#SO STOP GOING OUT OF YOUR WAY TO HATE ON THE PEOPLE WHO DO

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

.（ℱ） LEAVE ME, RUIN ME ?!

✩ tw : nsfw/smut, creampie (vaginal), angst, no aftercare, no fluff, mentions of sexual assault (none happens dw), Possessive mydei, rough mydei, fem!reader, chocking, hair pulling & others. [MDNI]

✩ sum : As Mydei prepares to leave for a dangerous mission, he and the reader share a desperate, punishing night together, knowing it might be their last. Fueled by fear and unspoken love, he takes you with a raw intensity, marking you as his even as he’s forced to walk away. Left alone in the aftermath, your left to grapple with the unbearable weight of his absence, fearing he may never return.

✩ note : short fic since i’m not good at writing angst. not proofread.

The chamber felt suffocating. The air was thick with candle smoke and the scent of something burning, but nothing smelled stronger than Mydei’s desperation. His fingers curled into his palms, his golden eyes stormy as he stood in front of you, his breath unsteady. He was leaving—heading straight into Amphoreus on a mission that could very well be his end.

And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

“You know what they’ll do to you if they catch you,” you said, your voice sharp, your heart slamming against your ribs. “You’ve seen what they do to traitors. To people who go against them.”

You swallowed hard. “To me.”

Mydei flinched. His jaw clenched, his breath hitching. Of course, he knew. You had been captured once before—torn away from him, left in the hands of those monsters. They hadn’t broken you, but the memories of what almost happened never left. You had told Mydei everything, and he had listened. Had held you so tightly you thought he’d break you apart just to put you back together.

But now, he was choosing to walk right into their hands.

“You think I don’t know that?” he rasped. “You think I don’t see their faces every time I close my fucking eyes? You think I don’t remember what they did to you? What they almost did?”

His hands were shaking as he reached for you, gripping your shoulders like he was trying to steady himself.

“I won’t let them take me,” he swore, voice raw. “I won’t let them take me the way they took you.”

“Then don’t fucking go! Stop spitting out random bullshit!”

The words ripped from your throat, but you already knew they were useless. Mydei had made up his mind long before this conversation started.

And it broke you.

He must have seen it—the way your body slumped against the wall, the fight leaving your limbs. Because something inside him snapped.

He surged forward, his lips crashing into yours, desperate and bruising. His hands moved to your wrists, pinning them against the cold stone wall, pressing his body flush against yours as if he could carve himself into you, leave his mark before he disappeared into the abyss.

“Tell me you hate me,” he whispered against your lips, his breath ragged. "Tell me I disgust you."

You stared at him, horrified. “What?”

His grip tightened, his forehead pressing against yours. "If you say it, maybe it’ll be easier to leave." His voice cracked on the last word, his entire body trembling. “Say it.”

Your throat closed up.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you whispered. “And a coward.”

A broken sound slipped from his throat.

Then, suddenly, he was tearing your clothes from your body, his hands rough as they grabbed at your tits, squeezing, marking. His mouth latched onto your throat, biting hard enough to leave bruises, his fingers moving between your legs, dragging through your wetness.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, almost in disbelief. “Even when you hate me?”

“I never said I hate you,” you bit out.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you, forcing you to wrap around him. He lined himself up, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, but he didn’t push in.

Not yet.

He let his fingers slide over your slit again, teasing your clit, spreading your wetness.

“I should’ve fucked you like this sooner," he whispered. “I should’ve ruined you long before now.”

“Then do it,” you spat. “Before you run away again.”

Something dark flickered across his expression, and then—he slammed into you.

The stretch burned, but you took him all at once, your back arching, your nails clawing at his arms. He was relentless, thrusting deep and fast, his grip bruising, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your ear.

He needed this.

Needed to feel you, needed to brand himself into your skin before he walked to his own execution.

He grabbed your throat, squeezing just enough to make you lightheaded, his cock driving deeper, hitting that spot that made your toes curl. His pace grew frantic, each thrust rougher, more desperate.

“You’re mine,” he rasped. “Even if I die, you’ll still be mine.”

Tears burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

His grip tightened on your throat, his other hand shoving between your legs, rubbing your clit in fast, messy circles.

“Cum for me, baby,” he ordered. “Now.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. Pleasure tore through you, your walls clamping down around him, milking his cock as you came undone.

Mydei let out a broken moan, his hips stuttering as he buried himself inside you, filling you with his release, his breath shuddering. His grip on your throat loosened. His entire body trembled.

For a moment, he just held you.

Then, his arms tightened around you—so tight it hurt. His face buried in your neck, and when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper.

"I don’t want to go," he admitted. “I don’t want to fucking leave you.”

Your hands came up, gripping his arms. “Then stay.”

But you both knew he wouldn’t.

And before you could say anything else, he was gone.

The door slammed behind him, leaving nothing but the echo of his absence and the suffocating scent of sweat and sex in the air. Your legs trembled as you slid down the cold stone wall, cum dripping between your thighs, your body still aching from the way he had taken you—desperate, punishing, like he could fuck the pain away.

But he was gone.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, your fingers clutching at nothing. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. That you wouldn’t be weak. That you wouldn’t let his absence carve its way into your ribs and settle there like a festering wound.

And yet—

A choked sob slipped past your lips, and then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were breaking.

Mydei had held you like you were his lifeline, had kissed you like he was trying to breathe through you, had fucked you like he was already mourning what he was about to lose.

And now?

Now, he was walking straight into hell.

You curled your arms around yourself, body wracked with silent, shaking cries. You could still feel him—his bruising grip, the way his fingers had tangled in your hair, the possessive, desperate way he had growled mine over and over again.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Because if he didn’t come back—if he didn’t survive—then you’d be left with nothing but the memory of his touch, the ghost of his body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips lingering on your tongue.

You forced yourself to stand, your legs weak, your body unsteady. The sheets on the bed were still a mess, the scent of him clinging to them, and for a moment, you considered crawling beneath them, burying yourself in what little remained of him.

But you knew better.

You knew that if you let yourself fall into that grief now, you would never crawl back out.

So instead, you cleaned yourself up, wiped the remnants of him from your thighs, and dressed. Every movement was mechanical, your hands shaking as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to pretend you weren’t still trembling.

The outside was quiet.

Too quiet.

You walked through the dimly lit corridors, your mind a mess of fragmented thoughts, of whispered prayers you refused to let yourself believe in.

He’s coming back.

He has to.

And yet, deep in your chest, you felt it—something cracking, something breaking, something warning you that this time, hope might not be enough.

Bonus : he doesn’t come or cum back, he’s stuck outside of okhema. Oh, also, you get pregnant and he doesn’t know that. ❤︎︎

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[onyourj-uls]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ anton is a soft boy 99% of the time, but that 1%…?

anton's 99% soft side…

⋆ from the first day you met him, you knew that anton was one of the sweetest people ever. not only because of the way he speaks, always slow and soft, but also because of the warmth with which he looks at you, as if you were the most precious thing in his world.

⋆ he's detailed without having to do it on purpose. he remembers everything: your favorite foods, how you drink your coffee, which movies you love and which ones you hate. he's the type to text you just to know if you've eaten, if you had a good day, if you got home okay. when you're sick, it's not enough to tell him you'll take care of yourself; he shows up with medicine, hot food and stays by your side until you feel better.

⋆ anton is the kind who hugs you from behind without warning, the kind who plays with your hair while you fall asleep, the kind who looks at you with a silly smile when you think he's not seeing you. he loves with all his heart, without hesitation, without fear. when he sees you, his expression lights up, his eyes become bright and his happiness is evident.

“you look beautiful today… well, always.” he tells you so without hesitation, without shame. to him, you're the best thing that ever happened to him and he's not afraid to show it.

⋆ he's the kind of boyfriend who holds your hand in public no matter who's looking, who covers you with his jacket when it's cold, who lets you sleep on his chest and arranges your hair with infinite tenderness. no matter how much time passes, anton still looks at you with that genuine adoration, as if he falls more in love every day.

and then, when you least expect it, that 1% appears.

that 1%...

⋆ anton is patient, calm and loving… until he stops being so. and not because he gets angry easily, but because when he decides to let out that other side of his personality, there's no turning back.

⋆ he will always be protective, anton is not one to pick fights, but if someone disrespects you, his energy changes for a second. his posture becomes rigid, his gaze darkens and his jaw tenses. He doesn't need to raise his voice to make his presence known.

“she told you what?” his tone is low, but charged with authority. he doesn't rush, he's not impulsive, but there's something about his attitude that would make anyone think twice before messing with you.

⋆ when you walk together, his hand on your back is gentle, but if he senses someone is looking at you a little too hard, his grip becomes a little firmer. it's subtle, but present. he lets you know he's there, that no one is going to get smart with you because he's ready to set boundaries.

⋆ he's always tender, he's always sweet…. but there are moments when you realize that he also has another side to him, his sassy side. and that side is the one that leaves you breathless.

maybe it's the way he stares at you without looking away, with a confidence that makes you feel nervous. or when he lets out a low chuckle and says something in a deeper tone than normal, almost like a whisper near your ear.

“why are you being like this? i'm not doing anything…” he tells you with a mischievous smile, though you both know he's playing with you.

⋆ and then there are his kisses. anton normally kisses tenderly, calmly… but when that 1% appears, his kisses become different. more intense, deeper, as if he wants to make it clear how much he wants you. His way of holding you changes, it's no longer just gentleness; he holds you more firmly, he pulls you to him without giving you room to escape. his breathing gets heavier, his skin gets hotter and his voice gets huskier.

“you don't know what you do to me…” he whispers between kisses, his forehead resting against yours.

⋆ is it because he's an aries man? definitely! anton is pure fire. aries is a sign of passion, of intensity, of strong emotions. his love is pure and genuine, but when it comes to expressing desire, he doesn't pull any punches. he can be the most tender in the world, but when he gets carried away… you should get ready.

i'm so in love with him 😭🤲🏻💗💗💗

[white-poppie]

𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 ⎯⎯ Finale of the '𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇' series

SYNOPSIS — Your life was a mausoleum of sickening memories until light found you again at the end of the bleak tunnel, peering through his big cerulean eyes. Spitfires vanishing till you found your everlasting effervescent flame. And that's how it ends, because you still have your youth.

💿 — Mia and Sebastian's theme from La-la land

TW —breastfeeding, pregnancy, post-partum, grief, loss, crying (obv), jealousy.

WC — 5k

Series masterlist Moon Child ⏮ ⏸ ⏭ Now playing: Part 3

“Hey…shh..it’s okay…I’m here.” He mutters as he winces, closing his eyes while the remnants of his best friend's cursed energy remain.

The next few minutes go by Satoru holding you to his chest, silently as you sob. Now he’s sitting in the front seat of his car, the tinted windows drawn up as he regardless looks outside cautiously while you feed a hungry Tsukiko.

Satoru’s gaze falls to rear mirror, his eyes briefly catching your tender expression when you look at Tsuki as she stays latched to you and an inexplicable warmth erupts in his chest. He cranks up the AC silently, noticing you’re sweating a bit while feeding her.

You can’t help but smile as he turns up the AC, he notices these little things, the things Suguru should have been here for.

You sigh and lean on the headrest of the car, the smell of the faux leather making your head pound harder after crying. Tsuki suckles with soft whimpers, her face covered by your t-shirt. "It’s strange isn't it?" You murmur. "You are doing few of things Suguru was supposed to be doing for his daughter..."

He’s quiet for a long moment before he finally speaks, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s his loss. He missed out.”

You look out of the window, tears pricking in your eyes yet again. Your eyes burn from crying, yet it seems as though gotten used to it, gotten yused to the uncomfortable warmth of excessive tears burning down your eyes.

You tell yourself you’ve gotten immune to heartbreak but image of Suguru tenderly holding Tsuki. His eyes filled with so much regret and pain like he would turn around everything if he could. It’s burned in your head. “I’m so tired, Satoru…” you whisper.

He’s quiet as he listens to you speak, his heart breaking as he hears the way your voice cracks again and how your words carry such a sense of exhaustion and pain, like you’ve been carrying burden that no one could understand. You’re not the same person that you were when you were just shy of seventeen. You’re not the same girl that he used to know at sixteen and he knows that better than anyone else..

"I feel so lost- I no longer know what I am working for. There is this anger that bubbles in me, This vile feeling of resentment towards everyone, everything...hell sometimes even towards Tsuki." You choke, "I feel so selfish for thinking all this when I have a sweet daughter. I hate myself that sometimes my mind conjures up this feeling of anger and blames this little girl who has no fault. I love her so much, but I can't help these sudden feelings."

His heart aches at the way you blame yourself, it all just feels so unfair. It feels…cruel. He can do nothing but sit here and listen to you talk it all out because you so clearly feel suffocated like you’re drowning.

"When he told me he was leaving the Jujutsu society. It felt as though my heart was being ripped apart, like I would stop breathing without him. I dug my nails into him. Clung to him that entire night. I got a call from Shoko in the morning when he had gone rogue and filled so many people. I wanted to rip my skin apart yet not wash the flesh he had touched" You sob viscerally, lowering your head in shame.

At times, it felt like you were living a bitter love song. Penelope unthreading the tapestry, grieving, loyal to gone Odysseus. Yet, ambivalent. Somedays, you unthread the tapestry, other days you beg Artemis to end it instead.

He can’t stop the feeling of pure agony bubbling in his chest, his throat dry. Your grief feels so real. So tangible. You’ve lost yourself to him. A part of you must have still been hoping he would come back, as foolish as that hope was. He reaches out to gently take your hand in his. “It’s okay…it’s not your fault.”

You gulp, wiping your tears with your trembling hands upon realising Tsukuba is done feeding, you fix your shirt, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief. Her litttle features relaxed into a blissful expression after having her fill, her pouty pink lips making you smile despite your sorrows.

“Can I hold her?” Satoru asks suddenly hesitantly. The corners of his eyebrows upturned and furrowed almost adorably.

"You are asking as if you weren't the first one to hold her in the hospital." You croak out humourlessly and hand her to him and shift in the front seat beside him.

His face softens as a small smile spreads across his lips and he gives off a quiet breathy chuckle as he sees the way your shoulders soften and the small, weary smile that spreads across your face as you hand him the baby. His eyes are so gentle and loving as he carefully takes Tsuki and cradles her against his chest. The way he’s holding her, it’s so natural - as if he was born to be a father.

Your heart feels so heavy at the scene. Its supposed to be Suguru...Its supposed to be Suguru holding Tsukiko, not Satoru. But there's this swell of affection when you look at him cradle her. She's so loved...

"She looks so tiny against you." You whisper, The way they look like yin and yang makes your breath hitch. Tsuki with her black her and eyes and Satoru with his white hair and blue eyes. Suguru and Satoru—Yin and Yang—the strongest sorcerers.

His lips quirk up in a soft smile as he gently pulls Tsuki just a bit closer to his chest, his hand gently wrapping around the back of her head in a tender hold. “She really is a tiny little thing, isn’t she?” he whispers right back as he continues to softly stroke his hand across her back. “She’s so precious and fragile, like a baby bird.”

“”It’s both a blessing and a curse that she looks exactly like him.” You whisper looking at his strong arms hold the baby.

Satoru looks at you, her eyes softening with a mix of pity and affection for the child in his arms. “She really is the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.”

Your shoulders relax you take in a shaky breath, your head pounding like a those drums from from Physical education classes that banged rhythmically. Sighing you raise your legs up to your chest and lean the seat back.

The sight of you curled up in the passenger seat of his car, the car which, you’ve just about proclaimed as your property is so domestic to him that it hurts a little bit. “You’re tired,” he says softly as he continues to cradle Tsuki against his chest.

"Mhm." You nod as you look at him, eyes fluttering. "You should give her here or you won't be able to drive."

He lets out a sigh as he reaches over to gently buckle her into her baby carrier against you. His breath stutters as his fingers brush against your arms and he finds himself gazing into your eyes before gulping and drawing back.“She’s just so tiny and cute and precious, I just don’t want to let her go.” He mutters, his voice slightly deeper than intended.

You chuckle and carefully cradle her neck so she’s leaning against your chest "She's a very charming little girl." You press a kiss to her forehead.

He watches silently as your breaths even out in a semi- lucid state before he whisper to himself in response. “Just like her pretty mama.” He utters and starts to drive to your house.

The smell in the car is saccharine, your vanilla perfume, and the oddly sweet smell that comes from babies; combined with a heady mix of breast milk and baby products.

Tsukiko and you are settled and curled into his front seat as if you belong here. It's so natural. To think Satoru is being the haven Suguru could never be, he's picking up cracks of you shattered, broken heart; you don't know what to call it, but it feels right. Unclear, whether it’s pity or friendship that makes him care so much for the girl and the kid his best friend abandoned.

You arrive back at you place as he helps you out of the car. You look at Satoru with heavy eyes, "Come in, I'll make tea." you say with a tired smile.

Initially, he thinks of rejecting, yet seeing your swollen red eyes and that weary slouch of your shoulder blades; he surrenders.

The little apartment that's less of a home but a sanctuary, its a cute tapestry of memories. Baby products are neatly kept, such as cribs, baby toys, polaroids of the baby, plants, and, in progress, a crochet baby hat on the couch and adorable little trinkets around.

But to you, as night comes it becomes a glum, cold sanctuary for the most part-- filled with reminders of Suguru. Everywhere. His large shoes were on the front door, his coat was on the rack, his picture with me was on the fridge, and his cologne was on the dresser. Almost everything of his is untouched the way it was, despite everything, you don't have the strength to throw out his things the same way he threw you out of his life.

The more his gaze lingers, his mind immediately drifts to the last time he came here; when Suguru was in your life. The house reeks of his memories. The place doesn’t look like a home, it looks like a museum that’s dedicated to the relationship you had with Suguru, almost like a shrine. The longer he looks at it, the more his chest aches. When he speaks, it comes out as a barely audible whisper. “Y/N...”

"Hmm?" You mutter slowly, tucking Tsuki in her crib. You walk back into the kitchen, your house sandals dragging across the marble flooring.

“Can I just…hug you for a second?” he whispers.

Your eyebrows furrow at his words, pausing midway while putting the pan on the stove. "Where did that come from?" You ask confused, but your voice softens immediately, turning into a whisper by the end of the sentence.

"I just…want to hug you right now.” he says in a tender, whispery voice. “You look like you need it.”

You gulp, keeping the pan down and wrapping your arms around him he leans down, his arms wrapping around your waist. A shaky breath leaves your throat at how warm he feels, your throat constricting and nose and cheeks feeling warmer. You close your eyes, a silent tear rolling down your cheek.

His arms slowly snake around your waist as he wraps you in, pulling you to his chest, cradling your soft, exhausted body and holding you against his larger, firm form. His eyes close as he feels you shaking in his arms, his embrace so tender that it hurts. “It’s okay,” he whispers softly to you. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

Your chest aches at how comforting his embrace feels. You are suddenly reminded of the way Suguru used to hug you- but for the first time, I push the thought of Suguru away quickly. It’s Satoru in front of you, not Suguru.

"I’ve got you,” he murmurs right up against your ear. “I’ve got you.” He lifts his hand to brush his fingers across your hair, his fingers running across your scalp.

You feel my heart beat faster inexplicably as you raise your head up to look at him. “Satoru, I need your help.” You whisper out as you gulp, briefly closing your eyes.

“Help me…help throw his things away please, I don’t have the strength to do it alone. it’s so haunting." You choke, "I want to move on, I want get better, in a more stable mental place for Tsuki, and I can’t do that with these reminders of him everywhere…” You vent out in one breath.

“You really…want to throw away all of his things?” He asks, his voice a mix of hurt, and relief.

“No.” You reply immediately, “but what other way is there? I don’t want Tsuki to grow up with me being an emotional wreck over a man who abandoned us."

Your eyes fall over to the tiny toddler in the crib, unable to peel your eyes from the beautiful girl.

"I want to keep everything of his, to look at them and grieve for a man who’s alive. I want to keep that damn scarf of his, I don't have the strength to remove his picture from my wallpaper, and his pillow that I sprayed with his perfume and hugged to sleep during pregnancy because his smell calmed me during morning sickness. It’s pathetic I know…but how long am I going to hold on?” You choke up, tears rolling down my eyes.

He feels his breath hitch at your words. He slowly lowers his head to rest his forehead gently against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in slowly and trembles slightly as he gently pulls you into him, his breath trembling and catching in his throat again. “Oh, Y/N,” he whispers in a voice broken with emotion. “Oh sweetheart…”

For a second he wants to gather all of Suguru's things and keep them for himself on the other hand he wants to shatter everything. He's been like the same paradoxical situation as you, day in and day out. He's been a hypocrite. Telling you to move on when he could not get over his best friend. The only person he could ever confide in without being superficial, the only one who cared.

He's aching, just as much as you are. And he aches even more to see his first love so terribly broken apart by his best friend.

"I want us to heal, 'Toru." You mutter. "All of us: Me, you and Shoko. Of course the pain can never truly be gone, but we can't let our lives stagnant like this." You whisper, cupping his face in your palms, your eyebrows furrowed as you stare into his cerulean eyes.

He feels his heart skip several beats in his chest as he feels your soft, warm palms gently cupping his face, your eyes peering into his. He takes in a slow, shuddery breath and swallows again in an attempt to get rid of the aching feeling in his chest - the aching he feels for you.

His eyes glance over towards the crib, seeing the small infant that ties you to his best friend in the most undeniable way that he could never possibly compete, yet she draws him and you closer than ever. From the day he laid his eyes on her, he loved her.

He raises his hand slowly and gently rests it over one of the ones that are cupping his face, his fingers intertwining with yours. He holds your gaze for a long moment in silence, just trying to calm the thundering of his heart in his chest. He let his feelings sit in the backseat when you and Suguru started dating. It hurt, but the ache soon simmered and he accepted reality, he knew his feelings had never left and yet it didn't feel hard to think otherwise. Hell, he was ready to be Suguru's best man. He's finally letting himself be selfish.

"Toru," You breathe out shakily, unsure why you uttered his name like so. This feels like the precipice, the intermission of the movie of your life, right at the climax. These inexplicable feelings brewing in your heart are so heavy. You feel guilty, for letting yourself feel this way, for letting yourself move on-- to develop an affection beyond friendship for Suguru's best friend and your friend.

His heart skips a beat at the way you breathed out his name like so. It almost sounds like a plea, almost like a desperate beg. Toru. It never felt this good, never felt this right, for you to say his name like that. It's so good to hear the way his name sounds when it leaves your lips, your lips that he has never once touched.

His throat aches as he leans down and captures your lips against his own he's wanted this for so long. For so so long he's ached for you. Satoru knows its wrong, you're both vulnerable, but he feels like he would break and sob like a child if he doesn't embrace you. If he can't love you. Its physically impossible for him to control his affection anymore. His nose is red, eyes burning.

A gasp leaves you as you freeze, your fingers clenching into fists. You stand unable to react, frozen still. Your heart beats in a sickly rhythm at the confusion swirling in your chest.

He swallows thickly and instantly pulls back, his eyes wide as he looks into your shocked expression. He takes in a shuddery, shaky breath. He's a idiot, he's an absolute idiot. He knows you don't feel that way about him, knows you're still broken over Suguru, and yet he still kissed you.

"I-" You stutter, your heart shattering at his slightly red eyes. "I'm...I'm sorry..." You breathe out, unable to utter anything else. You want to pull him in again, to kiss him with the same tenderness. His glassy eyes make you sick, but you are not sure you can do this to him, not when you are so conflicted about your feelings...he deserves better than that.

He shakes his head adamantly, his hands trembling slightly as he gently reaches up to place them on your shoulders to keep you at a distance. He doesn’t want your pity. He can’t take your pity.

"You don’t—" Satoru whispers shakily, his eyes still burning. "You don’t have to feel sorry for me. Please, don’t pity me because I feel this way for you."  

"I don't-- I don't pity you 'Toru, not a bit. But you are not a replacement, I never want you to feel like that. I am- there is so much to heal in my heart, I don't think I can love anymore. I am so damn scared after all that I went through." You breathe out reaching to him hesitantly. "You deserve better than whatever mess I am right now."

His heart shatters even more as he feels the way that you demean yourself so harshly - you have no idea how much you're worth. You have no idea how many times he's had to restrain himself from kissing you, holding you, loving you - so many times he's had to tell himself that he has no right to try and love someone that's not his. But his heart is a fragile, weak thing in the face of your sorrow.

"Your daughter needs you," he whispers, his voice cracking a bit. "You're amazing.

“Would you give me time to heal Toru? For myself? For Tsuki? Maybe even for us.” You whisper with a soft voice. “I want to reclaim myself, I’ve lost that ambitious girl somewhere, I want to get her back before I can ever try to find love again.”

.

6 months pass by in a blink of an eye, wasn't she born yesterday? Tsuki's already 8 months old, its a bittersweet feeling. Yet somehow when you think of the times your blood used to run cold when someone mentioned Suguru when you trying to heal; it reminds you how long the year really was.

Those six months were a lifetime for you and Satoru too. He was there all along, for you and Tsuki. He watched you grow and change - every day, every moment, he witnessed the way you healed and slowly came back to yourself. And with each day that passed, the more that he found himself completely and hopelessly in love with you.   

You smile, wrapping the scarf around Tsuki as she sits in her stroller, wide-eyed, observing her mama dressed up differently. A red, velvet a line dress. It feel so weird to wear old clothes again, like watching yourself in your middle school yearbook pictures, cringing at how you looked, but feeling warm as you remember how truly happy you were.

You gulp, fixing your hair for the nth time, waiting for Satoru to pick you. You roam nervously in the apartment, wound like a spinning top and you jump when the bell rings.

You quickly walk up to the door, there he stands in his glory, in a tailored Italian suit, an Armani watch, his fluffy white hair parted at the side with a bouquet of peonies in his nimble hands.

And he freezes just as you do, his Adam's apple visibly bobbing up and down trying ti muster, suave words of praise, but nothing leaves his starstruck self.

“You look so handsome, Toru.” You say fondly.

He slowly holds out the bouquet of peonies for you as his eyes scan over you again. His voice feels weak, barely a whisper as he speaks to you. "Look who's talking."

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You say taking a sniff of the fragrant flowers. Your heart feels warm, despite the chill in the air; warm toasted bread with sweet milk tea in the sheets, an odd sense of euphoric comforting.

"Just beautiful things for a beautiful woman."  He says, finally with his flirtatious grin which causes you to roll your eyes.

You chuckle and look over at Tsuki. “Let’s wait for Shoko” It’s the first time she’d be away from you, she’s too small, too tiny, it makes you anxious for her to be anywhere except in front of your eyes. This is the first time you've ever been apart from the infant who's been attached to your hip since she was born.

"Shoko's a doctor, she'll take good care of her. It's just for a few hours, sweetheart."  He says, interrupting your thoughts.

Soon enough, the bell rings, and the tired woman makes her way in. You go over the same things, same scenarios multiple times until you feel relieved and Shoko on the other hand, exasperated.

"And for the love of god don't smoke around her," you say and finally hug her. "Thank you for doing this Shoko."

Shoko freezes as you suddenly hug her; for a moment, she feels as though her eyes are getting bleary after seeing you smile so brightly after so long. "All good..." She murmurs, unknowingly tightening her grip around you.

"Let's go," you whisper to Satoru, holding out your hand. For a few seconds, he just stands still, unable to form a coherent emotion at the sight of your hand extended to reach his. Gulping he intertwines his large fingers into your palm. the path to his car feels sacred, intimate; he feels as though he's holding you as you walk down the aisle to him. It's an exaggerated, delusional reverie that makes his chest all tight.

The ride towards the restaurant is mostly silent, with you looking out the window and watching as the world passes by like a blur. Satoru steals a few quick glances at you every now and then as he drives, feeling the familiar ache in his chest everytime he looks at you in your beautiful, beautiful red dress.

"You look beautiful, you know that?" He whispers, his voice hushed almost as if he's afraid if he speaks too loudly, the moment will be shattered.  

Your eyes soften at his reverential tone, you tilt my head, staring at him. "You've told," you answer. "But I like hearing you say it."

"I'll say it till you get sick of it," he says with a soft chuckle, his bright cerulean eyes undoing all defenses, all inhibitions. They shine so bright, like stars.

"I don't think I can ever get sick of it," You whisper. It's peaceful, you realise. Not the wild, passionate sort of love you experienced with Suguru, where the flame was brightest before it blew. But this feels like a soft light, whispering in the dark, ebbing the strongest shadows away. It draws you in like a moth to flame. This tender light ignites my very being from the dull, colourless life you were trapped in. You never realised that what you wanted was warmth; you hunted it in a spitfire, but found it in an everlasting flame.

His heart skips a beat at your soft, but honest words. The car slows down as the light turns red, and he takes the opportunity to take a good a long look at you. You are sirenesque, it takes his breath away. He finds himself leaning closer, red lights of the signal reflecting off his face. The soft jazz he put to sound fancy is all static under your gaze. He is all static under your gaze.

Both of you flinch as a car behind you honks, pulling the two of you out of your reverie. You realise the light has already turned green and clear you throat.

He lets out a soft sound before he starts driving again, looking ahead at the road to distract himself from the way his heart still pounds in his chest.

The restaurant comes into view as he parks the car with a sigh. 

You smile as he helps you out of the car. It's a fancy restaurant, the kind you'd see in old Hollywood movies where the main characters take the heroine and a cute song starts playing. You wait for your orders, and there's an awkward silence; neither of you speak for a while. A mix of embarrassment and nervousness blended in with being clueless about what to talk about.

"So...I was thinking," he begins, his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage as he fiddles with his fingers. There is a moment of hesitation as he looks up at you for a second, his heart skipping a beat at your calm expression. He gulps and decides to say it, his words leaving him in a low murmur - barely above a whisper. "Wanna dance?"

"Dance?" You question your eyes fluttering in confusion as you look around and then back at him as if to question, 'here?'

He nods as his nervousness melts away into a small, genuine, bashful smile as he stands up and gently extends his hand towards you from across the table. "Yeah...dance." He mutter, his heart feeling a bit lighter at your innocent question.

He looks at the small dance floor in the restaurant, not even a whole dozen couples dancing on it. "Just one song." 

"Alright, until the food comes in." You smile tenderly and take his hand as the two of you walk to the small wooden flooring. You look up at him as he wraps his hand on your waist, another interlacing with yours. And the song plays, ironically enough, Mia and Sebastian's theme from Lalaland, and you roll your eyes. it's a fancy restaurant; they should at least play jazz or something. Nonetheless, you sigh and just look into his cerulean eyes, and your heart pounds in your ribcage.

He can't stop the way that a small chuckle leaves him at your eye roll. He is in utter bliss in this moment, being so much closer, so much more intimate than he'd been with you in ages: everything around them feels so surreal.

You two dance at first, for a few minutes, a sophisticated pair dance before the two of you just sway, eyes peering intently into each other. The light is dull, dim, centered just at the floor, but nothing shines brighter than his hopeful, loving eyes, and you can't help but feel like you are melting as he holds you in, swaying to the music.

He holds onto you as tightly as he can, his eyes never leaving yours, his breaths growing more labored with each passing second. He can't help but be utterly enamored by you. He can just barely hear his own voice over the sound of his own rapidly beating heart. "I love you." 

Your eyebrows furrow at his admission again, and you can't help but huff out a fond chuckle. He's so sincere, despite all, despite how torn you were, despite how you had hurt everyone, including yourself. He's been there. He's been there and made you realise you don't have to beg for someone's love. It's not transactional as it was with Suguru. "I've made you wait for so long, haven't I?" You whisper, your eyes a little bleary looking at him.

The corners of his eyes crinkle with your huffed chuckle. He smiles softly as you speak, his hand on your waist gently caressing your body lovingly. He smiles and reaches his hand up to caress your soft cheek, gently stroking your skin with the rough pads of his fingers.

"Forever." He mutters, his own eyes slightly glossing over as he looks at you. "You could've made me wait forever, and I still would've waited."

You wrap your arms tighter around him and lean up to kiss him, eyes fluttering close. He tastes like mint; its sweet, and it soothes you so. You let out a shaky breath, and he leans in and kisses you tenderly at first, but then with an adolescent vigour that has you dipping in his arms.

You can't help but giggle at his excitement, somehow, the sound gets him to tone it down, tender and soft, his fingers shaky. You part away to breathe and chuckle fondly. "You've got lipstick on your lips." You shake your head and wipe his lips clean.

"We still have a dance to finish," You say as I keep your hand back on his shoulder, and start to sway, laughing as he spins you around

Outside the restaurant after a late night tussle of the girls begging for icecream and him giving in, Suguru walks with Nanako and Mimiko. Their little hands holding the ice cream he brought, trying to not make it drip.

"Geto-sama, isn't she the woman in the photo frame?" Mimiko points out cluelessly to through the glass to you and Satoru dancing. A woman she's only ever seen through the photo frame he keeps close to him, fondly smiling at the,mystery woman that the twins love to inquire about.

"Hmm...?"

Suguru looks towards the glass, and it takes a few seconds for him to process what he sees. He sighs. It's hard to breathe, but you look so radiant it's like life is back in you. It's so different from when he last saw you six months ago in the grocery store. You looked like your world was crumbling down; you were tired, depressed and alone with his daughter you gave birth to. "Yeah." He says with a smile, his voice heavy.

"That's her."

He keeps looking at you, his smile still on his face as he stares at the sight of the two of you on the dance floor. He can't explain the feeling he has in his heart: hollow and heavy, a feeling of losing something he had and messed up so terribly. The feeling of watching you fall in love with someone else, while he still is in love with you. 

But this is different. He looks at your smiling face now, and all he can feel is a strange sense of peace. His chest feels tight, an inexplicable pang of nostalgia and loss as he watches you dance with his best friend, but the pain he feels in his chest is replaced with a strange sense of acceptance.

It feels nostalgic, you're dancing with Satoru the way you used to with him, old jazz music playing as you stood on his feet and he swayed you around, sneaking kisses on your soft lips, your arms wrapped around him. But just as he remembers these memories, he is reminded of what become of your relationship.

It hurts like crazy but still doesn't compare to the soul-crushing guilt he felt when he saw your in the grocery store with Tsukiko, the baby of his love that he left unknowingly and despite knowing her existence, he was far too gone to step up. All he can remember is the utter agony you held in your eyes when you stood with that little infant so tired, so terrified. He made you go through hell.

The two of you finally stop with the dance. You glance away for a second and freeze as your eyes fall onto Suguru. Your lips part, feeling these conflicting, wretched emotions of anger and bitterness.

He is stoic before he breaks into a smile, a content, tired smile. The smile you give to someone, a goodbye, a good-luck, a smile of nostalgia and well-wish.

You breathe out as if you feel a burden off you existence, your lips twitching up to a smile too.

He looks at you and then glances at the girls, and something in him just wants to approach and hug you so tightly, ask for forgiveness and stay like this, all of you together again.

And yet, when your lips twitch into a smile at him, he smiles back, lifting up his hand to wave softly before walking away.

Life didn't end when he left, though it seemed like it would. Sometimes, we find escapes closest to us, but grief makes us blind. Satoru and Shoko were there to help, but drowning in the agony of loss you didn't find the strength to reach. The point is, no one can help you, unless you want to help yourself.

And once its over, one day you'll find yourself at crossroads with your past again. And its then you'll have courage to look it in the eye and smile, because that's how it goes:

Aches of present become memories of past:

a testament of Our Youth.

[axolau]

I’m not the first person to say this, but mischaracterization of Bumblebee in the TFONE fandom is honestly kind of crazy.

The infantilization aspect of it is really problematic, because it treats a full-grown man like the “kid” of the group. Bumblebee’s been slotted into this role because he’s often depicted as playing a son-like role to Optimus, which I of course *love,* generally speaking, but that’s not the role they went with in this movie, and B is still getting slotted into this role.

But in TFONE, B is actually quite possibly older than Orion Pax and D-16. We don’t know, but he’s been in Sublevel 50 for so long, he very well could be, and there’s nothing at all suggesting he’s younger than them.

Unlike in other iterations, B isn’t an “apprentice” to Optimus, either. He’s been at his side since *before* the Autobots were founded, which, since the Autobots will no doubt continue for millions of years, establishes him as a senior Autobot, not the “new kid” role he usually plays, either.

Then there’s B’s personality. B is talkative and energetic and eager to make new friends. He’s the comic relief character, which casts him in a less serious tone, but certainly not that he’s a kid. Orion doesn’t play a mentoring role to him throughout the movie, nor do any of them try to manage or babysit him. He’s an equal part of the group, even if he feels less “mature” because of his talkative personality.

B can also be read as neurodivergent, which makes the infantilisation of him in the fandom more problematic, since it treats hyperactivity and other traits found in neurodivergent *adults* as “kid” traits.

Like, why is B interpreted as the kid of the dynamic? He’s the weird uncle they found in the basement, obviously.

Not to mention, B’s primary trait as the movie goes on is his violent tendencies. Based on the fandom, you’d guess he was the most innocent lil guy, when in the movie, he actively takes joy in creating chaos and going on violent outbursts.

While his violence is made out to be a joke in the movie, in a potential sequel I would *love* to see it taken seriously as a character flaw. B is unpredictable and chaotic, and this could make him hard to work with in the Autobot cause.

B’s violent tendencies are genuinely concerning; the amount of joy he gets from slicing drones in half and holding the security team at knife point is uncharacteristic of your usual Autobot hero, and I wish people would talk about that aspect of his character instead of downplaying it when he gets turned into a lil baby in the fandom.

It reminds me of the infantilization of Tailgate in the MTMTE fandom. He’s treated like a lil baby because he’s small and emotional. This sucks because

1) I’m short and I *hate* seeing physically small characters babified to an extent I know they never would be if they were the same height as the rest of the cast around them

2) it treats being emotionally vulnerable as “child-like,” when MTMTE literally makes a point about the fact that Tailgate is one of the only people who can healthily process his feelings, since he doesn’t have war PTSD, and crying and having other big shows of emotion aren’t childlike, it’s healthy.

3) not to mention that Tailgate was a victim of emotional manipulation. Infantilizing him treats him like he was “gullible” for being tricked when Getaway was literally painstakingly planning a longterm relationship to groom him. Don’t infantilize victims, it’s treats it was their fault for being manipulated and not the abuser… you know, manipulating them.

Tailgate also is powerful/violent like Bumblebee, and this similarity gets downplayed. I haven’t been in as much of the MTMTE fandom (I’m still reading Lost Light, and I’m trying to avoid spoilers) but I have seen the Tailgate infantilization to an extent, and the B infantilization is literally the only way I ever see B being treated by the fandom.

STOP TREATING GROWN MEN LIKE KIDS PLEEASSSEEE

[stuckonmark]

accidents. mark lee

18. i’m vegan

three knocks at your door. that’s all it took for you to jump in your bed. after everything that happened at the last game, you haven’t been your usual self. you had asked winter for some space and karina offered for winter to stay with her for the time being. you’re really grateful for your friends. they always understood you and always supported you. you just wish you were able to open up more to them when things like this happen, but you just always find yourself falling back into your shell whenever something like this happens.

it took a lot of energy for you to get out of bed. honestly, you were kind of scared. you didn’t know what to expect. “hey yn.” looking down at you was a heavily breathing mark, who was holding so many grocery bags that you couldn’t see his hands anymore. your heart stopped for a second, not expecting to see him. “a little help?”

quickly shuffling to him, you try your best to grab the bags and your hand slightly grazed his. you and mark bring the groceries onto your table and you both take a seat. “so how’s everything going?” you hesitantly looked up at mark, not sure how you wanted to answer him. honestly, you didn’t even want to see him. you hated to admit it, but he was the reason you weren’t focusing on your life.

“i’m good.” the dry response is deafening. you felt bad, but you felt even worse having mark in your presence.

mark slowly nodded his head, as he awkwardly cleared his throat. “jaehyun’s worried about you. you’ve been ignoring his texts.” you were trying to think of the best way to answer mark without giving him too much or too little. “i guess tell him to not worry. i’m doing good. just need my space from everyone.”

he softly sighed, looking defeated. you thought the conversation would die out and that he would get up and leave until he looks straight into your eyes. “you have people that care about you yn. we just want to help. you’re allowed to lean on people. i care about you yn.” you weren’t sure, but mark looked like he was yearning for you. you just didn’t know if it was an act or not.

“mark. i don’t need your help. for all i know, you’re the one who’s making me lose focus. i need to lock in right now. i can’t be goofing off anymore. i have actual things in my life that matter.” you hated how harsh you came off, but mark hugging mina definitely hurt you more than a few words could hurt him.

mark began to open his mouth, but slowly closed it and looked down. “i think it’s time for you to go. thanks for the food, but i can’t have half the stuff you got me. i’m vegan.”

previous — m.list — next

notes. new character incoming?? 😏 also so sorry for so many written chapters.. ngl i have a few more 😭

taglist. open! @mmjhh1998 @haluenx @urlocalbeaner5 @cloudmrk @dudekiss3r @iluv7tn @jae-n0 @kikookii @remgeolli @lyleo @wumutititititi @kittydollzz @nctdreamchaser @kodasity @sibwol @worldwidecutiemaya @bbykaixx @luvsooby @luvvhaechan @awktwurtle @gomdoleemyson @morkiee @orangenbluetenbaum @fairyoflia @mxnhoeuwu

[thatbitchery]

When it comes to self love, mass failure stems from the idea that to love yourself is to 'become the ideal'. Which is again rooted in the absolute bs that's morality and the need to be a 'good girl'

To love yourself is to act in your best interests. What you're looking for with the self care aka intensive grooming that makes no sense? and alo sets and God knows what is to like yourself, ant it will never work because you are actively working against the principle of the thing. You can not like yourself when you are actively working against said self. Actively working to unbecome said self into a version you have decided is much more likeable. This is like if your girlfriend / wife said I want to like you by turning you into Tina from the office she is perfect she dresses this way the does this and that and ugh she- see that? See how that feels? See how that does not work? Exactly? It's not working because you're not trying to like yourself you're trying to become something you could admire.

So. Ramble time, try to keep up.

When it comes to loving yourself you have to like yourself first. This is what people mean when they say 'be yourself' . They are saying act in the best interests of who you are right now to become who you want to be. Its not a hop over it's a progression. You don't fake it till you make it (Though man don't i LOOOOVE this advice, if only it's given in the right way its so powerful) its being you the you you are right now and then naturally you will progress, and using the you you are right now to progress into what you want to become. And , in private too. Authenticity is personal in public it will do you more favors to perform than it will to 'be yourself' but in youyrself, in your body in your privacy in your mind- be yourself.

See it this way. What are you? You are the Universe in a Human Body. Why is the Universe / God / Source ? Figurehead Of Your Mythology Of Comfort x Choice be in a human body? To EXPERIENCE life as a human being. The same reason it's in a cup and the ocean and wifi and veneers etc, everything in existence is simply the Universe trying to experience itself, we all know this. At least the Elites do. Why then are you the way that you are? TO EXPERIENCE LIFE FROM THAT PERSPECTIVE. So if you don't fully sink into an experience you are bound to repeat it as many times as it takes to fully experience it and if you don't you'll just come back in another life to deal with the same thing. The pathway to progress is to like yourself as you are now so that you can move on to a different experience *(Another reason to go to therapy x CBT. Stop running. If you stop running, itgoes away by itself, because the whole point was to experience it and now that you have what's the point of a re-do? A Universe obsessed with expansion can not tolerate stagnation, if you go through it it HAS to go away). IF you run from who you are now, you will be stuck as her. If you not only accept and like her but also function FROM who you are now, you are bound to change. And the issue the issue the issue the fucking issue is ALWAYS morality there are a billion reasons to hate the church and every patriarchal religion out there but the top of the list will always be morality. You can not like what you are because you think she is BAD and you want to be GOOD. EW.

So what even do I mean? If you are a liar just lieand soon the lying will go away, if you wnat it to. If yoy want to sleep around just do that and use it to get to your goals. Sleep your way to the top AND LIKE It. Fake your way to the top and like it. Scam people and get what you want by sinking into what you are right now and finding pleasure in it. If you just sink into it, into what you are RIGHT NOW and find pleasure in it and find a way to use it to get to where you want to be - all that will go away. The frustration the pain the struggle the all that- it will go away. All that comes from resistance. And sinking into the fact that you are a human being so you act like one will literally save you 3/4 of your pain (Another reminder to study evolutionary psychology and human intelligence so you stop punishing yourself for being a person) .

Ramble over.

BMAC

[roach-works]

-people get welding and riveting mixed up more than you would expect.

-the bronze age transitioned into the iron age more because the empires and hence trade networks necessary to cheaply transport copper and tin, than because iron is a 'better' metal than bronze. iron actually sucks really bad in almost every way compared to bronze and so much of the technological progress we see at the start of the iron age was specifically to cope with how much shittier iron tools were.

-you just plain can't have a pure iron sword. it would bend out of shape when you hit things with it. the process of folding and refolding iron in the forge mixes carbon in and creates steel, a much harder and more brittle metal. that's the deal with japanese katanas that were folded a zillion times. they're not made from a superior metal: they're made from really shitty metal, that was then put through a very labor intensive process to turn it into an actually functional steel alloy. this is also why the katana is curved, to add strength.

-cereal crops are difficult to plant, harvest, store, and transport. farming wheat is not easy and doesn't make you rich or even comfortable. you also straight up historically cannot do it in boggy places, tropical places, rocky highlands, or coastal lowlands.

-apples were mostly used for fermentation-- cider and vinegar-- as well as pectin for jams and extra fiber for stew, until grafting made table apples (sweet apples good enough to eat raw) possible a few centuries ago. medieval european peasants were eating quince and pears, not apples, AND they were cooking them: raw fruits and vegetables were considered unhealthy, especially for children. colonial americans were planting apple orchards for alcohol, not apple pies.

-stirrups weren't invented until way more recently than you might thing, but until they were, mounted combat looked REALLY different. without stirrups, your only options for horse combat is charioteers or horse archers, who use their horses to sweep in, launch projectiles from close, and run off again. it's just barely possible to use curved sabers from horseback and you see this in some desert campaigns with very skilled horsemen on VERY fast horses, because mechanically you use the saber to strike downwards as you ride past. but it needs to be a hit and run, because without stirrups to keep you in your saddle, the moment you start using a striking weapon horizontally you lever yourself off the damn horse.

-have you seen a map of italy. there's mountains there. horses are not useful combat animals in mountainous regions. they eat more than they can carry, the grazing sucks, and even if they don't go lame they grind their horseshoes off. if you charge with horses down a steep rocky slope you risk breaking all their legs. if you charge with horses UP a steep rocky slope you are already dead. stop using horses in the mountains. stop assuming the roman empire's use of horses looked anything like the british empire's use of horses. and especially stop writing fantasy novels where horses are a 1:1 substitute for motor vehicles.

-if you ride a horse wrong enough you die, or the horse dies, or you both die. i would like more fantasy novels to acknowledge this.

-with the single exception of sled dogs, large carnivores do not make much economic sense as transportation, and even less sense as motor power. even then, sled dogs are often fed on fish, a local protein source that can be harvested with nets and dried or frozen to store for a long time. if you have a fantasy carriage being pulled by bears or tigers, i hate you and immediately assume you haven't spent any time actually thinking about how animals, agriculture, economics, or technology works.

-on the same subject, wolves aren't better than dogs at any of the things humans use dogs for. that's why we use dogs. they are extremely high energy, reactive, and independent. wolves want to be wolves and do wolf things, and those things do not involve cooperating with a human friend to accomplish a human task. wolves can be trained to do things--zoos and sanctuaries have to train them, to get them to cooperate with medical care, and because it keeps them stimulated. and wolves can be friends with a human, or even several humans. but if a human needs a canine to help them hunt, or track, or be an emotional support friend, or pull a sled, or herd sheep, a dog is going to be better for that in every way.

-a wolf cannot be a registered service animal. in many american states, a wolfdog hybrid can't be either, because they're illegal to own in the first place.

On one hand, I am a firm believer in "just start writing a fictional story without hard research if that's what it takes to get the first draft down, mistakes can be fixed in future drafts". On the other hand, I am also a firm believer in cultivating the reflex of "hang on, I don't really know what that means, let me at least go skim the Wikipedia page right now to make sure I'm headed in the right direction here".

Sometimes, especially with original fiction that's presumably been professionally edited, obvious mistakes that are harmful can be infuriating, but I'm usually just amused whenever I encounter an author who clearly hasn't done research for the industry or skill that plays a central role in their story. If one of your main characters is an athlete, you should probably know the rules of that sport??? How its professional leagues work??? Maybe???

"Character A is a chef in a 5-star Michelin restaurant!" <- Michelin stars only go up to 3, bud. "Character B is a famous Michelin food critic!" <- Michelin reviewers are also famously anonymous, bud.

The easy fix for the above example is to just invent a fake food guide company for your story, with known reviewers and a system that goes up to 5 stars. Michelin Guides came out of a tire company and they're not infallible; they've received plenty of reasonable criticism over the years. If you know what Michelin stars actually are and where they came from, they can be modified and replaced in your fictional world's alternate universe to suit your purpose. Instead of you being very obviously misinformed about, uh, the basic facts of your setting in your own summary.

Does anyone have any memorable examples of "that's not how that works" experiences with fiction that have stuck with them?

[witchygagirlwrites]

Wildflower-Part 1

Jay Halstead x Reader (Nicknamed Wildflower)

You and Jay suffer through a loss and trauma. He leaves then when he does return he discovers a secret that you have been trying desperately to hide

Talk of death, depression, killing someone, sex, pregnancy, abortion… I think that’s it??

You stood next to Jay, your hand in his. He wore his dress uniform. You’d only seen it a few times in the years you’d known him, you fucking hated seeing it because you knew what it meant. After today? You would never be able to look at it again.

The black dress you wore was going in the trash the moment you got home. You didn’t want it hanging in your closet as a reminder. Your eyes were glued to the grey coffin in the front of the church. You could vaguely register the fact of Mouse’s mother and sister crying, his father consoling them. You should try to comfort them, you needed to, hell he’d want you to but the words wouldn’t come out. The photo of him staring back at you would haunt your dreams when you closed your eyes. 

When Jay had come to the station house to tell you, you knew something was wrong. Boden called you into his office, Jay was there. You could tell he’d been crying already. “Jay?” your stomach knotted, had something happened to Hailey? You hadn’t responded to a call. Him and Boden exchanged a look “I’ll step out and give you two some privacy” when Boden walked by you he patted your shoulder gently then closed the door behind himself. You watched him walk out then turned to Jay. “What’s going on?”

He walked across the floor to you and stopped just close enough he could touch you but he didn’t. You could see the slight tremor in his hands. “Jay, please say something.You’re fucking scaring me” you whispered. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you before saying “His unit got hit Wildflower. He’s not coming home this time” you felt your knees go out from under you but Jay’s arms held you up “No Jay” you sobbed and he kissed the top of your head “I’m sorry sweetheart”

The priest’s voice made you flinch. You weren’t even sure why. Was it the fact that you were normally the only person outside of his mom and dad that called him Greg? Was it hearing him talked about in past tense? Was it knowing that you never told him how you felt and made Jay keep the secret too? Was it feeling Jay pull away from you even as his fingers curled around yours? It had been the three of you for years, with one gone could the other two remain best friends? You’d lost people before but never felt like you were burying a piece of who you were before now.

You knew things were getting bad for Jay. His and Hailey’s marriage was strained to say the least. He wouldn’t go into full details with you but he’d gone into enough for you to know that the way intelligence was forced to handle certain things was just starting to weigh on him a little too hard after Mouse’s death.

_________________________

You didn’t realize just how bad things were until he brought up the prospect of going back into the army one night when he came over.

You sat there, staring at him for a moment before shaking your head “Get the fuck out of my place Jay” “Wildflower” he tried and you shook your head “No, no you don’t fucking sit there and tell me you’re gonna go back in after we haven’t even hit six fucking months after his death! You don’t do that! Not to me!”

He reached for your arm but you jumped up off the couch, shaking your head “No, go home and talk to Hailey. Maybe your wife can talk sense into you” you pointed to the door and he sighed “I didn’t bring this up to hurt you sweetheart. I just want to be honest with you” you wrapped your arms around yourself as you faced him “Honest? Honest? Jay, I had to look at that casket and know that he’s never coming back. Now you want me to face the same with you? How the fuck is that fair?”

“It’s not, none of this is fair” he agreed so you nodded “At least you can see that. Now I’m gonna repeat myself one more time, please get out” he stood up and nodded “I’ll see you later” and stepped closer to you, when you didn’t flinch away he pressed a kiss to your temple then walked out.

A couple weeks passed and you hoped maybe he’d gotten the idea out of his head but you were watching a movie, curled up on your couch when he called. You picked up your phone off the coffee table “Hello?” you heard him take a deep breath before he said “We need to talk, you’re gonna hate me but I can’t do this over the phone” you already knew what it was. You felt tears start to form in your eyes “You took the job in Bolivia” you didn’t make it a question but he still answered “Baby, I can’t stay here. Not right now anyways”

You swallowed hard “When do you leave?” “Tomorrow morning. I wanted to come see you tonight” “Ok”

______________________

When Jay knocked you opened the door and stepped back to let him in. He wouldn’t even meet your eyes. “Will you say something Flower?” you shrugged “What is there to say?” he finally raised his eyes to meet yours. The black shirt he had on making them a bright blue that night. His eyes always mesmerized you that way. It depended on what color he was wearing on what shade popped out the most, the blue haze or green. You’d freaking color matched his eyes once to seafoam.

“Yell at me, call me a selfish asshole..anything..just don’t be silent” he spoke and you nodded, tears falling down your face. “What did Hailey say?” he held up his left hand to show you his wedding ring was missing “We signed the papers last week” your eyes widened “How bad was what happened when you were undercover Jay?” he flinched at your question and you let out a breath “Why didn’t you talk to me?” “and tell you what? You want me to tell you that your best friend killed someone in self defense but given the circumstances Voight had to cover it up? You want me to tell you all the shit that we’ve had to cover up over the years? You want me to tell you all the shit I’ve done that would make you look at me like I’m a fucking monster?”

“YES JAY YES” you yelled and he stepped back “What?” you waved your hands around “YOU TELL ME! EVERYTHING BECAUSE AT THE END OF THE DAY I CAN NOT FIND IT IN ME TO CARE WHAT YOU DID BECAUSE YOU WALKED AWAY FROM IT AND THAT IS WHAT MATTERS TO ME! MY BEST FRIEND IS STILL DRAWING BREATH! BUT NOW YOU’RE WALKING HEAD FIRST INTO WHAT KILLED MOUSE AND I HAVE TO STAY HERE AND FACE THAT ALONE AND I AM SO FUCKING PISSED OFF AT YOU  BECAUSE OF IT!”

He took a step towards you and you let him pull you against his chest and you finally broke, sobs wracking your body “I can’t see you in a casket too Jay. Losing him wrecked me. Losing you is going to kill me” “I’m going to come home” he whispered and you shook your head “Don’t fucking say that because he said that and he didn’t fucking come home!”

“I will do everything I can to find my way back to you” he whispered and you pulled back from his chest to look up at him. You both stared at each other for a heart beat before his lips were on yours. You snatched away from him and his eyes widened “I’m sorry” “Don’t be” you whispered before pulling him back down to you. One of his hands moved to the back of your neck, holding you to him as his other hand gripped your hip tightly. 

When the need for air pushed you away from each other his lips worked their way from yours down your neck “We shouldn’t be doing this” he spoke into your skin. You nodded, tilting your head back to give more access to more skin. “I know” his hands slid under your shirt and when you felt his calloused fingertips tease at your sides you let out a light gasp as he pulled his hands up, bringing your shirt along with it. You leaned back from him long enough for him to pull the shirt over your head and toss it. “You’ve always been so damn beautiful”  he spoke and you shook your head “Please stop talking” and tugged at his shirt, begging him to take it off.

He pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it down near yours. You grabbed his hand and walked backwards to the couch. When you laid down on it, pulling him with you he cut his eyes up towards your bedroom. You shook your head “I want you now. You’re leaving tomorrow, I need you right now” he groaned lightly “You can have me” as he crawled up your body, connecting his lips to yours in a gentle kiss.

You fumbled to get your leggings off your hips as his hands went to his belt. He kicked his jeans away then helped you to pull your leggings off and tossed them to the floor before settling himself between your legs “Are you sure?” he asked and you could feel the head of his cock teasing at your entrance even as he asked. “Please, if this is the last time I see you..let me have all of you Jay and have all of me” he nodded as he lined himself up with your entrance and slowly sank in, both of you letting out a low moan at the sensation of him filling you.

Your head dropped back on the couch and he brushed kisses across your exposed throat “You ok?” you swallowed hard “Yeah” you gave yourself a minute to adjust then shifted your hips down against his. He grunted from the feeling then cut his eyes at you “I got you sweetheart” he rolled his hips into yours and you let out a low moan of his name. “Fuck, that’s gonna stick with me” he mumbled as he found a pace that quickly had your nails biting into the flesh of his back. Tears were forming in your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was from the pleasure coursing through you or the knowledge that this was goodbye.

You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt him looking at you as your orgasm crept up on you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth “Open your eyes baby. I want to see you” you slowly opened your eyes and saw he had tears in his eyes too. He smiled and crashed his lips against yours as his hand slipped between your bodies, fingers finding your clit easily and pushing you over that edge. When you came, walls clenching down around him it pushed him over that edge as well. He buried himself in you with a deep thrust, moaning  your name out as he filled you, pushing some of it back out as he continued to lazily thrust into you to work you both down from the high. His lips never left yours until you had to pull away to get air, then he kissed the corner of your mouth and moved down to your neck and chest.

“You will see me again wildflower” he promised into your skin. You shook your head, nails lighty scraping his back “You’ve got to tell me goodbye Jay. Please” he leaned up to look at you and you could see he was hurting as bad as you were “I’ll tell you goodbye before I leave here, ok? For now, I’m holding my best friend” you nodded “I’m good with that”

Jay had been gone two months when you found out you were pregnant. With the birth control you were on mixed with your job your periods were touchy at best so you didn’t think anything of it until you started hurting in weird places. Then came nausea over smells you normally loved. The point that pushed you to take the test was when Stella asked if your boobs had gotten bigger.

______________________

You sat on the floor of your bathroom staring at the test for two hours after you took it. What the fuck were you supposed to do? Jay was gone, he was nowhere in this equation. Hell his divorce was probably not even filed good when you got pregnant. You had three options. If you were still early enough along there was abortion, you’d overheard Stella and Kelly talking about looking into an adoption agency so that was an option then there was the option of keeping it.

Could you raise a baby alone? If you kept it you’d have to eat a lot of questions that you couldn’t answer. This was too much of a distraction for someone over there, Jay couldn’t know. Then on top of that..He was married to Hailey up until a week before he left. What if people assumed he’d been cheating on her? What if they thought he left to avoid being a father? What if…no, there would be no what if. If you kept the baby you wouldn’t let Jay’s name get dragged through the mud because no one would know it was his. You’d do it on your own. You just had to decide what road you were going to take.

You had just laid Leah down for her nap and was headed to the kitchen in an attempt to wash up her bottles and maybe eat a tiny something. A knock on the door froze you in your tracks. No one was supposed to be coming by today and it was your day off. You sighed as another knock landed “Jesus, I’m coming”! You called out, hoping that Leah would sleep through the noise.

You unlocked the door as another knock landed “Keep your freaking pants on” you snatched the door open and froze dead in your tracks. Jay stood on the other side of the door. Were you still asleep? You had to still be asleep. He’d been gone for over a year.You reached up and pinched your arm, flinching when it actually hurt “You’re real” you breathed and he half smiled “Yeah. Can I come in?”

You waved a hand down his body, considering he was still wearing his army uniform and had his duffle slung over his shoulder “Did you come here straight from the airport?” he nodded, a smile slipping onto his face  “I wanted to see you. You never wrote me back, you wouldn’t answer my calls. I wanted to make sure you were ok”

“I’m fine Jay, I’ve um…I’ve just been busy” you knew the excuse fell flat even before his smile fell.  “You were too busy to send a letter or an email?” he asked and you opened your mouth to give some excuse, hoping to get him to leave but Leah chose that moment to wake up.

Her tiny cry seemed to echo through your apartment. Jay’s head snatched in that direction and you dropped your gaze, fuck. “I’ll be right back” maybe if you could get her back to sleep quick enough you could convince him she belonged to a friend?

______________________

The moment Jay stepped off the plane he knew he needed to see you. Every thought was filled with you. Why hadn’t you answered the phone? Why hadn’t you emailed or sent a letter? Was it because of what happened before he left? Did you hate him now? Had something happened to you? 

He stepped out of the uber and walked up to your door. He didn’t have your number, your old one didn’t work. He hoped you still lived here. He knocked twice before he heard your voice. The door snatched open and his heart skipped a beat when you were standing there in the doorway. You looked tired, your hair was a little different but you were still just as beautiful as always. Still his best friend. You stared at him for a moment before pinching your own arm, then you flinched “You’re real”

You thought you were asleep. Had you dreamt of him like he’d dreamt of you? He felt a small smile slip onto his face at the idea “Yeah. Can I come in?” you waved a hand at him and asked if he came straight from the airport. Of course he had. You hadn’t had any contact with him since he left.  “I wanted to see you. You never wrote me back, you wouldn’t answer my calls. I wanted to make sure you were ok” 

“I’m fine Jay, I’ve um…I’ve just been busy” you stammered and he felt his face fall. “You were too busy to send a letter or an email?” you seemed like you were about to say something else but then the clear sound of a baby crying filled the air. His head snatched towards the sound. A baby? You wouldn’t look at him when you said “I’ll be right back”

Like hell. You turned to walk towards your spare bedroom so he stepped in, dropping his duffle and closed the door before following you. When he got to the spare bedroom he froze. It wasn’t a spare bedroom anymore. There was a crib in the center of the room, a small white dresser, a glider rocker and a lamp. This was a nursery. 

You turned to face him with a tiny baby curled up against your chest. She was wearing a pink onesie and tears filled your eyes. She couldn’t have been over a couple months old tops. The math added up. “Is she..is she mine?” he asked and you nodded, gaze falling as you swayed slightly side to side, trying to soothe the baby.

He stepped into the room, trying to make his brain catch up with what was happening. You had a baby. You had his baby. That last night before he left, you got pregnant. That was why you hadn’t talked to him. “Can I hold her?” he asked, eyes glued to his little girl. His little girl. He had a babygirl. You nodded, swallowing hard “Of course Jay. She’s your daughter” he heard your voice shake when you spoke.

You walked over to him and when you transferred her into his arms he could feel the fact that you were shaking like a leaf. “Her name’s Leah Jay. I’ll give you a minute” you gave him a tiny smile but he could see the tears streaming down your face. 

“Sweetheart?” he tried and you shook your head “I need a minute and you need to meet your daughter” you walked out of the room so he looked down at her, his little girl. “Hey Leah. I’m um..I’m your daddy” he looked around then walked over to the rocker and sat down.

She was so small but looked healthy. She cooed slightly and tucked into his chest. He felt his heart swell. How did he love someone this much that he just met? He was a dad. He had a daughter. He felt tears start to slide down his face “I’m so sorry babygirl. I didn’t even know your mommy was pregnant”

How had this happened? Well he knew how this happened but fuck. He had a daughter. You’d gone through a pregnancy and delivery alone. Well not alone, your friends wouldn’t leave your side but he hadn’t been there. He’d abandoned his best friend when she needed him the most. He kissed Leah’s forehead gently “I’m so sorry baby” 

_____________________

You barely made it out of Leah’s nursery. You slid down the wall just out of Jay’s sight with a hand over your mouth so he wouldn’t hear your sobs. He wasn’t supposed to find out, especially 

not like this. You could hear him talking to her, apologizing and that ripped your heart out even more. You never wanted him to be guilted into being a father, you never wanted him to have to face the fact that he’d gotten you pregnant before his divorce from Hailey was even finalized. 

You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. She would need to be changed, fed. He couldn’t do it. You needed to get back on your feet, you needed to keep pushing like you always did but this? Fuck you never wanted this. You never would’ve hurt Jay for anything, especially not after you both lost Mouse.

You took a deep breath, wiped your hands down your face and slowly stood before walking back into the nursery. Jay was sitting in the rocket, just staring at her. “She’s pretty isn’t she?” you asked and he looked up, a small smile on his face even though you could see the tears he’d already shed “She looks like you”  you shook your head “She um probably needs a diaper and I know she needs a bottle”

“Oh, ok” he stood up slowly and walked over to you. You could still feel your hands shake when you reached for her but you were calmer than you were. You cut your eyes up at him and he held your gaze “Can we talk?” “Let me get her back to sleep” you whispered and he nodded “Ok” and leaned down to kiss her forehead before saying “I’ll wait in the other room” you knew he was giving you breathing area and you appreciated it. You nodded “Ok” and watched him walk out.

Once it was just you and her you took a deep breath. You could do this, you had to do this.

You walked out of Leah’s nursery to find Jay looking at one of the photos on your wall. “It’s from his going away party” you answered and he nodded “Thought so” a heavy silence fell between the two of you. 

You had always been close with him and Mouse. When he helped Mouse get clean and the job with intelligence you three got even closer. Along the way you developed feelings for Mouse but by the time you worked up the nerve to tell him, he decided to rejoin the rangers and you couldn’t stand in the way of how he wanted to live his life. You never would’ve thought that way would’ve ended his life also.

“When did you find out you were pregnant?” Jay asked, breaking the silence. You ran a hand across your hair “Um a couple months after you left. You know how weird my periods have always been. It took me being sick for a couple weeks in a row before I finally gave in and took a test”

He nodded and you waved a hand towards him “You need some different clothes” he looked down and laughed lightly “Yeah. My stuff is in storage, along with my truck” you nodded “Why didn’t you go to Will’s first?” he shrugged “Wildflower, I missed you. You’re my best friend and the last time I saw you..” he trailed off so you smiled “We had spent the previous night together then you hopped in an uber and deployed?” he laughed lightly  “Yeah”

“I need to do some things while she’s asleep. You’re welcome to hang around but I’ve got to get it done” were you trying to dodge him? Maybe. Did it change that you needed to get the stuff done? No. 

He unbuttoned his jacket and slipped it off, leaving him in just his uniform pants and short sleeve tan shirt. Yeah that wasn’t distracting.  “Can I help with anything” you shook your head “It’s just normal stuff Jay. I’ve got to wash bottles, do laundry and I haven't eaten”

He nodded “Guessing your laundry room hasn’t moved. I can do that” you shook your head “You literally just got home. Hell have you eaten?” he shrugged “I’m fine” you laughed and shook your head “Stubborn ass. Let me get the bottles washed and I’ll figure something out”

_____________________

Jay stood a few feet from you, leaned against the counter. “What last name does she have?” he asked and you sighed, this was going to be a hard conversation “Mine. Jay, no one knows she’s yours. You’re not on the birth certificate and she has my last name. You have no responsibility to her. I’ve made sure of that so no one could drag your name through the mud considering I got pregnant before your divorce was final”

He was quiet while you finished washing the bottles so you turned to see he was staring at you “So you hid her?” you shook your head “No, I just didn’t tell anyone who she belonged to. Jay don’t make any big life decisions right now. You just got home. We lost Mouse not long before you left then everything with that undercover and your divorce. Just don’t do anything rash”

He looked confused for a second “Like what?” you waved a hand in the vague direction of the nursery “Don’t rush to tell anyone” “She’s my daughter” he sounded hurt. You nodded “I know that Jay and you can see her but don’t ruin your future, ok?” “Are you listening to yourself? How would that baby ruin my future?” he asked and you shrugged “Do you know what people would say? Just promise me for now, you won’t say anything”

He held your gaze “I’m not ashamed of her or you” “I know you’re not Jay but I am asking, as your friend and as her mother. Keep it between us for now. Please?” he nodded slowly “Fine” 

“Now, I haven’t gone grocery shopping but I can make grilled ham and cheese?” you offered and he smiled “Good with me”

_______________________

“What’s your plan now?” you asked, sitting across from Jay at your two seater kitchen table. He glanced back towards the nursery before saying “Um I got a job in private security. Less risk, more money” “That’s good Jay. I’m glad” you told him and he nodded “I’ll be staying with Will until I find a place” you laughed lightly “Well if I still had a spare room I’d offer it but ya know” you were trying to lighten the mood but he didn’t seem to agree. “How is everything?” 

“Fine, I still know the same people. Still work at fifty one. Only thing that changed was Mouse was dead, you were gone and I and gave birth to her” he held your eyes “Why did you keep her?” your eyes widened “Wow” and you stood up but he was always faster than you and before you could get two steps he was on his feet with his hand wrapped around your wrist gently “I didn’t mean it how it sounded. I’m happy you kept her. She’s everything but you never even wanted kids?”

“I was spiralling Jay, when I found out I was pregnant..I wasn’t doing good mentally or physically. I considered abortion. Hell I considered adoption because Stella and Kelly hadn’t found a baby yet” “But?” he asked and you shrugged “But I decided to keep her. It’s not been a walk in the park but I’ve made it this far and will continue to”

“You’ve always been so damn strong” he told you and you scoffed “Easy to be strong when you don’t have another choice” 

You talked Jay into taking an uber to Will instead of getting Will to come to your place. You stood at the door as he gathered his duffle “Can I come see her?” he asked and you nodded “Hold on” you walked into the kitchen and found a sheet of paper and pen. You wrote your number down and held it out to him “Here”

He took it and smiled “Ok. I’ll see you later Wildflower” you smiled “See you later Jay” you closed the door and took a deep breath. Ok that happened and somehow you made it through it. You just hoped he’d keep his promise and not tell anyone, you’d been her only parent this long. You had it, you could continue having it.

Jay was a good man, he deserved the best. 

Part 2

@desimarie12

@nevaehstreater18

[rafessweetgirl]

better than the movies / rafe cameron

a/n: if ur seein this its my first fic on here <3 hope its good, i actually don't hate it. it's long for my first tho.

word count / 1.3k

to you, love was just something people found in the movies. it was fiction. you had given up on finding love a long time ago.

but here you were. looking at him and feeling so much love. rafe cameron. you smiled to yourself. how did you get here? how did you even know that you loved him? that you were in love with him? you just knew.

if someone had told you that you'd be here in bed, spending your early morning with rafe, you wouldn't have laughed. no, you would've looked at them like they were deranged. "are you fucking crazy?" you'd say. "never in a million years."

you hated each other. rafe was the biggest asshole ever and you were the only girl who wouldn't put up with his shit. in your eyes he was some spoiled brat who turned to drugs when things didn't go his way. you hated how everyone glorified rafe and ignored who he really was. and you were like a punching bag to him. you frustrated him immensely. he hit and hit and hit you over and over again. only you hit back. he was so used to running over people with no regard to their feelings. he had to admit, he enjoyed the fight a bit.

the first time you had seen rafe differently was at topper's party, last spring. it was hot and muggy outside. it had stopped raining a couple hours earlier, before the party started. you were out back, sitting on the edge of the pool with your best friend niya. there were people everywhere and you were starting to sweat. "i need out or im gonna die," you told niya. you got up and walked toward the house.

she shouted after you. "please don’t take your sweet time!"

you rolled your eyes and smiled.

i need to find a bathroom. i can get away from everybody in there.

you kept walking throughout the house knocking on and opening doors until you found one. finally, shit. when you opened the door all the way, you were met with an unfortunately familiar face.

"what the fuck?" he looked at you with disbelief.

"rafe?" you're kidding.

you were pissed now. you were hot and sweaty and just when you thought you had a chance to breathe you run into him.

"get out."

"gladly," you were about to turn around when you noticed something. his nose was red, his eyes watery. almost as if he’d been crying. "wait, were you crying?”

"get the fuck out, now."

"no, not until you answer my question."

he rolled his bloodshot eyes. "no, i wasn't crying."

"it's okay to have feelings rafe, i know you're not used to it."

that set him off. his tough exterior crumbled when he was around you. you never failed to get under his skin. he lunged for you, grabbing you by your arm before you could react. he dragged you inside the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, reaching down to lock it.

"and i know you're not used to being anything other than a fucking bitch."

while you would've fired back with some smart ass comment any other time, you weren't worried about his insults right now. no matter how rude he was to you, you were genuinely concerned. you'd never seen him show any emotion other than anger or annoyance.

"rafe, i'm serious. are you okay?" you asked softly. you and rafe stared at each other for what felt like years. he was scared now. he didn't show it but it felt like you could see right through his big, scary act. but he couldn't look away. you had him hypnotized and he could see the genuine worry in your eyes.

"what do you care?"

"im not as big of a bitch as you say i am. i have a heart."

he realized he had you against the door, your head caged between his arms. he stepped back and broke eye contact to stare at the ground.

"i just- i'm going through it right now." he dragged his hands down his face. "i dont wanna talk-" the tears were back.

you stepped towards him and wrapped your arms around his waist. the fuck? what is she doing? he stood there confused. the hug actually felt....good. so he let his arms hang and the tears fall.

"it's okay rafe, you don't even have to tell me."

he finally hugged you back. now he was sobbing, pouring his heart out into the hug. into you. you hugged him tighter. you were so sweet, he realized. he couldn't believe he spent all this time hating you, insulting you every chance he got. how could anyone hate this sweet, sweet girl? nobody had been there for him like this.

his father didn't believe in emotions. maybe that was why he was like this. he felt like he had to be an asshole. not because he wanted to but because if he didn't protect himself, who would?

rafe tucked his head into your shoulder. you smelled amazing, like strawberries and vanilla. it added to your sweetness.

"shhh it's okay." you rubbed his back. "let it all out."

so he did. and when he was done, he pulled away from you and you let him. your heart panged a little at the loss of warmth. but you were glad he let you in. it wasn't as hard as you thought because you genuinely were a good person. rafe just had it out for you for some reason. you acted how you did towards him in self defense.

"dont say shit about this to anyone." good ole rafe.

"oh im so ready to tell everyone," you deadpanned.

"seriously."

"i would never."

"thanks." he sniffled, glancing at you then at himself in the mirror. "really, thank you."

"anytime." you smiled that sweet smile. he hated that he actually liked it.

rafe found a hand towel then turned the sink on, wetting it. he turned it off and wiped his tears away. he looked at you one more time and actually smiled. you stepped out of the way as he reached for the door, opening it and walking out.

you hadn't talked to rafe for a couple months after that. you'd see him around but he'd make it a point not to look at you. at least not while you were looking at him.

it wasn’t until the beginning of summer that you’d heard from him again. you were lying in bed, watching the sunset out the opened doors of your balcony when he called you. how rafe got your number you couldn’t figure out (you make a mental note to ask him about it when he wakes up). but you picked up, and thank God you didn't hate him anymore or you would've hung up when you heard his voice.

thank God you didn't hate him.

he hated to admit it but, "i need you." he said. "please."

and so you ran out your room and drove over to tanneyhill without a second thought. and you were there for rafe. eventually it became routine. he would call you when he needed a shoulder to lean on.

suddenly, his hate for you was gone. maybe it had been love masked as hate.

rafe let you know that he was there for you too, of course. after being around a vunerable rafe for a while, you finally let him in.

you and rafe spent the whole summer together. at the end of everyday, you found yourself wrapped in his warm embrace. you pretty much lived at tanneyhill. being with him felt better than the all the movies you’d watched and the books you had read.

you made love. you argued. you cried in each others arms. you laughed together. and kissed. and held each other, and so much more. but most importantly, you loved each other. and looking at him now, lying on his stomach , the sunrise shining on his toned back, you realized love wasn't fiction. it was real. you had found love. or maybe it had found you.

rafe was love.

a/n: i thought my first fic would be a drabble or smth, but it kept goin and goin and goin. i have drabbles in my drafts and they'll prob turn into full on fics. hope smb see's this and loves it! i would love feed back and suggestions. i dont have a masterlist or anything yet so this is just me trying smth out, thanks @littlelamy for encouraging me. i’m dedicating this to you! <3

cute divider by @dollywons

[brotherwtf]

Mer AU Headcanons 1/2

As I mentioned in our chat, your mer headcanons inspired me and led me to come up with some ideas of my own. I hope you like them. Feel free to build on them or discard them, I’m not planning to write a fic from this.

I headcanon that Gale is like a siren - he lures pirates and ships he finds threatening to perilous waters and causes shipwrecks. This is because pirates often try to poach on his community and he wants to protect his people and their treasures and homes.

Appearance wise, Gale has shoulder-length hair, his tail is blue, and he loves wearing jewelry. He usually wears a necklace, bracelets and a waist chain. All gold and expensive (he collected them from shipwrecks). Sirens in this AU can shift into human form at will.

One day, one of his friends gets caught in the net of a poacher pirate ship and Gale tries to rescue them while they're still in the water. He manages to cut his friend out of the net, but he gets injured and caught instead.

The pirates pull him on deck and taunt, laugh and pick on him. They take his jewelry too. It seems like things might get out of hand but pirate Bucky steps in and convinces the others to leave Gale alone. He even gets him some treatment for his wound.

But Gale just bides his time. Once it's dark enough and he’s alone, tied up, he shifts into human form and uses the extra mobility his legs provide to get out of his binds.

Meanwhile, Bucky gambles with the other pirates and wins Gale's jewelry on cards. He decides he wants to see what he can from Gale for the gold, intends to get Gale's consent to touch his tail.

Except, when he gets there, all he finds is a naked man already halfway out of the rope binding. He and Gale have a stare off, then Gale proceeds with his escape plan and gets out of the ropes. He asks Bucky why he's not calling the others. Bucky shrugs, says something about curiosity and a craving for adventure instead of gold. Then tells Gale he has his jewelry. Gale tells him to keep it, then escapes back into the water.

The other pirates notice and start to pursue him. Bucky is immediately in trouble because they suspect he let Gale go. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Gale's leading them to their end.

(cont. in part 2)

points at this IM SCREAMING AVONNE I LOVE ALL OF THESE SO MUCH

also guys be prepared for a shit ton of mermaid/pirate au coming your way in the next couple of days everyone clap

I totally totally love every single one of these hcs and I'm just gonna add some more bcs this is already so so perfect

Gale who perches on the outskirts of a jagged rock cove, beckons pirates in with a slender finger and iridescent tail, lures them until they're just reaching out for him and then he jumps in the water, but by then it's too late for the pirates to turn around and they're doomed to crash, and Gale swims into the aftermath to steal all of their jewelry and precious gems

Bucky being absolutely floored by how beautiful Gale is when they capture him, pale skin draped in gold jewels with the most beautiful tail he's ever seen, damn consider that boy smitten, and when he wins back all of Gale's jewelry and finds him in naked human form in the cellar he hates to admit that all he can think about is what Gale's salty skin must taste like

Gale lashes out at him, lunges for him but John manages to pin him to the ground, straddling his naked form and feeling his cheeks warm at the compromising position, but Gale's all angry and teeth and tries to wrangle out of John's hold but John's still able to hold him, "I'm trying to help you!" he shouts and it makes Gale pause, stop struggling as he notices John's hands full of his jewels

"why do you want to help me? you let them capture me," Gale hisses

"because I don't give a fuck about the jewels or the riches, I've never seen a mermaid in my life, and I guess that's why I wanted to do this in the first place. For the adventure, to see things I've never seen before... not for the money, not at all," John confesses and Gale can feel his heart start to warm

and so he lets John distract the crew while Gale escapes, diving off the edge of the boat and into the dangerous cove where they found him, can't help but turn back and think about John, think about what he's done for him, and realizes how much trouble John must be in

MOODBOARD

part two coming tomorrow!!!

[scarlet97531]

Love these tags. Ever since we realized some of us had accidentally given ourselves secondary therian identities and started identifying as otherlinkers, the way it’s treated in therian and otherkin spaces has bothered us a lot.

We’ve come to dislike the overwhelming emphasis on “involuntary” experiences in defining all kinds of identities. The nature of an identity does not change because of it’s origin. If you identify as an animal you identify as an animal. Otherlinkers tend to have all the same experiences as therians do, the phantom limbs, the mental shifts, kin memories, species euphoria and even dysphoria. The only difference is where the identity comes from, and personally i dont think thats important enough to warrant being defined as something entirely different.

What i dislike even more than the separation of the communities on it’s own is the *reason* for that separation. The reason there is such an emphasis on involuntary experiences in the first place is essentialism. As in the belief that people are born a certain way and cannot change. This emphasis on involuntary experiences is an attempt to avoid being forced to conform by saying that conforming is impossible. The problem is that this does nothing to challenge the real problem, the source of bigotry itself, the belief that the norm is ideal and anything outside of the norm is bad until proven otherwise. The belief that if it is *possible* for you to conform then you should.

The problem with trying to conform to this belief by defining yourself by what you cant change is that it does nothing to help people that *can* change but dont want to. For example plural people, people with CDDs. The default treatment goal for plural people is final fusion, conformity, despite it being known that final fusion is very very flawed and for some systems outright impossible, often causing more problems than it solves. Meanwhile the *option* of functional multiplicity is right there, and much better option for most systems, and yet most professionals will not even mention it and it is often seen as “anti recovery”.

Making the *choice* to not conform is seen negatively by most of our society, so minorities try to frame their experiences as essential, something they were born with and cannot change, in an attempt to avoid being changed. In the process they throw voluntary, chosen, non essential identities under the bus, believing just like their own oppressors that anyone who has the choice to conform should, and anyone who doesnt is inherently *different*, and less “valid” for doing so.

Feel like we should normalize have a choice about who we are!

You choose to be a lesbian? That awesome!!

You choose to be a boy? Good for you, I hope you're happy.

You choose to be a paraphilia? That amazing!

You choose to be black? Amazing, come by if you want any tips for me.

You choose to have ADHD? That's great!

People don't have to go through dysphoria to know who the really are! You CAN be transgender be choice, you CAN choose your sexuality, you CAN be who ever you to be by CHOICE.

[blissfullylankartz]

the oddworld fandom don’t really want to interact with you because you don’t care about oddworld. compared to other fandoms we’re tiny and the games don’t get enough love anyway so it feels borderline disrespectful. if it’s not your thing why are you even making ocs for it?

I literally made a post saying not to pull this shit, I said I would be taking anon asks as long as people were kind. Yet once again I'm being met with being pushed out of a community I was wanting to get to know about. Being told I don't care when I'm literally still new and learning things. So people apparently can only partake in a community if they only know every little detail about it?

Look if you have an issue with me I'd rather you not be hiding behind anon, it feels incredibly uncomfortable and disrespectful that you would cross a boundary I set in place. The anon asks was to allow people to send asks comfortably, but you keep ruining it for everyone with me needing to turn them off because you don't have the balls to come out and say stuff without hiding behind anon. You make me believe the community is unkind and unwelcoming, when I don't want to believe that because some of the people I have interacted with have been wonderful.

You don't get to dictate what I take interest in and how I enjoy those things. So just leave me alone or at least stop hiding behind anon, it isn't fair on anyone else that you keep doing this. I won't be switching anon off because I put it on to allow people to be comfortable. I didn't put it on to allow you to feel comfortable being unwelcoming, if your going to stand up for what you love then stop hiding. Or are you afraid that if people knew who was doing it that they wouldn't like you as much anymore, since it's a small community alot of people seem to know each other. I doubt it would be fun to find out that someone was going out of Thier way to shun people from a community they apparently care about.

If you love something wouldn't you rather want to share it and talk about it, not being hateful and pushing people away from it.

I'm tired of this, this was a shitty thing to just wake up to.

Edit: anon has apologised for their behaviour however decided not to post a response to that because I don't want to give them more attention than necessary. This will be the last thing I'll be adding to this situation. I've blocked them from being able to send anon asks anymore, this is because they broke a couple of boundaries and have done things that I'm really not comfortable with. Also just didn't enjoy the vibes being brought to the table. Just hope a lesson has been learnt here.

Thank you for all the kindness that everyone has shown to me, I was a little surprised by the amount of responses, but I'm glad the community seems to take these things seriously. Don't worry I'm not going anywhere and my asks are still open and yous are free to send asks as anons. Just be kind and respectful<3 eventually I may make a post with all the ocs on it that are available for asks once I've brushed up more on lore. I look forward to doing more with yous <3

[hotchscoffeecup]

those things will kill you

pairing: javier peña x dea!reader

tags: gun violence, broken glass injury, bullet wounds, blood, no y/n

word count: 5k

summary: attacked in a public bar, javier takes you back to his apartment to get you cleaned up and tend your wounds. an almost kiss leads to an exploration of feelings neither of you were prepared for.

as always, big thanks to muffin for always being willing to help beta my fics <3

The bartender places a bottle of beer, sweaty with condensation, in front of you on the bar top.

After uttering a short thank you in Spanish, you leave a couple of bills on the counter and twist your fingers around the neck of the bottle. The beer is cold and slides down your throat easily, but it tastes bitter in your hollow stomach.

You run your tongue over your teeth and tsk, shaking your head wondering how you ended up in this mess. Everything seems like it’s going to hell in a handbasket and all the government wants to do is tie your hands and everyone else’s in the search for Escobar.

You hate how it all keeps you up at night; the cat and mouse. For every inch you eked closer, Escobar always seemed to be a mile ahead. Even when he is right under your nose, he evades capture and disappears without so much as a trace of evidence.

You think too far too deeply about Pablo Escobar and you know it affects your work. How can the same man who built homes and schools for the poor of his hometown be the same man that would blow up a city street full of school children and their families a week before school starts? The thought of it keeps you awake at night because you genuinely cannot fathom how such a disconnect can exist in the human mind. He is a drug lord. A killer. A criminal. But he was also someone’s child, someone’s husband, someone’s father. Could he really justify all of this cruelty and malice? You wonder when enough stopped being enough for him. You wonder if a reality existed where he was just that, a man of the people. A family man. In another life, maybe he could’ve actually maintained a seat in the Colombian congress. In all his posturing and speech making, he really did exude all of the makings of a good politician that wanted to see a better and more prosperous Colombia. Instead, he became that which instilled fear in the hearts of those that called the great nation their home.

The clipped click of a lighter snaps you out of your own mind and the sounds of the bar pull you out from under the sea of thoughts you’d lost yourself in.

“Real sharp instincts there,” Javier jabs as he drags on the cigarette between his lips and settles into the seat beside you. “Glad I’m not a sicario. Getting the jump on you would be all too easy now, wouldn’t it?”

“Fuck off, Peña, I’m not in the mood.”

“What happened? Get in trouble with the ambassador or something?”

You direct a hard stare in his direction and that seems to speak for itself.

“It’s an adjustment for everyone. He’s definitely more of a tight ass, but he’ll get used to the way things operate down here. Give it time.”

You scoff. “Easy for you to say. All you and Murphy have to do is posture and dick swing your way into his good graces. It’s not that easy for me.”

The bartender nears your end of the bar and inclines his head towards Javier. He gestures towards the drink in your hand with his cigarette and says, “Lo mismo, por favor.”

With a drink now in hand, he turns towards you and levels his deep brown eyes on yours.

“Cut the crap.”

Your brow arches toward your hairline. “Excuse me?”

The corners of his eyes crinkle as one side of his lips quirks up. “I’m not buying this ‘I’m-a-lady-so-I-have-to-work-twice-as-hard’ bullshit. You’re a damn good agent and that’s why you’re here with me and Murphy. Ambassador knows that. So, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

He takes a swig of his beer and swallows hard. Pointing the bottle at you he says, “and to be clear, I’m not swinging my dick around for anyone.” His eyes flicker over your face and a glint of mischief enters his gaze. “Unless they ask nicely of course.”

You drop your chin and shake your head. “Just when I thought you were being genuine.”

“Hey, I am genuine,” he protests. He pops the cigarette between his lips and grabs your shoulder, the warmth of his palm pressing through your jacket. “C’mon, what’s really eating you?”

You grab the bottle in front of you and swirl the pale liquid inside, forming a small tornado when you still your hand. “I just haven’t been sleeping, that’s all.”

Javier drops his hand from your shoulder to take the cigarette from his lips and blows out a puff of smoke, angling his mouth away from you but the acrid smell still manages to burn your nostrils.

“Those things will kill you, you know?”

Javier smirks and you hate how good it looks on his smug face. “We work in Bogotá. A lot of things can kill us.”

“No need to tempt fate.”

He moves from side to side as if weighing his options. “Cigarettes, alcohol, working too hard trying to prove ourselves that we don’t sleep at night…we all have our vices.” His eyes linger on yours and you suddenly feel vulnerable being called out like that.

“Consider the reasons I don’t sleep, Javi.” You drain the last of your beer and push the bottle away from you.

You press your hands against the edge of the bar, but before you can push yourself up and off of the barstool, Javier claps a hand over one of your wrists, stilling you.

“You can talk to me, you know?” The browns of his irises flicker as they bear into yours and the hollow pit in your stomach widens. You know you can talk to him. Steve too. It’s just hard to be too vulnerable down here though when there’s so much pressure coming down from all angles. If you even look like you might collapse under the weight of it all you’ll get rotated back to the States so quickly, you won’t even get the chance to say goodbye. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for you and you can’t squander it. So, it stays easy to lock it down, despite the consequences.

So, you do just that and lock it down. Forcing a smile you know doesn’t reach your eyes, you shake off his hand and zip up your jacket. “I’m fine, Peña. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He presses his lips together, but doesn’t say anything more. He nods his head in farewell and you turn to leave.

You take two steps before your name rolls off of his tongue and you roll your eyes. “Peña, I’m—” The words die on your lips as you turn, eyes drifting past Javier to the pair on the motorcycle beyond the glass window that makes up the external wall of the bar. The man on the back of the motorcycle aims an automated weapon in Javier’s direction.

“Everybody get down!” You cry out as all hell breaks loose.

You’re airborne as the glass shatters and the explosive sounds of gunfire fill the space. You collide with a thick wall of muscle and hit the ground hard, covering your head with one arm and shielding his body with the other. The gunfire stops almost as soon as it had started and the sound of tires squealing on the pavement echoes off the street.

Patrons scream and cry out as they scramble over one another to evacuate the space. You roll onto your side and groan as shards of glass cut into your arms through the thin windbreaker you have on.

“Javier,” you groan as you reach for him. He’s moving so you know he’s alive. You lean over him and his shocked visage. “Javi, are you with me?”

He blinks hard out of whatever stupor he’s in and sits bolt upright. “Which direction did they go?” He turns his head to look over his shoulder and the gaping frame where shards of glass poke out of the windowsill like jagged teeth.

“They’re gone,” you say on an exhale. “Are you alright? Did you hit your head or anything when I tackled you?”

He breathes out a short laugh and you fear he might be in shock. “Did I hit my head? No, I didn’t—” He stops and shakes his head like he’s trying to clear away a fog. His brow pinches as he looks around at the damage. Tables and chairs are upended and cast aside. Broken bottles line the floor where they shattered upon impact off the shelves behind the bar and litter the ground. You’re surprised to find that, miraculously, no bodies littered the ground in the wake of the attack.

A hand cups your chin and you reflexively reach for the gun tucked into your waistband.

Peña raises his other hand in surrender. “I think you might’ve hit yours though.” His eyes shift just above your field of vision and that’s when you feel the hot sticky substance drip down onto your lashes. You raise a hand and touch it, surprised to find a smear of red staining your fingertips when you look at them.

“I think that’s just from the glass. It’s all in my jacket.”

Javier clambers to his feet and dusts off his jeans. Bits of glass hit the floor as it rattles off of his leather jacket, a much heartier material that you wish yours had been made from.

He extends a hand towards you and you take it, wincing as he pulls you to your feet. With a grunt, you tug the zipper down and shrug out of your jacket. There’s no saving the ripped and bloodied material so you drop it on the floor.

“Fuck, you’re hit.”

The words don’t register as Javi closes the gap between the two of you and the smell of cigarettes and cologne envelops you in a strange, yet almost comforting cloud of, well, Javier.

He scrubs a hand over his face as he hesitates to touch you. You hear him muttering to himself, but the words don’t quite register. Funny how a moment ago you were worried about him going into shock.

A sharp sting of pain brings you back to your senses as Javier presses a folded up bar towel to your shoulder. “Hold pressure on that,” he instructs. He turns and reaches back to take your hand in his. “Come on, I’ll get you out of here. I need to get you taken care of.”

And that’s how you find yourself in the passenger seat of Javier Peña’s Jeep with blood seeping through a dirty bar rag onto the upholstery of his passenger seat. At some point he reaches over you and retrieves the satellite phone from within the glove box to call in the attack.

“No, Murphy. I’m fine. She’s fine. Minor wounds it seems. No—no, don’t wake Connie. I’ve got a kit at my apartment. Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her. I’ve already called the Ambassador and Martinez. Yeah, yeah. Ok, goodnight. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

By the time he pulls into his garage, the adrenaline wears off and the sharp sting of pain in your shoulder becomes glaringly obvious. Javier gets out and moves to open the door for you. He places a supporting hand under your uninjured arm as you maneuver your way out of the car in the confined space. Your body brushes against the firm plane of his as you do and you don’t miss the way he stiffens in response.

“Let’s get you inside,” he murmurs and drops his hand to the small of your back to guide you towards the door.

His apartment is simple, built in the same style as yours and Murphy’s. They all share the same furniture and simple decorations, though yours doesn’t have quite the number of liquor bottles perched on various surfaces and vaguely remember what he’d mentioned about vices at the bar. The smells strongly of him, of his earthy cologne and cigarette smoke. You’ve grown used to it from sitting across from him at work for the last six months. There’s something oddly comforting about it even though the amount he and everyone else smokes bothers you to no end.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He says, gesturing toward the couch.

You do as he suggests and sit on the couch, only on the edge though. You don’t want to ruin the upholstery like you’d done with his car. Plus, you’re fairly certain there’s still small shards of glass embedded in the skin of your back and the idea of pressing those in any further makes you queasy.

Javi disappears into the bathroom, muttering expletives under his breath in English and in Spanish. He returns with a small red first aid kit, a couple of wash clothes, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

He climbs onto the couch and perches on the back of the sofa, his legs spread on either side of your body. “Hold these,” he says, and doesn’t wait to dump the items into your lap.

With gentle hands, he peels the bar rag up and off your shoulder. “Good,” he sighs. “Bleeding’s stopped. Let’s get you out of this shirt.”

You turn your head over your shoulder to look at him from beneath an arched brow and he immediately doubles back. “So we can clean this properly and make sure there isn’t any more glass. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Funny, I thought you liked it there.” Your lips curve into a wicked smile. “I know what you meant, but it is fun to watch you squirm.”

Javier shakes his head and you turn back around to pull your tank top up and over your head. You try to do it with one arm to avoid aggravating your shoulder, but the movement jostles the joint and you hiss between your teeth. Javi catches your hand as you try to pull it over the injury and takes over guiding it up and over the wound. He discards your tank top on the ground and sucks in a breath.

“What, Jav? You see women in their bras, or without them, all the time. Relax.”

“No, it’s not that. Wait, what—”

You smirk to yourself. “What’s the problem?”

“It’s just on second thought, I think we ought to move to the kitchen. There’s more light there and there’s still some glass stuck in and around where the bullet clipped you.”

He gently lays the towel back down over the open wound on your shoulder and you follow him to the kitchen and drop your keys and gun onto the counter before perching on one of the bar stools. He kicks the nearby waste paper basket next to the empty stool beside you and arranges the first aid items onto the counter, opening the kit and withdrawing gloves, tweezers, gauze pads, and roller bandages. He zips the kit shut, determining he has everything that he needs and places it in his lap as he sits down.

A strange silence settles over the two of you as he snaps on the pair of latex gloves and sets to work. He removes the soiled rag from your shoulder and drops it into the trash. The pinch and sting of him pulling glass from within and around your injuries dulls over time and you watch as the tiny pile of red stained shards grows on the counter next to you.

“You know there wouldn’t be so much of this if you hadn’t fallen directly on top of me.”

Javier scoffs. “You’re right. Next time we’re in a firefight, I’ll let you fall on me.” The tweezers lock on to another small shard and you grimace as he pulls it free. “I think that was the last one.”

He unscrews the plastic cap from the bottle of rubbing alcohol and soaks a washcloth with it. “This is probably going to hurt worse, but we gotta get this cleaned up.”

You nod. “I know, go ahead.”

When he’s cleaning the dried blood from off and around the skin, it just grazes over small cuts and scrapes that feels more annoying than anything else. It’s when he passes over the open wound in your shoulder that a curse slips past your lips and tears well in your eyes.

“Fucking shit, that hurts.”

“I know,” Javi says apologetically. “We definitely don’t want you to get any infection though.” He swipes the cloth over the injury three more times and just when you start to wonder if he’s a sadist, he finally declares he’s finished and drops the washcloth into the trash. The cool air blowing from the nearby AC unit dries the alcohol and relieves the burning sting. He replaces it with a fresh gauze pad and holds it in place with his left hand while his right works the roller bandage into position. He works quickly and quietly as he winds it around your shoulder and bicep. After securing a knot in the bandage, he sits back and nods affirmatively, content with the job he’s done.

“Now let me see your forehead. We oughta get that cleaned up as well while I’ve got you here.”

You’d almost forgotten about the cut above your eye with the adrenaline wearing off and the pain in your shoulder growing more severe. You reach up absentmindedly and brush your fingers against the now dried and flaking blood stuck in your eyebrow. Javi spills some alcohol onto a gauze pad and your breath catches when he touches the tips of his opposite hand beneath your chin to tilt it towards the overhead light.

He swipes at the dried blood and scrubs it free from your eyebrow. When he passes over the shallow cut, you wince and he apologizes. When it’s clean, he peels open the wrapper on a butterfly bandage and uses the tips of his fingers to try to place it so it’ll pull the cut closed. A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him press his tongue to his bottom lip as his fingers tremble ever so slightly as he makes sure the small ends of the bandage don’t tear.

“There,” he whispers when he’s sure it’ll stay put. His face is so close to yours and the breath catches in your throat when his eyes drop to yours. “Just like new.”

Time slows to an absolute standstill and you feel yourself inextricably drawn to him, as if there’s some tether pulling you towards him and you really start to wonder if you did hit your head harder than you thought in the chaos because you’re pretty sure he’s also leaning in towards you, which would be crazy because he’s your coworker, but he’s also tilting his head and his face is incredibly close to yours…

Reality snaps back into place like a rubber band against skin when the first aid kit resting on his thighs clatters to the ground. You immediately pull away and drop down off of the stool to pick it up and Javier immediately chastises you doing so.

“Dammit!” He curses and your name sounds sharp on his tongue. “You’ve barely stopped bleeding, don’t jerk yourself around like that.” He snatches the first aid kit from you and splays a hand under your elbow to pull you back up to a standing position. He tosses the kit onto the counter and stalks off into the living room leaving you at the bar wondering what the hell is driving this one-eighty in behavior as he paces back and forth across the carpet.

“Damn, Peña. I’m not going to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” You smirk. “Your jeep, maybe,” you suggest, trying to make light of the sudden tension in the room.

Javier either doesn’t or chooses not to hear you. He loops his thumb through one of his belt loops as he shakes his head and mutters under his breath. “I don’t need this right now.”

Your brow pinches and you hate the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You shuffle your weight from foot to foot and suddenly feel like you’re taking up too much space in the small apartment as he increases the space between you and him. This errant behavior is giving you more whiplash than when you’d taken him to the ground and you’re about to call him out on it, when, without another word, he turns and ducks into his room.

Irritation quickly replaces whatever vulnerability you’d just been feeling. “What the hell does that mean?” You ask, your words clipped and demanding. You walk towards the sounds of him rummaging around inside drawers and come to an abrupt halt as he strides out of his bedroom and presses a ball of fabric into your chest. “This,” he says by way of explanation and takes a dramatic step away from you.

“And by this you mean what exactly?” You know exactly what the this in question is, but you want to hear him say it. Frankly, you’re just as surprised by whatever just happened between you and him, but you’ve worked with each other long enough now to know when the other is severely bullshitting their way through a situation and you have no intention of letting him get away with it.

The smell of his detergent wafts up around you from the shirt in your hands and you take the opportunity to try to awkwardly shrug into it without aggravating the freshly dressed wound. It’s hard to start an argument and be taken seriously when you’re standing toe to toe with someone and you’ve only got on jeans and a black lace bra after all.

As you fumble with the buttons on his shirt, he takes a resigned step backwards and collapses onto the couch. He gestures vaguely at the space between the two of you. His voice is softer when he speaks, tired. “All of this. God.” He runs a hand through his hair and falls back into the cushions. “You,” he says, eyes briefly meeting yours and then at the ceiling.

Your fingers pause mid-fastening. “What about me?”

Javier shakes his head. A wry smile pulls at his lips, rife with disbelief, and it fades as quickly as it comes. “You nearly died tonight.”

You arch a brow and direct a knowing look at him. “Javi, not sure if you were paying attention but we both nearly died tonight. I mean, things moved a little quickly for me to break out my calculator and add shit up, but I don’t think all 30 or 40 of those rounds were meant just for me. I think they were aimed at both DEA agents and they didn’t give a fuck who else got caught in the crossfire.”

“That’s not the point,” he responds resolutely.

“Then tell me what is.”

He doesn’t answer, but sits up and pulls the half crushed pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and slips one between his teeth. As he rolls his thumb over his lighter, you feel your already short fuse ignite. Without giving it a second thought you step forward and snatch the cigarette from between his lips.

“Hey!” He protests, nostrils flaring.

You snap the stick of tobacco in front of him and toss it to the floor. “Enough of the theaterics, Peña.” You stare directly into his eyes, refusing to let him get away with ignoring you. “Quit bullshitting me and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

The sound of the wall clock ticking fills the space and the silence is unbearable, but you refuse to be the first to break. Fifteen more uncomfortably strained seconds tick by before he drops his gaze to the floor and scrubs a hand over his face with a heavy sigh.

He slides over on the couch and pats the cushion next to him. “Sit down, will you?”

You do as he asks and situate yourself at an angle towards him with one leg pulled up across your lap.

“Here,” Javi says as he pulls a throw pillow out from behind him and wedges it gently between you and the couch. “I don’t want you to go and tear open anything I got closed.”

You huff out a quiet laugh and thank him, glancing down at his haphazardly buttoned shirt you’ve got on. You notice you’ve completely misaligned what you’d managed to fasten. Ignoring that for now, you kick at his shin and incline your head towards him. “You done with all the tough guy shit?”

Javier presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what happened. I just—”

“Just what?”

He lifts his eyes to yours and you watch the way his coffee colored irises flicker in the lamplight. “There's just some lines you shouldn’t cross.”

“This is Bogotá,” you say, mirroring his words from earlier. “There’s a lot of lines we shouldn’t cross.”

“I’m serious,” he responds brusquely, eyes darkening as he shuts you out once more.

You sit up straighter, undeterred by his obvious attempts to push you away. “Yeah, well tough shit, so am I.”

The way he speaks your name is laced with frustration and uncertainty. He’s holding back and your own frustration mounts. You’re tired, you’re in pain, and frankly, now you’re just feeling plain stupid. You’d heard rumors of Javier’s extracurricular activities with women. Did you really want to be another notch in his bedpost?

You let out a low, wry chuckle and shake your head. “You know what, Javier?” You push yourself up and off the couch, wincing as you do so, and look down at him. “Give me a call if you figure out what side of the line you stand on.”

You turn and swiftly move towards the door, swiping your keys and gun off of the counter as you do so. You use your good arm to shove your sidearm into the back of your jeans and unlock the deadbolt on Javier’s front door.

You’ve barely pushed the door open when Javier appears at your side and yanks it closed. Before you can protest, he pushes you up against the door and presses his lips to yours in a devastatingly desperate kiss.

You can’t control the moan that rushes from your mouth into his as you kiss him back. He tastes like mint and menthols and you suddenly can’t remember why you hate the smell of cigarettes so much. The cuts along your back and shoulder blades sting as the wood rubs up against the shirt Javier gave you, but with his hands pressed against the expanse of wall on either side of your face, you decide it’s bearable.

That is until you reach up unthinkingly to tangle your hand into his hair and a sharp sting of pain reverberates from your shoulder all the way down to your fingertips.

Javi abruptly breaks off the kiss and his eyes flicker across your face, shining with concern. “Fuck, I’m sorry! I just got caught up in the moment. Did I hurt you?”

You place a placating hand against his chest and feel the erratic beating under your palm. “I’m fine, Jav. Really.”

He licks his lips and you already miss the way they felt against yours. He presses them together and nods. “Good.”

“Good,” you echo. “I guess I should head home though, get some rest. God knows the ambassador is going to want a report on all of this.”

“You got shot, the ambassador can get fucked.”

“Fucked, is what we’re both going to be if we can’t figure out who targeted us.” You sigh and shake off the thought. “I better get going. It’s late.”

Javier stops you from turning to leave. “You’re not walking home alone this late at night.”

“It’s down the street, I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not walking alone.”

“Then walk me home. Your strong male aura will keep danger at a bay,” you add sarcastically.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Then what do you suppose I do?”

“Simple, stay here. I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

“And sit on all that blood? No thanks.”

“Okay fine, I’ll walk you home in the morning.”

You consider the implications of that and choose the safest route. “S’pose I could sleep on the couch.”

Javier shakes his head. “I’m not gonna make you sleep on the fucking couch. You’ll sleep in my bed.”

“And you’ll sleep where?”

“Next to you,” he says smoothly. “If you’ll let me.”

You arch a brow. “And we’ll just…sleep?”

Javi shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs his shoulders, his smile smug. “Tonight, yes.” He steps forward and takes a hand from his pocket to cup your face gently in his wide palm. He places a tender kiss upon your lips. “Tomorrow night might be a different story.”

“I think I’d be quite interested in reading that,” you respond playfully.

“It’s different than what I’m used to,” Javier says and then adds, “but I think change might not be a bad thing.”

You give him a once over and nod. “I think you’re right about that.”

He smiles, somewhat sheepishly, as he says, “I’m sorry for being such a dick.”

The corner of your mouth quirks as you shrug your good shoulder. “I’m not sorry I pushed your buttons like that. It’s about time you open up and actually let yourself feel your feelings.”

He rubs his thumb across your bottom lip and then drops his hand to curve around your hip and rest on the small of your back. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?”

And that’s how you find yourself lying in bed next to Javier Peña of all people, wearing his shirt to sleep while he snores softly beside you; and you can’t help but wonder how many things had to happen for you to end up here at this moment. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling you in against the steady warmth of his skin and you find that you quite like the way you fit so perfectly against the crook of his body.

In the comfort of his arms, you drift off into an uninterrupted sleep and for the first time since you can’t remember when you don’t dream of Pablo Escobar.

[christopherisfoive]

Cold Burn (Chapter 4)

!idol reader x Seungmin; enemies to lovers

Word Count: (It literally won't let me move it from here lol)

Note: I wrote this super late last night and tried to edit my best but sorry if there are any mistakes, going back to drafting on docs because tumblr hates me. It has been a long week. Thank you for reading, I appreciate it <3 (it will eventually make sense i promise)

Masterlist

The city was alive with the midday rush, bustling streets and flashing signs lining every corner. It should’ve felt freeing after being cooped up in venues and hotels for the past few weeks, but even with the fresh air, I still felt off.

I adjusted my mask, letting my hood cast a shadow over my face as I followed behind my group.

It was supposed to be a day off.

But my mind was still playing back every mistake I’d made on stage during the tour.

I should have been enjoying this break. But instead, I was still holding onto every mistake, every moment that made me feel like I was losing control.

And then, like perfectly timed chaos, I heard it—the sound of cameras clicking.

Whispers turned into excited calls.

I instinctively pulled my hood lower, keeping my face neutral as the others started interacting.

A group of fans and paparazzi had spotted us, and before I could even process it, they were already approaching fast.

"Oh my god, it’s Stray Kids and Stellar!" one girl squealed, phone already out.

The energy shifted immediately.

Han, Hyunjin, and Leah engaged easily, smiling and waving. Bang Chan answered a few quick questions, even as security started stepping in to maintain a barrier.

Then came the actual questions.

"Y/N! Can you talk about your solo stage? People said it didn’t seem like your usual energy!"

"Is it true you don’t like performing live?"

"Are you okay? You seemed out of sync in the last show!"

I ignored them.

I always ignored them.

Instead, I kept walking, keeping my gaze forward, shoulders tense under my hoodie.

That was all it took to shift the crowd’s mood.

People started stepping in front of me, blocking my path, shoving phones and cameras in my direction.

The excitement turned to pushy persistence.

"Why won’t you say anything?"

"Y/N, just one word for your fans?"

I clenched my jaw and sidestepped them, but it was too late.

Someone moved in too close.

Before I could react, a fan—a girl, maybe late teens, wearing a hoodie with our group’s name on it—stepped right into my space.

"Why do you always ignore us?" Her voice was sharp, demanding.

I took a step back, my pulse spiking. Too close. Way too close.

She didn't stop. "Other idols talk to their fans. What’s your problem?"

Before I could respond—before I could even process how uncomfortable I felt—she lifted her phone closer to my face, snapping a photo at point-blank range.

I barely kept my composure, my breath hitching as I turned away sharply.

Security finally stepped in, blocking her as one of our managers started ushering us forward.

But the damage was already done.

I could already hear the murmurs.

"What’s wrong with her?"

"So rude."

"Seungmin would never act like that."

And of course—there he was.

I glanced up just in time to see him smiling effortlessly, answering questions, personally greeting every fan that came up to him.

Easy. Natural. Everything I wasn’t.

I could already feel his judgment from across the crowd.

To him, I probably looked like the worst kind of idol.

What he didn’t know was that I had my reasons.

And I wasn’t about to explain myself to him.

The second we finally got away from the crowd, I could feel the weight of the encounter still pressing on my chest. My steps were quick, my head down, but I could still hear the lingering whispers, the judgment heavy in the air.

I wasn’t sure if it was my own overthinking or if they were actually talking about me, but it didn’t matter.

The damage was already done.

As we turned the corner onto a quieter street, I felt someone fall into step beside me.

I didn’t need to look to know who it was.

"You could at least pretend to care."

I exhaled sharply, barely sparing Seungmin a glance before looking ahead again. "Not in the mood, Seungmin."

"Oh, I know," he said, voice casual but laced with something sharp. "You’re never in the mood, right?"

I clenched my jaw. "Drop it."

But of course, he didn’t.

"Seriously, what’s your deal?" He scoffed. "You act like it’s such a burden to interact with people who support you. The rest of us can handle it just fine. Why is it so hard for you?"

That did it.

I stopped walking, turning to him with narrowed eyes. "You have no idea what you’re talking about."

Seungmin raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest. "Don’t I?"

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. "Not everything is as easy as you make it seem, Seungmin."

"No," he agreed, "but being decent to the people who made your career possible isn’t that hard."

The words hit me harder than I expected.

I had spent years learning how to brush off the criticism, how to let things roll off my back.

But for some reason, hearing it from him—someone who already thought the worst of me—made my blood boil.

I stepped closer, lowering my voice. "You don’t get to judge me."

"Then give me a reason not to."

The challenge was clear in his expression, in the way he refused to look away first.

I had so much I wanted to say.

But I knew it wouldn’t matter.

Not yet.

So instead, I just exhaled sharply and turned away, continuing forward.

"That’s what I thought," Seungmin muttered behind me, before falling back into step with the others.

I didn’t look back.

But the anger sat heavy in my chest, burning quietly.

-

The hotel lobby was quiet, save for the occasional footsteps of staff moving around and the faint sound of music playing from the lounge area. Most of the others had already gone up to their rooms or found their own ways to unwind after the long day.

I had planned to do the same.

Instead, I found myself sitting in the corner of the lobby, scrolling through my phone, letting the harsh glow of the screen burn into my eyes.

I knew I should’ve put it away.

I knew I shouldn’t have been reading any of this.

But my fingers kept moving, my screen lighting up with headlines, forum posts, and brutal opinions dissecting everything about me.

"Y/N is proof that visuals matter more than talent in the industry."

"Best 4th Gen Dancer my ass."

"She’s not even the best in her group—why does she get so much attention?"

"I heard she got her spot because of connections, not skill. Makes sense why she’s so stiff on stage."

"You really think she made it this far just by ‘working hard’? LMAO, be serious."

My stomach twisted, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

The accusations weren’t new—I had heard whispers like this for years. But somehow, seeing it laid out so blatantly, with thousands of likes and shares, made it feel heavier.

Worse.

Like no matter what I did, no matter how much effort I put in, there were still people who would never respect me.

I barely noticed when someone sat down in the chair across from me, but I did feel the weight of their stare.

"You still look at that stuff?"

I flinched slightly, my thumb freezing mid-scroll.

I glanced up to see Jeongin, leaning back in the chair across from me, arms crossed.

I quickly locked my phone, shoving it onto the table. "It’s nothing."

"Didn’t look like nothing."

His voice wasn’t accusing, just matter-of-fact.

I sighed, running a hand over my face. "Just people talking. Same as always."

Jeongin didn’t respond right away. He just sat there, watching me like he was waiting for me to be honest.

After a beat, he exhaled, shaking his head. "You know none of that’s real, right?"

I let out a small, dry laugh. "Yeah, sure."

Jeongin frowned, his usual playfulness gone. "Y/N."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, but my chest felt tight.

I didn’t want to talk about this. Not now.

So I shrugged. "It’s fine. Doesn’t matter."

Jeongin studied me for a second longer before pushing off the chair, leaning forward to grab my phone.

Without asking, he flipped it face-down on the table.

"Then stop looking."

His tone was soft but firm. A simple statement, not a suggestion.

I swallowed, my fingers twitching slightly.

Jeongin sighed, his expression less teasing than usual, more serious. "Don’t let them win, Y/N."

And with that, he stood up, walking off toward the elevators.

I sat there for a moment, staring at my phone, my reflection faint in the dark screen.

I should’ve let it go.

But the words were still burned into my mind.

And I wasn’t sure if I knew how.

-

The burn in my throat started a few nights ago. Subtle at first, just a scratch that I figured would go away with enough water and rest.

Except, there was no rest.

Not when we were on back-to-back schedules, traveling city to city, rehearsing between shows, barely enough time to breathe, let alone recover.

I pushed through like always.

Now, standing in the middle of the rehearsal room, sweat clinging to my skin, I felt off.

The usual ache from training felt heavier today, my limbs sluggish, my breath coming shorter than it should have.

I rolled my shoulders back, ignoring the way my vision blurred for half a second.

I was fine.

Across the room, Jeongin watched me.

I caught the way his brows furrowed slightly, the way his gaze lingered as I moved through the choreography.

I knew that look.

I ignored it.

"Let’s go again," Chan called out, already stepping forward to reset the formation.

I exhaled sharply, steadying my stance, locking my body into position as the music cued up again.

But the moment I took my first step, I felt it.

The slight dip in my balance, the way my head felt lighter than it should have.

I corrected it immediately, moving into the next beat as if nothing had happened.

But Jeongin saw.

And so did Seungmin.

I felt his gaze before I even turned his way, a glance quick enough to catch the way his expression flickered—something almost unreadable flashing across his face.

For once, he didn’t say anything.

I wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the room or my own body turning against me, but every time we restarted the routine, my chest felt tighter.

I took a deep breath, forcing air into my lungs, willing my body to cooperate.

I couldn’t stop now.

Not when I had spent the last few weeks feeling like I was slipping. Not when people were already questioning whether I deserved to be here.

I needed them to see me succeed.

So I kept going.

Even when my legs felt heavier than they should have.

Even when my head felt like it was filled with static.

Even when I knew—knew—I was moving on sheer willpower alone.

I felt the weight of Jeongin’s stare first.

He wasn’t even being subtle about it anymore—I could see him watching between reps, his usual easy-going expression replaced with something more cautious.

But he didn’t say anything.

Neither did Seungmin.

I caught his gaze in the mirror, just for a second.

He was standing off to the side, arms crossed, eyes narrowed just slightly.

For once, there was no smirk. No sharp remarks.

Just quiet observation.

I ignored them both.

I had to.

The music started again, the pounding bass vibrating through my body, rattling in my chest.

I moved on instinct, letting my muscle memory carry me through—each step, each transition, each sharp hit of the beat.

But something was off.

I felt it before I saw it.

The moment my foot landed wrong, I knew. The angle was off, the weight uneven. My body moved a fraction of a second behind my mind, and suddenly—

I was out of sync.

Just for half a beat.

But in this world, half a beat was everything.

I immediately corrected, snapping into place, but the mistake had already happened. I could feel the eyes on me.

Someone spoke. "Y/N, what was that?"

I blinked, chest rising and falling faster than it should’ve been.

My mind scrambled for a response, but the words weren’t there.

I wasn’t fully there.

"I—" My voice sounded strange, distant, like it belonged to someone else.

Across from me, Ari’s gaze sharpened.

She saw it.

But she didn’t get the chance to say anything.

I sucked in a breath, forcing my posture straight, willing my body to hold itself together.

"Let’s go again," I said quickly, pretending nothing happened.

I needed to shake this off.

I needed them to see me succeed.

Even if my body had other plans.

The music thundered through the speakers, vibrating through the stage beneath my feet.

I kept moving. Kept pushing.

Every step felt heavier, like my limbs were fighting against me. My skin was damp with sweat, but I felt cold.

It was getting harder to breathe.

The stage lights burned hot, casting everything in a hazy glow. The air felt thick, each inhale tighter than the last.

And then—

The misstep.

The dizziness.

The moment my body finally gave out beneath me.

The floor rushed toward me, the sharp gasp of someone nearby cutting through the ringing in my ears.

The music stopped.

Someone called my name.

I barely heard them before everything faded to black.

The moment my body hit the stage, everything exploded into chaos.

The music cut off instantly.

Footsteps—rushed, frantic—pounded against the stage floor as voices overlapped in panic.

"Y/N!"

"Someone get the staff!"

I felt hands on me—someone kneeling beside me, another hand brushing my hair back, the fabric of my sweat-soaked clothes sticking to my skin.

I was aware of it all, but everything felt distant. Like I was watching it happen from the outside, my limbs too heavy to respond.

"Is she breathing okay?" Ari’s voice was the sharpest, her usual calm cracked with pure fear.

"She’s burning up," Leah’s voice trembled. "We need to get her offstage—now."

Someone lifted me slightly, supporting my upper body. The movement made my stomach turn, a weak groan escaping before I could stop it.

"She’s conscious," Jeongin said quickly, relief barely masking the tension in his voice.

A shaky breath. My lips parted, but no words came out.

Through the haze, I caught a glimpse of Seungmin standing a few steps away.

Frozen.

For the first time since this tour started, he looked…unsure. His usual sharp eyes were wide, his lips pressed into a thin line as if he wasn’t sure what to say.

But I couldn’t focus on him.

Because my head was spinning, my skin was on fire, and the weight of every mistake, every moment I ignored my body’s warning signs, had finally come crashing down.

And now?

I wasn’t in control anymore.

The coolness of the backstage area barely helped with the heat radiating off my skin.

I felt cold and hot at the same time, my limbs too heavy, my breathing uneven.

Voices blurred together.

"Her temperature is high."

"She needs fluids—has she eaten today?"

"She’s completely burned out."

I tried to speak to tell them I was fine, but my throat felt raw. The most I could manage was a weak, halfhearted shake of my head.

"Don’t try to talk," Ari’s voice was there, close, softer than before. "They’re just checking your vitals."

I swallowed, eyes flickering open.

The faces above me were blurry, shifting in and out of focus. A few staff members kneeled beside me, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, speaking in hushed tones.

Ari, Leah, Jeongin, and Lee Know were still there.

Lee Know stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the scene with an unreadable expression.

I tried to sit up, but the second I moved, my head spun.

A sharp inhale.

Lee Know was faster than Ari this time, pressing a hand to my shoulder and easily keeping me down.

"Not happening," he muttered. "Just rest, okay?"

Leah crossed her arms, clearly annoyed. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

I didn’t answer.

Because I knew the truth would only piss them off more.

Before I could gather enough strength to argue, the managers arrived.

Their voices were firm, no room for negotiation.

"She’s not performing tonight."

The words hit like a slap, and suddenly, the heaviness in my body wasn’t just from being sick.

I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the pounding in my head as I looked between them. "No. I can still do it."

"Y/N," Leah warned, eyes flashing with frustration.

But I wasn’t listening.

I turned to the managers again, pushing past the ache in my limbs. "I’ll be fine by showtime. I just need—"

"You just collapsed on stage," Ari cut in, arms crossed. "There’s no debate. You’re sitting this one out."

No.

No, no, no.

I had spent weeks proving myself, clawing my way through every performance, every mistake, every doubt.

I wasn’t losing my spot now.

"I can do this," I tried again, my voice hoarse. "I just—"

"Oh!" A voice interrupted, and I didn’t have to look to know who it belonged to.

Mira.

She strolled into view, faux concern plastered all over her face, hands clasped in front of her. "If she can’t go on, I can step in."

The air shifted.

For a split second, nobody spoke.

Then, one of the managers nodded. "That could work. You already know the choreo."

My stomach twisted violently.

Mira turned to me, her smile oh-so sweet, but her eyes telling an entirely different story.

"Don’t worry, Y/N. I’ll take good care of your part."

I felt numb.

The room was still spinning, but the real sickness sat in my chest.

I should have fought back. I should have said something.

But the moment Mira tilted her head, smiling like she had won, everything inside me just… shut off.

I went blank.

Ari’s head snapped toward Mira, eyes narrowing. "You’re really volunteering that fast, huh?"

Mira turned to her, expression perfectly innocent. "What do you mean? Someone has to do it."

Ari’s lips pressed together, but she didn’t buy it. I could see the irritation tighten her jaw, the way her hands fisted at her sides.

She wasn’t the only one.

Lee Know, who had been mostly quiet until now, finally spoke.

"You sure you can handle it?" His voice was flat, unreadable, but there was something pointed underneath.

Mira smiled wider. "I mean, it’s not that complicated, right?"

Ari let out a sharp breath, like she was physically stopping herself from saying something she’d regret.

Lee Know just stared at Mira for a long moment.

Then, slowly, he turned to me.

"Y/N."

I blinked, but I couldn’t force words out.

What was I supposed to say?

Mira had already taken my spot.

Nothing I said would change it now.

So I just looked away.

-

The moment Mira stepped away from me, I could already hear her faking concern as she walked over to the others.

"Guys, change of plans," she said, voice just loud enough for me to hear from where I sat. "Y/N isn’t performing tonight, so I’ll be taking her place."

The reaction was immediate.

Kat’s face twisted in confusion. "Wait, what? Since when?"

Mira sighed dramatically, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Since about five minutes ago," she said. "The managers agreed, and I already know the choreo, so it just makes sense."

Hyunjin’s eyes flickered toward me, his concern obvious. "And Y/N’s okay with this?"

Mira didn’t even hesitate. "Well, she didn’t argue."

Ari scoffed. "Yeah, because she’s half-conscious."

The room tensed.

Mira only shrugged, smiling just a little. "Either way, we should start getting ready."

Lee Know, who had been watching the whole thing in silence, finally spoke. "Just don’t mess it up." His tone was neutral, but his expression wasn’t.

Mira’s smile didn’t falter. "Oh, don’t worry. I’ve got this."

And with that, she turned away, ready to steal the show.

I barely registered the conversation.

I barely felt anything at all.

Because the second they all turned away, the second I was left sitting backstage, my chest tightened in a way I couldn’t control.

I blinked up at the ceiling, forcing back the burning in my throat.

I had lost my spot.

After everything I had fought for—**after every moment I forced myself to push through, to prove I was worth something—**I was still replaceable.

And the worst part?

Mira was making sure I knew it.

My hands curled into fists, nails pressing into my palms. I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the feeling of failure from swallowing me whole.

I had fought so hard.

And it still wasn’t enough.

-

By the time the show started, I was watching from the wings, still too weak to stand on my own.

The lights hit the stage, the energy buzzing through the arena as Stellar performed without me.

And then, it happened.

Mira did my move.

Not just any move—my signature move. The one I had created, the one I had made my own.

The audience cheered like nothing was wrong.

Mira beamed.

And I?

I felt sick for a whole new reason.

The energy backstage was still buzzing, staff members congratulating each other, the usual post-show adrenaline filling the space.

But I wasn’t part of it.

I sat off to the side, still too weak to stand properly, watching as everyone came back from the stage.

And Mira?

She made a beeline toward me.

She tilted her head, still in full makeup and costume, wiping sweat off her brow like she had just saved the whole show.

And then she smiled.

"That was fun," she said sweetly. "I mean, I wouldn’t want to replace you permanently or anything, but… I did fit in pretty well, don’t you think?"

She let the words sink in, let them cut.

Then, with a final smirk, she turned and walked off.

And I sat there, feeling like I had lost everything.

I needed to get out of here.

The post-show energy, the voices, the flashing lights from the screens playing encore footage—it was too much.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the way my legs wobbled beneath me.

Leah and Ari noticed immediately, their heads snapping in my direction, but I didn’t give them time to stop me.

I kept my head down and moved, weaving past staff and dancers, making my way toward the private restroom backstage.

My hands were trembling by the time I pushed the door open.

The second it closed behind me, the weight I had been holding in collapsed all at once.

I braced myself against the sink, sucking in sharp, uneven breaths.

Everything hit me at once.

The exhaustion.

The humiliation.

The sharp, suffocating feeling of being replaced so easily.

A ragged breath tore from my throat, and I gripped the edges of the sink, my vision blurring as my chest heaved.

I couldn’t do this.

I couldn’t—

A soft knock at the door made me freeze.

My stomach twisted.

For a second, I thought it was Leah or Ari coming to check on me.

But then—

"Y/N."

I went rigid.

Because that wasn’t Leah.

Or Ari.

Or anyone I would’ve expected.

It was Seungmin.

I gripped the sink harder, willing my breaths to even out, willing myself to stay silent.

Maybe if I didn’t answer, he’d take the hint and leave.

Seconds passed.

Then—

"I know you’re in there."

His voice was calm. Not sharp, not teasing—just even.

I clenched my jaw, staring at my reflection in the mirror. Red-rimmed eyes. Flushed skin. The complete opposite of the image I was supposed to keep up.

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

Silence.

Maybe he’d take that as an answer.

Then he spoke again.

"So that’s it?" A slight shift in his tone, like he was testing the waters. "You’re just gonna sit in there and pretend nothing happened?"

My fingers twitched against the cool porcelain.

That’s exactly what I was going to do.

Pretend this wasn’t happening.

Pretend I wasn’t falling apart.

Another pause.

Then, softer this time—"You don’t have to pretend with me."

Something in my chest tensed.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the sink even harder.

Why was he still standing there?

And more importantly—why did it sound like he actually meant that?

A long beat of silence stretched between us.

I refused to move. Refused to speak.

But Seungmin wasn’t leaving.

Instead, he let out a slow exhale, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, less guarded.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

Something in me flinched.

His tone wasn’t mocking, wasn’t sharp—just honest. And that somehow made it worse.

He shifted outside the door, and I could almost picture him standing there, arms crossed, debating what to say next.

"All this time, you’ve acted like nothing gets to you. Like you don’t care what people say." A pause. "But you do, don’t you?"

I sucked in a quiet breath, my grip on the sink tightening.

"You care too much."

Another pause.

Then—"That’s why you don’t fight back."

My stomach twisted.

Because I hated how close to the truth that was.

I stared down at my reflection on the floor, my own exhausted eyes staring back at me.

And still, I didn’t say a word.

Seungmin shifted again, like he was about to say more—then stopped himself.

A beat of silence.

Then, his voice dropped to almost a murmur.

"You know, you’re not the only one who’s ever felt like this."

I blinked.

My breath hitched just slightly, but I caught it before it could be heard.

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say, but… not that.

Something in his voice was different now.

Less sharp.

Less detached.

More like he actually… understood.

I swallowed, my chest tightening with something I couldn’t place.

And yet—I still said nothing.

I heard him shift once more, but this time, he hesitated.

Then, after one last pause—I heard footsteps.

He was leaving.

But somehow, it didn’t feel like an ending.

It felt like the beginning of something I wasn’t ready to face.

The room was quiet again.

No more footsteps.

No more words.

Just me.

I stayed where I was, back pressed against the cool tiles, knees pulled up to my chest.

My breathing had finally evened out, but my mind was far from calm.

Seungmin’s voice still echoed in my head.

"You know… I thought you were stronger than this."

"That’s why you don’t fight back."

"You care too much."

I wanted to ignore it. Pretend like none of this happened.

But I couldn’t.

Because somehow, for the first time since this tour started, Seungmin didn’t sound like my enemy.

And that thought alone terrified me.

I exhaled, pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, just thinking.

Minutes passed—maybe longer.

Eventually, my legs felt steady enough to move.

I pushed myself up, straightened my hoodie, and finally unlocked the door.

The hallway was empty now.

No one waiting.

No one lingering.

And yet, as I stepped out, the weight of what just happened still clung to me.

The venue had mostly cleared out by now—staff moving equipment, dancers heading back to their dressing rooms, the energy finally settling after the chaos of the night.

Seungmin was off to the side, stretching out his shoulders, his expression unreadable.

Jeongin had been watching him for a while.

And he was done staying quiet.

He stepped up beside him, arms crossed. "I know what you’re doing."

Seungmin barely glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

Jeongin let out a sharp exhale through his nose, shaking his head. "You and Mira. You’ve been messing with her this whole time."

That got Seungmin’s attention.

His expression barely shifted, but Jeongin knew him too well to miss the way his jaw tensed.

Still, he played it cool. "You sound paranoid."

Jeongin huffed, not buying it for a second.

"You think I didn’t notice?" He tilted his head. "The mic feedback. The ‘accidental’ positioning mistakes. Mira shifting in formations just enough to throw Y/N off. You might think you're being slick, but I see it."

Seungmin’s hands curled into loose fists.

But Jeongin wasn’t finished.

"And tonight?" His voice lowered. "You let Mira take her spot. You watched her steal Y/N’s move. And you didn’t say a thing."

Seungmin’s eyes flickered, but he kept his face carefully blank.

Jeongin took a step closer. "Tell me this, hyung." His voice hardened. "At what point does it stop being funny?"

Silence.

For a moment, Seungmin didn’t respond.

Then—"It was never funny."

Jeongin’s brows furrowed. "Then why?"

Seungmin exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, but he didn’t answer.

Because maybe—for the first time since this started—he wasn’t sure anymore.

Why had he gone along with Mira’s games?

At first, it was easy. It was just harmless frustration, just a way to get under Y/N’s skin—because she annoyed him, right?

That’s what he told himself.

But now?

After seeing her collapse on stage, after watching her lose everything she worked for while Mira stole her place without hesitation?

It didn’t feel like a game anymore.

And suddenly, he wasn’t so sure who the real problem was.

Taglist: @victoriaaf @mirophobic @minhosprettywife @peskybirdysya @littlewolfieposts

[midnightshindig]

That Cecil’s kid one was amazing! Could we get a version where Cecil was unfortunately too busy with work to be there for his kid? Maybe they grow up to resent him a little and eventually secretly end up working with the Mauler Twins, Angstrom, etc (maybe even Viltrumites if you’re willing), for their own personal gain, or what ever reasons you see fit? Take your time! Sorry in advance for this request being kinda long :)

Cecil & Villain!Child!Reader

Oh my god i've been wanting to do this request for so long!! Thank you for submitting it!

hcs under the cut

Your mother died young, being a superhero did that.

You never hated her for it, for protecting others and for doing her best

but you couldn't help but resent her a little for who your father was

or rather, who he wasn't

Father was a generous term for what Cecil was. He was a lot of things

Head of the GDA, most powerful non-powered civilian on Earth, a badass ex spy and a great diplomat and genius

but he was NOT a father

you both knew it.

You barely knew the guy, being raised by a nanny specifically for superpowered children like yourself

You saw him occasionally at dinner, but that was maybe once a month.

He, for safety reasons, didn't want the world to know the two of you were related

so naturally, when you had a big baseball game, or your schools talent show cropped up, or even when you landed a main role in your senior play, he "couldn't" attend

Oh sure, it was taped and streamed to him, but you knew he never watched.

So was it really any surprise when you weren't jazzed about becoming a superhero?

When, throughout your final year of high school and the two years after, you befriend the Mauler Twins?

Even supervillains are allowed pen pals in prison, and they made such compelling ones for you to correspond with

It was a fun guessing game as to which twin had written what, and over the course of three years, the three of you had become something akin to friends

They gave you advice on what your major should be, how to handle the stress of college, and shared anecdotes from their own lives

It was hard to imagine them as normal people once, but they made a convincing story

You knew it was likely supervillain manipulation, but they seemed interested in your life, I mean, its not like they had tv

So you would detail your day-to-day life, sharing your frustrations with Cecil and the GDA as a whole

"What an asshole." the three of your would agree

Maybe you three could work together? It was an idea brought up frequently.

So honestly, you weren't really all that surprised when they showed up at your house after getting broke out of prison

Your powers were marginally useful, the ability to phase through walls and be invisible.

It was USEFUL, but not terribly flashy.

Either way, it made stealing things with them incredibly easy.

Cecil didn't notice when you stopped coming home

god knows he was never there

he did notice, however, when the Declaration of Independence went missing

and when GDA specialty supplies went missing

and when the schematics for all sorts of government wherewithal went missing.

"Donald- what the FUCK is going on?!" Cecil demanded, watching the surveillance streams

"Uh- Sir, you need to see this-" The feed was cut and changed to the news

The Mauler twins, business as usual. Whatever.

But-

"OH my god- Y/n?" Cecil put a hand to his head, pacing back and forth

He thought you'd moved out- maybe with roommates or a partner or something- but this?

Oh fuck....

Cecil teleported to the scene, the Mauler Twins and you attempting to break into the White House once more.

"Y/n! Get over here!" Cecil called out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice

you ignored him.

The Guardians of the Globe arrived

and realistically there wasn't a way they could tell them "oh leave that one alone its my offspring."

And so, as all good things go, your villainous spree ended with you in GDA's supervillain prison.

"Why? I want to know why." Cecil sat across from you with his hands folded

"God- what do you care?" you spat back, your hands cuffed and an anti-power collar around your neck

"Because, Y/n, you're my child and I care about you. At the very least I don't want you in prison."

"You didn't even know I had powers."

"Of course I did!"

"You knew I could phase through walls, but being invisible? I've read the files, Mom couldn't do that. And you had no idea I could."

Cecil sat in silence for a minute. Processing.

"Is that what this is, Y/n? Rebellion?"

You shook your head, rolling your eyes "Of course, everything I do is to appease or piss off a guy I don't even know."

"I'm your father, Y/n."

"Fuck off." your glare was cutting, and the tone in your voice oozed venom with every syllable.

"The Mauler Twins helped me enroll in community classes, they gave me advice about being an adult and how the world works. They listened and were happy for me when I graduated. They sent me a shitty graduation card with the supplies you give them in prison. To be clear- these guys were in prison and they showed up more than you did."

Cecil literally couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Y/n, you're only eighteen, you need to rethink thi-"

"I'm twenty."

Cecil blinked, standing up and going to the door, speaking with Donald through the door before returning

"Twenty.... wow...."

You leveled another glare at him "Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun." your tone was sarcastic, and your disdain apparent.

"Look. I'm sorry for being a bad father, but you're a criminal."

"So? Lock me up, throw away the key. Just fuck out of my life, you were doing so good until now."

Cecil let out a long, drawn out sigh. Feeling twenty years of disappointment in a single moment "Y/n, I know I never took the time to know you, but know this. I don't waste potential."

...

"Go fuck yourself, Cecil."

Bonus!:

The Mauler Twins are being interrogated for their involvement with you

they don't usually take accomplices, so the GDA wanted to know why

instead all they got were violent outburst about your location

"Where is Y/n?! They are INNOCENT damnit! My Clone will agree-!"

"I'm not the clone. But as the ORIGINAL, I demand to know where Y/n is and that they are safe!"

The twins are assured of your safety, but do not calm down until surveillance footage of you and Cecil's interrogation is shown to them

This puts them at ease, as they continue to testify to your innocence.

The GDA has never seen them so concerned about anyone other than themselves

"We will gladly serve our time- god knows we will always find a way out- but Y/n is innocent, release them this instant!"

[demon-at-peace]

DP + DC streamer Sam/Val

seen and a bunch of posts/fics with a streamer Danny or Tucker, but Sam and Val, (it is my new fav ship), anyhow so it's this Gotham girl who is like shouting about eco friendly stuff, rants about endangered animals. And then her buff girlfriend, who goes to protests with her and is smitten. and literally punched a dude who hit on her.

They go viral, cause the internet loves stuff like this, so they get partnerships with a ton of businesses with organic/vegan/eco friendly products. Sam is so enthusiastic, and Val is too, and they go viral again. So Wayne Enterprises reaches out eventually, to promote something.

And who do they talk with? their tech people, aka Tucker and Danny. it's Tim who reaches out (idf about reality) and like they get into a chat, and figure it out. Anyhow they do promote it, but Sam may be very into ecology stuff, but she ain't a tech girl, so she calls Danny and tucker.

The video goes viral, not for the tech, but for Danny and Tucker, the whole internet thinks they are a couple, and goes crazy. Danny posts on TikTok (he mainly posts ghost memes) saying "ew gross that's my bro, like sure i'm gay, that's obvious, I mean look at me, but that's my bro!" Tucker on his does the same thing, (he posts tech blogs). The internet proceeds to ignore them.

Tim's first thought when he sees them, is holy shit the tech dudes I talked to are so hot. He may or may not blush, cause okay fine, he's into fit buff dudes. But they are a couple and he's a CEO and it doesn't matter. Till he sees Tucker's/Danny's video, and is like ok so I do have a chance. But he's a CEO so never mind.

a couple months after this, a hacker (Tim is convinced it's like 5) pops up. They are going for the JL servers. Tim and Oracle as a team effort spent days tracing it back. And it's Danny & Tucker, Tim reaches out to them and is received with, "is Oracle one person, my friend swears she is, but I don't think so?" And Tim is just flabbergasted.

So he answers and tells them to stop hacking the servers, they do, but he ends up stalking them. And interacting with them under disguise, somehow they can tell, and pull him aside after a couple days, and are like, "why are you here? your a CEO, don't you have a company to run."

Tim blurts out for all his stupidity "I had a crush on you, from the video, and your hot and tech dudes" (with guilty smile and Robin level acting) , well okay it isn't a lie but such a stupid cover. Tim almost has a metal breakdown, cause now they think he's a stalker, ect.

Neither of them think that, cause he's way more polite than Vlad, and Tucker is so used Danny's ghost stuff it's hardly weird.

Idk the rest or know the ship, like it could be poly or Tim/Tuck, or Tim/Danny, who cares?

also I wrote this with a fever, so don't judge me, though it's back down to 101 °F , like yay!! hate colds tho,