#because you can love someone and not wanting to be with them

[stylesispunk]

"I only see daylight"

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: What is waiting for you after life ends? Joel woke up to a life he had spent missing this whole time. You are there, Sarah is there, and a baby too. w.c: 1,7k (tiny baby) warnings: mentions of blood, crying, and mentions of an afterlife. I don't know if you believe in that but I like to think about it.

a/n: I don't know if you could consider this a fix-it fic, but I hope you do because I love this little idea I had the other day. I know it's short, but I have requests to work in and more "Blind faith" chapters to work in. Happy reading. Please remember to reblog and comment. I appreciate them very much.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

“Joel…Can I ask you something?” Ellie asked, clearing her throat.

He kept his eyes on the road ahead of them but gave a small nod. “Shoot.”

“Did you… I mean, before all this. Did you ever… you know. Love someone? Like, for real?”

Joel’s grip on his backpack tightened. For a moment, he wasn’t walking on that road anymore. He was somewhere else. Back when he was younger, with his baby girl in his arms and a woman’s laugh in his ears.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Yeah, I did.”

Ellie looked over at him, surprised by the weight in his voice.

“Who was she?”

He hesitated, then let out a breath. “Her name was… well, she came into my life the day Sarah was born. Her mother… she didn’t stick around. But she did. God, she did. Never asked for anything. Just… showed up with a smile and a cup of hospital coffee. Held Sarah like she was her own. She was her mother and she was my wife.”

Joel smiled faintly, a ghost of a smile. “We were together for years. Raised Sarah, built a life in Austin. Didn’t even get around to getting’ married. World ended a month before that.”

Ellie was quiet, watching him. “What happened to her?”

Joel’s eyes clouded. “The outbreak happened.”

He didn’t say more. He didn’t have to.

He still couldn’t say out loud how you died on his arms two days after Sarah.

How the smell of fresh coffee that filled the kitchen at home became the smell of blood sticking on his hands while he tried to keep you alive.

The snow fell fiercely outside the lodge. Joel’s breath ragged and shallow.

He couldn’t take the pain anymore. He couldn’t survive another punch against his face. He was dying.

He could barely see Ellie, screaming some feet away from him. Pleading.

“Joel, please get up.” “Joel, please” she choked.

Oh, his baby girl. He wanted to swallow all the pain, but his broken bones and body could barely bear the pain.

One push, one try. But something sharp on his neck stole his lasts breaths away.

His vision blurred. The world dimmed. In those mere last moments, last seconds. He saw them.

Ellie crawling to him.

But he also saw you. Beautiful as ever, eyes wet, reaching for him.

And Sarah just as she was that night in Austin, her smile breaking his heart.

Joel tried to speak, but no words came.

A tear slipped from the corner of his eye.

Then, nothing.

All went black.

For a moment, or perhaps forever, there was nothing. No pain. No cold. No Ellie’s voice calling his name. Just silence.

The soft chirping of morning birds. The faint hum of a ceiling fan. And the distant smell of fresh coffee.

Joel’s eyes fluttered open.

His breathing was steady, his body didn’t hurt. No blood. No searing pain in his ribs. No snow or cracked lodge ceiling above him.

Instead, a familiar ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, and pale morning light streamed through the curtains of his room.

At home, in Austin.

He sat up abruptly, a cold sweat clinging to his skin.

The bed side next to him was made, your side, neatly tucked like you always did. A glass of water sat untouched on your nightstand. The clock on the wall read 7:14 AM. The same perfume he had never got to forget lingered on your pillow, soft and warm, and so goddamn real Joel felt his chest tighten.

His hand shot up to his face — searching for cuts, bruises, something. But there was nothing. His hair was damp with sweat, but his fingers came away clean.

He swallowed hard, heart thudding in his ears.

What the hell was this?

Joel swung his legs over the side of the bed, bare feet pressing against cool wooden floors. He could hear movement in the kitchen, the gentle clink of a spoon against a mug, the scrape of a chair.

His throat closed up.

It was you, your laugh echoing through the house.

Soft. Carefree. Real.

And for a moment, he was terrified to move, terrified that if he stood and crossed that room, it would disappear — like every other goddamn thing in his life had.

But the pull was too strong.

Joel pushed open the bedroom door.

The house was just as he remembered it. The old photographs lining the hallway. Sarah’s soccer trophies. The faded denim jacket slung over the back of a chair. Everything untouched by fire, or blood, or the passage of time.

And then, there you were.

Standing in the kitchen, back to him, pouring coffee into two mugs. One of them — his old favorite. The one with the chipped rim.

You turned as if you felt his eyes on you.

That same smile. That same light in your eyes.

“Morning, stranger,” you teased, unaware of the storm brewing in his chest.

Joel couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

He crossed the room in three long strides and pulled you into him, arms wrapping around your waist so tight it made you laugh, the mug nearly slipping from your hand.

“Whoa! Easy, cowboy,” you chuckled against his shoulder. “Bad dream?”

His hand cradled the back of your head, burying his face in your hair, drinking in your scent, the warmth of your body.

“I… I don’t know,” he rasped, voice thick.

“Hey,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look at him. “I’ve been right here, Joel. I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you kissed him , soft, steady, grounding, it felt like everything broken inside him finally came home.

He kept his forehead pressed to yours for a beat longer, eyes shut, breathing you in like a man starved. But then, something shifted. His hand, still resting against your waist, slid down — and froze.

A gentle curve. A fullness where there hadn’t been one before.

Joel’s brow furrowed, his eyes snapping open. He pulled back just enough to look down, and there it was.

Your belly, round and unmistakably swollen beneath the soft fabric of your, his worn t-shirt. His mouth parted, but no sound came out.

You followed his gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. “Hey,” you murmured, resting your hand over his. “Don’t look so spooked.”

Joel swallowed hard, eyes flicking from your face to your stomach, then back again. His heart thundered in his chest, a thousand questions fighting for room.

And then you said it, soft and calm, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Ellie is right inside here.”

Joel’s breath caught.

That name.

Ellie.

The word carved through him like a lightning strike. His mind, already fragile, started to crack along the seams. He stared at you, at the tender way your hand cradled your belly, at the glow in your eyes, like this had always been your life.

“Ellie?” he croaked, his voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, brushing a thumb along his jaw. “Yeah?” you nodded, looking a bit worry because of his state. “Remember doctor says she’s stubborn already.” You chuckled, your eyes shimmering with a mix of joy and mischief. “Wonder where she gets that from.”

Joel staggered back a half-step, running a trembling hand through his hair. The room spun. A wave of warmth and memory and heartbreak crashing into him all at once.

He remembered Ellie. How couldn’t he? He remembered snow and blood and a lodge floor.

But here, here she wasn’t a girl with a mouthful of trouble. She was…

His and yours.

For real.

A future that had never existed. A life stolen from him, given back in pieces.

Joel’s vision blurred. His knees buckled slightly, and you caught his arm.

“Joel,” you whispered, concern flashing across your face. “Hey — hey, it’s okay. Breathe, baby. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

He clung to you like a man drowning.

Joel clung to you like a man drowning, his face buried in the curve of your neck, your hand stroking the back of his head, steady and familiar. You felt his breath hitch, the tremble in his arms. Whatever nightmare had clawed at him, it was still lingering in his bones.

Then, he heard the footsteps.

Light, quick steps padding down the hallway. The soft creak of the floorboard outside the room.

“Dad?” a young voice called.

Joel stiffened. His head jerked up.

And there she was.

Sarah.

Alive. Whole.

Framed by the doorway in her faded hoodie and denim shorts, backpack slung over one shoulder, a little messy ponytail, like she always rushed through it in the mornings.

“Dad, Mom — it’s getting late for school,” she groaned, rolling her eyes like any other teenager. “I already saw uncle Tommy waiting out front, and if I have to listen to him sing along to the radio one more time, I swear I’ll jump outta the truck.”

Joel’s breath punched out of him like he’d been hit. His lips trembled.

“Baby girl…” he rasped.

Sarah blinked, confused. “You okay, Dad? You look kinda… weird.”

You smiled gently, your heart cracking a little at Joel’s expression, and stepped toward Sarah, brushing a hand down her arm. “Hey, sweetheart — give your dad a second, okay? He’s just… he had a rough night.”

Sarah sighed, the way only a 12-year-old could. “Ugh, bad dreams again? Should’ve told him not to eat chili dogs that late.”

Joel let out a strangled laugh, a sound halfway between a sob and a chuckle.

You leaned in, pressing a kiss to Sarah’s temple. “Uncle Tommy’s taking you today. Go grab your stuff, and I’ll be out in a sec.”

Sarah groaned but turned, heading back toward the hall. “Tell him I call dibs on the front seat!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The moment she disappeared around the corner, Joel collapsed back to your arms, his hand dragging down your skin.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

“You’re safe, Joel. You’re home.” You promised as you caressed his neck with your fingertips

His eyes, wet and wide, met yours. “Is this… is this real?” His voice cracked like it was too fragile to ask. “You. Sarah. Baby Ellie. Is this…?”

You leaned, pressing your forehead to his.

“It’s real,” you promised softly. “It’s ours.”

And for the first time in years, in decades, Joel Miller cried.

He didn’t know what he had done to deserve to see this light again.

But whoever had mercy on him. Gave him the chance to live a second life in daylight.

With you, Sarah, and a baby, Ellie.

[luna-azzurra]

Character Careers That Aren't Clichés

(because fictional economies deserve better too)

Look. I get it. I do. A hot CEO. A dreamy small-town baker. A moody artist who somehow lives in a massive Brooklyn loft despite only selling two paintings a year. Those characters have their place.

But if you want your story to feel fresh, real, alive — sometimes you’ve gotta ditch the Insta-ready jobs and actually think: What does this person do at 9 a.m. on a Wednesday? What would they complain about after a garbage day at work?

Here’s how to get careers that feel like they belong to an actual human, not a catalog model...

❥ The "Unexpected But Perfect" Career Pick something that makes your reader go, wait, what? and then oh my god, that's so them. Like:

A chaotic, disaster character who’s actually a surprisingly competent funeral director. (Yes, it’s messy. Yes, it’s weirdly perfect.)

The quiet, overlooked character who’s a locksmith. Always helping people get inside things. Always a little lonely themselves.

The job should reflect the character’s secret self.

❥ The “Soul-Crushing Job They’re Too Good For” Reality Check Not everybody is their Dream Job Self yet. Some characters are stuck. Flipping burgers, filing invoices, answering phones for screaming Karens named Marge. And you know what? There’s story gold there. Give me the character who’s quietly making art out of coffee foam because it’s the only creative outlet they’ve got. Give me the character who’s wasting in a job they hate, but who hums with what could be underneath.

Failure and frustration? Delicious character fuel.

❥ The "Job That Messes With Their Brain" Career Certain jobs change you. Make you hard in weird places and soft in weirder ones. Lean into that.

A paramedic who's numb to blood but cries at dog food commercials.

A social worker who can’t listen to their friends' minor drama without tuning out completely.

A vet tech who talks to animals better than people.

The job should bruise them in little invisible ways.

❥ The “Work Family or Work Frenemies” Setup Office dynamics are like nuclear reactors: volatile, ridiculous, and perfect for drama.

Give them the boss who’s a passive-aggressive nightmare in group emails but buys everyone surprise cupcakes on Fridays.

Give them the coworker they want to strangle and defend to death when someone outside the office talks crap.

Make their work life messy. (Because it IS messy.)

❥ Actual Career Ideas You Can Steal Because I Love You (yes, you have my blessing, take 'em, twist 'em, make them yours)

Travel nurse who secretly dreams of putting down roots

Archivist in a creepy, half-forgotten library wing

Theme park mascot who has existential crises inside the costume

Home inspector who lowkey loves snooping through strangers' houses

Court stenographer who writes fanfiction on the side during boring trials

Aquarium maintenance tech (yes, it’s a thing, yes, it’s hilarious and tragic)

Disaster clean-up specialist (like post-floods, fires, crime scenes , very spicy potential)

Final Truth Bomb: Your character’s job doesn't have to be their whole identity. (Shocking, I know, Hollywood.)

But it should still touch them somehow. It should rub off on the way they move through the world, the way they talk, the way they size up a stranger in five seconds flat. Because we are all shaped by how we spend our hours, whether we mean to be or not.

[aventurineswife]

Hello I am hoping to request a story where Mydei and Phainon both have a crush on the reader who is Aglea's daughter, adopted or biological you can choose, but the reader is completely oblivious because they think Mydei and Phainon are just really good friends, it's okay if you're uncomfortable with writing this and I hope you have a good day or night 😊.

More Than Comrades, Less Than Lovers

Summary: As Aglaea’s daughter, you’ve always admired the unwavering bond between Mydei and Phainon, seeing them as nothing more than close friends. Unbeknownst to you, both warriors harbor growing feelings for you, each vying for your attention in their own way. However, your oblivious nature makes their silent rivalry all the more frustrating—and amusing.

Tags: Mydei x Reader x Phainon, Love Triangle, Oblivious Reader, Mutual Pining (?), Slow Burn, Banter & Flirting (?), Tension & Rivalry.

Warnings: Mild romantic tension, Light angst (if you squint), Friendly rivalry with underlying emotions, Reader is oblivious to romantic advances.

The flames of the campfire flickered, casting long shadows over the weathered stone ruins of Okhema’s outskirts. The night air carried the scent of charred wood and distant salt from the sea, mingling with the quiet hum of conversation between weary warriors. You sat cross-legged on a crate, absently polishing your weapon while Mydei and Phainon sat across from you, deep in a heated—if oddly subdued—discussion.

“I’m simply saying,” Phainon insisted, voice as smooth as ever, “that technique should take precedence over brute force.” His piercing eyes gleamed in the firelight as he glanced toward you, ever so casually. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You blinked, caught mid-thought. “Huh? Oh, um—”

Before you could answer, Mydei scoffed, arms crossed over his broad chest. His hair fell over his forehead, and he barely glanced at Phainon before grumbling, “That’s rich, coming from someone who wields a claymore. You talk about technique, yet swing that thing like you’re trying to carve mountains.”

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I wield it with precision and grace, unlike a certain prince who relies solely on sheer endurance.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “You two really are such great friends.”

Silence.

A strange, heavy pause settled between them, so quick that you barely noticed before Phainon cleared his throat, flashing a dazzling smile. “Yes. Of course.”

Mydei only grunted, but if you had been paying closer attention, you might have noticed the way his fingers curled slightly, or the way he exhaled as if resigning himself to something unspoken.

Instead, you only stretched your arms, oblivious to the way both men subtly tracked your movement. “Anyway, I should check in with my mother before she assumes I’ve gone off and joined the Titans.” You laughed lightly at your own joke, completely missing the sharp glance Mydei shot Phainon as you walked away.

The moment you were out of earshot, Mydei leaned forward, voice low. “You’re being too obvious.”

Phainon smirked. “And you’re being too stubborn.”

Mydei scowled, resting his elbow on his knee. “You should stop wasting your time.”

Phainon raised a brow. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the crackling fire between them mirroring the quiet tension neither wanted to acknowledge.

“She sees us as friends,” Mydei finally muttered, as if saying it aloud solidified the truth.

Phainon hummed, watching your distant silhouette as you spoke with Aglaea. “For now.”

Neither knew what would come of their silent rivalry, nor how long they would endure the weight of unspoken feelings. But one thing was certain—neither was willing to yield.

Not yet.

[little-jana]

Papa Bear Hotchner

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!wife!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: Pregnancy, light teasing, overly protective behavior, use of Y/N, (Jack is not mentioned)

Words: 2k?

Summary: The team is onto your secret, because Hotch is becoming extra careful with you at work...

Aaron Hotchner wasn’t exactly known for being loud and obvious. You’d gotten used to the small, quiet ways he expressed his emotions—an encouraging glance across the bullpen, a quick touch on your back as you passed in the hall. But now? Now, it was like a switch had flipped.

It had only been a couple of weeks since you found out you were pregnant, and Aaron had gone into full-blown “Papa Bear” mode. He was constantly checking on you, making sure you were eating, sleeping, and avoiding anything remotely stressful. And while you loved him for it, you were starting to worry that the team might notice.

You hadn’t told them yet. You wanted to wait until you were further along, but that was proving to be a challenge—mostly because Aaron’s protectiveness was starting to verge on the obvious.

It started that morning when you walked into the bullpen with a coffee in hand.

“Y/N,” Aaron said, his voice sharp as he appeared beside you.

“What?” you asked, blinking up at him.

He reached for the cup in your hand, frowning. “Decaf, right?”

You hesitated for a split second too long.

“Y/N.” His tone was softer now, but the warning was clear.

“Yes. It’s decaf,” you said, rolling your eyes.

He gave you a look that said he didn’t entirely believe you but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he took the cup from you and sniffed it like some kind of coffee detective.

Behind you, you heard Emily stifle a laugh.

“Something funny, Prentiss?” Aaron asked without looking up.

“Nope, nothing at all,” she said, though her smirk was impossible to miss.

The team’s suspicions only grew during the briefing. You were discussing a new case—a string of robberies that had turned violent—and Aaron’s focus was split between the case details and you.

“Y/N, you’ll stay back at the station to coordinate with local law enforcement,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?” you blurted, caught off guard. “Why?”

“Because I need someone I trust handling communications,” he said evenly.

You glanced around the table, noting the raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. Derek looked like he was about to burst out laughing, and JJ gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Sure,” you said, trying to sound casual. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Aaron nodded, clearly satisfied, but you could feel the team’s eyes on you as they filed out of the room.

Later that day, you were sitting at your desk when Derek sauntered over, leaning against the edge of your desk with a grin.

“Okay, what’s the deal with Hotch?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he said. “He’s been hovering over you like a hawk all day.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Maybe he’s just being thorough.”

“Uh-huh,” Derek said, clearly unconvinced. “And maybe I’ll win the lottery tomorrow.”

Before you could respond, Emily joined you, her expression equally amused.

“He made you stay back at the station,” she pointed out. “When’s the last time Hotch did that?”

“Never,” Derek answered for you.

You sighed, realizing there was no point in arguing. “You guys are reading too much into this.”

“Sure we are,” Emily said, smirking.

By the end of the day, you were ready to collapse. Aaron had insisted on driving you home, despite your protests that you were perfectly capable of getting there on your own.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and flopped onto the couch with a groan.

“You okay?” Aaron asked, sitting beside you.

“I’m fine,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He frowned, his hand brushing over your knee. “You need to rest more.”

“I will,” you said, smiling up at him. “You worry too much, you know that?”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, his voice softening.

You shook your head, your heart swelling at the concern in his eyes. “No, I can’t.”

The next day, the team’s suspicions reached a breaking point.

You were in the conference room, going over the latest case updates, when JJ leaned over and whispered something to Emily. Both of them glanced at you, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” JJ said quickly, though her smile gave her away.

Aaron shot them a warning look, but that only seemed to fuel their amusement.

“I swear, you guys are acting weirder than usual,” you said, shaking your head.

“Us?” Emily asked, feigning innocence. “We’re not the ones acting weird.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Aaron said, his tone firm.

The room fell silent, but you could see the team exchanging knowing looks.

Later that evening, Aaron and I were sitting on the couch at your place, dinner plates balanced on your laps.

“I think the team’s onto us,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence.

“They don’t know anything,” Aaron said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

“They’re profilers, Aaron,” you reminded him. “They know everything.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t want them to find out before we’re ready to tell them.”

“I know,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “But I don’t think we’ll be able to keep it a secret much longer.”

He was quiet for a moment before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure it out,” he said.

A week later, the truth finally came out—not because you told them, but because the team cornered us in the bullpen.

“We need to talk,” Derek said, his tone serious but his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Aaron and you exchanged a look, and you could tell he was debating whether to deny it or come clean.

“What is it, Morgan?” Aaron asked, his voice calm.

“It’s about Y/N,” Derek said, crossing his arms.

You felt your heart skip a beat.

“We know something’s going on,” Emily added, her gaze shifting between the two of you.

Aaron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What exactly do you think is going on?”

JJ stepped forward, her expression softer. “We think… you’re expecting,” she said gently.

The bullpen fell silent, and you could feel everyone’s eyes on you.

Aaron reached for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’re right,” he said finally. “We’re having a baby.”

The room erupted into a mix of cheers and congratulations, and you couldn’t help but laugh at their excitement.

“You guys are impossible, you know that?” you said, shaking your head.

“Impossible, but right,” Rossi said with a grin.

As the team continued to celebrate, you looked up at Aaron, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.

This wasn’t how you planned to tell them, but as you watched your friends and colleagues sharing your joy, you realized it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Your little family was growing, and you couldn’t wait for the adventure ahead.

[muqingslover]

I just wanted to ask you (since I saw this prompt before and I wanted to hear your take on it), in a Cherry Magic AU setting, MC can hear the thoughts of the lads men. Who do you think would have the most unhinged train of thoughts/ stream of consciousness?

I just have a feeling that Zayne would be the most surprising/unhinged since he's so calm and collected, even cold on the outside, so he has to keep a lot inside. (Or maybe I'm just biased because I'm a Zayne girlie and he's my pookie)

I absolutely love the way you write! The flow is so nice and easy to follow. Overall, it's relaxing and entertaining to read what you write!!

[ AAA THANK YOU SM FOR THE KIND FEEDBACK! it means everything to me I'm so so so glad you enjoy it! 💕🫂 I actually didn't know what Cherry Magic was but omg?! it's so cute!? I just had to do this! ]

Coming in hot in first place we have the IT boy himself.

His thoughts are not technically unhinged as they are just OVERWHELMING.

You would be having lunch and Caleb's sitting across of you like 😊 while his mind is filled with so much stuff.

'Their lips are a bit redder today...Is it because of the spice? I should tone it down next time, oh but they look so cute like that. Their eyes are all watery it's so damn cute, so cute so, so so cute— Huh? They're staring? Oh *I* am the one that's staring. Look away look away, yeah, alright, smooth.'

His thoughts are extremely noisy all. the. time. It's pretty much about everything, but especially you.

I also feel like he repeats a lot of words regarding you like he'd immediately go 'Cute, cute, cute cute cute—' when you laugh at what he said or have an internal panic if you did something to tease him 'Too close oh god— They're close, close, close, too damn close— I can feel their body warmth—'

CATCH HIS LYING ASS POOKIES, I mean ahem.

Guys this man will have the most innocent smile on his face when he claims he'd never do something and when you take a peek inside his thoughts he is most definitely thinking about doing it.

"I have no reason to steal your clothes. C'mon now pipsqueak— Yes, yes, I pinky promise I'm not messing with you this time."

'Shit shit shit shit shit. I didn't have time to wash it yet— Why are they doing laundry today anyway? They usually only do it on Friday nights.'

Second place belongs to none other than to the neighborhood freak.

Now Xavier is a mix of absolutely empty no thoughts at all to freaky ahh stuff.

He will have a nonchalant face but his thoughts? oh dear lord.

"My throat feels a bit sore because of the weather recently."

"Let's buy some cough drops for you on our way back."

'I wonder if I can still do it tonight...I wouldn't want them to hurt their throat more. Oh. If I cover their mouth shouldn't it be fine? What should I use...Wait, I should ask them later about it...........I wonder if they'll sit on my face again.....that was nice..........Kinda sleepy.'

He is also the only one of the crew that is not particularly embarrassed, freaked out or even worried that you can read his thoughts.

If anything, Xavier believes it makes communication a whole lot easier. Sometimes he's so tired that even speaking takes a lot of energy from him so being able to tell you what he wants just by touching you is an advantage.

Yes, he will absolutely think about freaky things on purpose only to see your face turning red.

I think fishie takes third place.

#Meangirl alert. /hj

Rather than it being about you it's more about his brutal honesty in general. Lord have mercy when he is grading projects from his classes.

Rafayel is someone that calculates his words (and actions) A LOT, which means this is a nightmare for him. He doesn't want you to see past the fun, sassy persona he shows you.

Especially if the subject about his past came up because then things could get real ugly, real quick.

"I would never hurt you like that, Raf."

'...That sounds like a cruel joke. You don't know that. You don't know anything about me. About us. How is this fair? How can I tell you about what you did— About what *I* had to do when you look at me like that?'

"...I know. I trust you."

You would also realize he is actually a lot more apathetic towards others than expected. The humans' opinions/ problems are simply not something he can bring himself to genuinely care about unless they affect him or you directly.

Lastly, he hums and sings A LOT in his head. Usually they're very old, beautiful songs from his homeland and it's really nice to tune in his private radio station.

Maybe controversial but this man's thoughts are clean as a whistle.

Unless he is actively doing something sexual Sylus is not thinking about anything remotely dirty.

Personally I believe his mind is quiet in general. He has an internal "To-do list" and that's what you will hear for most of the time.

'Oh, their water bottle is cracked. I should get them a new one soon. The twins' new jackets are being delivered today, that's good. It's getting colder already I don't want them to get sick again. The new supplies will need my signature so I must return before the sunrise. Tomorrow the new restaurant they mentioned opens, I'll make sure to ask them for dinner. '

On the other hand, his thoughts can also be quite vulnerable and insecure towards your relationship with him.

Almost every night when he holds you in his arms you will hear him think 'Please stay with me.' and he sounds so genuinely afraid.

You will also hear him think a looooot of 'I love you' during the day at random times. He's just a large, lovestruck puppy looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

The calmest thoughts but the cutest of all of the boys.

Like, you don't understand he's sooo damn cute.

Zayne may look like he'd rather be anywhere else but here and then you touch him and what you get is

'...I wish I had gotten the limited cat keychain from the cafe. Perhaps they'll rerun it next spring. I'll take them with me then........We could get matching ones....Well, if they agree to go with me. Or I could bring it to them as a gift, that would be nice too.'

Another one that has an mental "To-do list". During work hours he's extremely focused and his thoughts rarely, if ever, stray from what he's doing.

When with you his mind is calm (unless you're teasing this poor man because then his mind is going into OVERDRIVE.) and his internal comments are suuuuper soft and loving.

'Their hair is styled today...it looks really nice. Should I tell them? ....No, it's best not to. Hm....Oh, right. I have some leftover candy from my appointments today, I'll give them some instead.'

10/10 experience guarantee.

[screamlet]

hi hellooo for the intimacy prompts: ♟ Patching up a wound

well hello i'm back and it turns out i did have another one of these! in the same urgent care/dr. donna universe as the other patching up a wound fic. 1.2k, established bucktommy, future fic, set about a year+ after 8x15 (so canon compliant for 8x15). from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

and this is the last one!!!!!!!!! thank you all for the prompts!!!!! they're all available here and i'll post them to the ao3 at some point.

---

"Hey, you're back!" Dr. Donna says cheerily. "They should have told you at the front desk, though: I don't do loyalty cards. The 10th visit isn't free."

"No offense, but let's not see each other eight more times," Tommy says as politely as he can manage. (He can't manage much.)

Dr. Donna shoots him a wry look. "I don't just do stitches. I showed up for other parts of medical school, too, I promise."

"It's okay, it's me this time," Evan says, proud of his several-inches-long gash for some reason. "I was fixing this wooden post in our garden and, I don't even know, this happened."

Dr. Donna checks out Evan's bicep and winces. Tommy hasn't looked at the wound since Evan yelled in pain from the yard; they immediately covered it with some paper towels before jumping in the car to urgent care, but it's still too vivid in his imagination. "Jeez, it sure did happen. Shirley already gave you a tetanus shot so I'm just here for the fun part, huh?"

"Let 'em rip," Evan says. "Or not, since they're stitches. Hey, do you use the same kind of stitches for everything you sew up or do you mix it up? Like is it your choice or do you have to use a different kind of stitch for—"

Tommy's been doing a great job, he thinks, of Saturday afternoon moral support here at their local urgent care, but he's still not great with the stitches thing, with the doctors thing. People would think, pretty reasonably, that seeing as much trauma and outright carnage as he does on a daily basis for the past 20 years would mean that he's used to it, he's seen it all, and that's true—except. This is someone he loves getting a needle and thread jabbed through their skin several times because he let a particularly large bird distract him from repairing one of their raised garden beds. It's not the same thing.

"Evan," Tommy interrupts. "I love you so much, I do, you're the love of my life and there's no one I'd rather share all of this with, but you have got to stop talking about sewing your skin together before I throw up everywhere."

"Ooh, that'd be messy," Dr. Donna says. She looks away from Evan's arm and asks Tommy, "Do you want to lie down in one of the other rooms?"

"Yeah, Tommy, it's okay," Evan says. "Seriously, she's so quick."

"I'm so quick," Dr. Donna, Evan's new best friend, assures him. "Shirley, get him a compress and some smelling salts, and put him in room 6, huh?"

"No, I'm fine, I am," Tommy says, even though lying down sounds amazing right now. "I'm here for moral support and I'm doing it, right? I'm being so supportive. I just—"

"Tommy," Evan says, his voice gentle. "I promise, you'll be a lot more supportive if you're okay in another room, alright? You're making me nervous."

"Okay," Tommy says slowly. "Okay, I'll go, but I'm not abandoning you, I promise, I'm just—"

Evan tugs on the front of Tommy's shirt and pulls him in for a quick kiss. "You're not abandoning me. I know that. I'll be right out to get you, okay?"

"Okay," Tommy says. "I'll be right in—that room she said. I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"I know you're not," Evan says. "I know you're here."

---

Shirley takes him to another room and helps him to lie on the exam bed. The lights are dim, he's got a cold compress, and for one reason or another, he's trying to remember Ian McKellen's monologue from The Two Towers. Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth…

"Something something, smote his ruin upon the mountainside, ugh, I know that's not all of it," Tommy grumbles under his breath. Suddenly there's a quiet knock at the door and it's Evan, smiling like they're anywhere else doing anything else.

"Shh, you're good, don't sit up," Evan says as he pulls over a stool. "I'm all set. You wanna hear how many?"

"What'd you bet, 12?"

"I guessed 12 and I got 15! Same as you!"

Tommy closes his eyes. "You're so excited about that."

"What? We have matching scars. That's pretty cool." Evan pauses. "I wonder if she gave me an extra so we'd have the same. Dr. Donna wouldn't do that, right? Is that malpractice? I guess it was just a coincidence. I don't really care."

It's a short rolling stool, so Evan stands up and leans over Tommy. He lifts the compress so he can press a kiss to Tommy's forehead, then puts it back. "I'm sorry I got all carried away with gross stuff. How are you feeling?"

"Stupid. Really stupid." Tommy sighs. "I've popped shoulder joints back into place, tied off bleeds with tourniquets and t-shirts and whatever I have, literally held someone's guts together once, and I just…"

"Hey, hey." Evan leans down again and kisses Tommy's lips. "Stop apologizing, you don't have to prove you're a big tough guy. I know you are. Everyone's got their stuff. I can make myself a little sick just thinking about cutting up raw chicken breast. It's gross as hell."

"This isn't gross kitchen stuff," Tommy protests. "You needed me for something serious and I—"

"Chickened out?"

"Once I can stand and open my eyes for more than five seconds, I'm kicking you in the shin."

"Yeah, that's fair." Evan kisses him again. "Tommy, it's okay. When haven't you come through for me when I needed you?"

Tommy tries nodding without making himself nauseated. "Let's make a list of acceptable urgent care conversation topics on your phone, I'll keep some good noise-canceling headphones in the glove compartment, and neither of us will ever get injured again, okay? You heard Dr. Donna, she doesn't do discounts."

"Actually, since she teaches at the medical school, too, she's giving a talk next week or so about some new research in—" Evan catches himself. "Research in medical stuff. I'm gonna go to that and you have the house to yourself."

"Sounds like a blast, send her my best."

Tommy opens his eyes to the dim room and Evan standing over him, looking so soft and concerned. "I'm okay."

"I know you are," Evan says. "And this doesn't count, okay?"

"Doesn't…"

"You didn't leave me," Evan whispers. "I know you never will."

Tommy doesn't have anything else to say, so Evan kisses him again, then presses his ear to Tommy's chest, right over his heart. Tommy lifts his hand and rests it on Evan's head, fingers flexing gently in his curls until Evan stands up again.

"Oh, wait, actually," Evan says.

"You're too excited, please stop this ride."

Evan digs into his pocket and holds up a handful of lollipops. "She let me take one of each of the citrus ones, and a strawberry one. They're all yours."

Tommy sticks them all in his shirt pocket for easy access later. "When you run off with Dr. Donna, remember that I tried to be a good boyfriend, okay?"

"Shut up," Evan laughs, kissing him again. "Redheads… are a little my type, but not as much as you are."

"Are you helping or hurting, Evan? Helping or hurting?"

[whoeste]

to love someone is not just to hold their hand when things are easy. it is to sit with the weight of everything they carry, even when they can’t say it out loud. it is to hear the sharpness in their voice and not flinch, because you know hurt sometimes speaks in strange tones.

it is to let them see your worst and not hide. to say: this is me, messy and unsure, and still hope they stay. it is to feel your heart tighten when they pull away, and not chase, but wait. not because you don’t care, but because you do.

it is understanding that love is not always warm. sometimes it is quiet. sometimes it is the choice to stay when everything in you wants to run.

it is to accept the risk of being misunderstood. of being left. of being loved less on some days. and choosing it still.

it is not a promise that they won’t hurt you. it is a promise that you will let them matter enough that they could.

it is not weakness. it is not foolish. it is the strongest, scariest thing you can do with a soft heart—

to love, knowing it may break you.

and to do it anyway.

to love someone is firstly to confess: i'm prepared to be devastated by you. by A History of My Brief Body by Billy-Ray Belcourt

[bucketbueckers]

HIIIII SEXY

if ur taking requests can i request smth angsty for paige ? i was thinking maybe if you could do something based on ilyis by gracie abrams where reader is in love w paige but doesnt think paige will ever like her back cause paige is always flirting w azzi and then paige comes over and acts all flirty with reader and reader blows up at her and is storms out and paige forces her to admit her feelings cause all along paige liked her but she didn’t know if reader liked gworls 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

and it ends happily PLEASEEEE I BEG

I LOVE YOU, I’M SORRY

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, teensy bit of angst, girls who hate communicating, reader might be a lil mean but we ball

wc: 2.4k

synopsis: You’ve been in love with Paige Bueckers for years, just another one of the countless moths drawn to her flame. You’d made your peace with only being her friend long ago, but it’s not until a well-timed blow up at Ted’s makes you realize it was mutual all along.

notes: as requested and in honor of finishing my last fuck ass exam 🫶 thank you sm for the request and im hoping i did this justice for you anon!! im sorry its a lil short 😓 but as always i hope y'all enjoy 🫶

Ted’s was supposed to be a welcome distraction to cap off a hectic week. Between two back-to-back away games, constant traveling, terrible naps on bumpy bus rides home, and homework that just seemed to keep piling up, you were ready to unwind and tackle the next week with a clearer mind. However, you couldn’t seem to relax, and the jealousy blooming in your chest like hemlock as you stared at Paige and Azzi whispering to each other wasn’t doing you any favors, either.

The team had invited you out with them, intent on celebrating another regular season conference win. You’re one of their graduate assistants, having served as the team manager for a few years before the position opened up, although you’d built incredible friendships with the girls over the years. Well – most of them, seeing as your brain and your heart couldn’t quite agree on how you felt for Paige. Her freshman year was your first year as team manager and she went out of her way to make you feel welcomed, greeting you every day at practice and inviting you out to team get-togethers.

At first, you’d kept it together. You were strictly friends, not even considering anything else. By Paige’s sophomore year – your junior year – you’d realized that she was beautiful. Like, a dangerous beautiful where you’d find yourself staring at her, even when she wasn’t doing anything more than watching film on her iPad. During her junior year, you were finally able to put a name to your confusing feelings and discovered that you were falling for her – hard – somewhere in between ACL recovery and her corny jokes. You realized it was love at the end of her junior year when you told her that Coach agreed to bring you on as a graduate assistant and she almost broke your spine hugging you. Now, nearly a year and a half into your Master’s program, you’re still hopelessly in love with Paige Bueckers and dreading the day the NCAA tournament begins – because the end of the season means the end of you and her. Because she’ll be on the first plane to Dallas and you wouldn’t have gotten the chance to find your courage and confess to her.

Ted’s was supposed to be a distraction. But it’s not, because the drink you’re sipping on makes your throat burn every time you swallow, and all you can think about is how you and Paige are a ticking time bomb that’s set to explode in April, and all you see is Paige looking at another girl that’s not you, and all you feel is the sickening mix of jealousy and shame that courses through your veins – jealous because all you want is Paige; shame because she’s your friend and you hate the way she makes you feel. You hate that your love makes you a little insecure and you hate that it feels like she’s choosing someone else over you.

Jana, who’s sitting next to you, throws an almost absentminded arm over your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into whatever conversation they’re having at the table. KK is yapping and you barely catch the gist of it – something about Coach making them run suicides and how the new protein powder she’s trying gave her a tummy ache, but the heat of Paige’s gaze on you makes you glance over at her. Her brows are furrowed, eyes hardened as she stares at Jana’s arm around your shoulders like it’s personally offended her.

What confuses you even more is how Azzi notices. She sighs, an exasperated sort of noise, and stands – not without flicking Paige harshly on her forehead and muttering something about “Talk to her” as she slides her way out of the booth and towards the bathroom. Paige’s cheeks are a little red as she rubs her head forlornly. You’d probably laugh if you weren’t feeling so green.

You go to take another sip of your drink, needing to occupy your hands and your mouth if you wanted to appear somewhat put together tonight, but you frown when you realize you’re empty. Catching Jana’s attention, you motion to your cup and she nods, removing her arm and allowing you to make your way to the bar.

You don’t think too hard about your drink order as you rifle through your clutch for your card. What you do think hard about is the all too familiar voice saying, “I got you. Can I get another Shirley, please?” as Paige slides her card across the bar, her free hand finding your wrist like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“Paige,” you deadpan, an amused annoyance lacing your tone. “I can get my own drink.”

She grins ineffably at you, but there’s an uncharacteristic hesitation in her eyes. It’s almost enough to make you forget why you’ve been so off all night. “Doesn’t mean you should,” she retorts.

“Oh?” you ask. “You making decisions for me now?”

Paige shrugs coyly. Her hand trails from your wrist to your waist, tangling in your belt loops – not pushing or pulling. Just holding. The touch makes you freeze. You and Paige had always been close. She was a touchy person, but never in public like this. “Just the important ones,” she murmurs. “So I know you’re taken care of.”

You blink at her, mouth suddenly dry. The sound of glasses scraping against the hardwood counter startles you. Paige thanks the bartender as she retreats, leaving the both of you alone at the edge of the bar, and you reach for your drink to occupy your hands as your mind spins. As unsure as you are about Paige returning your feelings, you’re not dumb. You’ve been flirted with before, been around Paige enough to know what her flirting looks like. The gentle confidence in her voice, the way her eye contact is so intense that strangely, it forces you to focus on her because otherwise, you’re sure that she’d find something she didn’t like if you couldn’t face her. The physical contact and the way she’s leaning into you. She’s flirting with you. Under any other circumstance, you’d probably be jumping for joy, but not now.

From the corner of your eye, you spot Azzi making her way back to the table. You make direct eye contact with her. She glances down, taking in your proximity, and she smiles at you. It sobers you up instantly.

“What the fuck are we doing?” you ask Paige, setting your drink back down on the bar and yanking her hand off of you. She blinks, her jaw falling slightly and confusion twisting her brows. “What are you doing? What, Azzi walks away, so you go and find someone else to keep you entertained? The one person who would run back to you anyway?”

“I – what?” Paige asks, hurt lacing her tone. She reaches out for you again but you take a step back, your thighs hitting the stool behind you. “I don’t understand what you mean. What does Azzi–”

You don’t realize you’re tearing up until you register the burn in your throat and the way your eyes sting. “You flirt with Azzi in front of my face all night. She leaves, and you wanna follow me up here, talking about taking care of me? You wanna touch me and buy my drink, ignore this weird push and pull thing we have, and then walk away like it means nothing to you?”

When she doesn’t say anything, you laugh despite the hurt swelling in your chest. “Sometimes you can be such a dick.” You wipe your eyes, trying not to lose your mind when your thumb comes back smudged with mascara. At the heart of it, sure, you’re sad, but the most pressing emotion is anger. You’d rather not be a choice at all than be a second choice.

The both of you pause, just staring at each other, until guilt and realization blooms simultaneously on Paige’s face. She murmurs your name, her voice cracking a little like what you’ve just said has changed her life, but you don’t let her reach out for you as you turn on your heel and walk out.

You know you can’t leave – Aubrey drove you and you’re not built for walking home at midnight. You lean against the railing, your head in your hands, knowing that Paige will likely be on her way. The two of you weren’t one for arguments. On the rare occasions you got carried away, apologies were swift. Guilt of your own bubbles in your stomach – you blew up for no reason, allowing your emotions to get out of hand. Now, you know that you and Paige will have to have another difficult conversation, and you’re not even sure if she’ll still want to be your friend afterwards. This is something you might not be able to come back from.

You feel her next to you before you see her. She leans against the railing, giving you space, and it’s in this devastating little moment that your anger comes back. It’s muted, not directed at her, but at yourself. You’re angry because as much as you want to be angry with her, you’re not, and all you really want is her. It’s selfish – you’d hurt her feelings in the bar, barely thirty feet away from your friends, but your body doesn’t care about that.

She breaks the silence to ask you, unsurprisingly, “Do you like me?”

There’s a million responses on the tip of your tongue. You consider sarcasm, but you feel as though the weight of this conversation needs something a little more genuine. Maybe genuine communication could have saved the both of you from feeling like this. No more cop outs, is what you tell yourself, so you exhale and admit, “I love you.”

You’re not sure what you’re holding your breath for. Maybe rejection. A small part of you holds out for Paige’s agreement. You’re unprepared for the way her arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into her body, and despite the shock, you sink into her anyways, your head falling onto her chest. It feels like acceptance, like forgiveness. “I didn’t know you liked girls,” Paige confesses, sounding a little sheepish.

At that, you groan, resisting an eye roll. “I literally have a pride flag in my Instagram bio,” you mumble. “You want my coming out in writing too? ‘Dear Paige, I’m gay. I’d apologize but you probably should have known anyway. Love, me.’”

“You’re annoying,” she huffs, but you can hear the amusement in her voice anyway. She tightens her hold on you. “I probably…should have done that a little better. At the bar. Don’t want you thinking it meant nothing to me. It does. And I just–” Paige trails off a little, looking for the right words. “I was really scared. I’ve always been worried about doing too much, scaring you off, and losing you forever. I thought…maybe I could drop hints and let you figure out what you wanted, but I never stopped to think about how that would feel from your end. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you say. “For calling you a dick and making those accusations. I was scared and I let it consume me.”

You can feel the tentative smile Paige presses to your temple. “Truce?” she asks, and you nod, your fingers tangling in her shirt as you finally let the tension in your body dissolve. “For the record…there’s nothin’ going on with me and Azzi. She’s been telling me to ask you out for years. She was the first person I told when I thought I was in love with you.”

You pull back a little, meeting her eyes. The earnestness and honesty is clear as day, but you refuse to get your hopes up. “You love me?” you ask, not only to clarify, but also because this is something you’ve spent countless hours thinking about, wondering if it was even possible. To have it so close within reach…you need to be sure.

Paige, in typical Paige fashion, smiles crookedly at you and says, “You want that in writing, too?” She clears her throat dramatically. ‘To my favorite grad assistant, I’m in love with you. I’d apologize, but–”

“You are so fucking annoying,” you seethe, but there’s no real malice in your voice, your smile far too wide to be anything but over the moon. You’d thought about this moment a hundred times – how you’d respond to Paige confessing, or even how your own confession would sound. You’d never planned for it to happen this way. Maybe it was something that was supposed to be a spur of the moment thing. Maybe something out of a rom-com involving rain. Never an argument like this. The realization was never something dramatic with some cinematic soundtrack in the background. It was simple, almost like something clicks into place quietly. It’s messy, but it’s yours. And that’s enough for you. “So what happens now?”

Paige hums, leaning against the railing as her thumb brushes against your jaw gently. “Well…you can let me buy you another drink. Maybe split some fries. And, I don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in…but maybe you could be mine, too?”

You raise a brow, resting your hands over her shoulders. “Oh, really? Is that everything you want?”

Paige grins at you, her eyes flicking down momentarily before finding yours again. Her expression softens. “Not everything,” she admits. “But I’m trying to do this right. I wouldn’t want to assume.”

You roll your eyes, not missing the subtle tease in her words. When her hands drop to your waist, finding your belt loops again, you don’t freeze up. If anything, you melt into her. “Whatever you’re thinking…I don’t think it’s that much of an assumption.”

“Yeah?” she echoes. “‘Cause I’m still thinking about the fries.”

Huffing, you cup her cheeks in your hands, her skin warm against your palms, and you stand on the tips of your toes as you lean in to kiss her. She laughs, although she responds with a mix of softness and eagerness that makes you want more. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and more, but you pace yourselves, taking it slow and sinking into the feeling.

When you part, Paige brushes her lips across your temple, her arms tightening around you like she can’t believe she has you. And, maybe, the truth is you’ve always been a little bit of hers, just like she’s always been a little bit of yours. That is all you could ever need.

[ms-demeanor]

thoughts on using library computers to disguise your digital footprint? because if the machine gets wiped when you log out, and the library doesn't keep detailed records of what machine you were using when, then all someone else would have is IP data unconnected to a person and also mixed in with whatever else folks were doing on the library computers

The machine absolutely does not get wiped when you log out and there's very little chance that a library computer will let you fire up Tor. You're better off using a traffic anonymizer than you are trying to use public computers to cover your tracks. The IP address IS the big risk here.

Libraries are generally really good about protecting their patrons' privacy and I respect the hell out of them for that but computers log everything that you do and can be subpoenaed as evidence even if the library wants to protect user privacy.

Also, I love libraries but you should treat every public computer you come across like it has a keylogger installed on it because it might. Your city could have an overzealous city council that has more control than it should over the library board and has taken it upon themselves to add covenanteyes to the library computers. Your library crew could be fantastic but less tech-savvy than is ideal and may not realize it if malware is installed on one of the machines. The library may clear browser history twice a day but the ISP still has a record of where you went and what time you went there. Somebody could have literally plugged a keylogger into a USB port on the back of the machine.

The point of a traffic anonymizer is it hides where the traffic originated; each node knows where the previous hop came from and where the next hop went, but not what came BEFORE the previous hop or what happened after, or how long the chain was, so there is no way to tell if a message originated in the US or Brazil or Vietnam or Sweden. Sending traffic from a library does the opposite of this, and very clearly says "the person who sent this message did so from this geographic area; they sent messages from these five libraries so we know they're probably within X distance of these libraries" which is a hell of a lot easier to look for than "I can't even say what continent these messages originated from."

Let us say that you go to a library to log in to your protonmail account and email a journalist a link to a file that you've saved in cryptpad. You have the link written down so you don't have to go to a secondary site and you just go sit down directly at the computer and log in to protonmail and fire off your email to the journalist. The email is encrypted, so you know the contents of the email are safe. Let's say the browser history gets automatically wiped every time you close it, and you close it as soon as you stand up and walk away. Here's the incriminating information that generated:

IP address where you accessed your protonmail account

Your protonmail email address, the journalist's address, the time you sent the email, the subject line of the email

And here are the people who can be subpoenaed to share some or all of that information with the government:

The Library's ISP

The Library, who may not carefully track users but who do have event logs on the computers and traffic logs on the firewall

Protonmail

IF you only ever logged in to your protonmail account from that ISP one time, and if you've never logged in to your protonmail account anywhere that is close to your house or your job, you may be fine. But if you logged in to your protonmail on your personal cellphone at work so that you could send photos of documents to yourself, there's some data tying that account to a local IP address. If you set up the protonmail account on a whim at a coffee shop, there's some data tying that account to a local IP address. If you get an email back from the journalist and go to another local library to open it, there's some data tying that account to another local IP address.

And that gets narrowed down very quickly. "Who has access to these sensitive and leak-worthy documents through working at this entity who also lives within a 100 mile radius of these three login locations? Is it 50 people? Is it 5 people? Of the 15 people who have access to these sensitive and leak-worthy documents who work at this entity and live within 100 miles of the three login locations, who is likely to be doing the leaking? Do we fire them all? Do we interview them? Do we compare IP addresses that they've used to log in to work remotely and find that two of them have logged in at the coffee shop? Of those two, one has facebook selfies in a maga hat and the other has a less visible online presence. Let's check their traffic history. Did they check tumblr on a lunch break? Maybe once or twice? Maybe a few times? Sure seems like they are pretty dead-set against the administration. Let's double-check the access logs for this information. Let's review security footage. Let's install the monitoring on their workstation."

The thing is, they're not going to catch you leaking and then track down all the data you left behind to confirm it; they're going to see a leak and get a bunch of digital footprints and use that to narrow down suspect pools. They already know that access to the data is limited and will be reviewing prior access and carefully monitoring future access. You are already in their suspect pool by already being one of the people with known access to the data. Adding an IP address that is geographically close to you, even if it isn't your home IP address, to that is not going to make it *harder* to find you, it can only make it easier.

So just use Tor. You're safer using an anonymizer, which you likely can't do on a library computer. Create the leak email address when you're in a Tor browser, and only EVER access that email account from Tor.

Also I don't mean to jump on you about this, but between the post I've got about why you shouldn't use your work computer to torrent and the safer leaking practices post it's clear that people really don't understand what information they're leaving behind when they use computers and the internet, or how it can be a risk to them.

Accessing burner accounts from a clear IP address means that they're not burner accounts anymore, they're burned.

[slutzforbueckers]

can you do a one shot about Paige dating someone with short hair (a bald baddie if you will) and she just got a fresh haircut and Paige is like “wow so hot, must put you into the mattress immediately”

fresh cut trance

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

warnings: smut

synopsis: coming home from getting your hair cut and the reaction from paige was not what you were expecting.

a/n: so sorry this took so long to write, hopefully you enjoy it 🩷🩷 also i pictured reader with like a pixie cut so hopefully it still fits what you wanted!!

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

“paige! baby, i’m back.” you called out as you shut the door behind you gently. while you placed your keys on the hook by the door and kicked off your shoes, you heard the soft shuffle of sock clad feet approaching behind you. when you turned around paige stood there, eyes wide and lips slightly parted.

neither of you said anything as she took a few steps closer, hands already reaching out to cradle your head. you watched as she analyzed you for a moment, her eyes roaming over every inch of you. you couldn’t read her expression, it was so neutral you almost couldn’t tell if she loved or hated it.

“your hair—you look…” she trailed off, her fingers ran through the short strands of hair on your head. you looked up at her and tilted your head slightly.

“do you like it? i went shorter than before, wanted to try something new.” you nervously shifted on your heels.

“no i— i fucking love it. holy shit.” she mumbled.

you barely had time to say anything else before her hands slid from your hair to the sides of your face, tugging you into a bruising kiss. it was desperate, almost dizzying, the way she kissed you like she was starving. you gasped into her mouth, hands grabbing onto her shirt to keep yourself from stumbling with the force of her kiss.

she took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, her tongue sliding against yours, her body pressing firmly into yours until your back hit the door with a soft thud.

“paige—” you tried to say, but she cut you off with another kiss, harder this time, a low whine catching in the back of her throat.

“fuck, baby,” she breathed out between kisses, her hands already wandering down your sides, gripping your hips so tightly you knew there would be fingerprints later. “you’re so hot. i can’t— you look so fucking good, i have to—”

she didn’t even finish the thought. instead, she ducked down, scooping you up effortlessly by the backs of your thighs. you squealed in surprise, clinging to her as she carried you through the apartment, mouth never leaving yours. you laughed breathlessly, heart hammering in your chest, already feeling the heat pooling between your legs at how eager she was acting.

“paige,” you gasped as she kicked open the bedroom door, tossing you onto the bed like you weighed nothing, immediately crawling over you. “you’re acting like i’m gonna disappear or something.”

she hovered above you, eyes dark and hungry, and shook her head slowly. “can’t help it. not when you walk in looking like that.” she leaned down, kissing along your jaw, nipping at your skin until you whimpered, “you’re killing me.”

“please, p. need you.” you whined, hips jutting up. she pulled back, her fingers unzipping your jeans and yanking them down with haste. she tossed them somewhere behind her and you sat up long enough to pull your shirt, tossing it to the side.

she was back on you in a second—lips claiming yours, hands roaming everywhere because she never knew where to touch. your hands found the bottom of her shirt and you pulled away just enough to pull it over her head. she pulled her bottoms off herself and she was back on you.

the way she touched you was intoxicating, it was like she just couldn’t get enough of you. her hands and mouth roamed your skin like she was trying to memorize the map of your body all over again. even though paige knew your body like the back of her hand—where and how just to touch, to kiss, to press—she still took her time learning it all over again each time.

"you're so fucking perfect," she muttered, voice rough against your neck as her lips moved lower, kissing and biting her way down. you arched into her instinctively, a soft moan escaping you when she sucked a dark mark into the skin just above your collarbone.

her hands slipped under the waistband of your underwear, squeezing your ass before tugging the last bit of clothing off of you in one fluid, desperate motion. she tossed it over her shoulder without a care, her eyes drinking in every inch of your now-bare body sprawled out for her.

"paige," you whimpered again, your voice wrecked with want. she sat back for a second on her knees, just staring, chest heaving like she was trying to control herself— but the way her fingers twitched at her sides told you she was seconds from losing it.

"you have no fucking idea," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief, "what you do to me."

then she was lowering herself again, mouth finding your nipple and sucking hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. her hand slid between your legs, fingers gliding through the slickness there, and you whined, fisting the sheets.

"so wet already," she groaned against your skin, sliding two fingers inside you easily, curling them just right. you gasped, your hands scrambling to grip her shoulders, nails digging in as she started a relentless rhythm, thrusting into you deep and fast. paige angled her hand so that the palm of her hand hit your clit each time she thrust back in.

you ran your hand up the back of her neck, your fingers curling into the hairs just at the nape of her head. paige moaned as you tugged at her hair, her eyes flickering to your face to watch every single expression. your hips started to grind into her hand, chasing that orgasm that was so close.

“m’so close, p—“ you whined as you tugged her closer to kiss her. paige pressed her fingers deeper, her fingertips brushed that sweet spot that always made your mind blank. she shifted again but this time it was her thumb pressing against your clit instead of her palm. she rubbed quick circles as she could feel your cunt starting to tighten around her fingers, the sound of your slick getting louder as she moved harder—with more purpose.

“that’s it,” she rasped, her voice rough and low, thumb pressing harder against your swollen clit. your thighs started to shake, hips grinding down against her hand on instinct. she fucked you through it, fingers relentless and deep, thumb never once easing up. it only took a few more thrusts before your orgasm crashed through you, your walls clenching around her fingers as you cried out, your head spinning as you fell apart under her.

she kept fucking you through every aftershock, slowing her thrusts only when your legs started to tremble too much to stay open. she eased her fingers out of you so slowly you whimpered, your cum coating her hand, dripping down onto the sheets. you fell back against the pillows with a shaky exhale, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

you watched as she brought her fingers to her mouth and sucked them clean, a moan leaving her at the taste of you. you pressed your thighs together and shifted as you could feel that pool of heat forming in your core at the sight. paige reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out her strap, quickly situating it on her hips.

her hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open again, and she dipped her head. she ghosted her lips over the skin of your inner thighs, making her way towards your core. you let out a soft whine when she ran her tongue through your folds and up to your clit, she pressed a gentle kiss to the bundle of nerves before she moved on.

she worked her way up your body, leaving wet kisses and dark bruises in her wake, and kissed you for a short moment before she sat up. "turn around."

you flipped yourself over—with the help of her hands on your hips—and pulled yourself up onto your knees, keeping your upper half pressed against the mattress. paige moved behind you, cursing under her breath as you bared yourself to her. her hands ran up your spine, pressing down lightly to deepen your arch, and she pushed her hips forward.

you moaned at the feeling of the strap brushing your cunt. you pushed your hips back, wiggling impatiently. paige ran her hands over the curve of your ass, squeezing gently before she pulled back. she didn't make you wait, she lined to tip up with your entrance and in one swift thrust she bottomed out.

"oh my god-" you gasped at the stretch and shifted on your knees. paige planted her hands on your hips but she didn't move, not until you gave the okay by pushing back against her. when you did, she pulled back and drove into you again—pulling a throaty groan from you.

it wasn't before the bed started to creak under the force of her thrust, the headboard hitting the wall with a rhythmic thud. your hands fisted the sheet desperately, face buried in the pillows as paige absolutely destroyed you, her hips snapped into yours with an intensity you could only describe as feral.

"fuck, baby," she groaned, voice shaky from the efforts of fucking into you, her fingers pressed into your hips so hard you thought she might leave bruises. "you feel so fucking good, and this hair—" her voice cracked, filled with lust and admiration. "oh my god, you have no idea."

you whimpered, a broken, pathetic sound. the strap was thick, filling you up perfectly, making your eyes roll back with how deep she reached. she couldn't keep her hands off your head, fingers threading roughly through the short strands.

"so fucking sexy," she rasped, her fingers raking over your scalp before gripping your hair and yanking you up slightly. you moaned loudly, your back arching deeper from the sharp tug. your whole body trembled under her, your hips starting to move on their own, pushing back into her to meet her thrust.

you could only nod your head, tears welling in your eyes from how good it felt, from the overwhelming pressing building inside you again. your thighs quivered, your whole body jolted with each thrust of her hips. the sound of skin on skin and your wetness filled the room, accompanied by your moans, paiges occasional groans and grunts, and the sound of the headboard hitting the wall. it was all so much.

page leaned over you, pressing her chest to your back, her mouth right at your ear. she loosened her grip on your hair just enough to run her fingers through it again. "i love it so much," she whispered, like it was a confession.

"need to cum—please, oh fuck—don't stop, don't stop." you whimpered, your cunt clenching around the strap at her words. she wrapped her hand around your throat, dragging you back against her chest as she nipped at the skin under your ear. her free hand slithered around your waist, slipping between your legs, and pressing her fingers against your clit.

the added attention to your clit had your knees buckling, if she hadn't been holding you up you were sure you would've collapsed. it only took a few more thrust, a few more circles on your clit, and you were cumming—a loud unrestrained moan fell from your lips, your thighs trying to close around her hand, back arching into a deeper arch.

she didn't stop, she didn't slow down. she lifted herself up and planted her hands on your shoulder blades, pushing you back down into the mattress. you sobbed into the sheets, your body burning with overstimulation. you choked out her name, blindly reaching back for her.

paige grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers, leaning over you agains as she fucked you through another orgasm, a moan tumbling from her own lips as she saw how wrecked you were. she finally slowed, grinding her hips against you at a leisurely pace to bring you down.

"paige," you whined when she finally pulled out, your voice rough from all the moaning. paige quickly discard the strap, tossing it over the side of the bed with a mental note to clean it later, and flipped you over.

"s'okay, i got you." she muttered, running her hand along the side of your face. you opened you eyes to look at her, she had a dopey smile on her face as she looked down at you. "so fucking beautiful." she leaned down to kiss you.

you pulled away after a few seconds, still needing to catch your breath, and with a fake pout you lightly shoved her shoulder. "you ruined my hair."

paige laughed and kissed your forehead, then your cheeks. "you still look good."

[blueivyy99]

Sylus? No ... Skye?

Sylus x NonMC

summary: you didn't know that your lovely sweetheart is the most wanted man in all of Linkon. you knew him as Skye. one year with him was bliss, then suddenly he ghosted you.

tags: fluff, angst, sylus as skye, non mc reader more tags to follow

taglist: @animegamerfox @lazypostfandomer @mentaltrouble2201

note: ACKKK new series hiii! Hope you enjoy this

Masterlist

"How is my darling?"

Destiny cafe is particularly busy during this time of the day. Chatters from friends and the sound of the coffee grinder fills the place. So when you heard a familiar voice talking in your direction, you tear your gaze away from your laptop and looked at them. It's your very adorable boyfriend -- Skye. You immediately shoot him a smile. He's finally here.

"You're just in time. I'm actually loading up my cart for skincare products. Come and help me choose."

He groaned before plopping to your side and looked at your screen. That made you giggle. He doesn't really like doing all of these and in his own words he can "just help pay for it" but he tolerates you anyway.

"Sweetie, didn't we just bought some a few months back?" he asked while still scrolling through different brands of facial masks looking for the ones you two already tried and tested.

"Months. It's been months, Skye. We already went through all of them. We only have a week's worth."

"Fine. Go and check out this one. I like the scent."

Your afternoon went on like that. Nothing new. Just a fun and light moment with your long term boyfriend. It has been a blissful year since you two got in a relationship and so far, he did nothing but make you smile. Although he is stubborn at times and makes your head ache with his sudden disappearances, you didn't question him for it. You wanted to, but it seemed like he isn't ready to tell you where he goes and as an apology when he returns he gives you a bouquet of peonies.

Skye tells you that he is just a lowly fruit vendor whose income depends on how his fruits sell and that he got lucky supplying a few bigshots costumers here in Linkon, but sometimes it's hard to believe that. His motorbike collection alone is enough to pay for your year's worth of salary and so far he used at least five different big bikes around you. Not to mention his cars that's another puzzle that you cannot wrap your head around.

And the way he spoils you is out of this world! You're not one to police someone's spending habits but if Skye is telling the truth and he is just living off of his fruits, then he should start cutting back on the amount he spends on you.

"Skye, if you ever think of paying for this, I'm telling you now: don't." you said trying to be stern. "Let me cover it this time."

He raised a brow at you, "What kind of boyfriend am I if I let my lady pay for the things she loves?"

When he is like this it's so easy to just give in and do what he wants especially when he looks so offended that you don't want him to pay for you. It might no be obvious to him, but he has this little pout whenever he doesn't get his way and his eyes looks so disappointed that it makes your heart clench.

But no. You will not be swayed.

"You will be a responsible boyfriend who will be mindful of his spending habits so he can maintain his lifestyle." you answered him looking directly in his eyes. "You have been spending wayyyy too much on me, baby. It feels like for a week alone, you already managed to gift me an entire month's worth of my salary."

"Fruit sold so well it's fair that my lady gets her share."

There he is again. Using his charm and sweet words to get to you.

"I love that you had such a provider mindset, that's very husband material of you." you said emphasizing your last phrase because you know you get him to listen to you when that kind of topic is brought up. "BUT you have to spend wisely. It's not everyday that you will sell well. What if a competitor comes and you lose all your costumers, then what? I would happily provide for us, but if we can avoid being broke then by all means let's avoid it."

Skye knows you and your history. You didn't come from a rich background and you had to work your entire high school until college just to finish studying so you know hard work and how important it is to be mindful of your purchases and seeing Skye just burn his finances like it doesn't hurt his pockets is something that you would just watch.

"What I'm saying is, you need to save up for your future. You never know what might happen."

He took your hand and laced it with his, bringing it up his lips and kissed it.

"Don't worry about that 'kay? I'm not spending more than what I can lose. We won't go broke." he said and smirked, "But I think I would spend more on you. I like it when you get so ... wifey. Makes me wanna put a ring on you."

You blushed hard. Feigning irritation, you took your hand back and crossed your arm.

"Well, I won't marry someone who doesn't care about our finances."

"Hey! Don't say that!" He made you face him but you won't budge.

He sighed defeatedly when you didn't speak further. "Fine. I would spend less."

You smiled and finally looked at him. "Promise?"

"Promise." he looked like a kicked puppy it's adorable. You kissed his cheeks to mend his broken heart.

"Love 'ya. Keep that up I might propose to you myself."

He was wide eyed when you said that.

"Don't you dare, sweetie. Let me do the proposing." he said.

"If you are gonna spend a couple of thousand dollars on it, then I would say no." you stuck your tongue out just to piss him off.

He chuckled at you and your childish antics, "A man don't kiss and tell about the prices of their gifts, sweetheart. You wouldn't know."

You just pinched his ears lightly careful not to hurt him. "Take me seriously, Skye. Don't spend too much on me. Save some for yourself."

"I know, baby. I hear you. I will try, okay?"

You nodded your head. That's good enough to hear for now.

==

You walked out of the cafe planning to chill in your home and watch movies when Skye received a phone call from his shop assistant Luke. He answered it while keeping his hand on your waist to guide you to the front seat of his car.

"Hello?" He shut the door to his side and started driving putting Luke in speaker mode.

"Boss Man, we're on our way to deliver watermelons. The client wants to meet you. It's important."

You can hear Skye grumbling under his breath. He hates it when these kind of things happen especially when his time with you gets cut short. You two only see each other once or twice a week and it really pisses him off when he can't spend it like he intended to. You took his free hand and held him nodding for him to go.

"But -"

"Do it. Visit me tomorrow or the next day. Just text me and I will take a day off." you said. You really missed him too but his business needs him and you won't be the one to cause it's downfall.

He just sighed and answered Luke, "I'll be there. I will just take Y/N home."

"Copy boss!"

==

He pulled up in front of your apartment. You can see that he hesitates to leave because he doesn’t even look at you and he has that little pout on his lips again. When Skye is like this, you really want to kiss him silly.

“Skye,”

“I don’t want to go.”

“Tsk.” He turned off the engine and went out to open the door for you. “I will be back as soon as I can, okay? I love you.”

You gave him a sweet kiss on the lips. You need your fill for when you wait on him.

“I love you too.”

You watched his car leave. Feeling hollow on your chest.

You went inside hopeful that he will see you in two days tops.

But then a week had passed and no message from him. You tried to call but it only rings.

It made you worry and you don’t know any way to reach him.

If you had known that it would be the last time you would see him after a very long time, would you have let him go?

note: how was itttt? i hope you enjoy. this will be at least 3-4 parts only. love you!!! reacts, comments and reblogs are much much welcome 🤗

[cinnamoonblue]

It reminds me of you

ONE SHOT - Ryomen Sukuna/Reader (female)

DESCRIPTION: Modern AU - fluff

SUMMARY: You want a Labubu so bad, especially the one which reminds you the most of your boyfriend, and he makes sure you get everything you want.

WARNINGS: english is not my first language, explicit language, pet names (princess, brat, woman), reader described as a female

WORD COUNT: 2,9K

✰ MASTERLIST ✰

NOTE: This is my first Sukuna one-shot ever, and I'm so excited. I have been wanting to start writing about him for such a long time now, and recently I finally become a Labubu mami and I love them so much and they have always reminded me so much of him so I had to write this. I hope you have fun reading this short one-shot with Sukuna as your mean, rude and grumpy man to the world, but being the most carrying and sweetest boyfriend to you. I know that for a lot of you this might not be the most correct take/description of modern day Sukuna, but low-key I think that he will be a big softy for his girl. ♡ Enjoy reading ♡

!PLEASE IF SOMEONE KNOW WHO IS THE ARTIST BEHIND THIS FANART OF SUKUNA IS IN THE BANNER LET ME KNOW SO I CAN CREDIT THEM!

It all started when one day you saw a TikTok of some girl unboxing something called Labubu. The moment you saw the fluffy small monster you fell in love with it and wanted one immediately. Sadly, when you checked the website where they sell them everything was sold out.

Since that day, your boyfriend has been hearing about these so called Labubus all the time. Sukuna, being Sukuna of course, doesn’t get the hype behind them and thinks that they are just a waste of money, but you choose to ignore him and his opinion.

Tonight is Friday, surprisingly both of you have it off today from both your university and the part time jobs you have, so you have decided to just stay home and do nothing. Ordering a takeaway from the nearest ramen shop closest to your apartment, you two eat your dinner while doing your own stuffs – you snuggled up in bed watching your favorite series, while Sukuna is playing games with his friends on his computer.

Your boyfriend seems to be losing as you can hear him loud and clearly cussing out his opponents and friends, but you don’t pay much attention to it as you are quite use to this type of behavior from him.

You and Sukuna are very different as people. When you started dating two years ago it came as a surprise to everyone around you. While you are more of a layback, nice and open person, Sukuna is a menace. He is rude, he is mean, he is eighty percent of the time grumpy, and he is probably the biggest cocky asshole a person can be or meet - is what everyone will say if you ask them about your salmon haired boyfriend. What they don’t know is that they are right, but also very wrong. He is all this and even more, the list with his bad sides and qualities is quite long. What they don’t know is that your boyfriend is also the most carrying, loving and sweet boyfriend any girl in this world would dream about, but only you get the chance to call him yours.

To this day you are the only person who he has let to know him on such a deeper level. Even his closes friends, Uraume and Toji, had never seen how sweet and carrying Sukuna could be until they met you, which leaded to a lot of teasing and messing around with him from his friends, but even when it seemed like he couldn’t stand it when they do it, from the inside Sukuna didn’t really care. As long as his girl is happy, he is willing to do the best he can, so you never feel unloved or cared about.

As they night continued you have switched from watching your favorite show to scrolling on TikTok. Tonight is a very important night for you as Labubu is having a big restocking and all you want is to get your hands on two boxes – one for you and one for your boyfriend.

Even though Sukuna doesn’t like or see the hype behind them, they remind you so much of him, and because of it you want to match with your boyfriend and get him one as well.

You know that you can’t keep yourself awake till four in the morning when the release will be so instead you put alarms to wake yourself up. Getting up from the bed before you fall asleep, you go to Sukuna who is still playing and wrap your hands around him.

“I’m going to sleep now.” You say to him as you place kisses all over his face while his eyes are focused on the game he is currently playing. “Are you coming to bed soon?”

Cussing out one more time as his team loses, he takes his headphones down and turns to you. Taking your face in the palms of his hands, he pulls you closer to him as he crashes his lips into yours. The kiss you share is both aggressive and gentle at the same time, but you don’t mind.

“No, princess. All because someone doesn’t know how to play.” He says to the mic attached to the headphones from which you can hear Toji’s voice complaining about Sukuna and his skills.

You laugh when you see your boyfriend’s grumpy face and kiss his lips one more time. “Don’t take too long.” You tell him as you wish him and Toji goodnight.

Your alarm rings at exactly three fifty-eight in the morning, but in your sleepy state you turn it off and roll to the side hoping that you will find your boyfriend next to you but instead you are met with an empty bed. Sitting up in bed you open your eyes and see him still on his computer talking quietly, probably still with Toji, making sure not to wake you up.

Grabbing your phone to see what time it is, the realization hits you. The Labubu drop. It is tonight and it is happening right now. Unlocking your phone and typing the website you breathe out for a second as you see that it is loading so you still have the chance to have your hands on two boxes, after all you are just a minute late after four.

“No, no, no, no.” You scream in despair as the website crashes. This makes your boyfriend immediately turn around and look at you. Seeing you whining and hitting the pillows in the bed with all the power you have in you, he takes his headphones off and gets up from his gaming chair.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Getting in bed and wrapping his arms around you he pulls you closer to his big define with muscles body.

“I failed.” You cry as your turn towards him, burying your head in his naked chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

Looking down at you Sukuna raises one brow. What have you failed exactly? You have already passed the last exam you had, so what it could be you failed so badly at four in the morning?

“What are you talking about?” His voice deep as always makes you look up at him.

“The Labubu war. I failed getting us Labubus.” Crying out dramatically, you bury your face again in his chest.

“Woman, are you fucking crazy?” He can’t believe that this whole scene is all about some overpriced kid’s toy. “You can’t be serious. All this at four am, for some ugly ass toy?”

Pulling away from him, you give him an offended look. “How could you call Labubu ugly?” You try to push him away from you, but this is impossible. This man is at least five times your size if anything you made things worse, as he pulls you to lay down with him.

“They are, princess.” His arms tighten around you even more as you gasp when he offended your little obsession again.

“No, Kuna they are not.” You protest once again as you try to escape your boyfriend’s deadly grip. “They are extremely cute, and you have no idea how much I want to get us some.”

“Why you keep saying us?” Easing his grip a bit he looks at you once again with confusion and a bit of irritation written all over his face.

“Because I want to get one for you as well, so we can match.” Propping on one arm on the bed you move your body a bit sideways to Sukuna’s in a way that you can balance it as you start running the fingers of your other hand through his soft salmon pink locks.

“I’m not carrying this ugly ass toy anywhere.” A makeshift of a mocking laughter escapes past his lips as he can’t believe that you want to get him one as well, even when you know that he doesn’t like them.

“You were going to put it in your car as a car charm.” Grabbing a bit of his hair in a fist you pull it playfully, making him hiss a bit from it.

“Oh, so you already decided where I’ll put it.” He playfully rolls his eyes as you nod at him.

“You know, I don’t know if I have mentioned, but they remind me of you so much.” Pushing yourself up with one hand, you cross one leg over his body and now you are sitting on top of him, tracing his tattoos with your fingers.  

“These monster looking things?”

“Yes, Kuna. These monster looking things.” You reply with a smile as you bend your body closer to him, your faces now millimeters apart. “Because they seem evil and mean from the outside, but they are actually super nice, and sweet, and cute.” With every word you say, you place a kiss on his lips. His grumpy face doesn’t change much, but you know him very well and you know that he enjoys what you are doing. “Should I stop?”

Giving you a warning look with his dark crimson eyes, you just laugh at him as you continue to kiss his lips. “I’m not cute.” He murmurs in between your kisses.

“Sure, Sukuna. Sure.” You whisper with a smile.

It has been a week since that night. You have promised yourself that you will get Labubu no matter what next time they drop, but the problem is that it won’t be any time soon. You have found a lot of resellers in your city, but the prices they sell them for are crazy and as much as you want one for you and your boyfriend you won’t spent that much money on it.

Coming home from a long shift from work and a long day from lectures all you want is to take a hot shower and snuggle up in bed. Sukuna is working tonight as well, but you don’t know when he will be home. The nightclub he works at doesn’t close until five in the morning and even if you text him, he won’t be able to response, so all you can do is guess when he might be back.

After taking your hot shower before bed your whole body feels a bit relaxed, but it is still crying for sleep. Instead of putting on pajamas, you go for one of your boyfriend’s T-shirts. The moment you put it on, you hear the front door of your apartment opening.

Walking out of the bedroom you are met with your tired boyfriend’s face. “Hey, Kuna.” You say as you go to him and wrap your arms around him. “Why home so early?”

“It was slow. They can manage without me.” He grunts as he pulls away a bit but still holds you in his arms. “I have something for you, brat.” He tells you, giving you a tired, cocky smile, the one you love so much.

You can’t help but smile. This is the real Sukuna for you, the one only you have the privilege to see - grumpy, but carrying; tired, but still very loving.

Nodding with his head, Sukuna leads you to your living room, and you both sit on the sofa. Taking his black backpack from his bag he tells you to close your eyes, and you do exactly what he tells you to do. You can hear him unzipping the bag and then taking something out of it, pulling it on the table. “Okay, open them now.”

Opening your eyes, you look at the coffee table and see what is on top of it. Gasping loudly, your eyes widen, and you can help but happily stomp with your legs on the floor. Two Labubu boxes. He got you not one, but two Labubu boxes as you wanted. “Sukuna… you… how?”

“I have my ways.” He smirks at you.

The excitement in your voice fills up the room and you can’t help but throw yourself in your boyfriend’s body. “I love you, Kuna. I love you so much.”

Wrapping his arms around your body and rolling his eyes as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, he murmurs. “Yea, yea. Me too, brat.”

Pulling away from him you give him a quick kiss on the lips before you take the boxes in your hand.

“They are not from the two different collections, one of them is the one you wanted the most, so…” Hearing this you are not surprised. He might be grumpy and seems like he doesn’t always pay attention to what you are saying, but Sukuna always listens. Of course, he has heard, and against his will, remembers all the things you have said about this stupid keychain of toys. He knows which collection you want the most, and which color you wanted, but he has managed to find only one box from it, but he hopes you like the other one as well.

“Okay, let’s open the macaron one first.” You excitedly say, as you closed your eyes and started to open the box. “I really want the pink one.”

Sukuna can’t help but smile. You are adorable. Not only now when you are all excited as a little kid about some toy, but in general. He will be lying if he says that he doesn’t love this childish side of yours. He adores it. He adores everything about you.

Finally, opening the box and the small package the Labubu is in it, you open your eyes. “Oh my, Kuna, look how cute it is.” You coo at the grey Lububu in your hands, pulling it closer to you in a hug.

“But it’s not pink.” Sukuna comments as he takes it from your hands to observe it better, still not understanding the hype.

“It doesn’t matter, it’s still super cute.” Reaching for the other box, you take a better look at it, before you open it. It is the ‘Have a Seat’ edition, the other one you wanted the most, because here is the Labubu that reminds you the most of Sukuna and you are praying to be it in the box.

Doing the exact same blind opening as you did with the first box, you take a deep breath before opening your eyes. You not only scream, but also jumped from excitement, which made Sukuna flinch in surprise.

“Calm down, woman. You’ll wake the neighbors up.”

“Baby, oh my, Kuna. Kuna, look!” You excitedly start to jump on one spot on the sofa, your excitement through the roof, because you have got the one you want the most. The salmon pink one, with red eyes with heart shapes in them. Your own Labubu Sukuna. “I got you in Labubu version.”

Turning the Labubu, towards him, Sukuna just rolls his eyes. It looks nothing like him. He is a tall, big, scary for some people man, not a pink furry monster keychain. “It looks nothing like me.” He grunts.

“Yes, it does, Kuna.” You pull him closer for a kiss. “Thank you. You made me so happy tonight.” Placing a kiss on his cheek, you also wrap your arms around him.

“Only tonight?” He slightly tilts his head to take a better look at you.

“A bit more, than usual.” You reply.

Two weeks later you, Sukuna and Toji went out for a few drinks. Sukuna didn’t drink tonight, because he has decided to go out with his car, and right now he is the only sober one, he has to drag you and Toji to where he has parked.

“Come on, get in asshole.” He tells Toji as he tries to get him to sit in the back seat of the car. Once he gets Toji to get in the car, he closes the door and gets to the driver’s seat.

“The fuck is this mouse hanging on the mirror?” Toji laughs from the back of the car as he points towards Sukuna’s grey Labubu hanging on the rear-view mirror.

“This is Labubu.” You turn around to look at Toji as you explain to him what Labubu is and you show him your salmon pink one, placed in a little car basket on the air conditioner on your side.

On your way to Toji’s place he heard everything about Labubu, and the story of how you got them. “It was last week when we went to the mall and bought them their outfits and the car seat.” You happily squeak as you take look at your Labubus. Your Labubu is dressed in a cute pink outfit, and Sukuna’s wears a black robbery mask, with a silver and gold chain around its neck and a gun in one hand.

“We are here. Now get out before you throw up in my car.” Sukuna turns to Toji as he parked in front of his place. He knows that from tomorrow Toji won’t stop making fun of him, all because of this stupid toy.

Before Toji gets out of the car, he pats Sukuna on the shoulder and leans closer to tell him something, which you don’t catch. “Aren’t you a big softy, Kuna?” Without giving Sukuna a chance to response, Toji is out of the car, as he knows how to piss his best friend off the best – call him weak for you and use the nickname only you can call him.

“What did he say?” You ask once you two are alone and Sukuna starts the engine again.

“That Labubu sucks.”

END NOTE: I hope you really liked this short one-shot. Sukuna is one of my most favorite anime men (I have only two most favorite men lol) and this is the first time ever I write something about him, so every criticism about it will be appreciated, as I plan to write a lot more about him in the future. If you liked this feel free to like, comment, reblog or message me ♡ Thank you for reading it ♡♡♡

writing, format, header © cinnamoonblue & dividers by © cinnamoonblue and @bernardsbendystraws ©cinnamoonblue, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[bweeeb]

LOVING HER

Pedro Pascal × youngest reader.

Summary: Everyone could see the chemistry but neither of them believed it really existed.

Warnings: my writing, reader age 23, short.

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Chaos. Flashes. Makeup touch-ups. Instructions being shouted from every direction.You could’ve lost your mind—But there he was, sitting calmly with his arm stretched across the back of the white couch, his thumb gently brushing your bare shoulder as he listened attentively to the director.

Pedro had always been careful with you.As careful as someone could possibly be—even from the very beginning.The way he constantly checked in on how you felt about the scenes. The way he worried whether you had eaten that day—because somehow, he had noticed that whenever you filmed sex scenes, you wouldn’t eat beforehand, feeling too bloated to feel sexy in front of the cameras.He cared if you were sleeping well.If you were cold.If you were anxious.

Pedro paid attention to you all the time.You had always heard good things about Pedro Pascal—the gentle giant—and figured he must just be like that with everyone. Pedro was simply too good of a person.And you had made sure not to let your little fantasies get too far.

"So," the interviewer said, "this movie is definitely a big hit with age-gap readers—and, of course, with the massive Pedro Pascal and Y/n fanbase, because let’s be honest here..."

He pointed at the two of you before continuing.

"What was it like filming something like this? You guys have insane chemistry—crazy good—and the audience is going to lose it. Was it difficult?"

"I mean…" Pedro started.He rubbed his beard, smiled, and looked at you. "It’s a dangerous road. Of course we had to study how the characters would react to each situation... but honestly, it wasn’t hard. Things felt easy with Y/n."

"Yeah," you agreed. "I think because the characters have such a big age difference—and Pedro and I are a little distant in the same way Alek and Angel are—it just... worked naturally. We worked really well together."

"You're really an angel,"

Pedro muttered with a laugh, making you turn to him with a huge smile.His fingers brushed through your hair, and the interviewer subtly watched the moment.The chemistry between you two was unmistakable.

"I can't argue with that either,"

the interviewer said with a laugh, forcing you both to look away from each other.

"So," he continued, "living and acting through a story that explores a relationship with a big age gap... do you think it can work in real life? Or should it stay in books and movies?"

"I think it depends,"you answered simply.

"Yeah," Pedro added, "I think it depends on communication. A relationship can’t be based on one that failed—or even one that succeeded."

The interviewer nodded thoughtfully.

"But you once said you wouldn’t date women under thirty, right?"

"Yeah, I said that,"

Pedro admitted softly.Your gaze dropped from him to your hands resting in your lap—nothing you hadn’t already known.

"Would you date an older guy, Y/n?"

"Yeah. My parents have a fifteen-year age gap, and I think... if it’s the right person, it just works. No problem."

"Wow, that’s a really cool way to see it.Can you name three DILFs you’d hook up with—or is that too much?"

"No," you said, laughing. "Let’s give the people what they want. Chaos."

Everyone laughed, but you could feel Pedro stiffen slightly beside you on the couch."Good, good," the interviewer grinned. "We love chaos."

"Alright," you said playfully, "James Franco, Jensen Ackles, Aaron Taylor-Johnson... and since I follow Jasen on Instagram and am obsessed with his adorable family, I’ll throw in a bonus—Jeffrey Dean Morgan.And just so no one gets it twisted—this is all for entertainment, okay?I honestly love their wives even more."

You pulled a face, and the interviewer laughed loudly—unlike Pedro, who was smiling at the floor, but not like he had been smiling just a few seconds earlier."

Pedro, do you agree with that?"

"They’re good choices..." Pedro said, "but none of them would be enough for her."

"No?"

You turned to him, laughing."No. I'm a daddy bigger than any of them. You know that."he said, voice low, as he ran his hand gently along your face, down to your chin.

"Maybe. Maybe not. You never showed me,"

you teased back.When the interview aired three days later, you could barely keep up with all the comments and the endless edits about you and Pedro.You almost started to believe there might actually be something between you two—But a month later, the fantasy had faded away.What you didn’t know was that Pedro had been watching it all too—hiding at home like some lovesick teenager, as if the "old man" wasn't fifty years old. But because of exactly that—his age—he decided to let you go.Because he believed you deserved someone better.

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[verdancy-hime]

Nah

This is how we do this

That man still sees you as a child.

He is fetishizing the fact that you are as close to a child as he can legally fuck.

Specifically he thinks you're stupid.

Once he finds out that you're not a blank slate that he can write his ideal fantasy girl onto because you have your own thoughts and opinions and ideas about the world he will become intolerable and sulky and annoying, like your parents but worse and also he will still expect you to have sex with him.

This is how a lot of relationships will go when you are older, too. This is just an unfortunate dynamic that crops up a lot in relationships. Most people wind up parentified or infantalized because most relationships replicate a parent child dynamic.

The other option is that he doesn't give a fuck about your body or your self at all, just your age and that he feels like he is getting away with something by having sex with you.

In that case, he will leave you for someone younger and "purer" at some point.

If you are of legal age and you want to have sex with an older man, that's okay.

But remember that he thinks it will be easy to scam you and don't fucking let him.

It will happen to a ton of your friends. Most women have at least one abusive relationship in their teens or early 20s. It's very very difficult not to let it happen to you. Even if you are smart and careful and confident and cool and well informed.

Most men are raised in a system where it is not considered wrong to lie to you to get what they want. Like even if the truth is still going to get him what he wants but he's not sure. He will not see it as wrong to lie to you.

A lot of men do not see women as human, just difficult challenges that they can solve if they work hard enough. A lot of those men find a specific joy in dating or having sex with younger women or being the first one to make her feel violated or taken advantage of by a man. The corruption of your innocence, including the destruction of your idea that love is real or the destruction of your faith that most people are basically rational and behave according to specific rules that you can learn and that bargaining is possible are both quite prized by such people. There are people who fetishize completely destroying a person, including the destruction of all their potential, and they specifically seek out talented and intelligent and attractive young people with a lot of potential to destroy.

Do not ever let a man fuck with your money, your scholarships or schooling, or your housing. Do not ever let a man isolate you from your friends. If you are really young, you might one day get away from your family after a strong inexplicable urge to do so and realize they were actually super fucked up. Do not let a man decide this for you.

Good men have no problem being used for sex, or even for fancy dates and sex. This is according to their ability, but don't let men tell you that you can't get that or don't deserve it or you're doing something wrong. Men rigged the entire economy so that women don't have money and men can throw it at us to impress us. Only bitter resentful men with something wrong with them object to this. If you want to have sex with some older man because he will take you to dinner or buy you art supplies or a fancy purse or whatever? Do it. But don't let him convince you that it's going to last or that it means something. He will try. Make it clear that you are using him for sex and fun. Don't let him push you or trick you out of that.

Most of all, don't quit school, quit a job, leave a friend group, give up something you love, etc. For a man.

That older man is going to see you as some kind of fucked up key to immortality. Like literally he is going to think if he traumatizes you hard enough you will hate the color combination he liked to wear or the smell of his cologne or the fact that you like to have sex a certain way for the rest of your life. He will think that if he instills his opinion in you, the next men you date will have sex the way he taught you to have sex or that you'll go tell everyone to like his favorite shitty movies. He is going to think that his penis gets credit for who you are as a person and everything you accomplish.

Don't let him do or be that.

You are free to make your own choices to have sex but that man is afraid of himself and how small he is and you are the future stretched out before him and he will project however he feels about you based on that. Remember.

You're not a person to him. You're a child. A child he is legally allowed to fuck. He is getting off on the idea that he is supposedly completing you or raising you or making you who you are going to be.

This man can't give you independence because he wants to cage you.

If you can scam him into paying for school books or taking you on a vacation somewhere you always wanted to go, do it.

But remember you decide who you are.

Okay, here's my criticism of this post I keep seeing -- and no, it's not what you think. I know, my longtime followers who know the kinds of things I post about a lot are probably thinking, "Oh, I know what their objection is going to be. It's going to be that 18-19 year olds are adults who can date older partners if they choose to." But no, that's not it this time! Yes, I do believe it's fine for young adults to date older adults if they choose to (and am accordingly rolling my eyes at all the "This should go up to 25!" comments in the notes), but. That's not my issue here. In fact, precisely because I believe that young adults dating older adults is morally neutral, I'm not at all concerned about the efficacy of the messaging against it. My concern is that underage minors being in sexual/romantic relationships with adults is actually harmful and dangerous, and therefore young people actually should be warned against it, and this is not an effective warning.

Fellow old people, do y'all remember being 14? At all? Would you have found this warning effective and compelling at that age?

I for sure would not! I did not! Quite the opposite!

Put yourself in the young person's position here. You have no rights. You're treated as someone with no agency. Your parents, teachers, government, and society as a whole treats you as some combination of "nuisance," "ticking time bomb," and "unthinking blob." Developmentally, you're at a phase of life when you should be transitioning to a more adult role, but everyone around you demonizes you for that desire. All your thoughts, feelings, and opinions are dismissed as the inconsequential ravings of Just A Dumb Kid Who Doesn't Know Any Better. You meet someone who treats you with basic human politeness, tells you that he likes you and that you're mature, actually treats you like you have two brain cells to rub together. Of course you're going to be drawn to him. And then when other adults warn you that obviously of course he doesn't really like you, that's impossible, of course you're not really mature, no one could possibly see you that way; actually you're naive and incapable of making your own decisions, and the way your parents/teachers/society treat you is completely justified. Are you going to heed those warnings?

Why are adults absolutely constitutionally incapable of giving good, necessary advice to teenagers without fucking insulting them in the process? Of course teenagers don't listen to it! Why would anyone??

"Oh, well, of course teenagers don't listen, because they're stubborn, and immature, and biologically determined to make bad decisions, which is all the more reason they need to be controlled," say adults, completely oblivious to the actual problem.

When I was a teenager, the big moral panic at the time was teen pregnancy, and we were all inundated with the least effective cautionary tales in the world: "If you get pregnant as a teen, you'll have to leave your parents' care and function as an adult!" Which left every girl who'd intentionally gotten pregnant for the explicit purpose of escaping her abusive parents saying "Yeah, that was the goal." And every girl who was looking for a way of escaping her abusive parents to think "What a great idea!" Today the big moral panic is older partners, but if the appeal of an older partner is that he treats you like someone capable of making your own decisions, why would you be persuaded by a counterargument of "Don't listen to him, of course you're not capable of making your own decisions!"?

Again. I'm saying this because I agree that adults dating minors is a bad thing and that minors should be warned against it. EFFECTIVELY.

That said, this is my advice to any 17-or-younger person being pursued by an 18+-year-old partner: Listen. You deserve so much better than the way society treats you. You deserve to be taken seriously. You deserve to make your own decisions in life. You have a mind of your own, and people should recognize that instead of treating your pesky "free will" as a personal affront or an inconvenient glitch. You can and should think for yourself. You deserve, and I hope you have, relationships with older people who validate those truths about you. However. You are still legally and materially powerless. I don't have to tell you that. You live it every day. Someone older than you -- and therefore, inherently, legally, more powerful than you -- should not be trying to extract things from you. Money, sex, unpaid labor, anything of value. Someone more powerful than you who truly values you, values your friendship, values you as a person, will be mindful of your status and not try to extract anything from you. Cross-age friendships are good. Older people can and should genuinely like and appreciate you, and you can and should genuinely like and appreciate them. But if they try to extract anything from you, run away.

[thatguywrites]

I love your disabled reader stories, how would you feel writing a low vision/blind reader. Any driver you want for it, also maybe reader possibly having a guide dog. Keep up your amazing writing and have a lovely day.

Lowkey in the hospital rn (not ER, no worries) so this is a nice distraction :)

Drivers with Visually Impared Reader

Verstappen, Piastri, Tsunoda, Hamilton, Alonso

Max Verstappen

Whenever you and Max run into signs that don't have braille, he tweaks out

Even if you're kinda used to it, Max is always infuriated by the ableism of Europe and the Motorsports community

If you use a white cane he always gives anyone who walks on blind paths the nastiest stimk eye

If you have a guide dog, whenever it's off duty it's just the bestest friend with Max's pets

Racing is actually very hearing oriented, so he is very exited to teach you to sim race

He gets 3d models of the tracks and teaches you how to listen for how fast you're going

He loves being able to share his passions

There is nothing hotter to him than his boyfriend sim racing

Oscar Piastri

When you guys first get together Oscar wants to know what it's like to be blind, so he tries to walk around his apartment blindfolded

He doesn't even make it an hour, and aquires tons of bruises

He doesn't tell you he did that until you'd been dating for over a year, and says it really helped him understand what your life is like

He also learns the importance of dulled furniture

And he makes sure his mom's house is also disabled friendly

Which she does without question of course

Yuki Tsunoda

He puts 亀吉 on your service dog's back all the time

Part time service dog, full time taxi

Japan is actually pretty Blind-friendly, so he really likes taking you there

It makes him happy to see you not be treated like an other, instead just be treated like a person

Whenever you come to the paddock he gets really protective of you

Like he sticks by your side because he knows someone is gonna be rude, but maybe they won't if they know he's about to punch them

Lewis Hamilton

As soon as you decided to move in together Lewis spent an entire day making a 3d model of his apartment for you

It is perfectly to scale

He also makes sure that any corners of his furniture aren't sharp in case you bump into them when you're still getting used to the apartment

Whenever your service dog is off duty he will spend hours playing with it and Roscoe

He gets a customized service dog vest with Ferrari/Mercedes colors for when you're in the paddock

Even if you can't see it, he'll make sure that you still slay

Pierre Gasly

Whenever he's away for races, he record audio books for you

He says that his voice is better that the boring monotone ones

He loves having cuddle piles with Simba, your service dog, and you

All his pretty boys

He's very sweet with you, and loves going on walks with you, but if you run into someone being rude and getting in your way, he'll snap

He's very protective

He knows you can hold your own, but he also wants to take care of you

Taglist: @koalapastries @justaf1girl @spoonfulofmilo @lokisen @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[suhosieun]

i love sieun so much as a main character because he tries so hard not to be one.

in the beginning of the season, all he wanted was to sit quietly in the background, exist in peace, and yearn for suho without the world clawing at him. but he’s a gravitational force. he doesn’t seek the world, the world seeks him. the good, the bad, all of it. and even though he never seeks human connection, insists that he doesn’t need friends, he loves having them. he loves loving them.

he’s not loud about it, he doesn’t know how to be, but his loyalty is violent, bone-deep, unwavering. he’ll fight for his friends, kill for them, stand up to their dads without blinking. he’ll set himself on fire to keep them warm.

and the most tragic part? he could’ve stayed invisible. he could've stayed out of it all. the bad guys didn’t even want him, they wanted baku. but sieun’s heart won't let him walk away. his instinct to protect always wins. always. something he learnt from suho.

he shows up (all four feet of him); no real fighting skills, no actual strength, just this terrifying cocktail of rage, stubbornness, desperation, and whatever object he can get his hands on to stab someone with.

but beneath all of that, he’s just a kid. a scared, tired, broken kid. he flinched when seongje first cornered him in the bathroom. he cried when his friends told him it wasn’t his fault. he carries the kind of guilt that rots you from the inside out, and he’s still trying to make sense of it. still trying to believe he deserves good things.

he’s just a teenage boy who’s been handed too much pain too early and still, still, he chooses to love.