#been thinking about this stuff for two years now

[rawme-price]

Crow!gaz who loves shiny things and human!reader who finds said shiny things.

Youve known gaz just long enough to know he likes shiny things, and you really like his company, so you figure a shiny gift would be fitting, right? Anyways you spend forever looking through the various trinkets you've collected over the years, finally landing on a small polished bronzite. When you hand it to him during breakfast, a casual gesture, you mention how it reminded you of his eyes.

A simple gesture, you think. You go back to eating, but the others see the way gazs feathers puff up when he stares down at the shiny rock. After that, its some marbles, then a seashell, then more rocks.

You shower him in gifts, a bit unintentionally. Everytime you see something shiny, you grab it and tuck it into ur pocket for gaz. He's obsessed, of course. The bird in his brain screaming about what a good mate you would make, while hes overjoyed that you think if him so often.

Ofc you two get closer, talking more and hanging out more. It gets to the point where people assume you two will be together, finding one of you always leads to the other. One thing leads to another and gaz eventually invites you i to his room, nothing more than to hang out in his nest, but still the gesture is huge.

While looking over the small space, you notice all the trinkets you've given him laid out on the desk. When you ask about a trinkets display and gaz shyly admits he doesnt have one, you offer to clear out one of your own. Its mentioned in passing, how its basically empty anyways because gaz owns so much of your stuff now.

But that comment has gaz freezing, looking at you with wide eyes. "You've been giving me stuff...from your own horde?" His feathers puff up fully, and he has to physically press down the mating trill in the back of his throat. When you nod as if that was obvious, he sternly reminds himself ur not an avian, so sharing hordes isnt a big deal.

Still, hes thinking about it even as you watch a movie in his nest. You've basically just asked him to be your mate in avian culture. Would you be interested? Surely not, but the idea is enticing.

[kxsagi]

Whoever you like with a reader that never shares stuff about their life? Specially big things, and it's not like they're hiding it, they just don't think it's a big of a deal.

(This is me btw I forgot to tell my friend that I moved countries like five months out.)

“𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩”

a/n: lore drop of the day from me!!! my card got stuck in the fuckass ATM machine 😀🔫

but forgetting to tell your friend you moved countries five months later is crazy 😭

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, kaiser michael, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, niko ikki, barou shoei, otoya eiya, itoshi sae, karasu tabito

isagi yoichi

this man is a chronic over-sharer, so when he finds out you've been dropping life-changing events like candy in a trail behind you, he’s disturbed. 

you told him you got into a new university in another city like three months after you started attending. he thought you were still commuting from your old apartment. 

“wait, what do you mean you don’t live there anymore??” 

he starts keeping a mental checklist every time he sees you: are you still in the same timezone? do you still have a cat? are your parents still alive? are you married now??? 

once he finds out you were hospitalized for a whole weekend and didn’t tell anyone, he puts you in a groupchat titled “yo tell us if you die.” 

itoshi rin

rin thinks you are hiding something, not because you act suspicious, but because who forgets to tell someone they got a new sibling??? 

he asked how your weekend was and you casually went, “oh yeah, my mom had a baby. it was chill.” and now he’s staring at you like you just admitted to committing a felony. 

he gets irritated on principle because you’re so calm about it. “you don’t think a new family member is worth mentioning?” “i mean, i wasn’t the one giving birth. i just held the baby.” 

he now interrogates you once a week. you sit there sipping your drink like you’ve done nothing wrong. 

weirdly, he finds it kind of hot. “how are you always so unbothered.” bro is suffering internally. 

kaiser michael

actually finds your behavior hilarious. he thinks you’re a walking enigma and he loves it. 

when you randomly mentioned your ex-boyfriend from three years ago that he never knew existed, he blinked like a cat who just got splashed with water. “wait. you dated someone for two years? and never said anything?” “well it’s not like it’s relevant anymore.” 

from then on, he tries to bait you into revealing more forgotten lore. 

“so when were you planning on telling me you speak fluent german?” “i forgot.” 

he is now 45% in love with you and 55% afraid you’re part of a secret agency. 

nagi seishiro

he didn’t even notice at first because he also forgets basic facts. 

you once told him you dropped out of college and he just went, “huh. sick.” 

but then months later, he asked what class you were taking, and you blinked. “i dropped out, remember?” 

he did not remember. 

“why don’t you tell people things?” “i do. you just weren’t listening.” 

he starts asking questions like “so are you still… in japan?” and you just shrug. 

starts writing down your life updates in his notes app. it’s like a patchy wiki page. 

shidou ryusei

thinks you’re insane. but also kind of respects it. 

he’ll hear you casually mention that your apartment burned down last year and he’s like “WAIT BACK UP. WHAT?!” 

your lack of reaction makes him spiral. “do you have no emotional attachment to anything??” “no i just moved on. i got a new place. the new one has a bidet.” 

now he asks every time he sees you: “so. did you lose a limb recently? join a cult? are you wanted in another country? blink once if you’re on the run.” 

and you’ll just laugh and say “oh yeah i got hit by a cyclist last week.” 

he’s never felt more unhinged in his life. also? he’s obsessed. 

niko ikki

he thinks he’s going insane. because you’re so normal until you drop things like “my parents divorced two years ago” during lunch like it’s the weather. “... you’ve never mentioned your dad before.” 

“he lives in canada now.” “WHAT??” 

he starts journaling just to process your conversations. 

thinks maybe you just don’t trust people, but when he gently brings it up, you’re like “oh no i just forgot.” 

he now feels like an investigative journalist trying to piece together your life from fragments. 

still doesn’t know what city you live in. 

barou shoei

takes it personally. 

when you mentioned in passing that you moved to another continent without saying anything, he just glared at you like you kicked his dog. “you moved?! why didn’t you tell me?” “i thought i did. didn’t i?” you did not. 

he’s baffled by how little importance you put on what he considers life-changing events. 

but over time, he stops getting mad and just starts sighing. 

“just tell me next time, alright?” “of course! … oh, did i tell you i got a new job?” “YOU WHAT–??” 

otoya eita

is fascinated by you. like a bug in a glass. 

he’s incredibly nosy and loves drama, so when you offhandedly mention, “i accidentally got engaged once,” he almost chokes on his drink. “babe. what??” 

now he pesters you constantly just to see what forgotten gem will fall out of your mouth. 

“did you ever commit a crime?” “does trespassing count?” “oh my gosh i’m dating a criminal.” 

he finds it thrilling. your mystery is his favorite thing. he even calls it your “girlboss lore drops.” 

itoshi sae

the first time you casually mentioned that you used to live in spain, he actually froze mid-sentence. “wait, you lived in spain??” “yeah. like three years ago.” 

slowly realizes you just… don’t share things unless asked directly. but not out of secrecy, it’s because you literally don’t see it as a big deal. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” “you didn’t ask.” 

his eye twitched. it lowkey frustrates him because he wants to know everything about you, but you’re out here forgetting you changed citizenship. 

he starts asking follow-up questions for everything. “what’d you do today?” “oh nothing. just mailed a few boxes.” “boxes for what.” “for the visa stuff.” “visa???” 

eventually, he softens. now he just tucks your little lore drops into his mental folder of “reasons i love her (even if she’s insane).” 

still mildly stressed 24/7 though. 

karasu tabito

he thought you were messing with him the first time it happened. 

“wait, back up, you’ve been to five continents?” “yeah.” “why the hell didn’t you ever say that?” “you never asked.” “do i have to interrogate you?? are you secretly in witness protection???” 

once you told him you were trilingual midway through ordering food and he just stared at you, stunned. “oh my gosh, you’re a menace.” 

but also? he thinks it’s hysterical. 

“i bet you wouldn’t even mention it if you were dying.” “depends. is it serious or like. manageable.” “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??” 

this man now treats you like a human puzzle. he keeps tabs. he tries to guess what you’re going to forget to tell him next. 

your friendship is now built on a mix of feral banter and him dramatically gasping every time you accidentally drop major life news like “btw i used to do fencing in high school.” 

he’s hooked. like a reality show. 

“stay tuned next week when she reveals she once survived the bubonic plague and forgot to mention it.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[nadvs]

escapism .* part two

pairing rafe cameron x socialite! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you live a turbulent life in the public eye as an unruly heiress from a controlling family. you thought you had your future all planned out, until you learn that your trust fund hinges on marrying a stranger.

» masterlist

“This won't work,” Rafe says as he shuts his father’s office door. He’d already told Ward that while you won’t make this easy, he’s determined to get through with it.

But now, after he mulled it over the entire drive from your home to Cameron Development’s headquarters following that tense meeting, he’s stewing in how angry you make him, how effortlessly you push him into his old ways.

This won’t be the easy win he hoped for. He’d thought he’d do anything to prove his loyalty. Turns out that marrying you is the exception.

“What?” Ward says.

“She won’t cooperate,” Rafe continues, sinking in the seat across the desk. “Shouldn’t we think about how bad it’ll make us look when this doesn't work out?”

Ward leans in.

“I know this is a big request,” he tells him, “but a lot is hinging on this.”

“How can we be sure having her associated with our family won’t bite us in the ass?” Rafe carries on.

“Listen…” Ward squints, takes a beat. “I didn’t want to pull you into it. I asked Kal to keep it from you, too. But there’s more to this than you think.”

Rafe straightens in his seat.

“Kal didn’t get where he is without making some deals. A few years back, I… needed help with an audit. He scrubbed stuff for us. Off the books. Then, last week, he came to me and asked about you. He said he scratched our back and it’s about time we scratch his.”

Rafe stills. He’s not taken aback by his father’s scant ethics; he’d already taught him that the most successful men don’t follow the rules. He’s in shock because his own dad kept this from him.

It stings like betrayal.

“That asshole threatened us?” Rafe says, his voice going up a few decibels.

“Indirectly,” he sighs. “See this through, and our hands will be clean. And it will make us look good. He’s a powerful man to be friends with. This will open doors for us. I believe in you, son. You want the best for the company, don’t you?”

It hurts that he even needs to ask.

His eyes find the back of one of the frames sitting on Ward’s desk. He knows which photo it holds, a snapshot of his little sisters hugging, a reminder of how emotionally sidelined he’s always been. Of how easily his dad overlooked him. Of how affection always orbited elsewhere.

“Yeah. Of course,” Rafe finally answers. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He looks up to find disappointed eyes.

“Because of how you just reacted,” his dad says.

Shame digs its claws into Rafe’s chest. The man he looks up to didn’t believe he was capable of hearing the truth. He thought his own son wasn’t safe to confide in.

He nods once, short and sharp. He’s not backing out. He’s been telling his dad for years that he can be taken seriously, that he can be trusted, that he can reign in his temper. Now’s the time to prove it.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Minutes later, Rafe calls Kal. He keeps his word, telling him all about how the meeting with you and the publicist went, that he saw you take a call from a family lawyer, that you asked him to reconsider.

Before they end the call, Rafe asks if he can come by to speak to you later today.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You’re alone in every sense. Fragile, unguarded, and entirely vulnerable.

You can’t even call someone without your father finding out. This morning, you’d asked the lawyer on the phone not to mention your conversation to anyone, but your dad just reamed you out over it.

The amount of power Kal has over people is terrifying. Nothing is kept from him.

There’s a knock at your door.

“Not now,” you shout across your bedroom.

“You have a visitor,” the voice says.

You don’t have it in you to get up. On your worst days, your illness drains you of your energy, and getting screamed at by your dad on top of it just adds to the weight in your bones.

It must be Celeste coming to bother you.

You’re in bed, your duvet up to your chin, your voice carrying as you defeatedly say, “Fine.”

The butler opens the door and scurries back down the hallway.

Rafe meant to be firm but civil, to handle this level-headedly, but when he steps inside to see that you’re lying in bed as early as four in the afternoon, as if you work hard like he does, as if you have ever worked at all, stirs something vicious beneath the surface.

You symbolize everything he can’t afford to be: lethargic and ambitionless, with no desire to impress anyone. And Kal wouldn’t have cornered him and his dad into this stupid agreement if you weren’t such a loose cannon.

“Shit, must be tiring doing nothing all day,” he says.

Your muscles are heavy as you push your duvet off, sitting up. It’s infuriating how this man knows absolutely nothing about you and assumes the worst.

“Why are you here?” you ask. You don’t give into the urge to snap at him in case he came to tell you that he changed his mind. But you have very little hope in people, especially those who work with your dad.

“I’m getting my stuff moved into the condo,” he confirms. “You should do the same.”

Anger rushes through you, pushing you to stand. You close the distance, refusing to let him intimidate you.

Rafe meets the fire in your eyes. Considering how you threatened Kal that you’d expose your own family to the press, and what he’d just learned from his dad, he realizes a penchant for blackmail must run in your blood.

“I asked you nicely not to do this,” you say through clenched teeth.

“That was you being nice?” he replies with a pompous smirk, towering over you.

You snarl. It’s ridiculous to expect people to believe that this is the man who changed everything for you, who fixed you and made you want to fall in line all of a sudden.

“You’ll regret this,” you tell him.

Rafe’s impulses are louder than the voice of reason telling him that being calm will get you on his side. How can he be calm when you bring out the worst in him?

“Don’t screw with me,” he mutters. “You think your dad won’t write you out the second I tell him you’re not cooperating?”

You stifle the frown that’s tugging at your lips.

You’re well aware that your own father wouldn’t hesitate to take a man like Rafe’s side over yours. You accepted it long ago, mentally checked out and numb to his cruelty.

But hearing him say it out loud, after two days of such vicious, unexpected turmoil, cuts deep.

You shouldn’t have expected any humanity in Rafe. You’ve been surrounded by ruthlessness all your life, and your father only associates with people who are the same way.

“Get the fuck out of my room,” you say sternly.

“It’s not your room anymore,” he says with a smirk, on his way out, done here anyway.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The penthouse floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the sea. You gaze at the view, the orange sun sinking into the embrace of glittering water.

It’s being wasted on you. You can’t find any beauty in it. You had your things moved into the condo, every room on your side of the unit furnished and filled with your possessions.

It was set up early this morning, without you here. Celeste won’t take the risk of anyone recognizing you, making sure even the movers had no chance to see whose things they’re setting up.

She let you know when everything was done, and you just crossed into the empty penthouse minutes ago, taking in the massive space, decorated nicely but heartlessly, a staged house instead of a real home.

You sit on the edge of your new bed in your new room. You gaze at the gulls floating over the sky, envious of how they can do as they please.

The front door unlatches with a loud click. Surely your new roommate. Moments later, you hear a knock at your door, followed by his deep, muffled voice.

“We need to talk.”

Rafe just finished up at the gym, taking his anger out through a hard workout in an effort to find some balance.

He knows he’s been handling this wrong. He can’t try to intimidate you, although ordering you to go along with this is the only thing he wants to do.

He needs to have you on his side if he’s meant to be giving your father updates on you. If he’s meant to make his own father proud.

“Leave me alone,” you reply.

He sighs to himself, staring down at his hands, thumbs rubbing over his calluses.

It’s moments like these that thoughts of his mom slip in without warning, memories surfacing of how composed she always was, even as her sickness slowly pulled her away, and how none of that quiet strength passed on to him.

“This doesn’t have to be hard,” he says, his words measured, tension brimming beneath each one. “We just… we got off on the wrong foot, alright?”

When you stride across your room and jerk open the door, you almost falter from how he looks with his guard down, rugged but soft, like he’s some sort of challenge in self-restraint. But even the lustful warmth simmering in you can’t distract you from how angry you are.

As handsome as he is, he’s just as cruel.

“Leave me alone,” you repeat, then slam the door.

Rafe’s temper flares in him like fire doused with fuel. He angrily storms back to his side of the condo. Too much is on the line here. And he has no choice but to withstand the pressure.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You’ve managed to avoid running into Rafe the entirety of the next day.

That night, after begrudgingly doing your makeup and slipping on the designer dress Celeste had sent for you, you make your way to the investor gala.

The cameras’ shutters are sharp in your ears as you exit the backseat, engulfed by bright flashes that blind you on your way to the banquet hall’s entrance.

It’s one reason out of a thousand why you hate these events; they put you right in the line of fire. You can only imagine how many photos of you are owned by strangers, images immortalizing your pain.

Stepping into the enormous, loud, twinkling hall is even more jarring. You immediately feel eyes boring into you, hushed whispers circling. You can’t remember the last time you crossed a room towards your family, instead of away from them.

You find the table near the stage, most of the seats already filled with your family members and their business associates. Your hands clasp around your purse as your eyes travel over the place cards.

Rafe is the first to notice you, the darkness of his suit made even blacker contrasted by his icy eyes. His gaze hardens and trails down your body, taking in how the dress’s expensive material gently accentuates your curves.

He looks away. But you already caught him. And it’s promising to know you have an effect on him. You can use this to your advantage. For the first time since this began, you feel like you may get the upper hand on Rafe, which offers you a quiet sense of confidence.

“None for her,” Kal says to a server holding a tray of filled champagne glasses towards you.

You glare at your father before defiantly taking a glass and sitting next to Rafe.

He always needs to prove to whoever’s nearby that he doesn’t endorse his shameful daughter’s mistakes. His harshness is both overt and surgical. It’s why you gave up on any sort of relationship with him long ago.

“Nice to see you, too,” you retort, then take a sip of the champagne.

Rafe already loathes your father for threatening his family. He hates him even more now for putting you in a worse mood. It’ll only make his job harder.

“I thought Dad was joking about you coming,” your oldest brother, Sam, says with a snide smirk. “Why are you here? Finally got banned from every bar in the city?”

His wife gently smacks his chest, but the grin on her face tells you she’s only pretending to scold him while actually amused. It’s so typical of him, trying to make you feel like you don’t belong, as if you don’t already know you have no place in your family.

“I just wanted a change of pace,” you say. “It can be refreshing to spend an evening with a bunch of assholes.”

Your mother glares at you. Your father sharply mutters your name. It’s infuriating. Sam’s allowed to chide you, but defending yourself is where a line is drawn.

You down the champagne and put the glass on the table with a thud. You’re not sure you can do this. Not without imploding.

Rafe brings his focus back to his goal. He needs to stay on course. He knows he can charm a girl when he wants to. He just has to act like he wants to do it to you.

“Let’s go to the bar,” he murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again and despite how much he pesters you, it’s the best offer you can get right now. You’re desperate for something stronger, and you are meant to pretend you’re hitting it off with him tonight.

You nod silently, standing up, not waiting for him to follow.

Rafe pushes his hands into his pockets as he navigates through the crowds. He strides faster so he can walk next to you, licking his lips before he speaks.

“Do they always spew bullshit like that?” he says.

You know Rafe’s only pretending to be friendly to keep up appearances. This is all this side of your life is; either pointed aggression or manipulative politeness.

You’ve learned long ago that you can’t believe what anyone says to you, especially if they work with Kal.

“Don’t be fake with me,” you say. “It’s annoying.”

Rafe exhales sharply. He’s not even being fake. He’s genuinely annoyed by your father’s antagonism.

You reach the bar, leaning forward, your forearms pressing against the cool countertop.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily drift down your back. It’s a hard pill to swallow; there’s no chance he’d get to do anything about the carnal pull he feels towards you. Not when you’re at each other’s throats.

“I’m just saying your dad can be a dick,” he mumbles, stepping closer, gazing down at your profile.

“Well, you can stop saying anything.”

His jaw firms. It’s taking everything not to tell you off right now.

You order a strong drink. It makes him regret pulling you away here. He should’ve asked you to talk outside.

“Rafe,” you hear. “Hey, how are you?”

A man claps a hand on his shoulder. You glance up at Rafe, watching him turn it on, his charming smile, his steely confidence.

“Your dad around?” he asks.

Rafe resents how people act like he’s his father’s assistant, like he can’t offer anything of significance in a conversation.

“Not tonight,” Rafe says. You notice the tick in his jaw. “I know he’s been meaning to meet with you.”

“He’s a busy man,” he replies. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow. Don’t let me bother you. Have a good night.”

The man doesn’t even glance at you, but you’re used to that. At events like these, men either pretend like you aren’t here, or check you out and try to hide it just like Rafe did.

“Who’s his dad?” you ask the stranger.

You catch a flash of something imperceptible on Rafe’s face, maybe anger, maybe sadness. It’s gone before you can ascertain it.

“Ward Cameron. The CEO of Cameron Development,” the man tells you, as if it’s common knowledge.

It hits you. Your father said this marriage would be a joining of families. He was being literal. You stare up at Rafe, tilting your head, discovering the surname he must carry, as the man steps away.

“That's why you agreed to this,” you say with a patronizing laugh. “You’re a grown man following your dad’s orders. How old are you?”

Rafe stares down at you, contempt in every crease of his face. The audacity you have to look down on him when you haven’t lifted a finger in your life makes him anger rip through him.

“I’m doing this because it’s good for business,” he half-lies. “You don’t know shit about having responsibilities, do you?”

You hate how effortlessly he rips open your wounds. Your brothers have always been expected to take on the family business, but you were never even a consideration.

You’re not next in line. You never will be. You’re the afterthought, the accident, the mistake they wish they could take back. And nobody sees past your indiscretions and scandals. Nobody sees you.

“I’m busting my ass earning an MBA,” you say to prove him wrong, “but sure, assume whatever you want. I can’t expect better from someone whose only qualification is being his boss’s son.”

Rafe leans even closer to you, his nostrils flaring. He despises the implication that he didn’t earn his spot. It’s been gruelling trying to prove himself.

And the impulsive words sitting on his tongue are too strong to swallow.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” he mutters.

You let out a dangerously angry chuckle, your fingers gripping the glass the bartender just handed you.

“You have no idea how close I am to throwing this drink in your face,” you reply.

His gaze darts away, tense in case your conversation is falling on other ears. You’re meant to look like you like each other, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when you have a natural talent for pushing every single one of his buttons.

You smirk, proud to see him uneasy for once. You cling onto the sliver of power you have, desperate to call the shots however you can.

“I’m going to go back to my seat,” you say. “I’ll sit through my mom’s announcement and stay until my family leaves. But if you say anything to me, I’m gone. We already met like we were supposed to. There’s no reason for you to talk to me anymore.”

You walk back to your seat. Rafe follows.

Minutes after your mother’s announcement that she’s running for office, he makes a passing comment to you, and you stand up and collect your purse.

You’re staying true to your word.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your father asks.

“Blame him,” you reply, pointing to Rafe.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You ignore the gossip columns on social media, but now that your future hinges on how convincing you’re being, you scroll over the posts on your phone as you brush your teeth.

The posts about your unexpected appearance at the gala aren’t complimentary. The people in the comments aren’t any better.

Someone said under a photo of you arriving at the event that you have resting bitch face. Another person replied that it’s because you’re a bitch.

You’re fine with the label. You’d rather people see you as crass and disrespectful, instead of the shattered woman you really are. And you’re barely holding yourself together long enough to make your exit.

You just have to pull an insane stunt off to get there.

The front door clicks open, followed by footsteps barrelling down the hallway. You spit out your toothpaste into the sink, rolling your eyes in anticipation for Rafe’s inevitable tantrum. You have to admit that the anger on his face when you left the gala an hour ago was worth it, though.

You open your ensuite bathroom door to face him, still a little dizzy from all you’d drank tonight, watching him angrily tug his tie off as he crosses into your bedroom.

“You can’t just come in here,” you mutter.

“What the fuck was that?” he says, trying to ignore the fact that you’re in shorts now, that he can see so much of your legs in his peripheral. “Are you forgetting what’s on the line?”

“You mean like your daddy’s approval?” you taunt.

“You have way more at risk than I do,” he fibs. The truth is, he needs you, and he’s still trying to figure out how to balance gaining your trust and holding his ground.

“I did as I was told tonight,” you say with a shrug.

“You said you were going to look like you wanted to be at these things,” he reminds you, realizing he’s actually never seen anything but frustration on your face, never seen a sincere smile.

“I warned you that I’d leave if you tried talking to me,” you counter.

Rafe rubs his forehead, sighing in exasperation.

“What do you need?” he mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“What do you need for all this to be… easier?”

You’re not sure of the last time anyone asked you what you need.

You stare up at him, his loosened tie and undone top buttons taunting you. You will yourself not to gaze at his exposed skin, to not give into the ache pooling in your core, to not accept that he makes you hot all over, not with just anger, but with desire, too.

He gets to you, and you can tell by the way he looked at you tonight that you get to him, and it baffles you, this ability to loathe someone and want them in the same breath, this craving for someone you can’t stand.

You have a feeling the tension between you is only going to thicken. Relieving it would feel nice, but torturing him would feel even better.

“When I say to leave me alone, you do it,” you finally answer.

“Fine,” Rafe concedes.

“And don’t bullshit me,” you say. “I know you were just trying to get on my good side when you said that crap about my dad.”

“Nah, I meant that,” he replies, jaw tensing. “Trust me.”

You could never trust him, someone so soulless, so fixed on personal gain. Still, there’s no retort waiting on your lips for once. Within seconds, he’s thrown you off by asking about your needs, by seeing the negativity in your father that everyone else is willfully blind to.

You start to shut your bathroom door to end the conversation, but his words slow you down.

“Don’t leave like that when we’re supposed to be together, got it?” he says while staring at the floor, yearning to at least appear to have some control here.

You scoff. The familiar stab of resentment you feel whenever someone tries to assume control over you cuts into you.

“I never asked what you need,” you say, shutting the door.

Rafe groans, and the second he’s in his bedroom, he sweeps everything off his dresser in one violent motion, his anger demanding a way out. Items crash to the floor, chaos at his feet, no different than the storm that’s raging inside of him.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen, purposely not having changed out of your revealing pajamas. You heard Rafe shuffling around here minutes ago, prompting you to walk in just to taunt him.

That hungry look he gave you last night has been lodged in your thoughts since the moment he gave it. You get under his skin. And when you have that kind of power, you’re using it. You’re going to dangle what he can’t have right in front of him. Let him squirm. He deserves it.

You ignore him as he sits in the dining room and you open the fridge, bending over, hips perched in the air.

Rafe stares, your position in those tiny shorts sending a hot tightening between his thighs. His hands itch to grip you, to unravel the knot you’re tying deep inside him.

You glance over your shoulder. As expected, he’s staring at your ass. He looks back down at his coffee.

“Did Celeste tell you when we can expect more groceries?” you ask amusedly, self-assured.

“I know as much as you do,” he murmurs, his eyes low.

“Great,” you breathe, shutting the fridge. “I’ll grab something on my way.”

“You got class?” he asks. He’s still thrown by the fact that you’re a postgrad, that the tabloids he read didn’t say anything about you being in college, and just as annoyed that you’re so private about everything.

“Nosy,” you reply, proving his point as you pace out of the kitchen.

Rafe exhales sharply. It’s fully setting in now how difficult keeping tabs on you is going to be.

He’s trapped, living with a woman who pisses him off more than anyone he’s ever met, who’s so tantalizing that it makes every part of him ache.

He thought he could handle you. He was dead wrong.

(to be continued)

new parts of this series drop at 9 pm eastern on thursdays. my update account is @xorafe-library if you want post notifications.

[mikuhriii]

NO ESCAPING

𝜗ৎ⋆. s. itoshi x fem!reader

⚠︎ fluff / none!

𖹭 navigation 𖹭 masterlist 𖹭 taglist

“sae, did you do your homework?”

“don't overdo it; you're not a robot, sae.”

“sae! congratulations!”

“sae, that move you did earlier was sick, what's it called again? rou—roulen—huh?”

“i’ll always support you in everything you do, sae..”

“sae..”

“sae!”

he shut his eyes, turning to the other side of his bed for the umpteenth time.

12:38 am; the red hue of his digital clock illuminated the dimly lit room as if mocking his busy mind. sae was never the type to stay up so late, but sleep seemed impossible for him right now—not when his mind flashes random memories of you; like a ghost, you haunted him. sae had been like this for as long as he could remember, but he never understood what was wrong with him.

of all the things his mind could focus on at this moment: soccer, being the best striker in the world—why does it have to be you right now?

and why was his heart racing everytime you crossed his mind.

he clicked his tongue, clearly irritated by his jammed mind. it must be the fatigue you’d mentioned, he thought. maybe you were right, he was overdoing it; though a part of him knew he wasn't—sae was a man who maintained his wellness, after all.

shaking the thoughts aside, he got up, freshened himself, and walked out of his home—duffle bag hanging loosely on his shoulders. the chilly midnight breeze bites on his skin despite being dressed-up for the right temperature, and as if time moved forward, he found himself at the nearby soccer field; throwing powerful kicks and goals, along with the thoughts in his head. he was practically bathed in sweat, his chest heaves—breathlessly.

once, twice, he played and kicked—a desperate attempt to erase you out of his mind for once—until he couldn't count how many times he had scored a goal. but to no avail; he couldn't get you off his mind at all. the initial powerful kicking sounds, echoing around the quiet place, transitioned into pure silence. cursing in his mind, sae slumped on the field defeatedly—chest heaving—a clear sign of exhaustion. “why can't i just stop thinking about that stupid girl.” he murmured, voice barely audible. he stayed silent, embracing the tranquility—a small, visible fog escaped his lips in the cold atmosphere as he breathed

“wow, as expected from the great itoshi sae.” a familiar voice, laced with amusement, snapped him back to reality. “man, you looked pretty rough for such a late hour.” you resumed, crossing your arms. sae only gave you a perplexed look—a contrary to the fluttering feeling on his chest. he was subtle, but he swore his heart skipped a beat when he heard you. he sighed, as if you were a problem he didn't want to deal with. “hey, what’s up with that sigh? that's rude.” you pouted, finally walking toward him.

“what're you doing out here so late at night?” he asked—voice low and unenthusiastic as ever.

you hummed playfully, watching him pack his stuff. “i could ask the same thing, you know. who's that stupid girl you're murmuring about?”

he halted; then briefly looked at you—just enough to take in your visage. you were simple as ever; the girl he’d unexpectedly met when he was two years old—a childhood friend, just as you always told him; the girl with the complete opposite of his cold, rude, and blunt character, who unknowingly pulled his invisible heartstrings—he'd lie if he wouldn't admit that you’re…breathtaking.

it sounded cheesy and unlike him, but you’d unawarely got him wrapped around your finger. it hurt him; the way his heart immediately reacted when he looked at you; the way he seemed to lose his words when he's with you. it was new, and sae didn't know what to do; he felt like he's going crazy.

with a click of his tongue, sae hung his duffle bag over his shoulder “none of your business. go home.” he huffed—an attempt to disregard your question—before tossing something on your face.

his sports blazer.

the corner of your lips tugged upward; a giddy sensation fluttered in your chest. it felt soft, warm, and it smell like…him—sandalwood, with a tinge of citrusy orange blossom—it filled your nostrils satisfyingly. “nice. ten points for being a boyfriend material.” you jested, playfully clapping your hands. sae, with a disgusted expression, stared intensely at your face, as if boring holes on it.

“shut up. don't get the wrong idea; you're not my type.” he replied unequivocally.

you laughed; he stared—fondly.

his usual cold eyes softened in the slightest, he wasn't sure how long but they did. your voice—like a drug—was addictive; a music to his ears.

there was no denying it; he had fallen in love with his childhood friend.

“what’s with the staring? do you find me pretty, hm?” you teased further, lips forming a pout when you noticed him roll his eyes at you.

he scoffed a reply, finally turning his back. “don’t make me laugh. hurry up; let's stop by at the convenience store.” and with that, he began walking—praising himself for thinking of a way to change the topic.

“didn’t you want me to go home?”

ah, right; so much for making you stay a little longer.

“fine, go home.” he huffed, an inaudible groan following right after. putting his hands on his pocket, he resumed his steps.

the amusing sight made you chuckle—you knew he was flustered. shaking your head, you speedwalked to match his pace. “i’m kidding. i wouldn't want to miss a midnight date with the itoshi sae.”

“it's not a date”

your head snapped toward him; a mischievous sneer forming on your lips. “really? that's too bad.”

baffled by your statement, sae stopped on his tracks and looked at you. “what do you mean?” he asked in his usual unenthusiastic tone; his eyes—once cold, apathetic—gleamed with hope and desperation in the slightest.

what was he hoping for?

you curved a small smile, biting the flesh of your lower lip. “because i don't mind if it is.” you proceeded, eyes locking with his teal ones—a subtle way to connect with him.

oh how his heart skipped a beat.

but sae being sae, shook it off—for now. he scoffed and was the first one to look away—mentally praising his cheeks for not betraying him with an embarrassing crimson hue. “lukewarm way to flirt; zero out of infinity.” sae remarked, his voice tainted with sass.

“you're no fun.” you rolled your eyes at his sassiness.

“whatever, stupid. hurry up; you're so annoying” he bit back, putting his hands in his pockets as he resumed walking; you followed, beaming.

then you reached out, wrapping your hand around his wrist—a small affection from you that he had grown accustomed to. “your treat?”

“no. what're you? my girlfriend?”

“you want me to?”

“disgusting”

you pouted—clearly offended by his remark; you slapped his arm and roll your eyes at him. “this is why you couldn't bag one; your personality is as lousy as your face.” you sneered, voice taunting.

you both continued with the bickering and bantering; you, mostly doing all the bantering stuffs, while sae bit back in his usual way—not backing down. the rest of the midnight walk was filled with closeness, bond, shared glances and smiles; the unsaid feelings lingered in the air—waiting. but alas, it seemed fate had already made its move; tying the fated closer than ever.

no escaping indeed.

a/n: did i make sae ooc in here?? i hope not:(

this was supposed to be less than 500 words; idk what happened:⁠-⁠\ (sae itoshi happened. got a little too excited and unexpectedly wrote too much). pls pls let me know what you think about this one in the comments. should i make more fluff!sae? or smut!sae? (both?) ♪⁠～⁠(⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠) anyway, likes and reblogs are much appreciated. don't forget to hit that follow for more updates. thanks a bunch!

tags: @maoxieyvx @scovaha

click here to join the permanent taglist

© 2025 mikuhriii | all rights reserved.

[ghostlycoyote0]

The orange text for “kind of” is a good idea, I’ll also do that

I’m over 5’5* / I wear glasses or contacts / I have blonde hair / I often wear sweatshirts / I prefer loose clothing over tight clothes*/ I have one or two piercings / I have at least one tattoo / I have blue eyes / I have dyed or highlighted my hair / I have or have had braces / I have freckles** / I paint my nails / I typically wear makeup / I don’t often smile / resting bitch face** / I play sports*** / I play an instrument / I know more than one language / I can cook or bake / I like writing* / I like to read / I can multitask*** / I have never dated anyone** / I have a best friend I’ve known for over five years / I am an only child

* Last time I checked my height was a few years ago, and I’ve been getting what might be growing pains in my knees and elbows recently, so I might be wrong about this

* I can’t stand tight, waist-hugging shirts. Tighter trousers are fine

** I had freckles when I was little

** Unsure, but likely

*** I started HEMA last year and dropped it in August because college started. I didn’t pick it up again because my mental health got really bad, but I’m going to as soon as I can afford to again. HEMA isn’t technically a proper standardised sport, but it is a form of fencing

* Specifically roleplay!

*** I have never tried. I’d much rather do one task at a time than bounce between several things, that sounds like a great way to overwhelm myself

** Unless you count my friend asking me to be his girlfriend when we were 10, and all it meant was that we sat next to each other in school and held hands. We lost touch after primary school

@lady-quen @dinner-rol @i-had-bucky and I’d usually tag Cece but I think she’s swamped with irl stuff right now

tag game 🤭

rules: color the sentence that's true about you

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

this is a whole lot of yellow lmfao

no pressure tags: @marthawrites @schniiipsel @aemonddtargaryen @aemondsbabe @adragonprinceswhore @arcielee @black-dread @lovelykhaleesiii @aemondsbabygirl @valeskafics @connorsui

[starlostjisung]

you could call me babe for the weekend

last chapter: epilogue

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“you have everything ready?”

“yeah”

“charger?”

“yeah”

“food for the car?”

“yep”

“condoms?”

“chris!”, you hit his chest playfully

“sorry sorry, i was joking”

you turned around laughing

“unless…”

you turned around again to hit him one more time but he caught your wrist, kissing it softly.

“okay let’s go, we have some people we need to impress again”

chan and you packed your things in his car and left your apartment.

it was crazy to think that you and chan had already been together for a year. you couldn’t believe how different things were now compared to how they were just twelve months ago.

it was safe to say that it had been the best years of both of your lives.

however, a new year comes with new birthdays.

and yes, that included your aunt’s birthday party.

again.

that’s how you found chan and yourself, on your way to your aunt’s cabin one more time. to the place where everything started twelve months ago. but this time, no lies between each other. there was no need to pretend.

you were together. and you couldn’t be happier.

instead of going the first day of the trip - you and chan couldn’t make it because he had some promo to do that day - you were going on saturday, the day of the actual party. that meant you would only have to survive a day and a half this time. that was something.

but the best thing was that you had chan with you one more time. and you knew you would have him forever, for everything you needed. you were the same with him. he would always have you.

“okay, second trip, second year. what can we expect this time?”, he asked you at some point during your karaoke session in the car

“mmmm, i’m not sure. last year i snapped at my aunt a bit but we haven’t seen each other since then, so i’m sure she must have forgotten about that. maybe something along the lines of “how i’ve kept you for so long” or “how great of a human you are because you’re still with me after a year”, you know, the usual stuff”

he grinned at that, “well as your real boyfriend now, you have to know i will protect you and no insults or snarky remarks will be allowed under my watch”

“oh, so you’re my knight in shining armor now?”, you smiled at him

“of course”, he grabbed your hand and kissed it, “don’t worry, everything will be alright”

you nodded your head while squeezing his hand delicately, “don’t try to get out of this you idiot, i’m still bitter that you didn’t go blonde after i told you last year”

he snorted at your answer, “you still remember?”, the exact conversation you both had had in this same car, exactly one year ago

“of course i remember, you should know by now that i don’t play with blonde chan”

he laughed again and kissed your hand another time, “okay, i promise i will think about it for the next comeback”

“pinky promise?”

“yeah, pinky promise”, you two laughed together

these were your favourite moments. when the noise outside didn’t matter. what was ahead of you didn’t matter either. because you had each other.

and that was enough. it had always been enough.

the day had been going… fine. bearable. you could manage.

was going to your aunt’s cabin to celebrate her birthday and spend time with her and your cousin on your top 10 of favourite things to do? no, but this year it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be.

yes, there had been some snarky comments, some jealousy looks from your cousin aimed at you - it was the first time she was single during her mom’s birthday party - and some out of place comments aimed at chan. but, you two survived.

chan and you decided to spend most of the day with your parents and grandparents, who were more than happy to have you and chan with them that day. during the year, chan and you had seen them sometimes when you had dinner together or it was one of your birthdays, but still, it was nice to be with people who really appreciated you and your boyfriend and would treat him like a normal human being. you were thankful for that.

before dinner time, the children at the party had decided to steal chan from you again and went to play some games with him. and chan, being the perfect boyfriend, human and everything, went with the kids - not without giving you a short and loving peck before he left you with your parents.

“you two seem really happy together”, your mom told you while she saw you looking at him from afar

you sighed, feeling completely relaxed and happy for the first time that day, something you never thought you would feel in this kind of party.

“yeah, we’re really happy. everything’s going great. of course we hate whenever we have to be apart from each other for too long but we knew what we were signing for when we got together, so we just try to make it as easy as we can. but yeah, we’re happy”, you let out what your mom thought was the biggest smile she had ever seen in your face. or at least in a long time.

“i’m happy for the both of you, you deserve it. and i’m so grateful that you have someone that will be there for you whenever you need it. i will always be thankful for that. chan is a good person and i’m happy you have him”, your mom told you

you could feel your eyes watering, so in order to stop the tears, you hugged her. happy that she was happy with chan. with your decision.

happy that after a year, chan and you still chose each other.

you hadn’t seen chan in a while and the last thing you had heard was that the kids and him were playing hide and seek. again. so you went out to find him but this time, you were almost completely sure where to find him.

you went straight to the wine cellar. you opened the door quietly and descended the stairs.

“chris? hello?”, nothing, “come on babe, i know you’re here, you can’t fool me”, still nothing

you walked around the stairs, towards the nook.

“okay, should i act surprised when i get closer to the nook and you grab my hand and then you-“, as you had predicted, you felt something grabbing your hand and pulling you down towards the nook.

just like you had found yourself exactly one year ago, you were in chan’s lap, with his hand covering your mouth once again. you saw him smiling at you and you couldn’t help but laugh against his hand.

“hi, baby”, he smiled at you while moving his hand to your neck

“found you”, you smiled

he laughed and put his forehead against yours, “i knew you would”

“why did you hide here again? they’re going to find you”

“maybe i wanted you to find me first”, he wiggled his eyebrows at you while looking at you seductively

you snorted at his answer, letting your head fall against his shoulder, “you’re an idiot, you know that?”

he raised your head to look at you, “yeah, but i’m your idiot” he moved his head closer to yours and then, he kissed you.

a kiss that was both for your present you and for the past you. for the chan and y/n that had been in the exact place one year ago, trying to cross the tightrope. the chan and y/n that had been too scared to move forward. the chan and y/n that had almost lost each other.

the present chan and y/n were proud of them for all the things they had gone through. and they would go through them again if that meant you would be together at the end. like it was meant to be.

you broke the kiss but put your foreheads together again, not wanting to break the moment completely.

“are you okay? is everything alright?”, he looked at you more serious this time, making sure that you were fine, that nothing had happened while he wasn’t with you and that you weren’t lying to him

always checking on you.

“yeah, everything’s perfect, really”, you smiled at him

he smiled back. he placed both of his hands on your face, and traced your skin softly. you lent into his touch and looked at him. enjoying this peaceful moment. the quietness. the calmness. you could live in this moment forever.

he must have been feeling the same, because he got closer to you to whisper against your lips, softly only for you to hear, “i love you”

“i love you too”

he went to close the gap between you, your breathes entangled in each other, lips almost touching when-

“i found bang chan, he’s here! guys i found him”, a kid left the cellar, screaming at the others, happy that he had found chan. again.

chan let our a frustrated sigh and let his head fall against the crook of your neck.

you laughed at him and placed your hands on his hair, “i told you they were going to find you, love”

most of the people had already left the party, only your parents, uncle, aunt and some friends were still in the garden celebrating, so you and chan took this opportunity to go upstairs to your room.

once you both washed yourselves and changed into comfortable clothes, you went to sit in the outdoor lounge chairs that were in the balcony of your room. chan sat in one of them and you went to sit in the other one when he grabbed your waist.

“what are you doing? no no, you sit here with me”, he placed you between his legs, with your back against his chest

he placed his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and kissing the top of your head. you intertwined your hands together, entangling your bodies impossibly closer.

“you okay?”, you asked him

“mmm, and you?”

“yeah, i’m good”

you let out a content sigh, when you felt him kissing the top of your head again.

“today wasn’t as bad as we thought it was going to be, right?”, he asked you after a while

“no, it was… tolerable, we survived”, you laughed softly

“that’s because we make a great team, love”, you high-fived each other while laughing softly

you turned around to look at him, “the best team”

he traced your hair with his fingertips, and put a lock of your hair behind your ear. he closed the gap between you two, and kissed you softly, to remind you that he was really there.

that he would always be on your team.

you two broke apart and he looked at you, “your lips still look lonely, would they like to meet mine again?”

“oh christ, for fuck’s sake, not again”, you hit his chest playfully, and pulled away from him while you two laughed.

the truth was that you would never change this part of chan. you would never change anything about him. you still couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him in your life.

“do you remember last year when we talked about the shooting stars? when i asked you what would you wish for?”, he asked you while you looked at the starry sky that covered you both

“yeah, i remember”

you felt a soft smile growing in your face, thinking about everything that had changed within a year. everything you had ever wished for. and now you had it, wit his arms around you

“i know you lied to me when you said you didn’t know what you would wish for, so come on, tell me please”, he nudged you with his nose. bumping it to your temple softly

“i wished that we didn’t have to pretend. that us together was real, and none of that was a lie”, you told him honestly. there was no point in keeping it a secret anymore.

“really?”, he asked curiously

you nodded against his chest.

“you wanna know something?”, you felt his lips on your ear, brushing with every word, “i wished for the same thing”

you turned around to look at him, ”did you?”

he nodded his head and placed his hands on your face, tracing your skin with his fingertips, “yeah, i did”

you smiled at him, “what would you wish for now?”

he put his forehead against yours, his lips close to yours but not quite touching. not yet.

“to stay like this forever with you”

you smiled against his lips, “me too”

you closed the gap. filling this promise with a kiss. wishing to be together like this forever.

knowing there was no better wish you could ever ask for.

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the ending of the story is here my loves 🩷

once again, thank you for all the love for this story, i hoped you liked it as much as i loved writing it

see you in my next stories 🩷

my other fics

you could call me babe for the weekend taglist: @beyunjinnn @emmiesoverthemoon @skzbiasot8 @havennz @hyunjinxxs @reetheratt @heartwithoutaname @ahseyy @hyvneluv @domicaru @annyeongffs @necrozica @lavunyan @0x1lovesong1 @leylaasroom @bluesungology @sleepyzeiff @velvetmoonlght @encoredesires @sammhisphere @we-are-bloody-inspired @straykids4lifeee @xxestxays @4ng3l-ch1ld @geni-627 @how-are-you-not-fine @luvbangchan @btch8008s @the-life-of-stella @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @strsforjsb @n3ha @idiotmaterial @skinnyjeans-tanktops @wolfhallows4 @lyftyyy @infinite-lucid-daydreams @artfairyyyyy @sofix-hc7 @sunflwerstar @lomllino @alifeinthelifeof @sayuri122014 @changbinshearteubeateu @aniski @iamlazychip @beabidoobee @cherie31 @scarletwitchywitchbitch

[five-rivers]

Experiment: Monochrome Maniacal

This is the first entry of the first of my two experimental audience participation fics. Participation instructions are below the fic segment.

Tags for this section: Pitch Pearl (Danny Fenton/Danny Phantom), ghost catcher

Masterpost

.

Two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.

That stupid aphorism ran through Danny’s head as he looked at the Ghost Catcher and clenched and unclenched his hands.  This… This was a bad idea.  He knew.  But he was going to go crazy if he couldn’t talk to someone.

He might be going crazy now, seeing as his brilliant idea was to split himself in two and talk to himself.  

But lots of people talked to themselves to work out problems, right?  As long as they didn’t think they were talking to another person it was fine.

This was just a more extreme version of that, that’s all.  

(If he stared at the Ghost Catcher anymore, he might not do it.)

Danny breathed in deeply, transformed in a flash of light, then flew through the glowing green threads of the Ghost Catcher.  

There was a moment of sharp disorientation, of vertigo, of feeling simultaneously caught on the lines, like walking through a spiderweb, and falling through them untouched, of skin pulling stickily away from skin, of looking down and up at himself at the same time, and then–

Phantom caught Danny by the wrist, and, carefully, lowered himself– him the rest of the way to the ground.  

“Wow, that– So, that worked,” said Danny.  The last time, he– they had only been separated for a few seconds.  Long enough to note it as happening and then re-merge.  He'd half expected to get sucked back together just as fast this time.  

Phantom looked up at the Ghost Catcher, then back at Danny.  He nodded.  “So… you wanted to talk to me?”

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” asked Danny.  “I mean, it’s about ghost stuff, isn’t it?”

“And lying to everyone in our human life,” said Phantom, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.  

Ugh, did Danny really look like that in ghost form?  All… upright.  And shiny.  It didn’t seem real.  Was it real?  Danny never had to interpret his body language from the outside before.  

Danny slumped.  “Maybe this isn’t going to work.  We should just… go back together.”

“What?  No!” said Phantom.  “We haven’t even tried yet.”

“Then you say something.”

They glared at each other for a second, then Phantom clicked his tongue.  “Fine,” he said, “but it's not like you don't already know.”

“Yeah, that was the point.”

Phantom didn't reply right away, instead looking around the lab with an expression of increasing distaste.  His eyes fell on the portal and he scowled before looking away.  “Can we go somewhere else?  I hate it here.”

“You do?” asked Danny, surprised.  Did… did he hate it down here?  He wasn’t sure.  

“Uh, yeah?” Phantom looked down at Danny, incredulous.  “It's full of weapons made specifically to hurt me.”

“Not specifically you,” objected Danny.  “They made a bunch of these before they even knew you existed.”

“Wow, that makes me feel so much better,” said Phantom.  “They’re just for hurting and hunting down ghosts.”

.

Thank you for reading this far! If you would like to participate, please reply to this post with what you want to happen or want to see in the fic next. This can be an event (e.g. the lab suddenly explodes), a character appearing (e.g. Wes, Sam, Undergrowth), a headcanon being added to the story (e.g. ghost hunger), a POV switch (e.g. switch to Jazz), a setting element (e.g. the year is 2104), a ship (e.g. Everlasting Trio), or something else I've forgotten to list here.

To be used in the poll, your suggestions must:

Fit in a poll option (80 charaters or less)

Not include crossover elements

Not include minor/adult ships

Be compatible with already established story elements

Other feedback is also welcome! Feel free to send me an ask!

[gingersnapwolves]

so firstly I want to clarify that I am neither a medical professional NOR a computer professional. I am a financial spreadsheet person and the reason I was speaking up so vehemently in this meeting was because I was the only one there aside from our VP of IT who actually seemed to know what LLMs ARE. our clinical folks thought they were basically just search engines, and I could go on at length about how deceptively chatGPT has been marketed but whatever.

secondly I want to clarify that the organization I work for is specifically mental health, which I think has a somewhat different vibe when it comes to stuff like this as opposed to medical health. our whole job is to understand people and communicate with them. Google an unfamiliar symptom, sure, but our clinicians should not need a computer to tell them how to help someone with PTSD.

all of that being said, from my personal experience, AI does have its applications. Training it to identify cancer cells? Great! (Although from the very passionate comments on my original post, it's apparently very bad at reading feline urinalysis lmao). I can see how it would be helpful with differential diagnosis and God knows I've had my share of shitty doctors over the years.

and even LLM can be helpful if they're closed system and we know exactly what's been fed into them. If ten thousand peer reviewed clinical articles are fed into an LLM and then the clinician wants to ask it for advice, that's a very different thing from going onto chatGPT (and that's not even getting into the HIPAA concerns).

AI/LLM is slowly creeping into different electronic health record systems. The EHR my organization uses has one, we just can't afford it yet. And I've heard a lot of, admittedly anecdotal, evidence that these AIs also have their problems and will basically hallucinate stuff to put into the record. I think there are definitely applications for this technology, but it's not ready yet.

all of THAT being said, it's frightening because professionals are now starting to lean on/depend on LLM to do their freakin' jobs. the whole reason this came up at our corporate compliance meeting was because, without being given permission, our clinicians were using chatGPT to write their notes. And part of the discussion we had, which even the VP of IT agreed with, was that people WILL use these resources. even if we tell them not to. and the best thing we can do as an organization is to give them guidelines on how/when/what/et c. So our organization is currently researching the available free/low-cost LLM/AI models so we can at least tell our staff "IF you want to use an LLM to REPHRASE (not write) your progress note, this is the one you have to use".

because believe it or not, clinicians now graduating expect to be able to use LLM. they'll ask about it during interviews. if we say 'sorry but our organization thinks LLMs are trash and we will never incorporate them into our workflow' then some of them won't take a job with us.

honestly it really scares me how we went from 'hee hee AI can make a picture of me as an astronaut' to 'AI can rephrase this email so it sounds more professional!' to 'kids won't do homework without chatGPT' to 'medical professionals won't take jobs without being told an AI will do all the thinking for them' in like. what. two years????

so yeah, those are my non-expert thoughts on the matter.

tl;dr there are applications for AI, even LLMs, in medicine, but only ones that are closed system and haven't been fed a bunch of random crap, and our society's insanely rapidly growing dependence on AI is scaring the shit out of me, personally.

had a long discussion at our compliance committee meeting this morning about the growing use of AI "resources" like chatGPT in medicine and medical documentation, and may I just say, from the bottom of my heart ... yikes

[biancasaidstfu]

I don’t think they’re waiting for Emmy nominations anymore. Something has already shifted. Luke’s been MIA for nearly two months now. that feels intentional. Like maybe stepping away publicly is the only way he can have any control over how this all plays out. Which yeah, I think people will forget easily the last year. it’s not just about awards or PR or careers. something is actively still brewing behind the scenes. Nic’s vacation post wasn’t all my man, we’re a couple in love. it was cryptic, mismatched, and full of weird stuff that doesn’t quite add up. Why crop the photos? Why no sound? That movie quote? It reads to me like someone still protecting something. And that’s the weird part. If the world already believes she’s with Jake, why keep hiding? Why make it ambiguous at all? There’d be no need for misdirection unless there was still something else that needed covering. her STILL hinting at weirdness while supposedly protecting and even hinting at something more is what makes me think the game is still on. We just don’t know the new rules yet.

PS - I do hate the game (not the players) but I’m no quitter!

The game is fucking annoying tbh I’m bout to delete it

[m1ssunderstanding]

do you really think paul wanted to od in scotland ‘70? i feel like i haven’t rly heard paul say anything specific about his depression besides simply saying that he WAS depressed. i prob haven’t rly looked hard enough tbh…

and thank you for answering all these questions! ur account is genuinely one of my favs

I mean I'm not trying to say he was fully attempting anything. I'm just saying from everything he's told us and everything Linda told us, he probably did have that thought a lot like 'maybe this will kill me. Wouldn't that be nice?' I don't think Paul had it in him to consciously commit suicide. But he very easily could've been suicidal.

Here's my case for that.

I personally have, and I'm sure a lot of us have, been suicidal without being at the point where Paul was, literally being in bed and or drunk 24/7. So it's not that crazy to think he also was having those thoughts at that time.

Paul always downplays his difficulties, but here's what he has told us.

"Suddenly I felt my usefulness had gone. I didn't have a job and I was worthless. I hid in Scotland for months. I let myself go. I grew a beard and started drinking heavily and sniffing heroin. I'd stay in bed all day, sometimes waking up at three pm and thinking: there's no point getting up now" – 1989

He was drinking constantly and snorting heroin. Paul didn't like heroin when he'd tried it before and the stuff he was doing in Scotland was years old.

Here's what Linda has said he was like.

"I was very scared. I didn’t want to give up, but it was a mess, it was unreal, and I had to handle this all by myself. There was no choice. I had to try. We had two children, we’d just been married a year, and my husband didn’t want to get out of bed. He was drinking too much. He would tell me he felt useless. I knew he was torturing himself, blaming himself for the break-up, and I was sure that he could get beyond it, but if he didn’t believe in himself, what could I do? I could only try, that’s all I could do. Let me tell you, my hands were full. [Danny Feilds’ addition here.] He even tried heroin, snorting a bit some hipster friend had handed to him months, maybe years, earlier. “To escape. To be numb,” he said. It didn’t do anything for him, it didn’t make anything better. “I was a zombie.” [back to Linda] Here I am living on a stone floor, carrying water in buckets, and I’m married to a drunk who won’t take a bath. Paul thought, 'I've got to do it, either I give up and cut my throat or get my magic back.' – Late 90s

Thank you for asking!! Nothing i love more than yapping about my hyperfixations!

[vigilskeep]

Curious if you have any plans/ideas for how the potential “romancing a dalish inquisitor”-exclusive fight with sera is going to go down either with katanni (or headcanons around that outside of what the game allows)?

i’ll be interested in experiencing that for myself and probably rewriting the scene in my head or at least fleshing it out because i remember being unimpressed with it on several levels when i watched a video

the relevant thing to point out is that katanni will have a very different perspective on the whole temple of mythal issue than a more “typical” dalish inquisitor because as i’ve mentioned, katanni is andrastian & will find the well of sorrows almost as distressing and disruptive to her worldview as it is to sera’s. my rough expectation is that i will be able to play her agreeing to dismiss the whole thing as her jumping on the opportunity not to think about it but having to push down her doubts to do so.

my intentions with katanni have always been that she would disband the inquisition in trespasser and fully leave everyone & everything behind, stop playing the humans’ games she can never win, and spend her next years travelling between dalish clans and maybe also alienages to prepare her people for the dread wolf’s next move. that’s kind of the concept of her character and was also what her planned breakup with josie would have been about, she would have left her behind. whereas now i’m seramancing... sera is not like josie, she is not married to the political world that katanni is fleeing, she will at this point be actually married to katanni (sera lavellan!), and furthermore not the type to simply tearfully accept a breakup. if katanni just lost an arm and immediately tries to go off into the world alone without her newly lawful wedded wife, i think her elfy travelling purposes would become irrelevant. sera is on the back of katanni’s dracolisk and refusing to get down until they leave together

so the route in my head is that they kind of don’t deal with this stuff about katanni’s dalishness while they’re with the inquisition, it’s a sharpness that gets buried and pushed down because so much else is happening and neither wants to lose each other about it, and they only actually deal with their shit two years later when they’re on a combined red jenny shenanigans/herald of fen’harel roadtrip across thedas. but that’s me planning ahead and we’ll see if that’s how it plays out

[solarvee]

I’ve been in love with you my whole life, but now I’m the one helping you plan your wedding

charles leclerc x best friend!reader

Summary: Y/N was once quietly in love with Charles Leclerc, even helping him plan his wedding to Alex. Over the years, she found healing, acceptance, and an unexpected friendship with Alex—who became one of her closest friends. Now, as Y/N prepares for her own wedding to Theo, Charles and Alex are by her side, supporting her through every detail. What once hurt now feels like peace, and surrounded by love—both old and new—Y/N finally steps into the future she deserves. It’s not the ending she once imagined, but it’s a beautiful one.

masterlist

It’s strange, the way heartbreak doesn’t come all at once. It creeps in slowly, like dusk—first in shadows, then in silence.

Charles is sitting across from me at the café table, beaming as he scrolls through floral arrangements on his phone. He’s talking about color palettes—navy and cream, maybe with touches of gold—and how Alex likes roses but hates peonies.

I’m nodding. Smiling. Sipping my coffee to keep my hands busy. Anything to keep the tremble out of them.

“I told her you'd help,” he says, glancing up at me with that familiar warmth in his eyes. “She said you have great taste and… well, you’ve always been good at this stuff.”

Always.

It’s the word that gets me. Always. Like a reminder that this has been my role from the beginning: his best friend, his person, his safe place. Not his love.

Never his love.

I force a smile. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you guys need.”

And just like that, I’m planning the wedding of the man I’ve been in love with for most of my life.

We met when we were five. By eight, we were inseparable. By fourteen, I knew what it meant—what the tightness in my chest was when he laughed, the flutter I got when he said my name like it was something sacred.

But I never told him.

There were moments, though. Quiet ones. Late-night drives, shared hotel rooms during races, his fingers brushing mine as we walked through some unfamiliar city. Moments where I thought—maybe. Moments where he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

But he never said it.

And eventually, he met Alex.

She’s lovely. Polite. Effortlessly beautiful. And she makes him happy. That’s what I tell myself when I can’t sleep—when I replay their engagement video in my mind, over and over, like a punishment I chose.

Three weeks later, we’re in a boutique filled with satin and lace, with champagne flutes in hand and a wedding planner chattering in the corner.

Alex is trying on dress number five, and I’m seated next to Charles, clipboard in hand, pretending like this doesn’t feel like a slow unraveling.

“She likes this one,” he says, leaning toward me, close enough that I can smell the cologne he’s worn since Monaco 2019. “But I think it’s too much beading.”

“I agree,” I say, my voice even.

He glances at me, eyes soft. “I knew you would.”

It’s that look—the one that makes me think he knows, deep down. That he’s known all along. But if he does, he’s never said anything. Never crossed that line.

Maybe he never felt it in the first place.

I cry in my car that night. Not the ugly, sobbing kind. Just quiet tears that trail down my cheeks as I stare at the steering wheel and wonder when I became the ghost in my own life.

Because I’ve loved him through everything—through wins and losses, through heartache and homecomings. And now, I’m helping him walk down the aisle to someone else.

It’s almost poetic. Tragic, but poetic.

The rehearsal dinner is held on a cliffside overlooking the sea. Candlelight flickers on long tables draped in white linen, and everything looks like it was pulled from a magazine.

Charles finds me just after the toast, his tie undone and two glasses of champagne in hand.

“For you,” he says, passing me one.

I accept it with a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

He leans against the railing beside me, quiet for a while. Just the waves below and the hum of music from inside.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” he says finally. “You’ve been here through everything. Always.”

There it is again. Always.

I stare at the horizon, afraid to speak. But something inside me cracks open.

“I’ve loved you, you know,” I say, softly. “Not just as your friend. Not just… support. I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

He doesn’t say anything at first. I glance at him and see his face go still, like I’ve said something forbidden.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything,” I continue, voice shaking now. “But I can’t pretend anymore. Not when I’m helping you pick centerpieces and writing vows for a love that isn’t mine.”

He sets his glass down. Turns fully toward me.

“Y/N—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t say you didn’t know. Just tell me—have you ever felt the same?”

He stares at me like it physically hurts. Then, finally: “Not in a way that would be fair to either of us.”

And that’s the answer.

That’s all I need.

The wedding goes off without a hitch. Every detail is perfect. The navy and cream, the roses, the soft string quartet playing as Alex walks down the aisle.

I stand at the edge of it all, heart silent in my chest, watching the man I love vow forever to someone else.

And when he looks at me afterward—eyes searching, smile tentative—I just nod. I smile back.

Because I’m not his person. I never was.

But I loved him enough to build his forever, even if it broke mine.

I’ve been in love with Charles for most of my life. Quietly. Patiently. Fiercely, in a way I didn’t fully understand until I found myself sitting beside him, helping him pick out his wedding cake flavors.

And it used to hurt—God, it used to ache. Watching him fall for someone else. Hearing the way he spoke about Alex with that soft reverence I’d always wanted for myself.

But things change. Time has this way of softening even the sharpest edges.

And somewhere between cake tastings and vow drafts, I realized something:

I’m okay.

Alex turned out to be nothing like I feared she’d be. She was kind. Grounded. She asked me questions and genuinely listened. She thanked me too often. She touched Charles the way someone does when they know they’ve found their person—and when I saw that, really saw it, something in me finally let go.

Not in a bitter, dramatic way.

Just... release.

Charles and I never had a moment. No grand declaration. No what-ifs. And that, I think, was the closure I needed.

Because maybe the version of us I carried all these years only ever existed in my heart. And maybe that’s okay, too.

The night before the wedding, I stood in front of the mirror in my hotel room, pinning back my hair, wearing a pale blue dress that shimmered a little in the light. I looked at myself—and for the first time in a while, I didn’t look like someone grieving a love she never had. I looked like someone whole.

My phone buzzed.

Luca: You still good for coffee after the ceremony tomorrow?

I smiled.

Luca had been a surprise. A mutual friend of Alex’s from university, someone I sat next to during a cake tasting and ended up talking to for two hours straight. There was no lightning strike, no instant chemistry. Just comfort. Curiosity. A softness I hadn’t realized I’d been craving.

We’d gone for drinks a few times since. Easy. Effortless. He made me laugh. Asked about my life without knowing all of it already. He didn’t look at me with a thousand shared memories behind his eyes—he looked at me like I was something unfolding.

And maybe that’s what I needed now: someone new. Someone who saw me now, not as a shadow of the girl who’d been in love with Charles Leclerc her whole life.

The wedding was beautiful.

Alex was radiant. Charles cried when he saw her. I stood beside the altar, flowers in hand, smiling with real warmth, no sting in my chest. Because the person I once loved so deeply was marrying someone who deserved him. And he, in turn, was someone who deserved the way she looked at him.

When they exchanged vows, I didn’t feel hollow. I felt proud. To have known this version of love, even if it had never been mine.

And after the kiss, after the cheers and the music and the clinking glasses, Charles found me in the garden, just after sunset.

“You okay?” he asked, his tie a little loose, his eyes full of that old familiarity.

I nodded. “I am.”

He studied me for a second, like he was trying to see beyond the smile. “You’ve been amazing. Through all of this. I don’t think I could’ve done it without you.”

I shrugged. “You could’ve. But I’m glad you didn’t have to.”

A pause.

“Do you ever wish things had been different?” he asked softly.

I smiled—not bitterly, not sadly. Just truthfully.

“I think I used to,” I said. “But now... no. Because I’m happy with who I am right now. And I don’t think I’d be her if things had gone any other way.”

He looked relieved. Maybe because he felt the same. Maybe because we finally both knew we were exactly where we were meant to be.

I stepped forward and hugged him—tight and brief and filled with years of history.

“I’m so happy for you, Charles,” I whispered.

When I pulled back, Luca was standing a few feet away, smiling at me like he had all night. I walked toward him, my heels clicking softly against the stone path.

Charles watched us go, and this time, he was the one letting go. Gently. Finally.

The world didn’t end because I didn’t get the love story I thought I wanted.

Instead, it gave me one I never saw coming. One that started not with longing, but with laughter. With late-night messages. With the absence of ache.

And that, I think, is the kind of love that lasts.

“Okay, but hear me out—no one actually likes fondant.”

Alex is waving a tiny fork in the air like it’s a weapon of truth. I’m laughing so hard I nearly choke on the bite of cake I’m trying to swallow.

Charles, seated on the other side of the table, crosses his arms with mock offense. “I like fondant.”

“You also eat plain toast and call it a meal,” she shoots back without missing a beat.

He looks at me for backup. “Y/N?”

I raise my hands. “You’re not dragging me into this. You two are unstoppable.”

It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon in a charming little Paris bakery. Sunlight filters through the windows, painting soft gold across the table covered in half-eaten cake samples, swatches of fabric, and my very chaotic wedding Pinterest printouts.

The thing is—I never thought this would be my life. That I’d be sitting across from Charles Leclerc, the boy I once loved so deeply it hollowed me out... planning my wedding. And next to him, laughing and arguing over cake flavors, his wife. Alex. The girl who once made my chest ache with jealousy.

Now?

She’s one of my closest friends.

Time does funny things. It smooths sharp edges. Softens memories. Transforms wounds into stories that no longer sting when told.

There was a time when I couldn’t say Charles’s name without a lump forming in my throat. When I helped him plan his wedding to Alex, smiling while my heart quietly unraveled. But that season passed—slowly, then all at once. And when it did, I found something I didn’t expect.

Peace.

And eventually—love.

His name is Theo. He’s kind in all the quiet ways that matter. A marine biologist with messy curls and a smile that’s always a little crooked. I met him at a museum fundraiser where I spilled wine on his suit and apologized by offering him a slice of lemon cake. He said, “I was going to forgive you, but now I have no choice.”

We’ve been laughing together ever since.

When he proposed, it was simple. Just us, a balcony, a storm rolling in behind the city skyline. No grand gestures. Just the words, “I want to build a life with you,” and the surest yes I’ve ever spoken.

Now here we are—months later, planning every detail. And Charles and Alex have been by my side from the start.

Because somewhere along the way, the ache turned into appreciation. The what-ifs turned into history. And Alex? She became my person in a way I never expected.

We bonded over little things at first. A shared obsession with true crime podcasts. Our mutual horror at Charles’s lack of organizational skills. She invited me to brunch. I invited her on a weekend trip. And one night, after too many glasses of wine, we both admitted it was weird at first—me being so close to him, her knowing it.

But instead of awkwardness, it bloomed into honesty. Openness. Real friendship.

“Okay,” she says now, brushing cake crumbs off her dress. “Back to business. Do we like the vineyard? Or are we leaning more garden party?”

Charles chimes in. “Vineyard, obviously. Theo’s a wine guy.”

“True,” I admit, flipping through my notes. “And you haven’t even seen the sunset there.”

“We’re coming to the tasting next weekend, right?” Alex asks. “We already blocked the date.”

“You guys don’t have to do everything,” I say, but my voice is light.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Charles says. “You planned our wedding. You basically held my hand through the entire thing.”

Alex smirks. “And picked our flowers. And saved us from booking a DJ who only played 2000s techno.”

“An underrated genre,” Charles mumbles into his espresso.

I shake my head, warmth flooding through my chest. It’s surreal, this joy. This ease. A few years ago, I never would’ve believed it was possible to sit here with them, all of us settled, all of us happy in our own corners of the world.

“I’m really glad you’re both here,” I say, softer this time.

Charles gives me a look that carries everything unspoken between us. Years. Tears. Growth. Forgiveness.

“We wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he says.

The day of the wedding comes fast—faster than I thought it would. Nerves rise like a tide, steady and overwhelming, but they’re good nerves. Anticipation, not dread.

Alex helps me with my veil. Her hands are steady, her expression calm and focused.

“You okay?” she asks gently, smoothing the fabric behind my shoulders.

I meet her eyes in the mirror. “I’m okay.”

She smiles. “You’re going to wreck him when he sees you.”

I laugh. “Is that not the goal?”

There’s a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?” Charles.

I glance at Alex. She nods and slips out with a wink.

He steps inside, dressed in a crisp black suit. For a moment, we just stand there—two people who’ve grown in every direction but still share the same roots.

“You look...” He exhales. “Wow.”

“Thank you.”

He walks over, hands in his pockets. “I just wanted to say... I’m proud of you. Not that you need me to be. But I am.”

I swallow the lump rising in my throat. “I’m proud of us.”

He nods. “Theo’s a lucky guy.”

“I’m a lucky girl.”

He holds out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you married.”

The music starts. The guests rise.

And as I step into the sunlight, veil floating behind me, bouquet in hand, I see Theo waiting at the altar—his smile wide, his eyes a little glassy.

I take a breath.

Behind me, I know Charles and Alex are watching. Cheering me on.

The boy I once loved. The girl who became my friend.

And in front of me, the man I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

My heart doesn’t ache. It soars.

Because in the end, we all found our forever. Just not the way we once imagined.

And maybe that’s the most beautiful part of all.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Dinner Conversations

[Dew finds sex boring, this problem is not resolved at the end, but, perhaps the other ghouls need to figure out how to do... Dew... right? Who can say? Someone pass the potatoes...]

As far as earth shattering news goes, Dew proclaiming that he finds sex "boring" in the middle of dinner probably wouldn't rank very highly... if he hadn't slept with about a solid ninety percent of the people sitting at the table.

"I mean, it's just, like, 'Okay, cool, I'm down for whatever.' and I usually cum, but that's just my body reacting to the stimulation and all." Dew says between bites of mac and cheese as if he hasn't just turned the world on its head, "There was this one time I had a vibrator on me, and it was supposed to be this whole overstimulation thing, but it was just really... and I mean REALLY boring, and the other person was trying to be all in charge and shit, and I was just laying there wondering when they'd say fuck it and fuck me already..."

Swiss swallows thickly, "A-Ah..."

Aeon looks between the two of them, biting his lip and trying not to imagine the various stages of grief the multi ghoul was currently going through hearing this news.

"I also really hate that orgasm denial shit, like, if I'm not getting anything out of this exchange, at least let me get off so I can go watch that guy who walks places get lost in a field for an hour." the older ghoul continues, reaching for the small bowl of vegetables across the table, "Honestly when I get the 'itch' anymore, I just root around down there for a couple minutes or go take a leak and that usually solves the problem..."

Rain blinks like a frog, one eye twitching slightly as he hands Dew the bowl.

"So you... you don't enjoy sex then?" the water ghoul chuckles nervously, "Then, uh, why...?"

"Oh, it's not that I don't enjoy it, it's fun sometimes, but it's just two bodies slapping together at the end of the day, and then there's all the fluids and stuff..." he hums, scooping peas onto his plate, "I mostly just do it because other people wanna do it, and I don't have anything better to do."

Cumulus puts her hands together like she's about to start praying and Aeon takes in the expressions of the rest of his fellow ghouls; Everyone, everyone looks like they just got told they got a bad grade on a test.

If you could call fucking Dew a test.

"...Is there anything you like about sex?" the air ghoulette asks, rolling her wrist in a 'go on' fashion in hopes of finding some thread of information as to Dew's thoughts, "Anything at all?"

Dew raises an eyebrow in thought and then shrugs.

"Beyond the end result? Meh."

"So, hold up, hold up, for years now... literal years! You've been telling me -us- that you've been enjoying it, and praising us..." Aether holds his head in his hands, "And you've been lying this whole time??"

"I wouldn't say I've been lying, you do sex pretty good-" Dew starts, and Aeon finds himself softly muttering, 'do sex' under his breath in the silence that falls in-between his words, "-but if you're trying to hit a homerun, you have to get out of the batting cages first."

The others sit in silence, reeling from this new information.

"Have you... have you ever felt pressured to-" Cirrus begins to ask, but Dew shakes his head, "...Never?"

"Nah, if I wasn't down to clown, I would have said no a thousand times over. I'm fine as long as whoever I'm fucking gets off and they're nice enough to finish me off, too." he says, shrugging once more, "I don't mind being along for the ride if I get to stop at the drive through, too, I guess you could say."

"So nothing we do is even remotely a turn on for you?" Swiss wonders aloud, "Like, at all??"

"I mean Rain said he'd get me mozzarella sticks if I swallowed, and I think I did a pretty fucking good job-"

"Yeah, but were you horny-horny when you blew him?" Cirrus questions, staring at Dew over her steepled fingers, "Like, actually?"

Aeon turns to Rain, "You offered him mozzarella sticks if you got to cum in his mouth?"

The water ghoul folds his arms and looks away, whispering, "That was one time-"

"I did do this one thing with Zephyr once that was really good though..." Dew trails off, stirring his mac and cheese and marveling at the sound, "...I should call them."

The room explodes at that, a cacophony of voices screeching about what Zephyr could have done differently from them, when Zephyr and Dew hooked up, and variations there of, but Aeon just sits back and munches on a bit of garlic bread and takes it all in, thinking.

"What do you think about when you're having sex then?" he asks finally, wiping crumbs off his face with his thumb, "If you're not thinking about the act itself?"

"Depends on what I was doing earlier in the day." Dew says, "Most recently -apologies in advance for this one, Aeth- it was how to repair an amp that got broken during practice."

"Is that why you moaned about needing a soldering iron??" Aether rubs his temples, "...That makes too much fucking sense."

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your recent bedroom experience-" Aeon begins to tease, but almost everyone turns and shouts at him at once.

"NO!"

"Five stars, no complaints..." Dew mumbles as if he's rating a ride share, then waves his hands, "Only joking, of course. Like I said, Aeth, you're good. You're great! Just, again, batting cages."

"Okay, but what about when you're the one fucking someone, what are you thinking about then??" Aeon inquires, leaning on his palms, curious, "You have to be sort of into it then, right?"

"You know whack-a-mole-"

[starshipblueberry]

In 2020, I was in a now defunct club called Life’s Library, which was a brain child of John Green. 2020 was the second year of the club and every two months or so we would get mailed a book and we would read it together and discuss on Discord and it was wonderful.

Hank Green was the guest book selector in early 2020 ( Feb I’m pretty sure). For his book, he picked All Systems Red. This was the letter that came with the book and upended my entire world.

Murderbot Diaries has become the book that I shove in everyone’s hands. Seriously I can count at least six people that I have physically handed my soot stained copy and said you have to read this.

So for me, the tv show has been a long time coming and I was so nervous. So nervous. Never have I ever loved something so much that has gotten a tv adaption. But the best part about the show is that I am getting to share in-person hot takes with my best friends. I even got to watch the first episodes’ premiere with friends (we have 8 kids between us it was a small miracle to be able to pull that off) and listening to my friend laugh was the best thing ever.

I love love stuff unironically. I love sharing that love in-person and online. I love thinking about what Murderbot would think of the tv show (I wrote my first AO3 fic about it

Thanks @anandabrat brat for basically making me. )

I love Sanctuary Moon. It’s my ring tone now. I love Clark Gregg’s little mustache twirl. I love MB singing the theme song as a distraction and I love Mensah you beautiful woman and I love Ratthi (even though pretty much every episode I hang my head and say what did they do to him I still love him I can do both).

I love that episodes have come out one at a time so I can rewatch and I love you gif makers who have given me the best moments so I can watch them on loop.

I hope so much that we get a second season so all the tv show people can meet ART and then a season 3 so you can meet Miki. I hope book fans find something they love in the show even if they don’t love everything. I hope you read the book (again and again).

[witherby]

Punchline and JJ: Understimulated

Commissioned by @theprinceofthieveshermes !

I was asked to make a fluffy prompt, and given the circumstances of the universe the siblings occupy, I think I did okay! It's much lighter than the rest of the fics I've written for them, that's for sure!

You're not adjusting well in the cave.

JJ would have busted you both out already but Popsy's still locked up in the nuthouse, which means none of the henchmen will take orders from his kids. Also, now that the Bat and Birds know JJ isn't dead, they're gonna be all over his ass the second he leaves with you to go back into hiding. They won't stop at anything to "rescue" their precious brother, despite the fact that he buried that identity years ago.

Not that you and JJ can't slip under the radar. He's done it for years, after all. It would just be annoying, playing Keep Away for the foreseeable future.

He needs to do something, though. You're scratching patterns and drawings into the walls with the handle of your toothbrush, which you've whittled into a point, but you're running out of space that you can reach in the cell. At night, you're sleeping poorly and your feet keep anxiously knocking together in an attempt to self-soothe. You've even started two separate fires with the bed sheets just to get dragged out of there and given a new space to wander around for a little while.

You're bored. Boredom is bad under Popsy's roof, and you don't know how to handle the under-stimulation in a safe way. The usual games you and your brother play aren't helping anymore. JJ is genuinely concerned you're gonna start hurting yourself at this rate, which is absolutely not an option.

JJ can fix this. He's just gotta start playing a little nicer with his batty babysitters. He wonders if the sudden switch-up from threatening bodily harm to compliance will raise any red flags amongst them...

--

Okay, so. Getting Dick to soften up to him is actually hilariously easy. So much so that he has to play off his sudden giggle fit as a side-effect of prolonged exposure to Popsy's laughing gas. With an averted gaze, finally allowing them to perform a full medical exam, and a carefully timed "I want Di — I mean Nightwing to do it..." JJ has the man wrapped around his finger. Emotional regulation has never been this family's strong suit, a fact he is more than happy to exploit for his own gain.

"Aaaand...all done!" Dick chirps, drawing the last vial of blood needed for testing and carefully placing a bandage in the crook of JJ's elbow. "Thanks, kid. I'll grab you a juice box, one second —"

JJ hops off the table and feigns a dizzy spell. He lets Dick reach out and steady him, brushing off his concern and urging to sit back down.

"Gotta get back to Punchline..." He mutters, only half-pretending to be stressed out. "She can't be alone...I have to keep her entertained or she'll get hurt. There's nothing to do down here, I have to go to her..."

JJ can see the gears turning in Dick's head. The worried purse of his lips tells him he's about to get everything he wants. He's just gotta push a bit more.

"I-I can grab something for you two," Dick offers. "Just...just keep it hidden under the bed, okay? B doesn't want you guys to have anything you could fashion into a weapon, but if she's really a danger to herself —"

"She will be soon," JJ insists. Time to deploy the emotional trump card. "Anything will help. There's nothing to do in that cage, Dick. I mean, I mean Nightwing! I meant to say —"

"Hey." Dick places a hand on JJ's shoulder and gives him a huge, genuine smile. His eyes are wet. Ew. "I've got it. You don't need to beg, okay? I won't let anything happen to you or your sister. Let's get you back to her while I see about finding stuff to keep you both busy."

JJ nods. Just to add icing to the manipulation cake, he leans into Dick a little as they walk back together.

That's how he ends up getting a box of Legos, nail polish, a bunch of hair accessories, paper and pencils, and two decks of cards stashed under the bed in the span of a day. Unfortunately, Dick is now taking up way more shifts and trying to cozy up to you and him, but it's a necessary headache in exchange for your happiness. The nail polish brightened your mood considerably, decorating both yours and your brother's hands and feet, but afterwards you grabbed the hair tools and haven't left the little mirror above the sink in the corner for hours. You keep brushing your hair and putting it into different styles with the bows and scrunchies Dick brought, admiring yourself with the biggest smile JJ has seen from you in two weeks.

"Do you like this one, JJ?" You ask your brother, twirling around to face your big brother. You've swept the bright green locks to one side and tied it in a low ponytail, then applied two small bows to either side of your head to keep the stray hairs neatly out of the way.

JJ watches you bounce on the balls of your feet, looking at him like he's hung the moon in the sky. He didn't, but he'd figure out how to put a second one up there if you asked.

"Beautiful, P," he says, soft and genuine. "You look like a princess."

Your grin widens. You press your hands to your cheeks and spin back around to admire your reflection some more.

"Okay, I'm gonna try something else!" You chirp. "I saw a picture in a book once! It looked like...um...oh, I remember! I gotta pull this section into a twist..."

JJ sits on the bed, one leg bent and the other dangling over the edge, and idly shuffles the deck of cards between his hands as he watches you. His smile gets bigger the happier you become.

He's already thinking of ways to manipulate the rest of the bats into getting more things for you. If he swings it right, acts like he can be de-conditioned from Popsy's years of treatment and programming, they might even give you and him access to the manor upstairs. The larger space would do wonders for staving off the boredom while he waits for Popsy to break out of Arkham again.

"Oh, yeah..." He whispers. He glides the cards between his hands for a few seconds more, shuffling and shifting and flipping them around, until he turns the top card over to reveal the Joker. "This'll be way too easy."

He puts the deck on the bed and stands, approaching you at the sink and popping his knuckles.

"Need help, sis? I can show you how to make a dragon braid."

You gasp, facing your brother with wide eyes and mouth agape, and quickly hand over the hair brush.

"Show me show me show me!!"

"Course," he easily agrees, pinching your nose fondly. "Anything for you."

[ponyboysgf]

hear me out so imagine johnny and his girlfriend (reader) are on holidays to Spain or something with readers family and them two like messing around in the pool together and like being cutesy and cuddling and stuff

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Traveling to Spain with — ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄ.

────୨ৎ────

⋆·˚ ༘ * — A/N : i actually love this prompt, it’s so original! I hope you like this, also sorry this took so long💔💔

⋆·˚ ༘ * — summary : Johnny and reader go to Spain together on a family trip

────୨ৎ────

“Thank you again, for letting me come.” Johnny said, hugging your parents.

“Oh, it’s no problem, you’re like one of the family.” Your mother replied, hugging him back.

Your family accepted Johnny as soon as they saw him.

Even though the first time they saw him was when he was climbing through your window..

Right now, your family was on the annual trip to Spain, and this year they decided to bring along Johnny. The four of you currently standing in the hallway of a hotel in Majorca, trying to find your rooms.

“Can’t believe you’re finally going on a trip with us!” You said, smiling excitedly as you walked with Johnny down the hallway, your hand quickly finding his as you guys interlocked fingers.

“Yeah, never been out tusla before. This is.. cool.” Johnny said, looking around the hotel room, even though it was a basic hotel room Johnny still was amazed, having never really stayed in a hotel before.

“If you think this is cool.. wait till you see the pool!” You said, giggling as you kissed his cheek, watching them flush after your touch.

Your parents were trailing along behind you two, watching the numbers of the doors pass by before finding their room.

“Found it! So ours is 213 and your guy’s the next room over, correct?” Your mom said.

You quickly checked your card, forgetting the number you were supposed to be looking out for.

“314. Wait, did you say yours was 213?” You asked, recalling hearing two threes.

Your mom looked down at her card, sighing as she buried her head in her hands.

“I must’ve told you guys the wrong number.” Your mother sighed, now remembering that she had accidentally typed “book room 314”, instead of 213.

“You mean to tell me that they’ll be in their own room, away from us??” Your father said, even though he liked Johnny, you were still his daughter.

“Honey, relax. I’m sure they won’t do anything, plus they’re practically adults anyway.”

“Yeah, whatever. No funny business, okay?” Your father said, turning to Johnny as he gave him a stern look before unlocking the door and walking in.

“Okay you two, how about you guys go find your room while we settle in and we can meet back up for dinner?” Your mom suggested, smiling at the two of you holding hands.

“Yeah that sounds fine.” You nodded.

Your mother smiled at you before walking into the room. You and Johnny began the search for your guys room💔. (which happened to be on a whole other floor than the one your parents were on.)

Once you guys found it, Johnny opened the door and let out an audible gasp, it was a two bedroom hotel room with a big, and most importantly a balcony view of the pool.

“You can see the pool from here!” Johnny said, rushing to the balcony and sliding the glass door before he looked around outside.

“Yeah, you can.” You giggled, sitting down you and Johnny’s bags onto one of the beds, walking up behind him and peaking over his shoulder.

“Want to go swim?” You asked, looking up at him as you watched his face light up.

“Really?” Johnny questioned, smiling at you, the excitement evident as he suddenly couldn’t stay still.

“Yeah, let’s go change.” You replied, walking into the room as you began digging through your backpack for your swimsuit.

Johnny followed you shortly behind, doing the same.

Johnny quickly changed and was sitting on the bed as you changed in the bathroom.

Once you came out, Johnny’s jaw dropped.

Yeah, he’s probably seen you in less clothes than a bikini before but he couldn’t help but start cheesing like a school girl.

“You ready?” You asked, holding towels in one arm and sunscreen in the other.

“Yeah, you look— amazing.” Johnny breathed out, getting up from the bed to walk over to you, kissing your cheek once he reached you.

“Thank you, but cmon we gotta go before it gets too hot.” You smiled, feeling thankful when Johnny reached to take the towels from you.

Once the two of you reached the pool, you had to basically fight Johnny to put sunscreen on because he said that he ‘doesn’t burn’ and as much as you would like to prove him wrong, you didn’t want to have to hear his whines in the middle of the night cause his back hurt.

“It’s so cold!” You squealed as you stepped down the steps into the water, feeling the cold water touch your skin.

Johnny decided not to take the slow approach and decided to canon ball into the water, seeming to purposefully splash water on you as he did so.

“Johnny!” You shrieked as Johnny started coming towards you, a grin on his face.

“Want a hug?” He asked, knowing that he was not only soaking wet but also freezing.

You tried to get out of the pool but not before Johnny could grab you, hugging you from behind.

“Am I too cold?” Johnny asked, giggling to himself as you tried to squirm out of his arms.

“Yes!” You giggled out, feeling his cold chest against your back, the water from his hair dripping onto your skin.

Johnny grinned and kissed your shoulder before falling backwards slightly into the water, taking you with him.

You didn’t have a chance to react before cold water surrounded your body, quickly standing up you slapped Johnny’s shoulder, not hard but playful.

“You’re evil!” You giggled out, to which Johnny silently replied by splashing water on you, a childish grin on his face.

After swimming for a bit, and Johnny getting slightly burnt on his shoulders, you guys headed back to up to the hotel room and took a shower.

After showing in the hotel shower that seemed no either be boiling or freezing with no in between, it was now getting late and you and Johnny were whipped from jet lag.

Johnny yawned, stretching as he changed into some comfy clothes, you, already changed, was sitting on one of the beds.

You and Johnny had silently agreed that you guys were going to be sharing a bed, so for now that bed was just a place to place your bags.

“Today was really fun, thank you for bringing me on this trip.” Johnny said, walking over to you with a smile.

You smiled back, scooting over on the bed so he could lay down beside you.

“Yeah it’s not problem, I’m really glad you’re here. I can’t wait to tell you about all the activities we are doing tomorrow.” You said, excited to tell Johnny all about the events you guys do every year in Spain.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to get up in the mornin’. “ Johnny said, a tired smile on his face as he crawled into bed beside you, throwing a blanket over to two of you.

You, without question, cuddled up into Johnny’s side, throwing your leg over his legs, Johnny’s hand immediately beginning to gently rub your thigh.

“It’s only 8:42pm and we are already exhausted.” You said, looking over at the clock on the bedside table.

Looking over at Johnny when you didn’t get a response, only to find him asleep with drool running down his mouth.

You giggled to yourself and wiped the drool from his lips before laying your head on his chest and falling asleep yourself.