ai). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and please reblog :( and happiest birthday to our Dino! He’s amazing just the way he is—so full of energy, talent, and charm that he never fails to inspire us all. I hope this year brings him nothing but happiness, success, and moments where he feels truly proud of everything he’s accomplished. He’s one of a kind, and the world is brighter because of him. I’m still waiting for him to give me a chance, though...

The slam of the file against your desk was so loud it nearly toppled your coffee mug. You flinched but didn’t look up immediately. No, acknowledging theatrics only fed the beast. Instead, you calmly capped your pen, setting it down with deliberate precision. He hated when you did this—acted like you had all the time in the world when he came storming in.

“You’re welcome for the heart attack,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You exhaled slowly through your nose before finally glancing up. There he was, Detective Lee Chan—better known as Dino, the human embodiment of caffeine and stupidity. His tie was undone, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he had that same infuriating smirk plastered on his face, as if he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

“Detective,” you said with a polite nod, lacing your voice with as much fake sweetness as you could muster. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this… unexpected visit?”

“I brought you a gift,” he said, sliding the file closer to you. “A slam-dunk case. You’ll love it. All the evidence is right there. Can’t miss.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Last time you said that, I spent three weeks untangling jurisdiction issues. Do you even know how many late nights I had to pull because of you?”

Dino wasn’t actually an idiot no matter how many reckless decisions he makes. His instincts were razor-sharp, his record impeccable, and annoyingly enough he was usually right when it mattered. Last month, for example, his so-called ‘gut feeling’ about a drug ring being connected to a string of convenience store robberies was spot-on. His lead cracked open a case that had stumped everyone else for months. But damn if his delivery didn’t make you want to strangle him sometimes.

Dino, unbothered by your skepticism. “Yeah, but we nailed that drug ring, didn’t we?”

You hated when he was right and he knew it. “Fine,” you muttered, pulling the top file toward you and flipping it open. A mid-level burglary case, nothing too flashy at first glance. But as you skimmed through his notes, it was tight, methodical, and annoyingly thorough—you spotted the potential for something bigger.

“This better not be a ‘just trust me’ situation,” you said, glancing up at him. “If I’m staying late over this, it better pay off.”

He grinned, pushing off the desk. “Relax, Prosecutor. You know I don’t miss. This one’s airtight.”

And the thing that frustrated you most was that, you knew he was probably right. Dino didn’t swing unless he knew he’d hit the target. But it didn’t mean you had to let him bask in the glory without making him sweat first.

Now you opened the next file flipping through the pages. But this time the further you read, the deeper the pit in your stomach grew. And not in a good way. This wasn’t a slam dunk. It wasn’t even a half-hearted layup.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, shaking your head as you thumbed through the mess of paperwork. “You interrogated the suspect without a lawyer present?”

He shrugged. “He didn’t ask for one.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “You didn’t inform him of his rights properly, did you?”

“Details, details.”

“And this eyewitness? The one who conveniently claims they saw the suspect fleeing the scene? They’re twelve, Dino. Twelve.”

“Kids are observant!” he protested.

“They’re also notoriously unreliable in court. Oh, and let’s not forget this,” you said, holding up a grainy surveillance photo that looked like it had been taken with a potato. “Is this your so-called smoking gun? Because it could literally be anyone.”

Dino, arms crossed, looking far too relaxed for someone who had just presented you with a flaming dumpster fire disguised as a case. “You’re missing the point.”

“Am I?”

“Yes!” He sat up, his chair scraping against the floor. “The point is, this guy is guilty. I know it. You know it. Hell, even he knows it. Why are you so hung up on the technicalities?”

“Technicalities?” you repeated, your voice rising despite your best efforts. “You mean the law? The thing we’re both supposedly here to uphold?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, spare me the lecture. Do you even care about justice, or is paperwork your true love?”

Your jaw tightened. “Do you even care about rules, or is your brain just made of air?”

The words hung in the air like smoke after a gunshot. For a minute, neither of you spoke, the tension between you crackling like a live wire.

There was a reason the firm always paired you with Dino for the cases no one else could touch, the ones buried under decades of dust or tangled in enough red tape to suffocate an entire department. It wasn’t because you liked each other—oh, God, no. The mere sight of Dino’s cocky smirk had you fantasizing about slamming his face into your meticulously organized desk. And you were pretty sure your obsession with the rulebook made him consider hurling you off the nearest courthouse steps.

No, the firm didn’t stick you together because you worked well; they did it because you got results.

Dino was a wildcard in the courtroom. He was reckless in a way that somehow always paid off. He’d bend every rule in the book, dive headfirst into risks that no sane professional would take, and then, just when everyone thought he was about to crash and burn, he’d pull off a result so airtight it left no room for appeal. To him, the law wasn’t some sacred structure but a weapon to be wielded, a chessboard where his unpredictable moves kept everyone including you on edge. But then there was you: the polar opposite. Where Dino thrived on improvisation, you thrived on preparation. Every motion you filed was flawless. Every precedent cited, every objection raised, was calculated. You built cases brick by brick, layering facts, timelines, and evidence until there was no room for doubt. You didn’t gamble, didn’t deviate, didn’t take risks. You didn’t need to because your method was bulletproof.

So, of course, throwing the two of you together was a recipe for war. You didn’t just clash; you collided like two freight trains on a collision course. Dino would rush into a strategy meeting late, armed with some half-baked plan, reeking of coffee and audacity, while you’d already drafted three versions of the closing argument. You’d roll your eyes at his recklessness; he’d scoff at your obsession with boring technicalities. It wasn’t just your approaches that set you off, though. It was the way he got under your skin. Dino had this uncanny ability to needle you in just the right way. He’d make some offhand comment about your obsession with color-coded spreadsheets or the way you probably alphabetized your sock drawer and you’d feel your blood pressure skyrocket. But you weren’t innocent, either. You knew exactly how to press his buttons, whether it was calling his brilliant-but-illegal idea juvenile or quietly rephrasing his arguments in court to make them admissible without giving him credit. And yet as much as you hated each other, the firm couldn’t stop throwing you together. Those cases where everything was on the line, went to you and Dino. Why? Because for all the throat-slitting arguments, for all the nights you spent slamming doors and trading insults that could scorch earth, you delivered. Together.

It wasn’t pretty. Your fights were the stuff of office legend. Once, he stormed into your workspace at 2 a.m. after you’d rejected one of his leads as ‘inadmissible garbage.’ You’d stood toe-to-toe, voices raised to the point that security came by to check if someone was being assaulted. Another time, you’d shredded one of his witness strategies so thoroughly in a meeting that the room fell silent. Dino didn’t speak to you for three days after that which, honestly, was the most peaceful stretch of your career. But whenever you were on a case together, something just clicked. Dino’s instincts and risk-taking cracked open doors that no amount of careful planning ever could. Meanwhile, your meticulous follow-through turned his madcaps into something actionable. It was maddening, really. He’d drag you into situations so precarious they felt like career suicide, and you’d spend hours, sometimes days, pulling everything back from the brink. But in the end it always paid off.

Take the Serrano case, for example. A cold case involving a missing heiress, dismissed as a dead end by everyone else. Dino had dragged you into some dilapidated motel off the interstate to interrogate a retired cop. The guy’s statement wasn’t even admissible, and you told Dino as much, several times, in increasingly colorful language. But damned if Dino didn’t come away with a critical piece of information: the location of a long-abandoned storage locker. The locker led to evidence, which led to a confession, which led to a headline-making conviction. And as much as you hated to admit it, the case would’ve gone nowhere without his reckless brilliance. Of course, Dino never let you live it down. “You’re welcome,” he’d say, that shit-eating grin plastered across his face as if he hadn’t nearly given you an ulcer.

The truth was, you couldn’t stand Dino because you saw what made him dangerous: he was too smart for his own good. He didn’t play by the rules because he didn’t need to. He could charm his way out of trouble, think on his feet, and pull victories out of situations that should’ve been unwinnable. And that terrified you, because it made you question everything you believed about the law, about order, about the system you’d built your entire career on. And Dino couldn’t stand you because you represented everything he hated: authority, rigidity, rules. He thought you were too stuck in your ways to see the bigger picture, too concerned with ticking boxes to actually fight for justice. He saw your meticulousness as a cage, not a strength. You didn’t see eye to eye, you barely saw each other as human but when it came to the job, you were a fucking force of nature. And that’s what made working with Dino so antagonizing. Because for all the fights, all the late-night shouting matches, there was a small, annoying part of you that knew you wouldn’t want anyone else by your side in the trenches. You both respected each other. You wouldn’t admit it out loud but deep down, you knew Dino wasn’t just reckless; he was brilliant. And he knew you weren’t just a stickler for rules; you were a goddamn powerhouse in the courtroom.

So, the firm kept throwing you together, because when you weren’t busy trying to rip each other’s throats out, you were unstoppable. And that was the most infuriating part of all.

“I care about catching culprits,” Dino said finally, his voice quieter but no less intense. “That’s my job. And I’m damn good at it. So maybe you could try trusting me for once instead of nitpicking every little thing I do.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest. There was something about the way he looked at you, equal parts frustration and something you didn’t want to name or maybe it was just you. “You think I don’t trust you?” your voice low. “This isn’t about trust, Dino. We need to do it the right way. Because if we don’t, the culprits walk. And that’s on you.”

He didn’t respond immediately, just held your gaze, his dark brown eyes searching yours. It was maddening, the way he could make you feel like the bad guy when he was the one who barged in here with his half-baked case and his cocky attitude.

Finally, he stepped, grabbing both files off your desk. “Fine,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want it done your way? Have it your way. But don’t come crying to me when this guy slips through your fingers.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in your office with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing and the faint smell of his cologne lingering in the air.

God, you hated him.

…Right?

Two

The crime scene smelled like damp concrete and stale cigarettes. The flickering fluorescent light overhead made the whole place feel like a bad noir film except the lead detective was a walking disaster, and you were too pissed off to even pretend to care about aesthetics.

You arrived late, thanks to traffic and Dino conveniently forgetting to send you the exact location until the last minute. When you finally pushed through the throng of officers, there he was, doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to do.

“Are you kidding me?” you snapped as you stormed over, heels clicking sharply against the cracked pavement.

Dino was leaning against a graffiti-covered wall, arms crossed, smirking at the suspect he’d cornered—a wiry guy with a nervous tic and shifty eyes. The kind of guy whose lawyer would have a field day with this.

“Prosecutor,” Dino drawled, straightening up when he saw you. “Glad you could join us. You missed all the fun.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you bit out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“What does it look like?” he said, gesturing to the suspect, who looked like he wanted to melt into the wall. “I’m getting answers. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Your jaw clenched so hard it hurt. “You’re not supposed to be interrogating him yet! We don’t even have his lawyer present—”

Dino cut you off with a dismissive wave. “Relax. He waived his right to a lawyer.”

You turned to the suspect, your voice controlled but wanting to cut throats. “Did you actually waive your right, or did he pressure you into saying that?”

“I—uh—” the guy stammered, his eyes darting between you and Dino like he was watching a tennis match.

“Don’t answer that,” Dino interrupted, stepping in front of the suspect like some overprotective guard dog, which you kinda agree with since he is a dog. “You’re not his lawyer.”

“And you’re not a fucking prosecutor!” you almost shouted, stepping closer, practically nose-to-nose with him now. “Detective, do you have any idea how much you’ve jeopardized this case? This isn’t some TV cop drama where you can just rough someone up and hope it sticks!”

Dino’s smirk widened, which only made you angrier. “You’re so uptight, I’m surprised your shoes don’t file complaints against you.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the guy who probably keeps a bail fund in his back pocket,” you sneered. “And for the record, I’m shocked you haven’t been arrested for stupidity yet.”

He laughed, low and irritatingly amused. “You’re cute when you’re mad, you know that?”

You felt your face heat up, though whether it was from rage or the way his voice dipped just slightly on the word cute, you refused to analyze. “Don’t,” you warned, pointing a finger at him. “Don’t you dare try to turn this into one of your pathetic jokes. This is serious, Dino. You’ve completely screwed my angle for the prosecution!”

“And what angle would that be?” he shot back. “Letting this guy lawyer up and walk out the door before we can get anything useful? You’re too busy playing by the rules to actually win.”

“You think winning means cutting corners and breaking the law?”

“I think winning means putting culprits behind bars,” he said, his voice hard now. “But hey, maybe that’s just me. What do I know, right? I’m just the reckless idiot who actually works the streets.”

Oh, God, you hated him. And right now, you hated him even more for standing too close, for taking up too much space in the already suffocating air between you. Your heart pounded so loudly it drowned out reason, a deep, thrumming beat that you were sure he could hear. You prayed he couldn’t, but Dino always noticed things he wasn’t supposed to. It pressed against your skin, heated and unrelenting, until it felt like the walls might cave in from the sheer force of it. He didn’t move, of course. He never did. And you couldn’t decide if you wanted to step back to get some air or close the too-small space entirely, if only to finally shut him up. It was never just about the law with him, never just about his tendency to play fast and loose with the rules while you meticulously dotted every i and crossed every t.

You glared at him, the tension crackled between you like a live wire, sharp and dangerous. For a split second, you wondered what would happen if you closed the already too-small space between you.

Would he flinch? Would you?

His eyes darted to your mouth for the briefest of moments, a flicker, gone almost as soon as it happened. But it was enough. Your breath caught, and your stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with anger.

Fuck.

No. Absolutely not.

You took a deliberate step back, breaking whatever the hell that was. “We’re done here,” you said, your voice clipped. “And don’t even think about pulling this kind of shit again, or I swear to God—”

“Relax, babygirl,” he said, holding up his hands to mock. “I’ll play nice. Scout’s honor.”

“Like you were ever a Boy Scout,” you muttered, brushing past him. As you walked away, you felt his gaze linger on your back, heavy and unrelenting. It made your skin prickle in a way you hated.

The precinct’s parking lot was quiet except for the muffled sounds of traffic in the distance and the faint buzz of a streetlamp overhead. You had barely made it halfway to your car when you heard footsteps behind you, quick and purposeful.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” Dino called out, his voice carrying easily through the still night air.

You stopped, gripping your bag tighter before turning around slowly, your expression set in stone. “What do you want now, Dino? Haven’t you ruined enough for one day?”

He strode up to you, hands in his pockets, that damn smirk plastered across his face like he had all the energy in the world to piss you off. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, Prosecutor. Wouldn’t want you tripping over your own self-righteousness in the dark.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt. “Touching. Truly. I’m overwhelmed by your chivalry, Detective”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stepping closer, “someone’s gotta look out for you. You’re too busy being uptight to notice when you’re walking into traffic.”

You glared at him, your pulse spiking as he invaded your space yet again. “Funny coming from the guy who bulldozes through cases like a goddamn wrecking ball. Do you ever stop to think, or is ‘consequences’ just not in your vocabulary?”

Dino smirked, his voice dropping to a cocky drawl. “You’re good at running your mouth. Maybe someone should put it to better use.”

The words hit you like a slap, heat rushing to your face before you could stop it. “Excuse me?” you snapped, stepping closer, practically daring him to repeat himself.

“You heard me,” he said, tilting his head, his eyes dark and glinting under the streetlight. “Look at you—so sure you’re in control. So convinced you’ve got everything figured out. But you’re just begging for someone to put you in your place.”

Your breath hitched, fury, sharper and hotter—coiling in your chest. “You think you’re that someone?” you hissed. “Please. You couldn’t handle me if you tried.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous murmur. “You think you can handle me?” He leaned in, close enough that you could smell the faint trace of his cologne, something woodsy and infuriatingly intoxicating. “You’re cute. I could bring you to your knees before you can even blink. And I’d love to see you there.”

The audacity of him, the sheer arrogance, sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through your veins. “You’re delusional,” you spat, shoving at his chest, though it felt more like swatting at a brick wall. “I wouldn’t kneel for you if my life depended on it.”

Dino grinned, sharp and predatory. “You talk a big game, but you’re all bark and no bite. Face it, you hate that you can’t control me.”

“I hate that you exist,” your voice shaking with anger.

The space between you crackling with an energy that was equal parts infuriating and magnetic. His eyes bored into yours, daring you to look away, to back down, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.

Finally, you stepped back, breaking the spell. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of your chest. “Stay out of my cases, Dino. This is the last time I’m cleaning up your mess.”

He laughed, low and unrepentant. “Sure thing, babygirl. Whatever you say.”

You whirled around and marched to your car, your hands trembling as you unlocked the door. As you slid into the driver’s seat, you could see him pulling his middle finger up at you. That bastard was going to be the death of you.

Three

The morning was already too early, and you were fighting the urge to strangle the first person who dared speak to you. The courtroom smelled like the stale coffee that had long gone cold, and the air felt thick, like it was waiting for something to go wrong. You had a long day ahead, one that started with you walking into the courthouse, still wiping sleep out of your eyes trying to make sense of the case that had already given you a goddamn headache.

You reached your desk, scanning the papers in front of you, mentally prepping for the battle ahead you were about to step into. Not today though, today you were placing your trust in your colleague, Prosecutor Jeonghan.

"Morning, hotshot!" Seungkwan's voice cut through the haze, a little too chipper for the crack of dawn. Your bestie aka the only person who could somehow manage to brighten the darkest corners of a place like this. He grinned as he plopped into the chair next to you, tossing a coffee your way. "You ready to face the disaster that is Dino today?"

"Is anyone ever ready for that?" you muttered, rubbing your temples as you took a sip. "I don't even think I can handle his nasty face right now."

Seungkwan's eyes gleamed. "Oh, come on, you love it. You just won't admit it."

You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond. You both knew it wasn’t that simple, but for the sake of today, you weren’t going to unpack the mess that was your relationship with Dino. It had enough layers to rival an onion, and right now you didn’t have time to cry over the metaphorical scent.

"Alright, you two," Seungcheol, the chief officer assigned to the case and both of your close friend, chimed in with a grin as he entered, stretching his arms. "Get ready for some fireworks. Dino's already pissing off the defense lawyer out there. And honestly, Jeonghan looks proud."

Jeonghan was a menace, no doubt about it, but he was also a goddamn genius. He was the kind of prosecutor who could make you question your career choices every time you shared a courtroom. He wasn’t just a menace; he was a finely tuned madness wrapped in a tailored suit, armed with a smirk that said, I know something you don’t. And he probably did. If there was anyone you’d trust to handle something when you couldn’t or just flat-out refused—it was him. He had the kind of street smarts you couldn’t teach, an instinct for reading people that felt almost psychic at times. Jeonghan wasn’t loud or brash like Dino, but his calm, almost predatory confidence was just as hot. He wasn’t just clever, he was deviously resourceful. If evidence didn’t align perfectly, Jeonghan would find a way to weave it into a narrative that made the jury sit up straighter, lean in closer and eat out of his hand. He didn’t play dirty, not technically, but he’d push right up against the edge of what was permissible, flashing that gremlin smile like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. Witnesses loved him, judges respected him, and opposing counsel fucking feared him. And rightly so. Jeonghan didn’t just know the law—he understood the game behind it. He could charm the pants off a room full of skeptics, make them see the story he wanted them to see, and by the time they realized what he’d done, the verdict was already sealed. It wasn’t just skill, it was an art form, and Jeonghan painted masterpieces every time he stepped into the courtroom.

Pairing him with Dino was like setting a match to gasoline. Dino’s reckless energy, combined with Jeonghan’s calculated cunning, created a dynamic so volatile it was a miracle the courthouse hadn’t burned down yet with their play. And of course they got results—high-profile convictions, airtight arguments but working anywhere near them felt like trying to wrangle wild animals while they smugly watched you struggle. Jeonghan was a brilliant menace.

Opposing counsel hated going up against you, Dino, and Jeonghan—a nightmare trio they couldn't outrun. And your firm adored the chaos you three brought to court because, no matter how unconventional the methods, you always delivered wins. You were the dream team they loved, and everyone else feared.

Of course, Dino was already making waves and teaming up with Jeonghan. But now it was only a matter of time before he turned this courtroom into his personal wrestling ring, but the last person he wanted to tangle with? You.

The doors to the courtroom slammed open with a force that could’ve been felt from a mile away. Dino walked in and right beside him was Jeonghan. You could already hear the sound of your blood pressure rising just by the sight of him. He had that look in his eyes, the one that meant he was about to do something ridiculous, something reckless, something that would make you regret ever agreeing to work with him in the first place.

"Morning, sunshine!" he called out as he passed by your table. “Hope you’re ready for this shitshow. You sure you don't want to be the one to put this case to bed?”

You shot him a look that could’ve frozen hell over, narrowing your eyes. "You're not gonna win this case, Dino. Not if charm’s the only thing you’re bringing to the table. Leave it to Jeonghan"

“Oh, don’t drag me into this,” Jeonghan chimed, “I’m just here to look good and clean up your messes later.”

“Careful," he smirked, leaning forward on the back of your chair, his breath hot against your ear. "I might actually win this case with my charm alone. He trusts me."

Jeonghan snorted. “I trust you to do one thing, Dino. Create chaos. Which is great for me, really. Makes me look even better when I swoop in and save the day.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes as you gritted your teeth. “Maybe if charm was evidence, you’d be a star witness. And Jeonghan, let’s not pretend you’re not just here for the applause."

Though the snide remark hung between you and Dino like smoke, thick and suffocating as he flashed that cocky grin of his, god, it was maddening how much you wanted to punch it off his face. But there was no time for that. You were in a courtroom, surrounded by a crowd of people who didn’t give two shits about your personal grudges. They were just waiting for the show to begin. And right now, the show was all about Dino and his charming ass.

The judge entered, and the room fell into a hush as the proceedings began adjusted to the presence of authority. But that didn’t stop the tension from simmering, especially at your table. Jeonghan handled the case with the precision of a surgeon. Every argument he made was razor-sharp, every point calculated to perfection. Watching him in action was like witnessing a masterclass in courtroom strategy. You felt a swell of pride, not that you’d ever admit it out loud, of course. Jeonghan didn’t need the ego boost. Then there was Dino. While Jeonghan worked the courtroom with elegance and finesse, Dino seemed hellbent on bulldozing his way through the defense with pure, unfiltered madness. Subtlety? Restraint? Professional decorum? Not Dino’s style. Instead, he was practically throwing barbed comments that bordered on outright insults. The poor defense counsel looked like they were ready to crawl under the table. And the judge was not having it. Dino had already earned himself two warnings within the first twenty minutes, and judging by the way the gavel slammed down after his latest stunt, he was this close to being thrown out. But did that stop him? Of course not. This was Dino we’re talking about—a man who seemed to thrive on walking the razor-thin line between brilliance and complete courtroom anarchy.

You sat back, arms crossed, watching the spectacle unfold. Jeonghan remained the picture of calm, seamlessly pivoting between making his case and finely cleaning up Dino’s messes, all while maintaining that smug composure. It was clear why you trusted Jeonghan to handle things when you weren’t in the mood or the mental space to deal with the circus. Unlike Dino, Jeonghan knew how to work a courtroom without turning it into a WWE match.

The courtroom cafeteria was unusually crowded today. You sat at the corner table, papers spread out in front of you, pretending to focus on work but really just avoiding small talk. The last thing you needed was to deal with someone interrupting your already thin patience.

That was, until Jeonghan slid into the seat across from you, his signature gremlin smile firmly in place. He looked too smug for someone who just wrapped up a grueling morning session in the courtroom. “What?” you asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in your tone.

“Relax, I’m here to bask in my own brilliance,” he replied, helping himself to the coffee you had been saving for yourself. You watched as he sipped it like he’d earned it, the audacity rolling off him in waves. The worst part was that he had earned it. Jeonghan was the only person in the firm who could win a case and steal your coffee in the same breath, and somehow, you wouldn’t want to slap him for it. Well, not entirely.

Just as you were about to retort, Seungcheol appeared, dropping a folder on the table with a thud. He looked like someone who had been wrangling a circus all day, because that's exactly what working with Dino felt like. “You’re welcome,” he said without preamble, flopping into the seat beside you. “I just spent the last hour keeping Dino from getting held in contempt.”

You snorted, finally peeling your eyes away from your notes. “That’s a full-time job.”

“He’s a trouble,” Seungcheol muttered, running a hand down his face. “And somehow, I’m the one who gets roped into damage control every time.”

Jeonghan leaned back, clearly amused. “Oh, please, as if you don't bully him enough.”

Before Seungcheol could argue, Dino appeared for the briefest moment, swaggering past your table. He shot you a grin that was one part arrogance, two parts trouble, and called out, “Don’t miss me too much!” as he disappeared into the crowd.

You didn’t even bother responding. Seungcheol groaned. “See? That’s what I’m dealing with.”

Jeonghan laughed softly, shaking his head before turning back to you. “Anyway, how’s your prep going? Or are you too busy glaring at Dino to focus?”

You rolled your eyes, shoving your notes into a folder. “Prep’s fine. Unlike some people, I don’t need to cause a spectacle to win.”

Jeonghan just grinned, and Seungcheol, despite his exhaustion, chuckled. The dynamic was exhausting but damn, did it work.

The case in front of you was messy, layered with too many moving parts. Fraud, bribery, and a corporate paper trail so convoluted it felt like the legal equivalent of untangling Christmas lights. But somehow, between you, Jeonghan, and, yes, even Dino, things were starting to click. Slowly. Painfully

Jeonghan had already pointed out the glaring inconsistency in the timelines. The CEO of the accused company had claimed to be in Beijing during a key transaction, but Jeonghan’s eye caught a discrepancy in a hotel invoice. The CEO had, in fact, checked out two days earlier than he’d testified, meaning he was likely back in the city, orchestrating the whole thing. It was the kind of detail that could unravel a defense if played correctly. You had pieced together a pattern in the financial documents. The bribes weren’t direct transfers, too obvious for someone this slick. But they were funneled through fake consulting fees paid to shell companies. Shell companies you’d traced back to one of the CEO’s close associates. And Dino, well, credit where it’s due, the guy was a bloodhound when it came to witnesses. He’d managed to corner a junior executive who had been ready to deny everything until Dino dropped a few too-specific details about her involvement. Turns out, she had been the one handling the encrypted emails. Dino had gotten her to crack, and now she was teetering on the edge of flipping. Honestly, his ability to charm, intimidate, and outmaneuver people in the same breath was too impressive.

Seungcheol leaned back, rubbing his temples as he reviewed the stack of papers in front of him. Even he had to admit it was a strong case, and Seungcheol rarely handed out compliments. “This might actually work,” he muttered, almost to himself.

You glanced at Jeonghan, who was already scribbling something onto a legal pad, his mind a thousand steps ahead as always. Across the room, Dino was on the phone, probably sweet-talking the junior exec into handing over more details.

Four

The precinct always smelled like stale coffee and paperwork—if paperwork had a smell, that is. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. Or, at least, the kind of home where you constantly wanted to throw someone through a window. And today that someone was Dino, like he wasn’t a full-grown ass man but a goddamn trouble magnet with a badge.

The day had already been a shitshow. Another interview, another suspect who thought they could outsmart the system or worse, you. And it didn’t help that Dino, of all people, had been in the room, throwing in his little side comments like he was auditioning for a buddy cop movie. By the time you stormed out of the interrogation room, you were one bad comment away from losing your badge and your mind.

You headed straight for the coffee machine, the ancient beast that churned out something vaguely resembling caffeine. The cups were paper-thin, the sugar was always clumped, and the cream, if you could call it that, came in those little pods that looked like they expired sometime in the 90s. But it was coffee, and you needed it.

God, you needed it.

Just as you finished pouring your first cup and reached for a sugar packet, he appeared. You didn’t even have to look. You felt him like a storm cloud rolling in, all smug energy and shitty cologne.

“Rough day?” Dino’s voice was way too cheery for someone who had spent the last two hours watching you get stonewalled by a suspect.

You didn’t even glance at him. “Fuck off, Lee.”

Dino laughed, that low, grating chuckle that made you want to slam the coffee pot over his head. “That’s no way to talk to a teammate.”

You turned to glare at him, your hands still gripping the coffee cup like it was the only thing keeping you from committing a crime. “Teammate? You sat there and let me handle the entire interview while you played with your pen like a goddamn child.”

“I was observing,” he said, slanting against the counter. His first two buttons were unbuttoned, his shirt slightly wrinkled, and yet he still managed to look very confident. “You had it under control, right?”

“I had nothing under control, thanks to you, Detective.” you snapped. “Next time, maybe try contributing instead of sitting there like a pretty little statue.”

“Oh, so you think I’m pretty?” Dino smirked, and you wanted to throw your coffee at him.

Before you could fire back, Sergeant Mingyu walked in, a towering figure with an easygoing grin. He took one look at the two of you and burst out laughing.

“Jesus Christ, you two are at it again?” Mingyu said, grabbing his own cup and shaking his head. “It’s like we're watching a rom-com, except way more violent.”

“There’s no ‘rom’ here,” you said through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes at Dino. “Just an idiot who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for dangerous women.”

“Dangerous? The only thing dangerous here is you trying to do your job,” you about to fist up.

Mingyu nearly choked on his coffee, laughing so hard he had to set his cup down. “God, Dino, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But seriously, she’s gonna bite your head off one day.”

Dino shrugged, unbothered. “Eh, I can handle it.”

“You think you can handle it,” you muttered, turning back to the coffee machine to pour another cup.

Mingyu leaned closer, still grinning. “You know, watching you two is the best part of my day. You’re like fire and gasoline.”

“Yeah, well, one of us is about to get burned,” you said, shooting a pointed look at Dino.

That stupid smirk never leaving his face. “Alright, alright. I’ll back off. For now.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip of your coffee and praying it would be enough to get you through the rest of the day.

Mingyu’s voice broke. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you two actually like each other.”

You glared at him. “Drink your coffee, Sergeant, before I throw it at you.”

He just laughed, shaking his head as he walked away. And you just finished your coffee, trying to shake off the heat rising in your cheeks. It’s just caffeine, you told yourself. Definitely just the caffeine.

It was late. Too late. Everyone else had cleared out hours ago, leaving you with a mountain of work and the ghost of Detective Lee Chan's incompetence haunting your every move. You stared at the stack of reports in front of you, each one messier than the last. Half of them didn't even make sense. Who wrote "suspect maybe had a knife, or maybe it was a gun, unclear" in an official report? Oh, right-fucking Dino. If he spent half as much time actually doing his job as he did annoying the shit out of you, you might actually get some sleep tonight.

But no. Here you were. Alone. Stuck cleaning up others' mess like always.

The door opened, and you didn't even have to look up to know who it was. That air had a very distinct energy, and it was currently barreling toward you at full force.

"What the fuck, Prosecutor?" Dino's voice cut through the silence, relentless. "Why the hell haven't you signed off on the reports?"

You didn't bother looking up. "Maybe because they're a fucking disaster, Detective."

He stalked over to your desk, his presence looming, anger radiating off him in waves. You could feel it, hot and suffocating, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of looking rattled.

"They're fine,” he snapped, planting his hands on the edge of your desk and leaning in. His scent hit you, the lingering smoke of too much coffee. "You're the one holding up the case.”

You finally looked up, meeting his glare head-on. "Fine? Fine? Half of these reports read like they were written by a drunk toddler. Did you even try?"

Dino's jaw tightened, and for a second, you thought he might actually explode. "You know what, Y/N? Fuck you. I've been busting my ass on this case while you sit here with your red pen, nitpicking every goddamn detail like it's a fucking college essay."

"Fuck me?" You shot out of your chair, slamming your hands on the desk as you leaned forward to meet him halfway. "Fuck you, Dino. Maybe if you spent less time playing the charming jackass and more time actually doing your job, I wouldn't have to clean up your mess."

His eyes narrowed, his mouth curling that only fueled your rage. "You love cleaning up my messes, admit it. Gives you something to bitch about."

"Oh, I hate you so much," you hissed.

"Not as much as I hate you," he shot back, his words a challenge, his tone daring you to push further.

You were too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, see the way his chest rose and fell with each angry breath. Your heart was pounding, your blood boiling, and suddenly—

You kissed him.

It wasn't planned. It wasn't even conscious. One second, you were glaring at him, ready to rip him apart in chicken shreds, and the next, your lips were on his, hard and unforgiving. He froze for half a second before kissing you back just as fiercely, his hands flying up to grip your waist as if he'd been waiting for this moment all along.

"What the fuck are we doing?" Dino muttered against your mouth, his voice breathless but laced with that same infuriating cockiness.

"Shut up," you snapped, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

He kissed you harder, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made your stomach flip. "I'd rather kiss a cactus than deal with you, but here we are."

You pulled back just enough to glare at him. "You'd deserve the cactus."

"Yeah? Well, I'll shove that cactus down your throat if you keep talking," he shot back as his hands slid lower, gripping your hips like he never wanted to let go.

"Try it," you countered. "And I'll bury you six feet under."

"God, you're insufferable," he growled, but his lips were back on yours before you could respond, hot and demanding, his fingers digging into your sides.

The insults didn't stop. Neither did the kissing. It was a mess, angry, chaotic, and so satisfying. Every argument, every moment of pent-up frustration, every goddamn thing you hated about him poured into each kiss, each bite, each touch. And for once, Dino wasn't the only disaster in the room. But as your back hit the desk and his hands tangled in your hair, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

So this is what it feels like to lose your fucking mind.

You barely registered the edge of the desk digging into your lower back as Dino's lips worked against yours, rough and demanding. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your spine, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even the fraction of space between you. And you were just as bad. Your fingers clawed at his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, a deep, guttural sound that sent a shiver down your spine. His groan vibrated against your lips, sending shivers down your spine. You pulled his hair harder this time, relishing in the pained sound he made. But it wasn't enough.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, his breath hot. "You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

You didn't even hesitate. "Right back at you, Detective."

His laugh was low, dark, and entirely too cocky, but you didn't have time to bite back because his mouth was on your neck now, teeth grazing your skin in a way that had your knees threatening to give out. You hated him. You really did. But god, he was good at this. Too good.

"You're killing me," he moaned against your neck, his voice filled with desire. "The fuck kind of witchcraft are you doing right now, huh?" His lips moved up to your jawline, teeth nipping slightly.

"Is this what you do with all your coworkers?"

Dino pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "Only the ones who drive me fucking insane."

You rolled your eyes, but it was hard to keep up the attitude when his hands slid under your blouse, his palms aggressive and warm against your skin. He kissed you again, slower this time, but no less intense. Like he was savoring the moment or maybe just savoring your complete and utter loss of control. Bastard.

"God, I can't believe I'm doing this with you,” you muttered, breaking the kiss long enough to catch your breath.

"Trust me, sweetheart," Dino said, his voice low and teasing as his thumb traced lazy circles against your clothed nipple. "The feeling's mutual."

You opened your mouth to retort, but whatever snarky comment you had died on your lips as he leaned in again, his hands tightening on your waist. There was something about the way he kissed you—messy, desperate, like he couldn't decide if he wanted to fight you or devour you whole.

The desk creaked beneath you as he pressed closer, his hips slotting between your legs like he belonged there. You could feel his hard cock through his pant, could hear the hitch in his breath when you tugged at his tie to pull him even closer and pressed yet another kiss. He moaned into the kiss, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened it fervently. His hips rolled forward instinctively, grinding his hardness against you. The desk shifted under the force of his movement, scattered papers fluttering to the floor. Breaking the kiss abruptly, Dino's hands slid down to grip your hips, lifting you effortlessly onto the desk. He then again stepped between your spread thighs, intentionally pressing his clothed erection firmly against your core. He unbuttoned your shirt one-handed, pushing the material off your shoulders. His mouth dropped to capture one peaked nipple while his hands unzipped your pants slowly, pushing them down your hips along with your lace panties. He spread your thighs wider, settling between them. It was too much and not enough all at once.

"You're gonna regret this tomorrow," you said, your voice shaky but defiant as you pull him into another kiss.

Dino smirked, his lips swollen and pink, his eyes dark that made your stomach squirm. "Probably," he admitted, his fingers brushing against your clit, "But right now? I don't give a fuck."

The honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and for a second, all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumline. But then his lips were on yours again, and whatever rational thought you'd been holding onto was gone, swept away in the chaos that was Lee Chan.

And honestly? You didn't give a fuck either.

Five

The morning after was a mess. Not because the office was chaotic, although it was but because every time you looked up, Dino was there. And every time you looked at him, you remembered.

His hands on your waist. His lips on your neck. The way he smirked at you, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving you insane.

You hated him. You really did. Except, you didn’t.

He didn’t seem fazed at all. He waltzed into the precinct, throwing out cocky smirks and one-liners like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been pressed against your desk, fucking, the night before, completely at his mercy. Bastard.

“Morning, Prosecutor,” he said, leaning against the edge of your desk in the common shared office with your colleagues, with that infuriating grin. His tie was slightly crooked, and his hair looked like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times. You refused to notice how good he looked. Absolutely refused.

“Detective,” you replied not even looking up from your papers, your tone colder than the coffee you hadn’t had time to drink.

“Sleep well?”

Your pen snapped in half.

Seungkwan, strolled by at that exact moment, taking in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Am I interrupting... something?” he asked, his tone dripping with implication.

“No,” you said quickly.

“Yes,” Dino said at the same time.

Seungkwan looked between the two of you like he was watching the world's most entertaining soap opera. “Right,” he said slowly. “Carry on, then.”

As soon as he was gone, you turned to Dino, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just saying good morning. Is that a crime now?”

“Don’t push me,” you warned.

“Or what?” he countered, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You’ll kiss me again?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, you saw it—the implication behind his smirk. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cocky grin, and you wanted to murder him all over again.

“Go to hell,” you muttered, shoving past him.

“See you there, sweetheart,” he called after you.

The tension only got worse as the day went on. Every time you crossed paths, it was like a live wire sparking between you. He’d brush past you in the hallway, his hand grazing your arm just enough to send a shiver down your spine. Or he’d lean over your shoulder to look at a file, his breath warm against your neck, and you’d have to fight the urge to deck him or kiss him.

By the time the case finally wrapped up that evening after three months of struggling, you were ready to explode. The courtroom had been a war zone, with the two of you throwing out arguments like grenades to the defense. But it worked. The case was a win, and you should’ve been celebrating.

Instead, you found yourself alone in your office, staring at the note on your desk.

File this under: cases where I was right (and you were hot).

You crumpled the paper in your hand, your jaw clenching, but a smile still crept through your cusses. Of course, he’d leave something like this. It was so... Dino. Cocky, smart, provoking, and always managing to get under your skin. Before you could even think about what you were doing, you stormed out of your office, the crumpled note still in your hand. You found him sitting in his office, scrolling through his phone like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Seriously?” you snapped, holding up the note.

He looked up, his grin immediate. “What? I thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” you repeated, your voice rising. “You think this is cute?”

“Admit it,” he said, now standing up and stepping closer. “You smiled when you read it.”

“I did not,” you lied, your pulse racing as he closed the distance between you.

“Liar,” he said softly, his voice teasing but his eyes deadly serious.

You didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. All you knew you were pressed against the wall, his lips crashing into yours.

It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was messy and desperate, all teeth and tongues. His hands gripped your waist like he was afraid you might pull away, and maybe you would’ve if you weren’t so darn tired of fighting this. Fighting him.

“Still hate me?” he asked against your lips, his voice breathless.

“So much,” you managed to say, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Good,” he said, kissing you again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin the dynamic.”

And just like that, the war raged on.

The end.

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