#One was a lie the other is trying to find the truth

[inthelibrarybtw]

you want me to pretend? | seven

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: college!basketball!captain!rafe x college!student!reader content: fluff, college au, smau/irl, cursing

summary: You were trying to make one problem disappear. You were tired, so you lied. That small lie led you to contact the last person you wanted to ask for help. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Rafe; only that you didn’t want to deal with his constant teasing more than you already did. Also, you two weren't that close, but this one lie was going to bring you two closer and maybe help some truths come to light.

word count: 0.9k

authors note: I don't have much to say more than I wanted some fluff after last part and that I fell asleep all afternoon and forgot to post earlier lmao

06 | 07 | 08

Sophomore year - October 2022

“Kelce just texted that they are coming up,” Rafe announced to everyone present.  

“The song—shit, where’s my phone?” Sarah asked, stressed.  

“I’ve got it; I will play it when she comes in.”  

“Look at you, taking initiative,” JJ teased, “or is it more than just initiative?”  

“Shut up.”  

“Why is he even here?” JJ asked, but before anyone could answer, they heard a knock on the door.  

“Shut up, JJ!” Kie whispered, slapping his arm.  

They all quieted down as Rafe backed the song, getting ready to turn up the volume. Sarah went to open the door, and as soon as you walked in, Rafe turned up the volume. He had chosen that song because he once heard you telling Ruthie that it was one of your favorites, and of course, he didn’t forget.  

When you walked inside, everyone shouted “Surprise!” as “Golden” blared through the speakers. Your face brightened the more you looked around. All your friends were there, and everything was decorated. You felt a warm feeling in your chest; when you started college, you had worried you wouldn’t find good friends, but seeing all of them there reminded you that things always worked out.  

One by one, they hugged you or congratulated you before returning to their previous conversations or heading to the kitchen to help prepare the food. Rafe was the last one to reach you; he didn’t know what to do. You two barely knew each other, but you also didn’t feel like total strangers.  

“Happy birthday again,” he said.  

“Thank you; I appreciate you remembering it,” you said, a bit nervous.  

“How did you spend it yesterday?”  

“It was great—mostly with my family. I went to lunch with them, and then we went to my house for the birthday cake.”  

“That’s great; I’m glad you had a wonderful day…” He paused for a second. “I brought you some flowers; hope you like them.”  

“Oh, you didn’t have to! Thank you, Rafe.” You smiled at him, and he could swear it was the best thing. Seeing you happy over something he did? The highlight of his week, and it was barely starting. Of course, he would never admit it out loud because he knows he would never hear the end of it.  

Sarah watched the scene from the kitchen but didn’t say anything. She knows Rafe likes you; it's as clear as ever, but she also notices how you are still not fully there, even if there is attraction. Everyone in that room could catch onto that, and yet no one decided to comment on it. JJ tried, but either Sarah or Kie slapped his arm to make him shut up.  

During the rest of the afternoon, you spent time making pizzas, playing board games, laughing, and truly enjoying the company of the people around you. It had been one of the best birthdays you had. Sarah had made sure to let you know that the Jellycat she got you was also from Rafe. You found the gesture extremely cute. You two talked a lot that day; it was small talk, nothing too deep, but it was something since it had been the most you two had talked in the past few months of knowing each other.  

Kelce tried to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn’t.  

“So, Rafe likes her for real?”  

“Is the sky blue?” Sarah asked back.  

“I don’t think she is that into him,” he said.  

“Oh… that’s not good coming from you.”  

“No, look, I see she is attracted to him, but I don’t know if she’s scared of liking him or something; it’s taking longer for her to warm up to him.”  

“I say give them time; I see potential there.”  

“Potential?”  

“I just have a feeling they will be together; I just know it.”

A few days later, you were hanging out with the girls and the guys at Sarah’s apartment again.  

“Okay, guys, plans for next week?”  

“I’m always down, but isn’t it a bit too soon for next week's plans?” JJ says.  

“Let her talk first,” Cleo interrupts.  

“Okay, so Topper…”  

“No,” Kie stops her. “Something always happens.”  

“That’s the fun part,” JJ replies.  

“Of course, you would say that,” Pope says, shaking his head.  

“Thank you, JJ,” Sarah says.  

“I’m with Kie,” John B says. “I was drunk for days after the last time the plan involved him.”  

“Oh, come on! It will be fun; some of his friends from the next town are coming.”  

“Yeah, he told the basketball team too,” JJ said. “Like a homecoming party?”  

“Housewarming party.”  

“Same shit.”  

“It is not the same,” Pope tried to correct him while you just looked at the scene unfolding in front of you. Cleo, JJ, and Sarah had agreed, while Pope, John B, and Kie were against it, so the tiebreaker was you.  

“Come on, Y/N,” Sarah said kindly. “It’s not gonna be a big party, I promise. I kinda know his friend, and he is more of a chill guy.”  

“Do you actually know him?”  

“Well, no, but I’ve seen him a couple of times, and he seems chill,” you sighed.  

“I guess it wouldn’t be that bad,” Kie, Pope, and John B sighed deeply. 

“This better be just a housewarming party, nothing else.”  

“The guy is moving alone, so he’s making a big deal; it was Topper’s idea to throw the party.”  

“Of course,” John B said, annoyed.  

“Can we at least know the guy's name?” Kie asked.  

“It starts with a J; let me look it up…” she said, scrolling through Topper’s chat. “Jordan, his name is Jordan.”

taglist: @zyafics @maybankslover @niaunoffical @marleymarleymarleymarley @rafesbabygirlx @akobx @papercranesandinkstains @drewstarkeyspecs @winterivory @my-name-is-baby @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @drewrry @ursogorgeous13 @pr3tty-pink @lmaowhatt @reeseswirl @xoxosblogsblog @lili-swagalicious @ayy1234567 @rihannamars @congratsloserr @moonywhisp3rs @iamheretoread1234 @rafesdrew @bee-43 @pogueprincesa @cokewithcameron @landososcar @drewstarkeyslover @wintersoldierslover @rafecqmeronslove @defnotayonna @wintercrows @letstryagaintomorrow @rafestoothbrush if you want to be added send an ask or comment! :) follow and turn on notifications on @inthelibrarybtw-notifs to get updates on everything I write

REBLOGS, COMMENTS AND LIKES ARE ALWAYS WELCOMED

INTHELIBRARYBTW ✧.

[belit0]

Loooove your takes on the Uchihas. Could you please do some hcs of the men being jealous or even possessive? 🥺🥺

Love me some yandere dummies

Madara

Madara Uchiha does not get jealous. Or at least, that’s the lie he tells himself. The truth is far uglier, simmering beneath the surface like an earthquake waiting to crack the earth open.

The moment he senses another man getting too close, his entire demeanor shifts—his usual arrogance sharpened to something more lethal. His hand finds the small of (Y/N)’s back, firm, claiming.

He doesn’t ask her to stay away from certain people. He expects it. "-You belong to me. You know this, don’t you?"- It’s not a question; it’s a reminder.

If anyone dares flirt with her in his presence, he doesn’t need to say anything. One look—cold, dark, absolute—is enough to make them reconsider their life choices.

But when it’s just the two of them, his possessiveness is quieter. It’s in the way his fingers tighten when she tries to move from his lap, in the way he pulls her closer at night, whispering, "-Mine.-" against her skin.

Izuna

Izuna doesn’t get insecure jealous—he gets petty jealous. He won’t say anything outright, but his actions are impossible to ignore.

If someone flirts with (Y/N), suddenly, he’s the most affectionate man alive. An arm draped lazily around her shoulders, a hand tracing the curve of her waist, a smirk that dares anyone to challenge him.

"-Oh, were you talking to her? My mistake—I thought you had a death wish.-" His words are light, teasing, but the underlying threat is real.

The moment they’re alone, though, the teasing vanishes. He pins her with a look that’s all heat and frustration, fingers gripping her chin as he murmurs, "-Tell me you don’t want anyone else, and I’ll let this go.-"

Of course, she always reassures him, but he likes making her say it. Making her prove that she belongs to him.

Obito

Obito is bad with jealousy. He has lost too much, and the thought of losing (Y/N) too? It’s enough to make his blood boil.

He doesn’t even realize how menacing he looks when he gets possessive—shoulders squared, Sharingan flashing, jaw tight with barely restrained anger.

If anyone dares look at her the wrong way, he gets uncharacteristically quiet, dangerous. "-You should leave.-" It’s not advice. It’s a warning.

With (Y/N), he’s not much better. He doesn’t know how to handle the fear of losing her, so sometimes it comes out in sharp words, in desperate kisses that linger too long, in the way he holds her so tight she can barely breathe.

But later, when the anger fades, all that’s left is raw vulnerability. "-I just… I need you to be mine. Only mine.-" He buries his face in her neck, voice low, almost broken. And she always soothes him, because she understands.

Shisui

Shisui is the type to laugh when he’s jealous, like it’s all a joke. But there’s something dangerous in his eyes, in the way his smile never quite reaches them.

He doesn’t believe in making a scene—he just makes sure the other guy knows exactly who (Y/N) belongs to. "-Oh, you think you have a chance? That’s cute.-"

If someone gets too close, he doesn’t lash out—he outsmarts them. Twisting words, making subtle threats with a friendly grin, ensuring they never try again.

But when he and (Y/N) are alone, he drops the act. His fingers curl around her wrist, tugging her close. "-I don’t like sharing. And I never will.-" His voice is soft, almost pleading. "-So don’t make me.-

Itachi

Itachi is not the type to be openly jealous. He doesn’t scowl, doesn’t make threats—he simply watches. Cold, calculating, utterly unreadable.

But make no mistake—just because he’s quiet doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling it. If another man gets too close, his presence alone is enough to send a chill down their spine.

The way he lingers at (Y/N)’s side, the way his fingers ghost over her wrist, the way his eyes darken when she laughs at someone else’s joke—it’s all subtle, but unmistakable.

He won’t confront her about it, but he will remind her of who she belongs to. Later, when they’re alone, he’ll press his forehead to hers, voice barely above a whisper. "-I don’t need to say it, do I?"-

And she’ll smile, because no, he doesn’t. She already knows.

[milkamel]

Hello there^^

This is my first time asking since I've followed you and I need to know... (This is a "What if..." btw)

What if PV regains his memories but doesn't leave SM and continues to stay with him, how would SM react to that?

I know this is a stupid question, but yeah...

Hiii!! Happy to receive an ask from you, welcomeee! XD

Anyway don’t worry it’s not stupid and an interesting scenario to think about- I have been considering this “what if” too

I feel like if PV regains his memories he’d try to talk to Shadow Milk about it and tell him the truth, resolve everything through conversation and not a fight or aggression. It doesn’t feel right to lie and Smilk’s bound to find out eventually, hiding that would only result in the worse outcome. But no matter what, Shadow Milk would probably be hostile and upset about it, he doesn’t know what to expect from PV. He knows Healer, sure, but not true Pure Vanilla and what he’s going to do.

But of course Pure Vanilla will try to be nice and reason with the beast, reminding him of the good times they spent with him as a Healer, the things they shared and how nice Smilk was with him. Of course it didn’t erase all the unpleasant parts and a literal kidnapping but PV immediately forgave once he saw how lonely Smilk was. He’d try to convince Smilk to leave with him, to save the Earthbread from DE and reason with the other beasts and he’d ask to become actual friends, after all, Smilk is very powerful and PV genuinely likes him but…

Shadow Milk would definitely refuse, he’d think it’s all a trick, a scheme. Why would he suddenly agree to help him after such a reveal? Why let PV out of the spire and endanger himself? Their relationship would reset to stage one and Smilk would build the walls around himself again. But PV wouldn’t give up, he saw a glimpse of something vulnerable and soft in Shadow Milk and he wouldn’t leave without convincing him to go with him no matter how much the other hated it (also cause he’s on a different continent lol there’s no way PV can find a way to get there lol)

Also hey Smilk now has his soul jam, functioning and resonating!! I wonder what he’d do…

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Think of Me ~ Sherlock's Version

MAIN MASTERLIST / RDJ!HOLMES MASTERLIST / MUSICAL INSPIRED FIC MASTERLIST

RDJ!Sherlock Holmes x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,250ish

Request: could you write think of me from phantom w/ rdj!sherlock? I was thinking like maybe when he "dies" during his fight with moriarty? but feel free to change it

Notes: It has been far too long since I wrote for this character! I love him so much and I hope you enjoy this one shot!

“Think of me, think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me, once in a while

Please promise me you'll try

When you find that once again you long

To take your heart back and be free

If you ever find a moment

Spare a thought for me”

Sherlock stared at you from the crack in the wall. He knew that it could be deemed as creepy, but he didn’t care. Time was running out. The peace summit would be beginning soon, which meant that Sherlock would be confronting Moriarty. For perhaps the final time.

He couldn’t help but wonder that, if he were to die tonight, if you would ever miss him. Would you think of him fondly? Or would you resent him for knowing his possible fate and never cluing you in? Sherlock had always prided himself in pushing his own feelings aside. But with you, it was impossible.

Pulling himself away from the crack in the wall, Sherlock looked over himself in the mirror. If this was going to be his last moment with you, he needed to make sure that you remembered him well. He wanted to hold you close and dance with you tonight, willing to ignore his injured arm just for you.

Sherlock couldn’t help but continue to question. Would you remember him like this? Long hair and handsome? Or if he were to end up a corpse tonight, would that be what is forever etched in your mind?

Sighing, Sherlock straightened up and stepped out into the hallway. He took the few needed steps to your door and knocked.

“We never said our love was evergreen

Or as unchanging as the sea

But if you can still remember

Stop and think of me

Think of all the things

We've shared and seen

Don't think about the way

Things might have been”

No one could take Sherlock’s breath away like you could. The way you smiled at him, a smile saved only for Sherlock. And trust him, he knew. The way you always made sure he was out and made sure to bring to his attention how his actions could affect others. John was always amazed at how well Sherlock listened to you.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” Sherlock complimented. He took your hand and pressed a tender kiss to it.

You looked away, bashfully. “Sherlock…”

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him while still holding onto your hand. “You know I would never lie to you.”

“How are you feeling about tonight?”

“I am ready for whatever Moriarty has planned.” His fingers brushed over the pulse point on your wrist, noting your nervous heartbeat. “How are you feeling?” With everyone else, Sherlock would tell them how they were feeling. But with you, he couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m scared, Sherlock,” you admitted quietly. “What if something happens tonight?”

He pulled you into him. “Nothing will happen to you tonight, my dear. I would never let it.”

“It’s not me that I’m worried about.”

Sherlock sighed. His hands barely ran over your arms as they made there way up to your face, cupping your face carefully. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it, Sherlock… You know how I feel about you. And, no matter what you feel or say, I will always worry for your safety.”

His thumbs lightly brushed over your cheeks as he held your face. “I do not think that I have been fair to you, darling. I have not been as open with you as you have with me.”

“I don’t need you to return my feelings. You now that.”

“But I do. I do return your feelings, darling. I love you, so much, my dear.”

You gasped. “What?”

He leaned in and brushed his lips over yours. “My dear… My heart is forever yours.” 

As the words left his mouth, Sherlock couldn’t help but think what might have been if he had said the truth earlier or if he wasn’t sure he was heading to his death tonight. He pulled you close as he pressed his lips fully against yours. Sherlock knew that it wasn’t fair to you, kissing you before the stand off tonight, but he had to at least taste you once in his life. 

“Think of me, think of me waking

Silent and resigned

Imagine me trying too hard

To put you from my mind

Recall those days

Look back on all those times

Think of the things we'll never do

There will never be a day

When I won't think of you”

You and John burst through the balcony doors just in time for Sherlock’s eyes to lock with yours and for him to pull Moriarty over the balcony ledge. 

“NO!” You screamed, scrambling towards the ledge. “SHERLOCK!”

John broke from his stupor in time to pull you away before you could fling yourself after Sherlock. He dragged you back inside, kicking and screaming and begging for Sherlock. All John could do was hold you tightly. He had no words of comfort, for he was lost himself.

~~~

You had remained mostly silent since Sherlock’s death. You spoke if you had to, but tried to avoid conversations as much as possible. Your mind was spiraling, fighting with itself. One moment, you were trying to remember everything that you could about your beloved Sherlock, and the next moment, you were doing everything you could to push him from your mind.

You remembered all the times he cared for you, in his own Sherlock way. The times he dragged you along to solve cases or the times he told you it was too dangerous to come and yet you followed anyway.

As the time passed, you came to the conclusion that there would never be a day in which you didn’t think of Sherlock.

“Can it be, can it be Christine?

Bravo!

Long ago, it seems so long ago

How young and innocent we were

She may not remember me

But I remember her”

Sherlock knew that it was dangerous to get too close to you. He was still not done in tearing about Moriarty’s loose ends. But he needed to see you. So he returned to London, in one of his terrible disguises, just to get a peek of you.

He hadn’t been prepared to see you yet. He had to do a double take as you walked across the street. It was you. There was no doubt. But it broke his heart to see how there was not the same light around you like there once was around you. Sherlock knew that was all his fault.

It had been over a year since Sherlock faked his death. As he stood, frozen a short distance away from you, wondering if he were to meet your eyes, would you remember him? Would you know it was him just with one look? And what would you do if you did? Would you cry? Faint? Would you slap him and scream? Sherlock hated that he couldn’t just go to you.

Watching you take a flower from a young boy, Sherlock came to his conclusion. He would leave you be. He would let you try to let you continue on with your life and heal. For everything has a season, even love. And maybe, just maybe, you’d think of him every once in a while.

“Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade

They have their season so do we

But please promise me that sometimes

You will think of me”

[ven0moir]

BYCHANCE TIMELINE - speculative theory

This goes by the hand of what I've shown before here. This theory is just a small part of a larger narrative, and whereas Will's arc is central, his relationship with his friends and family will be crucial this season. So what you're seeing here is me trying to narrow down what I believe his arc with Chance, specifically, will entail. I see this as one of the loops Will needs to break to Be Free--one storyline ingrained into a larger narrative--its not what the season will focus on entirely, but an important aspect of it.

ACT I. Bychance introduced in EP1

Full circle moment as Bychance joins the narrative pattern established through Stancy, Mileven & even Joyce and Lonnie--which I'll be calling Jonnie for short. They start off with Will reading a note [ left in his locker ], with a time and place to meet. Then we see them together. This rattles the audience a bit--some will actually approve ( like they did Mileven & Stancy ), some might cheer bc it means their ship's endgame now that Will has an 'official love interest' ( Milevens ), some might question if this is real/a vecna vision or something, and others ( Bylers ) question it and are taken aback bc this might feel ooc of Will to them. Which it is, yes, but that's kind of the point.

He's conforming half-way. He refuses to date a girl and lie about who he is, yes, but at the same time he's sneaking around with a jock/bully, who is part of the group that tormented Hellfire in S4, nonetheless. And, just like Nancy did Steve in S1, makes excuses for his behavior. ( callback to S1 )

"He's a good guy deep down, he just needs some time to come to terms with who he is. It's not like I have options, anyway. What are the odds of meeting someone else like me in his town?"

In Will's case, the van scene was a metaphorical self-sacrifice. A part of Will, a very important part of him, died in that van--not to mention the whole forgotten birthday thing. So he's now trying, forcing himself to move on and find coping mechanisms.

However, I really do think the point of Bychance is to serve as a lesson, yes, but also to give Will a little bit of a 'vacation' and allow him to live a little, damn. He surely deserves a break.

ACT II. Flashback to their first meeting

The details of their first encounter remain to be seen but we either see them get together in real time ( aka this happens before we see them kiss ) or we see a flashback of their first meeting, which might be similar to Mileven's ( it happens by chance--pun intended--in a way that feels cold, it's raining, there's danger looming, etc ). However, Bychance might mirror BenChar from Heartstopper more than Mileven's first scene. The reason being that it is widely accepted within the town that Will is queer and we even have bullies in S1 talk about Will's queerness ( potential S1 callback here? ), so it might be safe to assume that Chance is aware of the possibility of Will being queer and at some point the opportunity presents itself, and the two exchange words. I expect coded language being used, reinforcing one of the show's themes.

"Is it true what they say about you? That you're ... yknow. Different."

I'm putting BenChar here as a very loose example, because I don't think Will would get outed like Charlie--the truth is he never even had the luxury of hiding to begin with. As far as we understand, everyone just knew. I also assume the show would show us moments of Will trying to connect with Chance/talk to him but Chance doesn't seem interested in that, like Ben with Charlie, and then the reality begins to sip through--this isn't real, Will is just looking for a replacement for Mike. Sound familiar? Because if we see S5 Bychance paralleling S1 Mileven ... yikes.

Another theme that BenChar has in common with Stranger Things is the idea of secrecy--which is basically what Mike had to do in S1, hide Eleven and therefore his relationship with her. Not out of malice, but for safety reasons. Chance and Will would be in the exact same spot. Again, if there are noticeable parallels ... yikes.

However, I'm not sure what exact vibe Chance brings to the table, but he definitely cannot come across too intense bc it'll spook Will. So he needs to be stealthy, like a ninja. ( Like yknow, how Steve said as he crawled through Nancy's window in S1 that he was 'stealthy like a ninja' and like in S2 when he said to Dustin that some girls like you to be aggressive like a lion, but others like you to be stealthy like a ninja ).

To Chance, Will is a conquest, but he might be like Ben as in he's not totally unredeemable--and if subtextually he's supposed to be this personification of Will's trauma, then we can expect he reminds Will of Lonnie, Vecna and ... Mike. Just like how Mike reminded El of Brenner, Hopper, etc. Yay, more WillEl parallels.

Lonnie = father figure--he's in Joyce's S1 shoes here. He feels like he's losing his mind. ( Either due to old UD trauma, new UD trauma recall, irl trauma, or bc of the van scene. Or everything. It depends on how much angst the Duffers want S5 to have. )--so when Chance comes knocking at his door, he lets him in, initially thinking he's making a choice for himself. Vecna = someone who used his mind and body for his own purposes. Mike = an illusion, a lie/fantasy. ( as per s4, this is what Will currently believes ).

Similarly to BenChar, Chance might act out the tough and roudy bully in public, and pretend Will doesn't exist, but then be sweet in private.

This is also in a way similar to Stancy, where Steve offered something more surface-level and encouraged Nancy to suppress her feelings instead of expressing them, even if that wasn't his intention. And similarly, El didn't show interest in Mike's hobbies when he tried to introduce them to her--not El's fault, she simply wasn't interested.

ACT II. Bychance getting caught ( by either Mike or Jonathan? ) 

Mike/Jonathan is investigating something related to the supernatural, or going some place and sees Bychance by pure chance ( this stops being funny after a while ), connecting with: Jonathan seeing Nancy with Steve in S1 Jonathan finding Jonnie in an uncomfortable position in S1 And thus helping the narrative come full circle. If we want to say it is a combination between these two, then my bet is, it is Mike who finds them. Mike sees his Will, with someone else ... yikes. But also, he sees him .. with another guy. In a compromising position. I'll ... talk about Mike later since he's the most puzzling to me, but for now I'll just say I think it's a VERY different thing if he'd seen Will with a girl. If he had, total drama queen tantrum, but with another guy?? Oh boy.

But back to Will--The implication of bychance paralleling or being contrasted with Jonnie is the idea of returning to a toxic place out of desperation & for comfort--a coping mechanism. i,e Will's relationship with Chance is the consequence of and is shaped by Will's UD + irl trauma. This dynamic gives Will a false sense of control and perpetuates what he began in the van scene--he's still Will, but is making the wrong choices. Gotta love consequences.

I also don't know how far the show will go depicting this dynamic--my guess is worst case scenario it goes all the way like Stancy, but it could also be like Jonnie where it falls apart before it goes too far. The truth is probably somewhere in the middle.

ACT III. Roles reverse--Chance sees Mike and Will sharing a tender moment after Will has a traumatic experience?

This moment with Nancy was right after her encounter with the tree, so maybe something related to that tree we're seeing Will associated with? Also, I have no idea where this scene would take place logically--I have 0 clue where the Byers are staying after all. But somewhere where Chance could realistically go to. This scene with Stancy was after Steve wasn't too supportive of Nancy and went to apologize to her house, but then saw Jonathan and Nancy together--his reaction was to break Jonathan's camera. So this could maybe have something to do with the scenes surrounding the bullies that we have seen. If Chance at some point is an active participant in a force that hurts the party to get back at Mike/(Will) then this could be what sets Will up for the final Bychance act.

And I know that adding Chance to the mix might appear as just more drama for Byler but imagine the golden opportunity here to 'show don't tell' the audience through a third party that has stakes on the situation. Because it's not the same if Jonathan or Karen or anyone sees them together, there's room for plausible deniability there.

But the boyfriend of one of them seeing and getting jealous? Yeah that says he saw something there that the audience should be seeing too. Because what if it's like ... a combination between this scene and S2 Mike giving Will comfort and holding his hand?

Now this could technically be done through El too--and there's a parallel in S2 where she got jealous over Mike and Max even though there wasn't anything truly there. But quite frankly I think that was something that they'd have done with S4 El.

ACT V. The break-up ( the closing & breaking of the cycle )

So, I'm not entirely sure about the flow of this yet bc part of me also wonders if they'll just kill off Chance like they did Bob in the middle of the action or something. Yikes. Hell, maybe Will gets possessed by Vecna and kills Chance himself, who the hell knows. This could go SO MANY WAYS.

But I do hope we see a moment of catharsis for Will where he chooses to reclaim his self-worth. That feels more to me like the point of Chance as well.

My current guess is perhaps the energy of this scene is a combination between BenChar and Jonnie, with Will being angry and hurt and finally realizing he deserves, and wants, better than this. More than this. Chance is a test he must pass before he's ready to face off against Vecna AND get together with Mike ( which will probably happen towards the end for sure ).

And perhaps the Duffers will go with the concept of 'chance' in its metaphorical context, and I'm way too attached to the pacing and tone of S1, but considering all of the S1 callbacks we saw in S4 ... there's just something so compelling and powerful to me about Will having a previous romantic experience before getting with his One True Love. Otherwise Byler risks feeling too ... perfect to me in a way that feels ... stiff. But maybe I'm wrong and they have a better way to do it than Bychance!

I just honestly cannot shake these:

Our first impression of Chance being him wearing the number 22. Lucas saying 'I'm tired of feeling like a loser, so now we have that chance' with a poster that says "MEET AT"

Tigers ( jock + cheerleader ) making out next to an INVITATION to a GAME with a day + time.

Jason asking if Mike Is Somewhere, "by chance". It's giving Deadpool level of self-awareness & meta, it's giving Shawn Levy. Who worked on that movie, btw. And is the dude who said this:

"Without getting into where we go later in season 4 [Volume II], I guess I'll just say that there aren't many accidents on Stranger Things," Levy tells EW when asked about Will's sexuality. "There is clear intention and strategy and real thought given to each and every character. So, if you came away from Volume I feeling those bread crumbs of plot and character, it's probably no accident." source

Oh, so you mean me perceiving the tigers are heavily queercoded might've been intentional, strategic and really thought out? And sure, that might not really mean anything Bychance related, or it might just mean something else. But the scene of Lucas in Hawkins and Will in rink-o-mania being connected through music ...?

And then we just saw Chance on the scene, inviting people over to party, and a Chance/Mike lookalike extra behind Will with a shirt that says 'I love contact sports'? Really?

Really?

It's giving 'happy belated birthday, Will!'

I know I'm delusional af atp I do not even trust myself, it's 6.00am and I just needed to get this out before the self-doubt crept up on me again, but it is becoming clearer to me how Bychance fits into the narrative--and it is so seamless to me that im over here like LET'S GO TIGERS, LETS GO TIGERS

I don't know, man. I don't know. But either way, this is fun as hell, which is the point of analysis, no? Regardless of whether or not this happens, or does so in a metaphorical way, we'll see!

[aweekoftodays]

Hey, can we talk about the fact that one of kdj's biggest traumas is indisputably the way the publishing of his mother's book affected his life. He felt powerless and on display, and it severely hurt his ability to connect with other people.

But honestly, if I saw that book at a bookstore, I would have picked it up and read it and thought wow im so glad she was able to tell her story. I would have fallen into the trap lsk sets, and never thought deeper about how it happened. And this book was said to be really inspiring and the way the other prison women stands up for lsk you can see they sympathize with her story and maybe there were plenty of women who felt seen and heard from that story.

Its popularity meant a decent amount of money was made off of it that went straight to kdj's cousins pocket. Everyone profited from this novel in some way, everyone but kdj. (That's why he's the fool that has never dreamed of his own happiness, he can't picture it, it's always been everyone except him.)

So tell me why, kimcom + everyone writing orv and collecting the pieces they knew of him and spreading them out, not to one universe like his mother, but the eternal ever-multiplying universes and that is what saves him.

The exact same action, both born out of love and despair. One ruined him, and the other brought him home.

[neon--nightmare]

forest fire by ajj is SUCH a loveball fresh song to me bro

[starry-eyer]

god tywin lannister deserved worse

just remembering elias death and i wanna puke and the way tywin talks about elia and what happened is so damn gross

but rip tommen and myrcella we all know what’s about to happen in the next book :/

the cycle of violence just keeps spinning and damn you tywin for beginning it

(i got a bit crazy in the tags 💀)

[echo-s-land]

Someone told me that he 'like hanging around with me' and he 'love my smile' today

[daydreamerdrew]

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #246

[ame-to-ame]

Life is weird as arospec asexual bc there's no good way to use words to describe what I feel and my experience that properly conveys it to allosexual alloromantic people

Even if I use vocabulary meant for this there's no way to grasp what it truly feels like, what the lived experience is like for me, because the allosexual doesn't experience it doesn't understand it

And so it's like trying to convey colors to someone with a different perception of color. They experience a reality different to mine. And maybe perception and sensation is the wrong allegory to use, even. Maybe the stimuli we experience is different in the first place. Maybe the sensation is different. But perception is definitely different. And it's hard to tell at which point do things start to differ.

But either way it's hard and I find it increasingly hard to explain myself or want to explain myself. It's so much easier to adopt that language and that culture aside from the gaping feeling that it's not exactly what you're experiencing. I can co-opt the term crush but what I feel. I know. Is not romantic attraction. Maybe some elements are the same but it's definitely diverged somewhere. But is there really a point in explaining the differences or clarifying that it's different? As long as the final goal is achieved does it really matter? Why am I doing this again.

[gghostwriter]

One Single Thread of Gold

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2 Summary: The three times Penelope tries to solve a Spencer Reid riddle and the one time she (and the team) meet the reason behind all the changes Trope: Fluff! Just fluff and team banter! w.c: 4.0k a/n: For some reason, my earlier post on this disappeared dunno why. But this is a very self indulgent fic as reader’s background is basically based on the industry I work in. I had a lot of fun writing the team banter and I hope you enjoy it too! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💗

The first clue presented itself on a dull Wednesday night as the team, minus Hotch and Rossi, were leaving the bullpen after a full day of pushing papers. Penelope in all of her sunshine and colorful glory was buzzing about these accessories that she once spotted on a storefront window.

“I saw a pair of earrings and a matching necklace that would look so good with that top you bought the other day, JJ. You know, the blue one with those soft sleeves—they would look great with it. It’s tres boho chic.”

JJ smiled, opening her mouth to reply, but Spencer beat her to it.

“Did you know that boho chic was actually a response to political and social movements?”

“Wait, what?” Emily interjected.

He took her disbelief as a sign to continue on. “Yeah, yeah. There’s an article written about it in Vogue—softness and femininity historically appears in moments of political stress and war. Just like in the 70s with the hippie and anti-war movement that defined their style as a generation.”

They all piled into the elevator and turned to face the boy genius like he grew another head. For all they knew, this could be a clone and a very bad one at that. The Spencer Reid that they knew had absolutely no interest in the realms of fashion.

Penelope was the first to break the silence. “Vogue?”

“Kid, what gives? Just the other time, you didn’t know how many shoes a woman owns and now you’re some kind of expert?” Derek asked with both eyebrows raised.

“Did not knowing activate some kind of button that made you want to read about it?” Emily added on, feeling like she was in some kind of TV prank show.

“What?” Spencer licked his lips, nervous with all the attention on him. He felt like he was about to slip something up that he had been keeping to himself for a while now. A hidden precious gem that was you. “I—I like to read.” A believable excuse except his voice went up an octave, giving him away.

The three women shared a look.

“But you read academic textbooks and classic literature,” JJ stated.

Penelope added on. “Not fashion magazines.”

He shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “I don’t discriminate when it comes to reading. If it’s interesting—” he shifted his weight one side to another, thinking that the ride down on the elevator seemed to be taking slower than usual. “—I’ll read it.”

Penelope narrowed her eyes. She was no profiler but she could smell a lie from a mile away way. That wasn’t the whole truth. Dr. Spencer Reid was hiding something.

“Okay, see you tomorrow!” he squeaked out as he ran out of the elevator once it hit the lobby.

She turned to the three profilers, stunned with the boy genius’ erratic behavior. “Huh, did anybody else get the feeling that Spencer was hiding something?”

“Maybe, but the kid does read a lot. Maybe he just ran out of books.” Morgan shrugged.

The other two profilers tilted their heads and slowly nodded in agreement. It wasn’t far off on something Spencer would do. He did once pick up a pamphlet in the airport to read as mentioned before to her by Derek, granted it was for a case but still, Penelope couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something else.

So when she arrived home that very same night, she propped up her laptop and got to digging. Boy Genius was hiding something big and Little Miss Oracle of Quantico can find anything with her tech skills. She’ll get to the bottom of this mystery, once and for all.

———

Spencer was glad to be coming home to your presence. Having spied the lights still on from the outside of the apartment, he took the steps two at a time, excited to see his 2nd favorite person after his mother—you.

“Spence?” You called out, having heard the mahogany front door open. “Is that you, baby?”

“Hey, love. I missed you,” he deposited his satchel to the nearby sofa and ran to give you a hug.

You burrowed yourself into his arms. All the muscles in your body relaxing as you caught a whiff of his cedar wood perfume—the same scent you’ve gifted to him during the early stages of dating. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

“Better now with you,” his words coming out muffled as he refused to detach himself from the embrace. “Actually, I almost slipped up today.”

You extricated from his arms to give him an inquisitive look. The slight scrunch on your nose and raised brows made his heart flutter. How expressive, free, and trusting you were. It reminded him of your first encounter. How you teasingly asked him if he was a serial killer when he offered you a ride home in the pouring rain and how you easily accepted regardless.

“Yeah? Did any of them catch on?” you probed as you pulled him by his belt loops to the direction of the bedroom.

He laughed, finding your aggression cute. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Maybe we should schedule dinner with them sometime,” you coyly suggested as you slowly started to unravel his tie. “I mean, we’ve been together for over a year now and I have moved into your apartment, under the guise of watering your plants while you’re away. Which is a lie, by the way—”

“I have plants!” he protested. His hands divesting you out of his sweater, bringing to view his favorite silk set in deep purple that accentuated your skin and the blush on your cheeks.

“—that I brought over, Spence,” you quipped back. “But don’t worry, I won’t spill how the intelligent FBI agent fooled naive me into moving in with him.”

There was a glint in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. “Love, I wouldn’t exactly call you naive—” his voice going an octave lower. “—not when you’re looking at me with those tempting eyes of yours.”

Giggling, you leaned in for a kiss, one that he quickly took over. His calloused dominant hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively caging you in while his other cradled your cheek—a stark contrast to the other. Kissing Spencer had always felt like a religious experience that you never want to part from.

Reluctantly pulling away, you caught glimpse of his need for you. His hazel eyes now dark as ink, nostrils slightly flared, teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his dominant hand dug into the fleshy nape of your neck. It made you feel desirable, like the goddess that he would call you when he’s on his knees tasting nectar from the source.

The discussion of inviting the team out for dinner was long forgotten. No other words were spoken as you pushed him on the bed—only the cries of his and your name and moans of ‘yes’ echoed well into the night.

***

The second clue was uncovered when Spencer walked into the cold windy bullpen with new black cardigan adorning his lithe body. It was non-descriptive to the untrained eye but for fashion enthusiast Penelope Garcia, she knew what those four white lines on the sleeve meant—luxury label and priced well above their pay grade.

She narrowed her eyes. The Spencer she knew wouldn’t dare spend his salary on anything besides limited first edition books. Something was truly up and she planned to get to the bottom of it as her initial online search turned up nothing.

“Reid, that’s a really nice sweater,” she complimented, throwing in her bait.

He smiled. The thought of who gave it to him warmed his heart. “Yeah. Yeah, thanks Garcia.”

Her sparkly pink kitten heels clacking on the floor as she came closer. “Can I see it?” she innocently asked.

The request threw Spencer off the loop but thought nothing of it as he shrugged and handed it to her—still warm from body temperature.

Her squeals caught the attention of the other profilers filling into the office.

“What is it, baby girl?” Morgan deposited his bag on the table and stationed himself beside her. “It’s Reid’s new sweater. Are you seeing something I’m not seeing?”

Garcia rolled her eyes. This was why females are considered more observant that their sex counterpart. Her chocolate thunder was a profiler but how could he not notice what she was deducing?

“Huh,” Emily surmised. “Based on the fibers, it’s definitely not polyester. Possibly a 100% wool, what do you think, JJ?”

“It says here on the tag—100% virgin wool,” she read out loud. “That makes it very expensive, right Garcia?”

The colorful tech analyst smiled. Her girls could never let her down. “Right you are, girlfriends! But it’s not only that, this—” pointing at the four stripes on the sleeve. “—this is a signature Thom Browne detail. Their prices go up to at least 600 dollars—” they all turned to Reid who seemed clearly agitated. “—now why does our boy wonder have a piece that could buy at most five cute heels?”

With his vast intellect, he couldn’t think of a way to weasel out of this impromptu interrogation. He couldn’t very well say that it was a gift now could he? If he did, that would lead to another hard hitting question ‘from who?’ He raked his hand through his curly hair, taking the same path as yours did just earlier as you gave him a kiss goodbye.

When you gifted him the cardigan from your last New York business trip, he really thought nothing of its material equivalence, besides feeling grateful and loved. It was proof that you paid attention to even the littlest details about him.

“Hey Spence, I got you something,” you looked up at him with sparkling eyes. The first thing you had done when you got home was run into his arms. A simple act that healed his aching heart from missing it’s other half.

You reached into your luggage, enthusiastically pulling out the black clothing wrapped in tissue paper like some magician pulling out a rabbit from a hat. “Here you go!”

“A new sweater!” He exclaimed.

You rocked on your heels, looking bashful as you explained the reasoning behind it. “I noticed you fidgeting when you wore the cardigan JJ gifted you last Christmas, the polyester fibers used on it must have been really itchy so I got you a new one—” your eyes widened at how your explanation could be taken the wrong way. “—not that her gift wasn’t great! No, it was very cute! It’s just—I want you to be comfortable and protected during your cases in cold states. Polyester is a good insulator of heat but wool is still the best.”

He loved how unabashed you rambled about your interests. That was one of the first things he piqued his notice. How you liked to share your knowledge about the fashion industry that you work for but never coming across as stuck up or snobby, you just genuinely wanted to educate anyone who had a wrong perception of the billion dollar commerce. Admittedly, he was one of them but hearing you rave about it’s nitty-gritty details and socio-economic movements changed his mind. It also helped that a beautiful and intelligent woman, such as yourself, was educating him.

He pulled you in for a kiss, stopping all the worries that ran through your head. “I love it. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing at all, baby. I like taking care of you. Just like how you take care of me,” you reasoned. “Plus I got it on sale courtesy of the magazine connections.”

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie. It was Penelope with an eyebrow raised at the subtle smile that graced his face while he replayed the moment in his head.

“Okay,” Morgan drawled. “What’s got you smiling, Pretty boy?”

“Nothing,” he squeaked out, turning to see Hotch make his way across the office. Spencer hurriedly collected his things and started to move even before their unit chief could call their attention.

“We have a case,” Hotch announced.

The remaining BAU members all looked at each other, silently communicating about Reid’s irregular demeanor, before piling into the conference room for another grueling scene of murder.

“He’s been acting weird,” Garcia rushed out. “Definitely hiding something. What do you think, Em?”

Emily nodded. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“A girl?” JJ guessed.

“Yes, must be a special one for him to keep secret for so long,” Garcia surmised. “Do you think he’ll hate it if I go further digging around to find out who she is?”

“Further?” Emily clarified.

JJ laughed. “Probably, let’s wait for him to volunteer the information. Okay, Garcia?”

She sighed, shoulders drooping, before nodding in agreement.

***

The third clue was quite literally handed to Penelope Garcia on the jet after a case when she accompanied the team.

“Cold Alaska is so not good for my skin,” she grumbled as she rummaged her bottomless bag for her favorite hand cream. “I love going with you all on trips rather than being stuck in my own tech cave but the weather wasn’t it.”

Morgan chuckled. “Aw c’mon baby girl, don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy our time together?”

“You, my sculpted hunk, and the fireplace were the highlight,” Penelope turned to the other female profilers. “My beauties, do any of you have lotion? I think I lost mine.”

Before JJ or Emily could even utter a word, a tube made its way to her lap courtesy of her seat mate, Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Reid, since when do you carry lotion?” Emily inquired.

He shrugged. “Hand cream has it’s benefits besides from moisturizing the skin, it also provides an additional layer of protection. Depending on it’s properties, it can also repair and undo damage.”

The females all shared a look. This was another unexplainable behavior from their resident genius.

“We know that,” JJ stated. “We just thought you didn’t.”

His brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, besides from the fact that you’ve never shown interest about skincare before, isn’t it a stereotype for men not to know? Unless—” Emily slyly smiled and nodded at Garcia to continue.

“Unless you have a girlfriend that we don’t know about,” Garcia bounced on her seat.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Spencer’s eyes widened in alarm. He didn’t realize he was walking into a trap before it was too late. “What makes you say that?”

They laughed.

JJ started. “Besides from you suddenly being knowledgeable in fashion—“

“—or having a pricey sweater you’d never buy for yourself—” Emily added on.

“Or, or—“ Garcia reached out to touch his hand. Which made Spencer react with a high pitched call of her name. “—having a shea butter lotion with rough hands!” She waved the tube up in the air. “Plus, this is half empty. So either it’s not working which I doubt since this is a good brand or you keep this in your bag for a special someone to use!”

Derek chuckled. “Baby girl, you could be a profiler at this point.”

“Oh tell me something I don’t know,” she quipped back. “So Reid, want to tell us the truth?”

He sighed, finding no escape. “Yes, yes I have a girlfriend.”

The girls all shrieked with laughter and their own corresponding questions of who is she? How did you meet? How long has this been going on? What does she do for a living? Is she pretty? Oh I bet she is!

“Looks like that cat is out of the bag,” Rossi nonchalantly stated.

Four sets of eyes turned to look at one of the BAU founders. “Rossi, you knew about this and didn’t tell me?” Garcia gasped, a hand to her chest at the thought of betrayal.

He laughed. “I caught them on a dinner date once and our boy wonder over here—“ nodded in Reid’s direction. “—begged me not to out him yet, said he wanted to be the one to tell the team the news but that was like what, six months ago?”

“Six months ago?” Emily repeated.

“Wait, wait. Hotch, don’t tell me you also knew?” Morgan asked.

The unit chief smiled. “She was added to Reid’s emergency contact last February.”

“February? That’s almost a year ago!” JJ sputtered out.

The tech analyst turned to glare at the youngest member of the BAU. “Reid, you better start spilling all the details or so help me, I will stalk all your digital footprint when we land until I find out who she is, where she lives, and what her deepest darkest secret is.”

“What about hearing it all from her, instead?” He rubbed the back of his neck. The secrecy had gone on for so long and there was no time like the present to introduce his chosen family to his chosen partner—hopefully until the end of time. “She wants to treat you all out for dinner tonight.”

All four nodded vigorously as they watched him pull out his phone and send a quick text to which you readily replied and agreed to.

“My man,” Derek sighed. “Can’t believe you got a girlfriend without me being your wingman.”

“Answer me at least this, is she pretty and does she make you happy?” Garcia asked. No matter how nosey she may be, she only wanted the best for Spencer and if the recent lightness and smiles were all caused by his mystery girlfriend, she already approved.

“The prettiest,” Spencer gushed out. “She’s my own personal sunshine.”

The three girls melted into their seats. Their youngest was all grown up waxing prose over his lover.

“She makes you sappy too,” Derek teased.

***

[EXTRA - When the mystery was uncovered]

Spencer had never felt any more nervous that this moment as he, with the rest of the team minus Hotch and Rossi, wait for your arrival. He sat with his back to the restaurant entrance and his cardigan laying on the empty seat beside him as a reservation mark. His eyes had been going back and forth to his idle phone and to the conversation the team was having.

Morgan noted his state of distress and chuckled. “You okay there, lover boy? She’s still coming right, your mystery girlfriend?”

“Yeah, yeah. She said she was on her way 9 minutes and 24 seconds ago and based on the route and traffic, she should have been here 45 seconds earlier. Just worried that something might have happened.”

Penelope leaned in, picking on her bubblegum pink choice of drink as she did. “You know, if you just told me her name I could have tracked every movement by now and you wouldn’t be sitting here worrying.”

“What—no Garcia, I don’t want her tracked plus she didn’t want you to know everything about her even before meeting her,” his voice going up an octave in your defense.

She shrugged. “I’m just saying. I mean we don’t know a single thing about her—”

“We do know she exists and you’ve been together for almost a year now,” Emily interjected.

“Actually, it’s been more than year—one year and 124 days to be exact.”

“Buttercup, all I’m saying is we don’t even know how she looks—” Garcia gasped, having spotted a passerby on the window and what she was wearing. “Oh my gosh, that maroon coat is to die for and that textured leather bag—I wonder if I could track her down and ask where she got it.”

“Oh she’s pretty,” JJ noted.

Derek smirked. “Baby girl, tell me if you plan to ask her ‘cause I wouldn’t mind asking for her number.”

The tech analyst’s eyes further widened as she noted the attractive woman going inside the restaurant.

“You weren’t kidding about that coat, Garcia, it looks really nice,” JJ appraised.

Emily squinted her eyes, taking note of the garment in question. “It looks high quality, probably vintage and—is she going near us?”

“Oh gods, she is! Act natural, act natural!” Penelope chanted as she repeatedly slapped Derek’s arm.

The stranger stopped behind Spencer. “Hey handsome,” your melodic voice was a siren that called to his every being. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Penelope’s jaw dropped as she took in Derek’s flustered reaction.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, getting picked up in such a public setting was new even for him—the ladies man of the BAU.

You laughed. “Well, you too but I was more of talking to this lover of mine—“ you bent down, kissing your boyfriend’s cheek. “Hey, Spence.”

A series of gasps were heard all around the table.

The youngest stood up and turned to give you a soft kiss on the lips. “Hey, Y/N. I was starting to get worried.”

“I missed the train, sorry I forgot to send an update,” you explained as he helped you into your seat.

Promptly seating back down, he angled his body to yours—all attention on you as if you were the only one in the room. And in a way you were, with how molten his doe eyes stared, alternating between yours and your painted lips that begged to be kissed.

He always felt breathless when you were near. It was as if he found his very own Aphrodite to worship here on earth. Spencer was no believer of fates or destiny but he would pray and light a candle if he needed to, just to keep you his. Your intelligent mind complimenting his, your outgoing personality that draws anyone in, and your face that could launch a thousand ships.

Those eyes that could read the deepest crevices of his fiber of being. Those cheeks that begged to be caressed by his calloused hands. Those soft lips that deserved to be kissed and devoured until you, in turn, were as breathless as he was. He suddenly wished you both were anywhere else but here—specifically in the confines of the apartment where he was free to express his love, devotion, and adoration until you scream his name and beg him to stop. His hand, having found it’s way to your thigh, squeezed the flesh three times—communicating his promise to have your hair laid around you like a halo as you lay under him, bare and writhing with need.

The blonde on the other end of the table cleared her throat, cutting through the tension.

“Okay, Spence,” she smiled. “Mind introducing us to your girlfriend?”

He brought your hand to his lips, leaving a series of sweet kisses on your knuckle. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the rest of the team. Morgan—“ he gestured to each one. “Emily, JJ, and Garcia.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you!” You exclaimed. “So sorry we’re only meeting now. We wanted to stay in our little bubble for as long as we could plus this handsome FBI agent—” you nudged Spencer’s shoulder. “—wanted to keep me to himself. But where’s Aaron and Dave?”

Emily whispered under her breath. “Aaron? Dave?”

“They had prior commitments, love. They did send their regards and Rossi wants to invite you to the next gathering at his mansion,” Spencer explained.

“Love?” Penelope squeaked out. This was really starting to feel like Twilight zone for the team members.

You nodded. “I’ll definitely plot it on my calendar. Now, I heard you had some questions for me?”

“How’d you two meet?” JJ asked.

“When was the first date?” Emily inquired.

Penelope brought out a pen and paper. “What’s you social security number?”

Derek snorted at that. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Spencer’s eyebrows raised further and further up with each question while your shoulders shook with laughter.

“She has all the time in the world to get to know each of you,” Spencer laid out. “No need to make it sound like an interrogation.” He was wishing to keep you forever, if you’d let him.

You smiled as you caressed his cheek, having caught on to the veiled meaning behind his words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[wlwloverwrites]

Future Boyfriend

Pairing: 70s!Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: fem reader, calling reader darlin’, reader is wearing a dress, sweat kink?, panty sniffing, squirting, brief handjob, cum play, nipple play, car sex (again) smut (18+) no minors

Summary: Logan, a man supposedly from the future, claims he is your boyfriend, so you ask him to prove it.

A/N: California’s heat wave in September is killing me. No one look at me. This fic just kept getting dirtier and dirtier.

Main Masterlist

DO NOT STEAL, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ON OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORMS

“So you’re from the future, huh?” You ask looking at the gruff man sitting in the driver’s seat.

“A little more complicated than that, Darlin, but you can say that,” the man reassures.

You hum sarcastically. Choosing to ignore the nickname he gives, which only makes him laugh under his breath. There’s a soft breeze that makes its way into the 1972 Buick Riviera and suddenly you’re hit with the smell of cigars. The smell, no doubt, coming from - “Wait, what’s your name again?”

It’s silent for a second, the only thing that fills your ears is the car’s roar when he hurrily pulls under a shady tree on the side of the road.

“My name’s Logan,” he huffs playfully as he puts the car in park.

“Logan,” you feel yourself mimicking with a smile on your face.

He looks up at you with a sly smile, his sunglasses are now sitting on the dashboard, which gives you more of him to study.

Your eyes take in his sharp nose, soft eyes, and grown out facial hair before they drop to the three undone buttons on his collared shirt. The hair on his chest makes your fingers itch to undo the last few buttons and tug off his brown leather jacket. You’d be doing him a favor too.

The summer heat is criminal.

As if he read your mind, Logan tugs off his leather jacket, throwing it over his shoulder to the back seat. You expect him to stop, but his thick fingers work to undo the rest of his buttons as he pulls off his shirt. His shirt falls on top of his leather jacket, leaving him in his low rise jeans held by a thick brown belt and white undershirt.

“So I’m just supposed to believe that you,” you point at Logan, then yourself. “And me end up together?”

“Is it that hard to believe?” He asks raising his eyebrows.

The man is sex on legs. If anything you should be applauding your future-self for fucking and tying the man down.

“Kind of, yeah,” you lie.

“Liar.”

Before you could reply Logan readjusts himself in the driver’s seat. The sight of him widening his legs and throwing his arm over your shoulder has your mind thinking maybe the man isn’t crazy. Words are stuck in your throat when his lips dips to meet the sticky skin on your collarbone.

“Had you wrapped around my finger,” his breath is hot against the junction of your neck as he whispers against your skin.

His flirtatious tone makes you squirm on the leather seats and you find it’s getting harder to ignore the building heat between your thighs. The leather from the bench styles seats sticks to your skin. Your brightly patterned dress does little to separate you from the leather, instead it clings to you body where sweat forms on your skin.

“Prove it.”

Maybe Logan isn’t talking out of his ass or trying to use some lame pick up line. He could be telling the truth.

It’s only fair you give him a chance.

Connecting your lips, the kiss is messy which has you opening your legs and welcoming the left hand that’s gripping your thigh. The arm over your shoulder pushes you closer to him and your hands find his face. Pulling away, you cup his cheeks in your hands as you angle his head to the left. This time when you lips meet, you’re stifling a moan. The hand between your thigh expertly finds your clit over your cotton panties. He pays no mind at the sweat between your thighs, instead he rubs small circles that has you rolling your hips against his hand, begging for more.

“Just like that,” you praise.

His hand doesn’t even flinch.

“I know, Darlin.”

He knows what you like.

“Cause you’re from the future?” You can barely spit out your words and whine when Logan pulls your panties to the side. Your brain only comprehends the way his fingers glide through your folds. He nods as he gathers your slick and uses it to rub your clit again.

“I know your body. Had years of practice.”

His words have you whimpering and hiding your face in his neck. The hands that were holding his face fall and greedily grab at his biceps. The muscles are firm in your hands and call for your teeth. Everything about the man makes your mouth water. The carnivorous ache in your teeth makes you feel silly, but you settle for moaning his name instead.

His fingers rub your clit and occasionally tease at your entrance where you’re dripping; however, despite your whines, Logan doesn’t give in. Squirming against his hand, unsure if you’re running to or from him, Logan keeps you in place causing your panties to scratch at your skin. Focusing on his fingers, you try your best to ignore the uncomfortable friction scratching your right inner thigh. Your eyes fall shut and suddenly your nose is hyperaware of the man’s scent. The smell of cheap cigars tickles your nose, but it’s the smell of his sweat that makes your head spin.

His scent makes you widen your legs. The shift allows for more friction on your sensitive skin, but you still choose to ignore it. Distracting yourself with his scent, you bury your nose in his neck and inhale; the way you breathe him in is animalistic. The loud sniff makes Logan laugh, making his fingers pick up their pace. You shift once one, this time a painful whine escapes your lips.

“W-What’s wrong?”

It isn’t his scared question that brings you back to reality, but the halt to his fingers. Your mouth falls shut and you open your eyes to see a very concerned Logan staring down at you.

Worried eyes jump all over your face and body, looking for your pain making your heart skip a beat. His free hand caresses the side of your face and tilts it to face him. He’s so concerned that your blood starts to feel hot.

Did his stare have to be this instense?

Shaking your head you reassure, “It’s nothing.”

Your attempt to comfort him is cut off by his lips. Expecting his teeth to clash with yours, your heads spins once more. Instead his kiss is soft and has you melting into the leather seat beneath you. Wet tongues taste each other, his tongue is romantic while yours is curious.

To him, your taste is comforting. His kiss is making up for lost time. Soft lips are desperate to commit every inch of your mouth to memory.

To you, his taste is addicting. You crave his entire being, his smell, touch, words, and lips. He reels you in with claws.

“Tell me, Darlin,” he begs as his lips travel down to your neck.

Shyly, your hands slip beneath the skirt of your dress and hook your underwear on your fingers and pull them off. Awkwardly you lift your hips to pull off the scratchy, grey material, but Logan is quick to take over.

“I was chafing,” you whisper, clearly embarrassed.

His body visibly relaxes before he shakes his head at the material in a disapproving manner. Meanwhile, his hand between your thighs searches for the irritated skin. Your sharp inhale tells him he’s found it before he gently kneads at your skin, a silent apology.

Careful not to irritate your skin more, Logan goes back to tug off your panties hugging at your thighs. His voice is taunting as he coos, “Don’t worry, I’ll take them off your hands.”

You nod at his words and expect him to toss your panties in the back seat the same way he did his shirt and jacket, but your jaw drops when he brings the cotton up to his nose. The sound of him breathing in the grey cotton fills the car and suddenly your bottom lip stings from the force of your teeth. You watch as his eyes roll back and you swear you see pink reach out and taste the wet cotton.

Pride builds in the bottom of your stomach as your body moves before you can stop it. You climb on his lap, thighs trapping the both of his, similar to the way your arms trap his neck. The steering wheel digs into the small of your back, but the bulge on Logan’s jeans brushing against your pussy does a great job in distracting you. Playfully, Logan jerks his hips upward, bouncing you on his lap, but you watch as his carefully stuffs the grey cotton into his back pocket.

“My future boyfriend is such a pervert,” you giggle.

“You like it,” he smirks as his hand finds its way between your thighs.

A gasp escapes your lips when two fingers shove themselves inside you, no longer playing the teasing game. Your pussy clenches, struggling to accommodate the thickness of his fingers. Logan wastes no time and ignores your pleads for a an extra second. His fingers, wet with your arousal, curl and hit the spongy spot inside you that has you cursing his name against his neck.

Your hips ride his hand, eager for more despite your whines. His fingers curl expertly and have you hiding your face in his neck. Sweat builds at your hairline, your spine, and the back of your neck, but you don’t care. The growing pleasure between your thighs captures your full attention and you pathetically cry Logan’s name, but he shushes you with his lips.

He whispers soft praises against your lips, letting you know it’s okay. The steering wheel digs into your back and the leather seats stick to your shines, holding you in place. With no where to escape, a loud gasp of Logan’s name is his only warning before your pussy gushes on his fingers and onto his jeans. Your heart races as the pressure in your lower tummy releases. Squeezing Logan’s fingers so tight it has him cursing as he watches your eyes roll back. He groans as a familiar, sweet scent, one only he can smell, fills his nostrils.

“Smell like my favorite candy.”

Your ears barely register Logan’s praises on how sweet you smell or the way he tucks the skirt of your dress so he can see the wet mess between your thighs and his jeans. Slipping his fingers out of your pussy, it’s not long after wet fingers find their way to your parted lips and push past your teeth.

“Come on. Taste it.”

His fingers press on your lips, egging you to lick them clean. His dark eyes meet yours and watch as your tongue peeks out and drools over his glistening fingers. Your subtle sweet taste lingers on your tongue and the way he’s looking at you is making you want to swallow down his fingers. Rather than feeding you his fingers, he smears your remaining juices on your lips. Your slick coats your lips like a cheap lip gloss, tricking your mind to rub your lips together.

“My turn,” Logan groans before his lips kiss yours.

The kiss is filthy.

His tongue licks your lips clean, almost like a dog. It should gross you out, the way he’s licking you, as if he’s eating you from the source, but it doesn’t. He groans at your familiar taste as your blind, impatient hands reach to tug off the thick, brown belt trapping his cock.

“Taste so good,” Logan moans, his hands reaching down to help you when a frustrated whine falls past your lips.

The metal clinks and the sound of his zipper makes your ears perk up. Taking over, your fingers hook on his belt loops and tug off his jeans. Your eyes widen when they are immediately rewarded with the sight of dark, wiry hairs leading up to his thick and veiny cock instead of underwear.

“Fuck me,” the curse escapes you before you can even think. It’s quiet so Logan lets you think he didn’t catch it. His thighs flex, a silent beg for your touch and you’re quick to comply. Without wasting time, your hand wraps around his thick cock.

“You’re big,” you whisper. Not as a praise or compliment, but a fact.

Bigger than you expected.

“You can take it,” he nods like he’s talking from experience.

His cock is heavy in your hand and mind races with dirty thoughts. Before you can reply, his hand traps the hand wrapped around his cock. He squeezes your hand as he guides your hand up and down his cock. His thumb pushes yours to circle the tip of his cock. Despite him being the one that guided your hand, despite him expecting the pleasure, his hips shudder beneath you and your name falls past his lips. You watch, memorizing the way his eyes flutter shut.

This time you fist his cock without his help, slapping his hand away.

The head of his cock glisten with precome that makes your mouth water. Your face feels hot when your eyes watch Logan curse under his breath and leak onto your hand. Adjusting yourself on his lap, you decide to use both your hands. Your left hand grabs the base of his cock, while your right hand jerks the rest of his cock.

“You’re so leaky,” you giggle and then some more when his cock spits out onto your hand.

He scoffs at you, but moans your name when your thumb swipes over the tip of his cock. His come piles on your thumb and he groans when it presses against his lips. You smirk when you repeat his words, “Come on. Taste it.”

Shamelessly, Logan’s lips wrap around over your thumb. His tongue licks your thumb clean so when you pop your thumb out of his mouth, it glistens with his spit. His eyes lock with yours and the overwhelming feeling of needing to be full takes over.

Logan sees it in your eyes. There’s a cloudy and dazed look in your eyes when you grab the base of his cock and line him up to your entrance. His rough hands hold your hips as you sit on his cock, gasping at every inch. Logan’s stare where the both of you meet has you drooling on his cock. Despite your slick, he watches as you struggle to take his cock.

“Know you can do, Darlin, you used to do it all the time,” he praises.

Your hands reach out to his shoulders. You pout as you take another inch, “That’s future me though.”

Logan lets out a hearty laugh. His laugh makes your heart flutter. The flutter travels down to your pussy and suddenly the laugh is cut short when your walls squeeze around him. His nails dig into the meat of your hips as he tugs at your skin, encouraging you to ease the burn in your thighs and just sit on his lap.

Aching with need, you furrow your brows as you sink further on his cock. Crying out his name when he slides deeper into your cunt. The head of his cock brushing past the spongy spot inside you.

Drunken with pleasure, Logan’s fingers grip your hips and moans, “Knew I had to find you.”

The pressure in your lower stomach builds as your skin’s temperature begins to rise. Your walls squeeze around his cock, adjusting to the stretch. His cock wet with your slick makes it easier for you to take the last inch of his cock.

“I’m so full,” you whine, cloudy eyes stare up at Logan’s soft stare.

Taking a moment to adjust, your lips find his as your fingers bury themselves in his hair. Tugging at the dark roots and smiling against the beads of sweats that pile on the back of his neck.

The hands that were on your hips rise to the small of your back, pushing your body closer. Forcing you leaning onto his body, your clit rests on the wet, wiry hairs on his pelvis. The hairs tickling your clit every time he nudges your body closer.

His left hand cups the side of your face and groans into your mouth when you carefully lift your hips. Pulling away, a line of spit connect the both of you for a second before it falls onto your chin. With a shaky breath, you work your hips down and sit on his cock with a soft bounce.

“That’s it, Darlin,” he praises, his eyes falling to the plunging neckline of your dress.

His lips kiss down your neck, teeth tugging at the neckline of your dress. Your hands slip from his hair when he yanks your dress to expose your breasts. You gasp as his lips wrap around your nipple, while he rolls the other between his fingers.

“Fuck.”

Logan’s mouth is desperate as he mouths at your nipple, occasionally, groaning into your skin when you grind your hips against his. Holding his head to your chest you focus on bouncing yourself on his cock, setting an even pace while chasing your high.

Your slick drips down his length and he can feel it dripping down his balls. A creamy ring decorates the base of his cock that only gets creamier with each bounce.

“Missed you so much,” Logan groans out on your chest, his mouth pulling away, only to give the same treatment to your other nipple.

Your pussy spasms over his cock trying to commit every vein to memory. The ache in your hips and the pain building from the steering wheel digging into your back is ignored as you mumble Logan’s name like a mantra.

“I’m close.” You cry out, as a weak warning.

You smile when you feel him nod against your chest, his silent way of letting you know that he knows. The roll of your hips get messy and the way your leaking on his cock gives him more than enough to figure you’re close to coming on his cock. You just need that extra push and he’s more than willing to give you that.

“Come on, Darlin,” he hums, slipping a hand between the both of you. The toothy smile he gives you when his fingers find your puffy clit has you whining his name. His eyes drop to your chest again, watching as your tits bounce with every attempt of chasing your orgasm. His fingers are soaked with your sweet slick as he rubs even circles on your clit. Your jaw drops as your body tenses.

“That’s it, darlin. Let go.”

Your walls squeeze his cock as he fights the urge to come inside you. He smiles at your bunched up dress that does little to cover you. Your entire body glistens with sweat and the sweet smell of your pussy fills Logan’s nose. He’s memorized as he watches your head fall back, exposing your neck and feels your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock.

“Ah! Lo-”

Gasping for air, you try to warn him, you really do, but it’s too late. Trying to run away from his fingers and cock, your lift your hips, unintentionally causing his cock to hit that spongy spot inside you before it slaps against his stomach. The lingering feeling of his cock spreading you open has you squirting on his cock with a cry.

“Logan!”

Overstimulated, Logan’s fingers pet your clit softly, smiling when your tired body jerks on his lap. His abs underneath his tank top flex when he sees a wet mess between your thighs, no doubt adding to the puddle on the leather seats. Chasing his orgasm, Logan’s hand reaches down to fist his soaked cock.

“F-fuck,” he stutters as the lewd sounds of Logan fisting his cock fill your ears. His hips flex as moans slip out of his mouth.

Slowly, you become more aware of your surroundings and help Logan finish. Eager to both see and hear how Logan comes, your hand replaces his. Shaky fingers wrap around his cock as your work a tight grip up and down his cock.

“Gonna come for me?”

Your sweet tone makes him throw his head back. A smile creeping on his face when you give him a playful and loud kiss on his cheek.

“Come on, I’m your future girlfriend,” you tease as your flick your wrist and swipe your thumb over the tip of his leaky cock. “You know you want to.”

The giggly banter, the banter he missed so much, has him choking out your name and spilling onto your hand. Spurts of his come land on your dress, on his shirt, and onto your hand. You watch as Logan’s chest rises and falls with every deep breath. His flushed skin glistens with sweat, similar to yours.

The silence is comfortable for a couple minutes as the both of your fix on your clothes onto your sticky skin. Huffing out loud as the heat suddenly begins to hit you, you shift on Logan’s lap. Looking up at him only to find his eyes already looking at you. Suddenly shy, you lower your gaze and look out the car window.

“You’re the first person I looked for.”

His confession is quiet and has you pulling your attention from the swaying trees to the soft eyes staring at you.

“Why?” You ask just as soft. “Why didn’t you wait to meet me how you’re suppose to?”

A part of you wants to bring up the way his fingertips dug into your skin, holding you down as if he was scared you were going to disappear. Maybe bring up the way his kiss press onto your skin just a tad too harsh, desperate with love. You most definitely want to bring up the salty tears that slipped down his cheeks when his cried out your name as he came.

“Just wanted more time with you,” he admits, avoiding eye contact for the first time since he first convinced you to get in his car.

“What do you mean?” You ask with a nervous laugh.

In attempt to comfort you, or maybe it’s for his own comfort, Logan’s rough hands find yours, intertwining your fingers together. His throat feels like its closing, but he still manages to spit out his selfish words.

“I needed more time with you.”

No pressure tags: @eupheme @mrsimpurity @joelsgoldrush @djarins-riduur @superhoeva @d1stalker @moonlight-prose @ozarkthedog @sunsburns @inkedells i love yall !!! Each and every single one of you are so talented and have individually inspired me to write for Logan! So thank you :)

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Read my other Logan fic here

[kaisentine]

5 things itoshi sae will do.

he will make you cry.

intentional or not, this man has the magical ability to turn the faucets behind your eyes. the once warm salty tears running down your cheeks become cold the moment they make contact with that one spot below your eyes.

he will force you to attend his games.

you’re immediately obligated to attend his matches as soon as you two make it official. he’s not embarrassed about you watching his matches like at all because he’s quite confident in his abilities. you technically get dragged into the stadium by the team’s guards who escort you to your seat.

he will let you see him walk around with his fuckass bangs down without any hairspray.

he’s quite shameless when he’s alone—except he isn’t, he’s in the room with you . . . but you don’t count as someone to be wary about. so when he first came to you with his bangs down, you almost squealed. it’s somewhat of a reward when you see it. he still looks like he came straight out of the photos his mom sent you from when he was younger.

he will tolerate your touches.

nope, he is not known for his affection. even with you, he doesn’t initiate it. not like it would kill him to do so, he’s just . . . clueless—you could say. but when you wrap your arms around him, hover your hands over his body, entangle your fingers with his hair, touch his face, kiss him—he’ll accept them.

he will leave you on seen.

yup. either one : he doesn’t know how to respond so he just looks stares at your text like a clueless child—debating whether he should send a stupid millennial gifs or not respond at all. or two : he’ll respond you when he meets you. “i’ll buy you dinner.” “what?” “that text. you asked what you should get for dinner.” “sae, that was 4 days ago.”

5 more things itoshi sae won’t do.

he won’t let you cry in front of him.

he’ll turn you away or he’ll walk away. look, he’s trying to give you some space but honestly, it isn’t helping. it’s not that he doesn’t want to comfort you—he just doesn’t know how to handle his own feelings, let alone yours. so he’ll leave you alone. however, when your tears dry up, he’ll come back to you and pray to God that you don’t hate him.

he won’t lie to you.

even white lies. it just isn’t part of his vocabulary. but it does come in handy—for example, when you see an article about some stupid ship between him and another celebrity, he shuts it down and you know he’s telling you the truth. then there’s the down side . . . “do you think this shade suits me?” “no. you should find another one.” he finds there is just no use in coating lies.

he won’t put you above soccer.

it sounds harsh but he doesn’t expect you to expect him to give up his livelihood for a relationship and neither should you give up yours for him. he’ll love you to the end and back—soccer isn’t on his love spectrum, more like his obsessive spectrum. so yeah, he’ll love you more than soccer but he doesn’t put you above the sport.

he won’t hide you.

it’s actually futile to get him to listen to his PR team. no, he is not ashamed going to an event with you in hand. no, he is not ashamed with keeping one highlight of you on his inactive instagram account. no, he is not going to entertain other set-ups. no, he won’t give a fuck.

but he won’t ever hate you.

don’t even try because it won’t happen.

sticky note. ARLENE IS BACK??? this week has been crazy as fuck like hello? i need a whole separate post to talk about it but you guys BETTER promise me you WILL read it.

[darkbluekies]

Til death do us part

Yandere!mafia oc x reader

Summary: A summer romance turns dark as Silas can't accept that you've married someone else

Warnings: kidnapping, murder, blackmail, threats, Silas belittling darling, violence, isolation, jealousy, possessiveness

Word count: 5k

He’s everything you could have ever wanted. He’s sweet, caring and works at a bank. He can provide for you. He’s from a good family. Everything about him is perfect, everything you could ever have dreamt of. You could never have imagined that you would find a man like him after what happened last summer. 

You had met a man on the way home from dinner with a friend, someone that had helped you after the grocery bag you had bought food in on the way home. He had introduced himself as ‘Silas’ and had walked you home, carrying the groceries for you. You had thanked him. Silas had asked if you wanted to meet for coffee sometime, and you had agreed, innocently thinking nothing of it. You had gone out with him multiple times. Never actually becoming a couple, but acting like it. It was harmless, you thought. You kissed, went on dates and you knew that if things continued like this, you’d fall for him. 

But you noticed that something was weird about him, and it made you feel cautious in his presence. He never told you anything about his life and when you asked, you noticed that something shifted in his dark eyes. As if he tried to come up with a lie. It creeped you out somehow, because why couldn’t he tell you? Maybe you shouldn’t have trusted a man who tried to cover up his tattoos.

You finally got to know the truth at the end of the summer. A friend who had seen the two of you together had recognised him from a newspaper. He was a criminal, a leader of a mob, who was more dangerous than you could have anticipated. You had cut contact with him and moved away so that he wouldn’t be able to find you again. 

But he did. Somehow, he did. 

Letters have been piling up in your mailbox during these last few weeks, addressed to you and written in red ink. Your heart had stopped when you read the first one. 

“Y/N, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so terribly much. My heart bleeds and aches for you. You left me because you were scared. I get that. I get that very well, this is a world you should be afraid of, but I will protect you. I will take care of you better than that man ever could. Yeah, I know that you’ve found someone new. I know that you’re planning to get married. Quite quick, don’t you think? You haven’t known him that long, and now you’re getting married? Silly Y/N, you’re so cute. Do you really think you love him? Are you trying to reassure yourself that I’m a part of your past that will never return? Or are you trying to make everyone around you believe that you’ve gotten over me and moved on? I know you still think of me. I know you want me. And I want you too. I have never wanted someone other than you. You and me are meant for each other. Don’t marry him. Come back to me. It’s you and me til the end.”

You hadn’t shown your fiance, but he had noticed that something had been wrong with you. You had become silent and distant. Letter after letter came to your mailbox and he realized that something serious had happened. You had no choice but to tell him about Silas and your past with him, the present he doesn’t want to let go of, and the future he demands. Your fiance had promised that he wouldn’t get to you, and that he was only trying to scare you. 

You had been expecting to see Silas at your wedding, but he wasn’t there—or at least you didn’t catch a glimpse of him. Maybe your husband was right? Maybe he was just trying to scare you?

The start of the honeymoon is set to be on the SS Anastasia, a proud liner with three yellow funnels, a solid superstructure and a great reputation. It is set to take the two of you to Spain, where you have decided to have the rest of your honeymoon, away from all eyes and to be with no one but each other. 

A steward welcomes you on board. You thank him and give him a smile. He lets you know that your luggage, which you left down at the terminal, will be delivered straight to your cabin, a suite in first class. Only the best for the newlywed couple.

��I’m so excited to see the room”, you admit as the two of you navigate the ship to find the mani staircase. 

“The agent said that it would be nice”, your husband replies and chuckles. “Now, if we only could find it …”

You laugh. It takes you nearly ten minutes to find the right door among mazes of identical white doors. The suite is divided into three rooms: a bedroom, a sitting room and a bathroom, all decorated with expensive materials and fashionable colors. Polished dark wood and electric lights. 

“This is so nice”, your husband smiles, letting his eyes wander around. “I think we’ll have a good time here.”

You hug him and he chuckles, hugging you back. 

“I can’t believe I married you”, he says. 

Me neither, you think. 

Your mind drifts back to Silas and you feel your heart sink down to your stomach. You won’t be able to relax until you know that the ship has left harbour. There’s a constant, heavy feeling in your chest that you can’t explain. But you tell yourself that it’s just that; a feeling. Nothing more than old worries that haven’t been able to come up to the surface before now. You squeeze the man tighter, sighing out. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be safe. 

You have been promised a fantastic dinner, and the food delivers to your expectations. Everything is tasting like gold, served on a silverplatter. Sitting in the first class dining hall has given you an excuse to dress up. Everyone around is wearing their best clothes, and it is a silent competition in who looks the best. You look around, discreetly admiring everyone else’s attention to detail. You wonder how many of them have spent the entire day in their cabin, doing everything to look their absolutely best. The first night is usually relaxed, but a first time impression will always be remembered. 

“What would you like to do after?” your husband asks and sips on his wine. 

“I think I need to take a walk”, you joke. 

“Oh, yes, the night sky must be so beautiful out on deck. I reckon that you’ll be able to see the stars much easier out here. No city pollution.”

You walk hand in hand down the promenade, looking up at the starry night sky, pointing at familiar shapes. 

The next morning, after breakfast, the two of you walk to the lounge, deciding to take a calm day. Well deserved after planning a wedding and executing it. The lounge is cozy, reminding you of a simple living room rather than a first class room on an oceanliner. Maybe to make the passengers feel more at home.

Your husband takes the opportunity to indulge in a newspaper, finally having the time to sit down and actually read it.

You let your eyes wander around the large lounge, enjoying to admire the small details that give the room it’s cozy feel. But the feeling is quickly switched once your eyes land on someone. A man sitting in an armchair on the other side of the lounge, dark eyes feasted onto you, a small smirk playing at his lips when he notices you noticing him. You can feel your body go numb, feel yourself sink through your armchair, through the floor and through the ship’s metal. Feel yourself sink down to the bottom of the pitch black ocean. You forget how to breathe, head going blank. 

He found you.

You glance towards your husband who’s still invested in today’s news. Silas raises his eyebrows testingly as you look back at him, as if to say “yes, I’ve noticed him, you think he compares to me?”. 

Suddenly the air in the lounge seem to lose all oxygen. You need air, or else you will faint. 

“I-I have to get some fresh air”, you hear yourself mumble. 

“Are you okay?” your husband asks and looks up from his newspaper, eyes full of worry. 

“Yes—”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“N-No, I’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon.”

You need to get away. 

You hurry out of the lounge and out onto the enclosed promenade. The fresh air hits your face harshly. You grab onto the wall to support yourself while trying to find a way to breathe that doesn’t feel like needles poking through your throat. 

“You thought I wouldn’t find you?” 

You feel your heart stop. Quickly, you spin around, seeing his face way too close to yours. He tilts it, almost mockingly. You back away, stumbling over your feet and hitting your shoulder against the wall. Silas corners you, stopping you from escaping. 

“What do you want?” you breathe out shakingly. 

“Didn’t you get my letters?” he asks. “Or did you simply not read them?”

“Leave me alone. I-I’m married now.”

He smirks, tilting his head back and putting his hands into the back pockets of his suit pants.

“Indeed, you are”, he says and sighs out. “But do you really think that’s real?”

“What do you mean?” you almost stutter. 

Silas meets your eyes. He’s smiling. 

“Don’t you think I could have taken you whenever I wanted?” he asks. “The only reason you were able to marry that boring son of a bitch is because I let you. But, in the end, you belong to me. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t answer. You turn your head away, look out over the endless sea, and feel your eyes fill with tears. He wipes your tears with his thumb and you push his hand away. 

“I don’t”, you say, wondering where you have gotten the sudden bravery from. “I don’t belong to you. I belong to him.”

You show him the ring on your finger. Silas clenches his jaw and grabs a hold of that hand, forcing it closer. He pulls of the golden ring, scoffs at it and throws it overboard. You gasp and try to run forward, hoping to catch it before it falls too far, but he pushes you back against the wall. 

“Don’t ever say that again”, he warns you. “You don’t belong to him, how could you? I met you first. I claimed you first. He will have my seconds. Everything you do to him, you’ve done to me first. And he will never do anything as good as I did.”

“I left you because of this!” you hiss, reminding him. 

“No, you left me because you were scared. You don’t understand that you are in more danger if you aren’t with me. I’m the only one that can protect you. I didn’t want you to know about it because I know you’d be scared, but—”, he cups your cheeks, forcing you to look at him, “—but I won’t hurt you. You’re so special to me. I love you so much. You did read my letters, I can see it in your eyes. You know how much I love you.”

“Let me go”, you plead. 

“No. It’s you and I til the end, don’t you remember? I’m not letting you go again. I’ve been letting you have your fun for too long now. It’s about time I take you back. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Don’t hurt him either.”

You can see his eyes darken, his jaw clench. “You decide if it’s going to be violent or not.”

You freeze in his hold. 

“You can choose to come back to me, quietly and easy”, Silas starts and caresses your cheek. “We will be happy and your boy will be left alone.” He traces your jaw with his finger. “Or … you reject me and I take out my competition and take you with me once we reach Spain. No one will see you again.”

He seems to tell that you’ve stopped breathing, because he sits you down on one of the sun chairs and massage your throat. Your eyes are stuck onto nothing, empty. 

“I will give you until nine”, he whispers in your ear. “If you’re not outside my cabin at nine, A-30, knocking on my door, I will kill him.”

“You’re a liar”, you breathe out, voice barely audible. “You’ll kill him either way …”

Silas shrugs simply. “Maybe, but don’t you want to take your chances? You might save him.”

Silas stands up. You sit frozen. 

“Oh, and Y/N?” he says as if remembering something and looks down at you. “If I were you I wouldn’t tell anyone. You know, for obvious reasons.” 

He gives you a small, teasing smile before walking back inside. You sit still, not daring to move. Worried that if you move you’ll break down and realise what’s going on. You can feel your heart pound in your ears. No. No, this can’t be happening.

“What are you doing out here?” you hear a familiar voice ask. “You’re going to get sick!”

You feel your husband hang his blazer over your shoulders. The warmth, the familiar scent from him makes your heart hang heavy in your chest. You can’t help but feel like you’ve betrayed him, as if you’ve cheated your relationship, thanks to Silas’s threat. But if you cheat on it, you might save the love of your life. Can you cancel out a bad thing with a bad thing? Is it really a bad thing then? Can you be excused? 

You can’t tell him about it, but if you did, would he understand you?

“You don’t look well, actually”, he says and helps you stand. “You’ve probably already gotten sick. You should go lay down and rest.”

He helps you, slow and steady, to your suite. You lay down in bed and he tucks you in. 

“Should we ring for a steward?” he asks worriedly. “Ask for some tea and some medicine?”

“No, I’m fine”, you reassure him dimly. “I just need to be alone.”

“I’m worried about you. Something happened to you. I can help you.”

No, you can’t.

“Do you want to be left alone?” he asks. 

What if he gets killed?

“No, stay in here”, you wish. 

He nods. You hold his hand as you lay with your eyes closed, trying to think of what to do. He was clear; whatever you do, you’ll end up with Silas. The only thing you can choose—maybe—is to save the man holding your hand and whispering reassurance to you. The nicest you can do, in this situation, is to give in and beg Silas to leave him alone. You can’t be prideful and let him kill him. 

You find yourself outside cabin A-30 with your head spinning. You don’t want to do this, but what choice do you have? Your first is heavy when you lift it to knock, the sound of your knuckles hitting the polished wood seeming to echo throughout the entire ship. You can hear his footsteps on the other side and see him tower over you when he opens the door. His smirk sends a wave of nausea over you. 

“So, you came in the end”, he says cockily. “Good girl/boy.”

You lower your eyes to the floor. Silas steps aside and gestures for you to walk in. You do, on heavy, unresponsive legs. He closes the door behind you, locking it. You gulp. He lingers around you like a snake and you wait for him to put his fangs into your neck and shoot his venom into you. 

“You should rest”, Silas says softly and wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Let’s go to sleep.”

He leads you to the bed and lays you down, lying down behind you. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t do anything that could scare you. You try to keep it in, but your body fails you. Sobs, quiet at first, leave your body. Tears run down your face. You hold your hand over your mouth, but Silas is close enough to hear you. He hugs you carefully and you can feel him rest his face into your shoulder. 

“There’s no need to worry”, he whispers. “You're back where you belong.”

It only makes you worry more.

“Your crying makes me so sad”, Silas whispers. “Everything will be okay, little thing. You're back now.”

You don't fall asleep that night, and you're sure Silas doesn't either. His grip on you remains tight and controlling, showing no sign of drowsiness.

The sun rises outside the porthole, and you're as wide awake as ever. Silas gets out of bed and starts to dress for the day. You remain in bed, feeling too empty to move. Your eyes fall onto the tattoos on his back and arms, wondering where he got them and what they represented. But something in you tells you that you don’t want to know.

“My darling”, Silas sighs and crouches down in front of the bed, caressing your face. “You don’t need to look so sad. You and me will have fun. We can do more than you ever could with that boy of yours could. My credit card never declines.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, frowning. 

“Oh? You didn't know?” His cocky face is getting on your nerves. “My men did some digging into him, and it seems like he spent a fortune on this honeymoon of yours. Barely anything left in his bank account. Poor thing was really trying to impress you, but the illusion would be all gone once you came back home. I, on the other hand, have all the money in the world.”

“Your money’s dirty.”

“Money’s money. I could launder it, and it’d be clean, but you wouldn’t accept it anyway. Which is why you’ll never get money from me. You’ll get jewelry, food, clothes—anything you want—and all you need to do in return is submit yourself to me.”

You sigh and look away. 

“We don’t have to talk about this now”, Silas says and stands up. “But you will submit to me, I know you will. Get dressed now, my love, we’re going to eat breakfast.”

Food is the last thing you want right now. 

“I’m not hungry”, you say. 

“Do you want to stay in?” he asks. “I can go get you breakfast that you can eat later.”

You nod, whatever will make him leave you alone for a while. Silas gives you a comforting smile and pets your head before leaving the cabin. You take the time to cry, when you know that he can’t see you, planning to stop before he returns, but failing. 

“Crying when you think I won’t notice?” he asks and scoffs, just a little bit amused. “Do you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He sets down a tray on the table in the room and walks over to the bed, crouching down and wiping your tears. 

“You’re mine”, he says. “Crying about that boy won’t change that fact.”

You don’t answer.

“Will I have to stay in here the entire time?” you ask coldly.

“No”, he says. “Not all the time, but if you want to leave the cabin, you will be by my side. If I were you, I wouldn't try to run away from me or try to tell anyone, because the ship is filled with my men. You don’t know who they are, and they won’t bother you if you behave, but the second I tell them to keep an eye out for you, they will.”

You glare at him.

“But you wouldn’t do that, would you?” Silas asks. 

“And then what?” you counter. “When we're in Spain?”

“Oh, we're not staying there. I'm not allowed there. My second in command is waiting for us there and will take us back to America as soon as we arrive.”

Oh …

“I don’t want to go back. Not with you.”

“Well, life's not fair, little thing. You should eat now. I got you all the things you told me that you liked.”

He takes you to the table in the cabin and starts to feed you the bread, the coffee and fruit. You eat, just you comply, too tired to fight with him. Fighting with a wall would be easier. A wall wouldn't talk back. A wall wouldn't threaten you.

“See how much easier it is when you obey?” Silas says.

You give him a quick gaze. He traces your cheek with his fingers. 

“I look so much forward to having you all to myself”, he mumbled. 

His words send icy shivers down your back. 

You stay in the cabin the coming day. You wonder what your real husband is thinking of your disappearance. Sure that Silas has already done something to make him stay away … or worse.

“You're so down, baby”, Silas says. “How about we do something, hm? We have a whole ship to our amusement. There is a game room, a pool, a library, and a squash court. How about that? Why don't we play some squash?”

You nod, just to get out of the cabin. Maybe you can figure something out. Maybe you can hide.

“That's my boy/girl”, Silas says and takes your hand. “Let's go.”

Walking out with him, hand in hand, made you feel horrible. He looked so proud, so cocky. 

He took you down to the squash court. He picked up a racquet and bounced a few balls. 

“I hope you know the rules”, Silas said with a chuckle. “Or else I will win.”

A man came into the squash court. Silas gave the man a quick, stern look before glancing towards you, and then back at him. This is one of his men, you figure. 

“Give me a second, darling”, he says and takes the man aside. 

They turn their backs to you, whispering. You glance towards the door. As they mumble about something incoherent, you sneak towards the door, opening it silently and sneaking out. You run, but only get a few meters before a hand rips you back. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Silas hisses in your ear.

He slams a hand over your mouth to prevent you from making any sounds and almost you back to the squash court. 

“I apologize”, he mutters to his man. “Seems like my baby here can't behave.”

He holds your back firmly against his chest, hand resting securely over your mouth. “They'll learn soon enough, once they learn the consequences.”

You fight against him, but he doesn't budge.

“Stop fighting”, Silas hisses and turns to his man. “I'm sure it won't happen again, ill make sure it won't, but can you tell the others to keep an eye out for this disobedient little shit? If you ever see them wander around alone, you get me immediately. Leave us now, I need to lecture them.”

The man nods, bows slightly and leaves the squash court. Silas lets you go and you back away from him, but he's quick to corner you.

“You don't get it, do you?” he asks, and sounds a tad bit amused. “You can't escape me. And, come on, trying to do that on a ship? I really thought you were smarter than that. Where would you go? The only place you could flee would be to jump overboard. But you're stupid, not suicidal. And now, all my men keep an eye out. Just accept that your place is here, with me.”

“I want my fucking husband!” you scream. “You aren't my husband, you're a low life criminal!”

Silas’s eyes darken.

“Okay then”, he says, slowly. “If you want him so badly, go look for him. Go find him. If you do, I'll let you go with him. If not, you're mine.”

“Your men will take me back to you.”

“I'll tell them to leave you as long as you don't talk to anyone. Search everywhere. Go to the lower classes, for all I care.”

“What have you done to him?”

He smiles slightly, but it's not one out of genuine happiness, but of mockery. “Do you really want to know?”

You turn around and leave. He follows you. You barely have time to walk down the corridor before a man takes a hold of your arm. A different man from before.

“You're not supposed to walk around”, he says.

“It's okay”, Silas says a few steps behind you.

He wears his chin high, a smirk on his face and his hands in his front pockets. You rip your arm from the strange man's hold.

“My baby is using their brain”, Silas says and reaches the two of you. “We'll see where that gets them. Keep an eye so that they don't talk to anyone. We don't want to encourage talking to strangers, now do we, little thing?”

You glare at him.

“Go, then”, Silas says. “What are you waiting for?”

You don't like how he's changed. Just five minutes earlier he was set on making sure you wouldn't wander … and now he encourages it. Something has happened to your husband and you want to find him as quickly as possible.

You walk away, leaving Silas and his man in the corridor outside the squash court. You're not sure where to start. As soon as you get out of their sight, you stop and sink down alongside the wall. Needing to just catch your breath.

But you don't linger too long. Before you change your mind, you stand up and start to walk. You end up walking back and forth for hours, sure that every eye that lands on you is a member of Silas’s organization, someone being paid to make sure you obey.

You search every little corner on the ship, but your husband is nowhere to be seen. Your suite is empty, but there are signs of struggle. A glass lying on the floor, more than one person's shoe marks on the carpet. You walk over to his suitcase and take out one of his shirts. Crying as you hold it.

“Any luck?�� you suddenly hear him say.

Your blurry eyes dart to the open door, seeing him lean against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. He looks so nonchalant, so careless. How can he?

“There are words for people like you”, you sniffle with a voice draped in hate. “Did you know that?”

“What word?”

“Inhuman.”

Silas scoffs out a small smile. “If only you were as smart with thinking as you were with words, you’d have figured it out by now.”

“What?”

“You haven’t found him anywhere on the ship, and you’ve been looking for hours.”

He doesn’t have to remind you. Your aching feet is enough to make you feel your loss.

“What did you do to him?” you ask weakly.

“I have already told you, if you listened to me, you’d figured it out earlier. I said that there is only one way to escape me.”

Your eyes widen as you dart your eyes to the round porthole. 

“Atta girl/boy”, Silas says, voice smooth as honey as he walks over to you.

“Y-You … y-you …”

“Don’t look at me. I didn’t do it.”

“You ordered it.”

“Are we back to the ‘dirty money’ thing again? Does it matter if I gave the instructions or not? It happened, and even if I said I gave the instructions, you wouldn’t take it.”

You hang your head heavy in your hands, crying. Silas hugs you and you try to fight back, but he doesn’t let you go. He holds you tightly, his rough hands keeping you against his body. 

“Now that he’s gone, you have no other choice than to accept me whole heartedly”, he whispers in your ear. “You have no one else. Only me. Until the end of time, til death do us part.”

You sob in his hold, wanting nothing more than to escape. You manage to glance towards the porthole. 

Silas holds your hand in a tight, painful grip as you walk off the ship, surrounded by a few of his men. People on the dock cheer and welcome their loved ones, but you’re pulled right through the crowd. You can’t hear any of them, your own sorrow drowning out all sounds of happiness. Silas takes you over to a car. A black haired man leans against it, but stands straight when he sees Silas. His second in command. 

“Boss, there you are”, he says with a small smile. “Did you have a good voyage?”

Silas lifts your tightly intertwined hands with a smirk on his face. “What do you think?”

The second in command looks at you up and down and smirks. “Congratulations.”

“I wish we could stay here but if the cops get me I’ll be in trouble”, Silas says and pulls you close. “Let’s go to the yacht before we’re noticed.”

He helps you into the automobile and you’re off, on the way to the ship that will take you back to America. Tears run down your face silently. You shut them, trying to imagine yourself in another place, somewhere far away from Silas and his evil entourage. Somewhere where you had never crossed paths with him. Somewhere where things had turned out different. A bump in the road forces your eyes open again and you’re pulled back into the car that will take you straight to your own personalized hell, with a man who is ready to kill for you. You wish you had never allowed him to carry your groceries. 

[iid-smile]

★ — doing the 'we listen and we don't judge' challenge with bllk boys!

isagi, bachira, karasu, nagi, rin, chigiri

content — maybe ooc especially for karasu, nagi is a red flag, underwear mentioned in karasu's, bachira is gross (please beware) 😧

a/n: not my idea, but i dont know if i should tag or not 🫣 trying to write out what im imagining in my head is the WORST so pls bare with me 🙏🙏 also there might be mistakes bc my grammar is shit

★ — isagi yoichi

"you know how we were playing mario kart the other day?" his thumbs twirl around each other amid his struggle to make eye contact with you. he's always felt bad lying to your face, but that specific time, he didn't really lie, only hid it from you. "and you lost really bad on that one map?"

at least it's better than what you were expecting. you've seen some couples break up over this trend despite being picture-perfect, and you didn't want to be victim to that curse either. "uh huh..." you nod.

"i searched up where the best shortcuts were and spent three hours every day for a month practicing speed runs."

"nooooo!" your hand lands on his as disbelief washes over you. "baby, why would you do that?" betrayal. betrayal. your own boyfriend has kept something like this a secret for how long?

"i'm sorry!" was it selfish to admit that some weight was lifted off his shoulders too? or that he's actually done that with the majority of the maps? no, he won't say that. "i just—"

"that's my favourite map too..." you pout up at him. you weren't actually that upset, but you knew that looking the part would earn you some cuddles and kisses, which you were craving right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry." his arms wrap around you as he whispers out soft apologies, his lips pressing on your temple. "i'll teach you what i know, okay?"

★ — bachira meguru

"we listen and we don't—"

"i dropped your toothbrush in the toilet three times in a row and i didn't clean it afterwards."

"..."

"what?" bachira's eyebrows raise in confusion, slightly cutting out of the frame as his feet fiddle around as he plays with the electric yellow tips of his hair. "oh! also once there was no toilet paper, but i really really needed to dookie, and only your towel was there, so..."

oh, you don't even want to touch him. or yourself. or anything at this rate. mind you, that event happened yesterday, not a long time ago. "seriously!?"

"what?" his innocent act strikes again, looking at you with big eyes as you struggle to wrap your head around whatever he's just said. and why the hell are they all linked to the bathroom? is that why he spends hours in there at a time?

"you told me that was chocolate!" you gasp, the walls guarding over the truth crumbling down all at once.

"some of it was, yeah. i think i'm lactose intolerant."

oh, god...

★ — karasu tabito

"what, i just say something i've never told you?" karasu muses, his eyes on you rather than the camera as he leans on the kitchen counter, head nestled on his fist.

he hums mindlessly, mind reeling through memories. what hasn't he told you? the words 'i can't think of anything' remain on the tip of his tongue, but after a while, his eyebrows twitch. it was certainly something, but that's what you wanted, right?

"i've worn your underwear once... i think." he admits, acting like that was an ordinary thing to say.

um... what? "what do you mean 'you think'?" in your 'rage', you feebly punch at his chest, only for it to be caught with ease by him.

he knows full well that he could overpower you if he wanted to, but he lets you have your fun, or frustration, pushing back on your hands with equal strength. "no, no, you said no questions." he chuckles, finding your efforts to fight back adorable.

"but—!"

"that's your rule, not mine."

★ — nagi seishiro

"we listen and we don't—" you tug on the sleeve of nagi's hoodie, trying to coax him into sitting up. "sei, at least try to look at the camera."

for a few seconds, there's a few mumbled 'no...'s from him, as well as your near desperate pleas for him to at least attempt to do something for you for once. every time you want to do a cute or funny tiktok trend with him, it's always a struggle for to get up, or in most cases, listen to you at all.

right when you least expect it, he has his response. "i used to hate you a lot. maybe still do. there. are we done?"

your jaw immediately drops. "sei, you can't just..." you're hurt, confused, conflicted and... now you don't know what to do. should you continue? should you cut the video and ask for him to explain himself?

"that's what you wanted me to say." his voice perks up from behind you as he plops onto his back again. the sound of his game fills your ears once more as you're still stunned in silence, only for him to pour more salt onto the wound. "or do you want me to continue?"

yeah, you are not posting this.

★ — itoshi rin

rin blinks at you in confusion as you try to break down the trend to him, his eyes unusually wide as they remained trained on yours. he's just so lost, because why would he ever want to say something mean directly to you just for a funny video?

once it's his turn, you have to give him a little nudge, signalling that it's his turn. honestly, he doesn't even know what to do, even after your little demonstration before him.

he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, but nothing comes to mind. "i like it when you wear my jerseys."

you almost wanted to melt from how cute his tiny confession was right then and there. you inferred as much, but hearing him say it out loud "that's not something i can judge, rin."

"i don't really have anything to say." his gaze drifts around the room, landing on the camera for a split second before looking away.

scoffing, your body turns towards him. how does he not? "you judge me all the time!" you blurt out, remembering all of the times you've been a target of his foul mouth.

"that's because you're weird. sometimes."

"sometimes— you know what, it's better than what i've heard you say to certain people." literally everybody he knows fits under the 'certain people' umbrella.

★ — chigiri hyoma

you were a little scared, because chigiri seemed a bit too on board with the idea. knowing him, he's got a lot of stuff to say, bad or worse. hell, he could insult your entire existence and that would be the genuine truth, based on the gossip you've had together, but he's not that mean to you. right?

he looks you dead in the eye. "i've made a pros and cons list about you five times, and the last one was a week ago."

"hyo!" you immediately exclaim, playfully pushing his side. not as bad as you were expecting, but it certainly stung.

he simply shrugs his shoulders. "i mean, there wasn't any cons the last time, so..." you both stare at each other, and his lips thin into a straight line, pulling off the most unbothered expression that he could.

"you're lying." and he's never been a good liar either.

ignoring you, he turns back to the camera, somehow managing to hold back his giggles as he refuses to elaborate. "we listen and we don't—"

"chigiri hyoma."

"we listen and— ow!" the video cuts off with you delivering a barrage of hits against his arm. don't worry, they were all light and they didn't hurt; as you claim, not him.