#but like. ''only one thought'' instead of none

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Older"

ok yall! i couldn't stop thinking of neglected Reader falling for Clark Kent, so instead of writing a new chapter of "I bet on losing dogs" I wrote an AU!!! Batfam's neglect stays till reader is 18, Tiffany isn't exposed till later. I got kinda carried away tbh! Remember, THIS IS AN AU!!!! Ya'll aren't ready for this plot actually. Or who really steals readers heart. Thank you to the wonderful anon who sent me down the rabit hole of this man. Reader is 18 when the romance actually starts.

When you were younger, you had always idolized Superman. Clark Kent, the unassuming, nerdy reporter with glasses, was a far cry from the intimidating presence he became when he donned the cape. You first saw him when you were 9, during a charity event your father had taken you to. At first, you thought he was just another well-dressed man who smiled too much. But then, when he lifted a car to save someone from an accident, you felt something shift in your chest.

That’s it, you thought. That’s what I want. I want him.

From that day on, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he saved people with a smile, how gentle his voice was. You’d daydream about being near him, holding his hand, his deep blue eyes looking down at you with affection. But Clark never saw you that way. To him, you were always just Bruce Wayne’s little girl—the kid he barely knew.

Maybe it was a result of being neglected by every man in your life that made you so feral for Clark Kent. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only person you knew who didn't prefer Tiffany to you. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, he'd never feel the same.

So, you pushed your feelings aside.

Or at least you tried to.

You’d flirted with boys before. You’d flirted with grown men. With your powers, you needed an outlet, a way to let go of your frustrations, to feel good. You lost your virginity only days after gaining your powers. It felt amazing, during those moments you were in control of your body, the pain went away, the neglect went away and you were loved.

But nothing had ever been like the times you found yourself in Clark’s presence. At 16, you’d started testing the waters, teasing him with subtle remarks. You’d gotten a little bolder in your attempts over the years, but he always brushed them off as playful jokes.

"Don’t you think you’re a little young for me, kiddo?" he’d chuckle every time you got close.

You hated that. He saw you as a kid. That was it.

But you didn’t stop. Because you were determined.

And by the time you turned 18, the world around you had shifted. You had grown into someone new, more mature, more confident. Your body had changed. Your personality had changed. But Clark... he still looked at you like you were that little girl from all those years ago.

It hurt. But you told yourself, Just be patient. It’ll come around. I just need more time.

You soon realized time was too long. Clark would never see you as anything more than a kid, he literally had children your age. He was old enough to be your father. His youngest son had a crush on you and Clark is a good man. He would never consider you romantically.

You couldn't keep chasing after another unrequited love. Not after years of chasing your family's. Not after years of being pushed aside for an imposter who always outsmarted your attempts to expose her.

You wanted to move on. To leave everyone behind.

And that's what you did. There was no dramatic breaking point, no emotional stand-off. You were looking out your window one day and you realized you've done nothing. You've never been happy, never once truly happy, you lived for everyone but yourself. Not anymore. One random sunny Tuesday, the summer after you graduated highschool, you packed up and left everything behind, no goodbyes. Not even a note for Alfred. None of them deserved it.

You were tired, tired of chasing people.

You wanted to be chased and that's what you got. Every week it was someone new, your professor, your friends, your boss, anyone who was attracted to you, you slept with. It was so freeing. It was euphoric, making them fall in love, leading them into your bed, then kicking them out as soon as the next one came along.

The only thing that you truly loved now was music, it was all that got you through years and years of mistreatment. No matter what happened in the manor, you could turn your headphones on and forget. You could grab your guitar and strum your worries away.

College sucked. Long ago, you would've pushed yourself to go, even though you hated it, just to make your family proud. To chase approval you would never get. Not anymore, you knew you needed a degree to make a living, but a gap year never hurt anyone.

You began working as a singer in different bars. It let you write songs and make money. There was nothing more addicting than feeling eyes on you, enchanted by you. Your voice was magnetic, drawing people in, and like any good predator, you feasted on their hearts and left as soon as they stopped inspiring you. Yet, no matter how good-looking or good in bed they were, they would never be Clark.

One night, after a few months of your reckless, self-destructive pattern, you found yourself in a dimly lit bar on the outskirts of Gotham, a place where nobody would recognize you. You weren't gonna sing, not tonight.

You weren’t here to find love, you weren’t here to talk or connect. You were here to forget.

The clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation surrounded you, but it was the figure in the corner that caught your attention.

A man with a commanding presence sat alone at the bar, his back straight, eyes locked on the dim-lit television above the counter. His hair was peppered with gray, but there was something ageless about the way he carried himself; tough, confident, dangerous. The eyepatch over his right eye only enhanced the mystery, adding a cruel allure to his already intimidating presence.

You couldn’t quite place why you were drawn to him, but the moment you saw him, a spark ignited. Slade Wilson. He worked with Bruce somehow one time, everyone hated him, even Clark. You remembered him because he was the only man, other than Clark, not to fall for Tiffany's charm and that was a win in your book.

You’d heard of him in passing, mostly in rumors—whispers of a deadly mercenary, a ghost in the shadows of Gotham, a man you wouldn’t want to cross. But here he was, sitting like a predator in a place filled with prey.

You weren’t afraid. You never were. You’d been raised in the shadows of Gotham, after all, with men who didn’t even know how to love you. You’d seen dangerous men before. You knew how to handle yourself.

You sauntered over, taking a seat next to him, your movements casual but purposeful. He glanced at you briefly, his lips twitching into the slightest of smirks before his eyes returned to the screen.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, leaning into the counter, placing your drink beside his.

His gaze flicked toward you again, this time a little longer. There was something predatory in the way he sized you up, assessing your every move. "Not at all."

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. "I’ve been told I’m a good time."

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, but it was cold, calculated. "That so?"

You didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped briefly to your lips, but he didn’t let his attention linger for long. He took a long sip of his drink and leaned back, unbothered, as though you were nothing more than another fleeting distraction.

You were used to this, the indifferent types. But you weren’t going to let him slip away that easily.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who spends his nights in places like this,” you said, turning towards him with a sly grin. “I imagine you’ve got better places to be.”

Slade didn’t look at you when he responded, his voice low and smooth, like gravel being ground underfoot. “I’m where I want to be.”

You laughed, the sound rich and teasing. "So, what does someone like you do for fun, then?"

For a moment, the silence stretched between you, and then he finally turned to meet your eyes, the weight of his gaze making your stomach flutter for reasons you couldn’t explain. "Fun... isn’t what I’m here for."

You let out a slow breath, leaning in a little closer, just enough for the scent of his cologne to hit you, something spicy, with a touch of danger.

"Then what are you here for?" you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he met your gaze head-on, his lips curling up ever so slightly at the corners.

"Business."

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Business, huh? I love business."

“I'm sure you do” he said cryptically, but his voice was thick with unspoken meaning.

The tension between you was palpable, electric. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him. It wasn’t just his looks, though they were undeniably attractive in their own gritty, dangerous way. No, it was the way he carried himself, like he was someone who could destroy everything in his path if he wanted.

You weren’t intimidated, though. If anything, it intrigued you more.

You leaned closer, the warmth of your body pressing against his, your breath hot against his ear. “So, what do you do when business is done?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his eyes hard and calculating. And then, before you could react, his lips brushed against your ear, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t want to know."

You shivered at his words, at the heat of his breath, but you were beyond caring. You were tired of being the one who was always desired but never loved, the one who always chased but was never caught. Tonight, you wanted to be wanted, and you wanted him to want you more than anything.

"Maybe I wanna find out" you breathed, your hand sliding down his arm.

His hand shot out like lightning, grabbing your wrist before you could make contact. His grip was firm, but not painful—just a reminder of his control, of how easily he could break you if he wanted.

“Not tonight,” he murmured, voice rough. "Not the way you think."

You stared at him, uncertainty flickering in your gaze for the briefest of moments. You had gotten used to men not wanting you the way you wanted them, it was all you knew growing up. But now things were different with your abilities. This wasn’t the first time someone had pulled away, but with him, it felt different, like he was holding back, just as much as you were.

You smirked. "What makes you think you can stop me?"

His lips curled again, this time with something darker in his eyes. "Because I’m the one who calls the shots."

A challenge. A warning. And for some reason, that only made you want him more.

Before you could react, he stood up, his hand lingering on your wrist for just a beat longer. "If you’re serious about this, I’ll be at the back exit in thirty minutes."

Then, without waiting for a response, he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the bar.

You sat there for a moment, staring after him, the heat of the moment hanging in the air between you.

You weren’t sure whether to follow or not, but you knew one thing for certain: tonight was going to be a night you wouldn’t forget.

And so, you found yourself standing outside in the cool night air, your heart racing. You hadn't planned for this, but somehow it felt inevitable.

When you saw him again, waiting by the dark alley, it was clear this was a man who didn’t let anything slip through his fingers. And tonight, you weren’t going to let him slip away either. You approached him, your steps measured and confident.

He didn't speak immediately, just gave you a slow, knowing smile as you came closer.

This wasn’t the start of a love story. This wasn’t about feelings or connections. This was something darker, something more primal.

This was a game. And you weren’t sure if you were the predator... or the prey.

But you were ready to find out.

The cool Gotham air settled in your lungs as you closed the distance between yourself and Slade, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

He stood by the alley entrance, leaning casually against the brick wall, his figure lit only by the faint streetlight behind him. The shadows clung to him like a second skin, making his presence feel like an almost dangerous secret—something you weren’t sure you were ready to unravel, but damn, you were more than willing to try.

Slade didn’t say a word as you approached, his one visible eye catching yours with that piercing, unreadable stare of his. You knew that look. It was the same kind of look your father gave you when he had to make tough decisions, when he saw things for what they truly were. Cold, calculating. But this? This felt different. This felt like a challenge. And you were more than ready for it.

“Still think you can handle me?” His voice was low, but it had that same teasing bite, as if he were daring you to prove him wrong.

You were close now—too close for comfort, but you didn’t care. You stepped into his space, the heat of his body now radiating against yours, his scent filling your senses. “I don’t need to handle you,” you murmured, your lips barely brushing his ear as you leaned in. “I think you need to handle me.”

There was a flicker in his gaze, something almost imperceptible, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken. He didn’t move away, didn’t flinch like others would have. If anything, the air around you both seemed to crackle with intensity.

“Is that what you think this is about?” Slade asked, his voice rougher now, as though the control he so carefully maintained was slipping just a little. “You’re not the first woman who’s come to me thinking they can make me want them.”

You were sure he was referring to Tiffany, there was no way a man like him ever forgot a name or face. Knowing he knew who you were and knowing he didn't care made you want him more.

You smiled, feeling that familiar rush of excitement surge through your veins. It wasn’t about making him want you. It was about making him need you.

“Maybe,” you said, leaning even closer, your lips almost touching his. “But I’m the first one who might actually make you lose control.”

For a heartbeat, you could have sworn the world around you stopped. Slade’s eye darkened, the intensity in his stare shifting from challenge to something sharper. More dangerous. But there was something else in his eyes now. Something that made your heart race faster than you cared to admit.

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist with a force that had your breath hitching in your throat. The familiar spark of danger lit up your skin, and you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let your body melt into his, feeling the pulse of raw, untamed power that radiated off him.

“You think you can push me?” he growled, his voice like gravel, each word like a warning and a promise all at once.

You didn’t answer him right away. Instead, you let your fingers trail across his chest, feeling the ridged muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt. Your touch was deliberate, slow, each movement a calculated game of power.

“Maybe I want to push you,” you said softly, your breath a whisper against his neck, “until I break you.”

The grip on your wrist tightened for a split second, his muscles flexing with controlled restraint. For a moment, you wondered if this was where it would end, that he’d push you away, tell you it was all just a game. But when he finally spoke again, his voice was thick with tension.

“Careful, sweetheart,” Slade murmured, his lips brushing against the curve of your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’m not sure you know what you’re asking for.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your body pressing even closer to his as your lips hovered dangerously close to his own. “Maybe I don’t,” you whispered. “But I’m willing to find out.”

Slade didn’t move for a long moment, just holding you there in that thin space between danger and desire. And then, finally, he closed the gap, his lips crashing into yours with the force of someone who had been holding back far too long.

The kiss was anything but gentle. It was a brutal, desperate collision of mouths, a clash of power and need. You could feel the tension in every muscle of his body as he claimed your mouth, his hands gripping your arms, his touch insistent and almost hungry. But you didn’t break, didn’t pull away. Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, hands roaming up his chest to grasp the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer.

For a second, you wondered if this would be the point where you lost yourself to the heat of the moment, but the longer you kissed him, the clearer it became that this wasn’t just about passion. It was about control. About testing boundaries.

And you were willing to play that game, because you were ready to win.

As the kiss deepened, Slade pulled away suddenly, his breath ragged, eyes darker now with desire and frustration. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to someone who didn’t give in.

“Not so easy, is it?” you whispered, your voice rough from the kiss, your body still pressed against his.

He glared at you for a moment, lips curling into a knowing smirk, the kind of smirk that made you feel like you were dancing on the edge of a knife.

“You’re not the first one to test me, Slade said, voice low and dangerous, his hands sliding down your arms with intent. “But you might be the first one who wants to."

Slade didn’t pull back, his chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm, but his gaze never left yours. His hand, still gripping your wrist, was no longer a force of restraint; it was an anchor, a silent promise of just how far this could go.

The weight of his stare sent a shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure if it was from anticipation or something deeper, something darker that he carried with him, but you felt it in every inch of your body. You weren’t here for games anymore, you were here because you wanted this. You wanted him.

But there was more to it. Something about the way he held you in his gaze told you that, for once, you weren’t in control. Slade Wilson was a man who played by his own rules. And now, you were learning the cost of trying to break them.

He released your wrist with slow precision, letting his fingers linger over your skin for just a second longer than necessary. You could feel the heat of his touch as he took a step back, eyes darkening with a new kind of challenge.

“You really think you’re the one calling the shots here?” His voice was low, rough, as though it had been soaked in whiskey and smoke.

You weren’t about to back down now. You smirked, leaning into him again, almost too close for comfort. “I think I’m just... along for the ride.”

Slade’s lips twisted into something dangerous, a mix of amusement and something else, something far more raw. He took a step toward you, crowding your space, his presence suffocating in the most exhilarating way.

“Not sure you know what that ride entails,” he murmured, his voice dipping even lower, sending another shiver down your spine.

“I’m starting to,” you replied, reaching for him, but this time, you didn’t touch him the way you had before. You trailed your fingers slowly, almost teasingly, down his chest, feeling the firmness of muscle beneath the fabric.

Slade didn’t stop you. His body stiffened, though. Just enough for you to feel that tight pull of control he was holding onto. It only made you want him more. You pressed a little closer, your body brushing against his in a subtle reminder that you were still in the game, too.

“I like doing things i'm not supposed to” you said, your lips grazing his ear as you spoke. “And I think you do, too.”

He stiffened at your words, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, you thought you saw something flash behind his gaze—something far more primal than the cold, calculating predator you’d come to know.

Slade’s hand shot out, gripping your chin with surprising gentleness, forcing you to look up at him. The control was unmistakable in his hold, yet his eyes… his eyes were like a storm just about to break. “Don’t think you know what you’re asking for.”

“I never said I did.” Your voice was steady, confident, even though the truth was you didn’t fully know what this was. But you knew what you wanted, and right now, it was him.

He searched your face, his gaze intense, like he was deciding something. just as you thought he might break, he leaned in, closing the gap between you both.

His lips brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. For a moment, it was almost like a game of cat and mouse. He was holding back, just enough to make you ache for more.

His lips moved to your ear, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “You should walk away now. Because once this starts, there’s no going back.”

You leaned into him, your breath shaky, but your resolve unwavering. “I never look back. Not anymore.”

Slade didn’t hesitate. His lips crushed against yours with an urgency that felt like a storm breaking free. There was no softness. It was rough, driven by something savage, and it made you lose your breath as you kissed him back just as fiercely.

You felt his hands on you, strong and sure, pulling you into him, his grip possessive in a way that made your pulse race even faster. You let him guide you, let him take the lead—because, for the first time in so long, you didn’t need to be the one in control. You didn’t want to be.

That night, Slade Wilson made you forget about every other man in your life, even Clark Kent.

For the next three weeks, you and Slade continued game of cat and mouse. Every other day, you would go to a bar to play and he would somehow appear in the crowd, like a sailor lured by a siren.

Yet everytime, in the morning when you woke, still hot after the previous nights activities, Slade Wilson was nowhere to be found.

You knew he was too old for you, too rough and unstable, but he could be kind at times, when he wanted.

And he was fun.

And you're sure your family would have a joint aneurysum if they found out.

It was fun until one night, he didn't find you.

Two months later, nothing changed. No word from your 'family' asking where you were, only Alfred's weekly check up, and Damian's insufferable posting of him, Tiffany, and the rest the family having fun without you on Instagram. He didn't even bother to block you.

No word from Slade either, yet you still hoped he would show one night. Seems like you had a thing for men ignoring you.

But tonight, something felt electric in the air.

Slade’s shadow stretched across the dimly lit bar, his presence pulling every ounce of warmth from the room. You hadn’t seen him in two months, not since he’d walked away without a word, leaving you to pick up the pieces of everything. You’d told yourself you didn’t care, that his absence meant nothing. But seeing him again, standing there with that predatory stare of his, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest.

You were busy, sure, singing and flirting, giving the crowd exactly what they wanted. But you couldn’t ignore the sudden heaviness in the air. The way the music seemed to fade as his eyes locked onto yours from across the room. The same gaze that had always made you feel like you were his—like he could take whatever he wanted and leave you with nothing.

You kept the smile on your face, tossing your hair over your shoulder, a flirtatious laugh escaping your lips as you tossed a wink at one of the men leaning against the bar. You could feel Slade watching you, not just with his eyes but with every inch of his body. He hadn’t come to listen to the music. He didn’t give a damn about the crowd or the drinks. He was here for you.

And he was pissed.

He approached you with slow, deliberate steps, his frame imposing, his eyes cold with that familiar edge. When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble, almost drowned out by the noise of the bar, but it cut through everything like a blade.

“Well, well, well… look at you, darlin’. Didn’t take you long to move on, huh?”

Your pulse quickened, but you kept your head high. ��Didn’t realize I needed your permission, babe.”

He ignored the jab, his lips twitching in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Haven’t seen you in two months, and this is what I come back to? You’re out here playing with the other boys now?”

You didn’t flinch. “You didn’t exactly leave me with much of a choice. You were the one who disappeared, remember?”

Slade's gaze hardened, and before you knew it, he was right in front of you, close enough that his breath stirred the strands of your hair. He leaned down, his voice dropping low, rough. “You really think you can just forget about me? Move on with them? Cute little act you've got going, sweetheart, but I can see right through it.”

You pushed back, trying to ignore the flutter in your chest. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just having fun. I’m living my life, Slade. You should try it sometime.”

His smirk curled, but there was no warmth in it. “I don’t need advice from you. And I don’t give a damn about your ‘fun.’” His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a brutal grip, pulling you closer. “Where’s your old man? Where’s your daddy been? What about your brothers? Do they even know what the hell you’ve been up to?”

The sharpness of his words cut deeper than you wanted to admit. Slade always knew how to hit you where it hurt, and he wasn’t giving you any room to breathe. “Don’t touch me,” you snapped, but the defiance didn’t reach your voice the way you wanted it to.

“Funny, that’s what I thought you’d say.” He released your wrist, but not before giving it a firm squeeze. “I already know what’s been going on with your family. They’ve been too busy holding onto their precious Tiffany, haven’t they?”

You flinched at the mention of her name. Everyone knew Tiffany was the golden child, the one your family had actually cared about. The one they’d all protected, even when she turned out to be the one using them. You’d known for a while that she was a spy, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow.

Slade’s eyes glinted with that sharp, calculating look. “You knew what she was doing, didn’t you? All this time, she was playing them like puppets, and now they’re gonna come crawling back, pretending they care. They’ll be looking for you soon enough, you know. Guilt’s a hell of a thing.”

The words sank into you, twisting painfully. You hated how right he was. Your family had always been so focused on Tiffany that they hadn’t noticed how you were slipping through the cracks. And now, with her gone, they were going to realize their mistake. They were going to come for you, but it wouldn’t be because they cared. It would be because they felt guilty.

Slade took a step closer, his hand lightly grazing your cheek, the touch cold and commanding. “They’ll come running for you when they realize what they’ve lost, sweetheart. But don’t fool yourself. It won’t be about you. It’ll be about guilt. About making things right because they fucked up. But you know better than anyone, those kinds of people always forget when the next shiny thing comes along.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your composure. “What do you want from me?”

His smirk widened, his fingers trailing down your jaw with a casualness that made your skin crawl in a way you couldn’t quite explain. “What do I want from you, sweetheart? Maybe just the same thing I’ve always wanted. But let’s be clear: I’m not here to save you from them. Hell, I don’t even know if you want saving.”

You glared at him, feeling the bitter edge of your own anger. “Then why the hell are you here?”

Slade's eyes softened for a brief second—just long enough to make you wonder if this was something more than just a game to him. Then, as quickly as it appeared, the moment was gone, replaced by that familiar coldness. “I’m here because you’re a hell of a lot smarter than they’ll ever give you credit for. And you’re not stupid enough to think you need them. You know they never cared, not really.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the words died in your throat. He was right. You did know it, deep down. You’d always known. It stung, more than you cared to admit, but you were done being angry about it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just below your ear. “When they come, and they will come, you can show them what it feels like to be abandoned. You can make them feel just how you felt. But don’t think for a second you can do it without me.”

You didn’t respond right away, your heart pounding in your chest. He wasn’t offering you a way out, he was offering you a choice. A choice between playing the victim to your family’s guilt, or standing beside him as he carved his own path. Neither option was a clean one, but something about him made it feel like the one you’d always been meant to choose.

Slade stepped back, his eyes scanning you as if he was trying to figure you out. “You’re not like them, sweetheart. And you’re not gonna let them walk all over you. Not this time.”

You finally met his gaze, the anger and frustration swirling in your chest. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Slade grinned, that predatory, dangerous grin that made you feel like you were in over your head. “Oh, I know more than you think.”

Slade’s presence was suffocating, his shadow looming over you like something darker than the night itself. He’d always had that effect on you, but tonight, with the way he leaned in so close, his words cutting through the air like daggers, you couldn't help but feel a chill creep down your spine.

His eyes never left yours, not for a second, his smirk tightening as if he knew exactly how to push every button. "You know, sweetheart, you always think you’ve got everything figured out, don’t you?” His voice was soft, dangerous, like a whisper in a dark alley. “But you’ve been running from something for a long time. Something you can’t hide from anymore."

You felt your heart beat a little faster, but you refused to show it. You’d dealt with him long enough to know that showing weakness only made him more dangerous. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Slade’s gaze slid over you, dismissive yet calculating. “I think you know exactly what I mean. But let’s not play coy here. You used to be close with Jason. Back when he was alive, at least. You were a team, weren’t you?”

The mention of Jason made your stomach twist, but you clenched your jaw and forced your face into something resembling indifference. You refused to let Slade see you hurt. “What about it?”

“Nothing, just... funny, isn’t it?” Slade’s lips curved into a grin that made your skin crawl. “You two were close. But then, Jason died, and who was left? The family? They couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to you. They didn’t notice when Tiffany came around, and they sure as hell haven’t noticed since.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the truth hitting a little too hard. But you kept your composure, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much it stung. “What do you want, Slade?”

His eyes softened just enough to make you think for a second that he might’ve been telling the truth—only for that same grin to return, sharper than before. “What I want? You're not getting it, sweetheart. It’s not about me. It’s about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to figure out just how much of this conversation was manipulation. And how much was something more... personal? The tension between you two was so thick, it felt like it might snap at any moment.

Slade took a step closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “You’ve been wasting your time, haven’t you? Hiding behind that bar, singing, flirting with men who’ll never understand you. You could do so much more than this, you know. You’ve got potential.”

He said the word like it was something sacred. A promise or a curse, you couldn’t quite decide.

You shook your head, taking a small step back. "I don’t need you or anyone else to tell me what I can and can’t do."

Slade’s eyes darkened, his smirk turning predatory. “Oh, I think you do. I think you want to know. Deep down, you’re craving someone to show you how to unlock it. Your powers. Your real potential. You want something bigger, something more than this.”

Your pulse quickened, and a sickening unease washed over you. How the hell did he know about your powers? How much did he really know? The idea that he’d been watching you from afar, or worse, had been tracking your every move, made your skin crawl.

You tried to push that thought away. “I don’t know what you think you know about me, but you’re wrong. I don’t need anyone’s help.”

Slade studied you for a long moment, his gaze never faltering. He was evaluating you, and you could feel the weight of it pressing on your chest. When he spoke again, his tone was almost... too calm, too casual.

“Let’s be real here, darlin'. You do need help. You’ve got power, and I’m not talking about the small-time tricks you’ve been playing with. You could be so much more. But you're stuck. Trapped in this little life you’ve built for yourself because you’re too afraid to face what's really inside you.”

“Why are you even here?” You asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the edge was starting to creep in. You wanted answers, and you wanted them now. “You disappeared for two months, and now you’re showing up like you know everything about me. What’s your game?”

He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his figure blocking the dim light above you. “My game? I’m not here to play games. I’m here because I’m offering you an opportunity. An opportunity to stop hiding from yourself. To work with me. To really figure out what you’re capable of. I’ve seen the way you move. The way you think. And I know you’re capable of so much more than this little bar. But you’ll need training. You’ll need guidance. My guidance.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you couldn’t stop the involuntary shiver that ran through you. He was offering you something, something you didn’t quite understand, but the implication was clear: he wanted you to join him. To work together.

But there was something... off. The way he was talking. The way he seemed to know everything about you, the things you hadn’t told anyone, not even yourself.

“How do you know all this?” You demanded, your voice cracking despite your best efforts to sound confident. “How do you know about Jason? About Tiffany? About whats happening to me?”

Slade’s grin widened, a strange glint in his eyes as he leaned in, almost as if savoring the tension. “There's nothing I don't know. I know more than you think. But here’s the thing: you don’t need to understand everything right away. You just need to trust me. Trust that I know what you need. And trust that I can give you what you’ve been searching for. What they could never give you.”

His words were like a knife, each one digging deeper. “I’m not asking for your loyalty. Not yet. But think about it, yeah? I’m offering you something bigger than this... this place, these people. I can offer you something real. Power. Freedom.”

Your eyes were still locked with his, but your mind was racing. You couldn't stop the unease creeping through you. There was a part of you that wanted to know what he meant. Wanted to know how far your powers could go. Wanted to trust him, even though everything in your gut told you not to.

“And what about Clark?” You blurted out, unable to stop yourself. “I’m supposed to just... forget about him too? You don’t think I notice? You think I’m some naive little girl who doesn’t know what’s going on? You think I can't see you using me? Trying to groom me?”

Slade’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, before his lips curled into a snide smile. “Clark.” He scoffed. “The big, shiny boy scout with all the answers. I wouldn’t worry too much about him. You and I both know how far that age gap really stretches. He’s too good for you, always will be.”

He took a step closer, his eyes glinting with something dark. “But me? I don’t need to pretend. I know exactly what you need. And I won’t keep running from it like your little superhero friend. I’m offering you something real, and you’re smart enough to see that.”

His words, sharp and possessive, lingered in the air. You swallowed, your throat dry.

“I’ll think about it.” The words came out more breathless than you intended, but Slade didn’t seem to mind.

“Good girl.” His tone was sharp, like an order, but there was something more in it, something possessive, like a claim. He reached out, his fingers brushing your arm as if he had every right to touch you. And the worst part was, you didn’t pull away.

“Don’t take too long,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “I’m not the patient type. And when I come back, you’ll have an answer. I’ll be waiting, sweetheart.”

You hated how that sent a chill down your spine.

OKKKKKK WHAT DO YALL THINK??? IS IT GOOD??? BE HONEST!! I BARELY KNEW WHO SLADE WAS BEFORE THIS SO IT MIGHT BE OOC! REMEBER THIS IS AN AU! SORRY IF THERE'S TYPOS I WROTE THIS ON MY PHONE IN BED. I FEEL LIKE IT SUCKS SO I MIGHT TAKE IT DOWN AND NEVER SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!!!!

[liketolaugh-writes]

"We figured out that there was an information blockade a few weeks after the Anti-Ecto Act passed," Danny told them, settling by the park bench where they were supposed to meet Danny's friends. "How'd you get through?"

Danny's other form was interesting, and frankly, a lot less off-putting than Clark had been prepared for. He sat cross-legged in the air, more casual in his defiance of gravity than Clark was, and his glacial white hair drifted slightly, as if he were underwater. He gave off a faint glow, which cast his features into stark relief, with none of the usual shadows. His eyes were a vivid radiation green. The only thing Clark found disconcerting was that he had no heartbeat at all.

Clark felt strongly that the hunters who were so afraid of him needed to get a grip.

He wore an interesting suit, too. Clark could see why Maddie had mistaken it for a superhero costume, except it obviously wasn't - it was a haz-mat, exactly like hers. Apparently it hadn't done him much good even when it fit.

"A lot of persistence and a lot of contacts," Lois said with a rueful smile. "Amity Park disappeared extremely suddenly, and while not a lot of people noticed, some did. One of my old college friends lives in Elmerton, and Elmerton certainly noticed."

"Elmerton's so close that they're lucky it got spared," Danny said dryly. He hesitated for a moment longer, his eyes flicking warily between them, and then asked, "Why did you...?"

Clark gave Danny a gentle smile, noting that while the shocked hostility had faded, Danny was still nervous. "Well, it was obvious that you weren't safe here," he said. "And not in the normal way for heroes. When you mentioned that your species had become illegal, I combed through recent legislation, and..." He trailed off pointedly, and Danny looked away. "I consider you a friend, Danny. I have for a while now. I wanted to help you, if I could."

Danny ducked his head, looking self-conscious and a little overwhelmed. It wasn't a bad change from the defeated look he'd had during Maddie's lecture. Before Danny could figure out an answer, his friends showed up, and he perked up with visible relief. That made sense; Danny seemed like the type of kid that drew a lot of courage from his friends.

"Oh my god, you weren't kidding," the tallest girl said, eyes wide. She was a redhead, with bright teal eyes that had a touch of unnatural luminescence to them. Clark would bet money that this was Danny's sister.

"Of course not, he's Danny," the other girl scoffed, walking forward without hesitation to swing into a seat right next to Danny. There was a hint of a starry-eyed look to her when she looked at Lois, but - the mark of a vigilante's support team - she didn't let it take control. Instead, she crossed her arms and regarded them warily.

The only boy sat across from them, looking almost as nervous as Danny, and the taller girl perched on the table, uneasy and uncomfortable.

They were just kids. Untrained kids, at that, doing their best for the world.

"Jazz, my sister," Danny explained, indicating the redhead. "She helps me deal with my parents, mostly. Sam, my best friend, she's the only good shot here." Sam smirked. "And Tucker, my other best friend, tech whiz." He waved awkwardly.

"It's good to meet you," Clark said politely, giving them a sincere, if tense smile.

"So," Danny continued, with more confidence now, "you wanted to give me a lecture about how my parents are monsters, I shouldn't live with them anymore, and I should pack all my stuff and move out. Am I right?"

Pause.

"Well," Clark said at last, scratching the back of his head with embarrassment. "That wasn't our intention in coming here, but it was the way I was leaning by the end of that conversation." Danny sighed, and Clark hastened to continue, "I'm sure you've thought about it before-"

"No," Danny cut him off, reaching up to rub his face in obvious stress and frustration. Clark winced in guilt. He was trying to help Danny, not make him more upset.

The only other one who looked sympathetic to Danny's plight was Jazz, who explained to Clark, blushing and apologetic, "Danny's really sensitive about our parents, especially Mom. I know you got a big face-full of the bad lab etiquette and the anti-ghost stuff, but Danny and Mom used to be really close." Something about her tone told Clark that she wanted to defend them too, but knew from experience it was futile.

"As Danny puts it, he's the one that keeps getting shot, and he doesn't need to be reminded how much it hurts," Sam put in, more dry than Jazz, but with the same glance of worry at Danny.

"Of course," Clark sighed, giving Danny an apologetic smile. "Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Can we talk about literally anything except how much my parents hate me?" Danny pleaded, pushing his hand up his face to run it through his fluffy hair.

Clark took that as a no, and when he glanced down, Sam just gave him a resigned shrug, so clearly this was not new behavior for Danny. Clark resolved to try and approach it again later, much later, when some of the other problems had been solved.

"Practicalities, then," Lois said briskly, bless her. She grabbed her notebook and flipped it open. "So, you said most of the town falls under the Anti-Ecto Act?"

Danny looked relieved by the change in subject. "Most might be a little generous," he hedged. Tucker shook his head fervently, and Danny ignored him. "But yeah. The portal gives off a lot of ambient ectoplasm, which is great for like, me, because it feeds me, and no one else, because it settles into their nervous system." He shrugged. "I never really thought that much of it. At 5%, you maybe start to be able to sense ghosts subconsciously, and you're a bit more resistant to future contamination. At 10%, you can sense ghosts nearby and you might start to see in the dark."

"For the record, he and Jazz were at 20% before the portal even opened," Tucker put in, "at which point shadows cling to you, you develop tapetum lucidum, and your footsteps don't make noise."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you eat it from a young age," Danny muttered. "Anyway, all of which is to say: it didn't really matter until the Anti-Ecto Act passed."

"But now it does," Clark said quietly.

"But now it does," Danny agreed. "Most of the townsfolk don't know it yet, I think, but that's why the GIW is so careless about collateral damage here. You're not a person until they've tested your ecto levels, and they don't usually bother."

"You didn't..." Clark hesitated, reluctant to say anything that might be construed as an accusation against the young ghost. Danny caught on anyway and ducked his head.

"Well," Danny said quietly, "I didn't know what you thought of ghosts."

"Danny," Clark said seriously. "I will make sure you get rights if it's the last thing I do."

Danny Fenton sends Superman a fan email in which he asks for advice. In it he says he is also a non-human hero (he is vague because being a ghost is illegal) Danny mentions that he is being raised by humans. His parents don't know about his activities or species and hate his kind.

Danny was mostly looking for advice on how to make people stop being scared of his non-human characteristics. But Clark really sees himself in this teenager's email. He knows he was lucky to get parents who loved him even as an alien, but he also recalls being young and scared that would change.

So they start regularly exchanging emails, and Superman becomes a kind of mentor even if Danny refuses to tell him anything about his identity.

[paige05bby]

The Story of Us

Summary: In which a very curious basketball player meets a very stressed BioChem major…

Warnings: none, part 2 part 3

The library is my safe space. My quiet sanctuary. The one place on campus where people don’t expect you to make conversation or be social—they just let you exist in peace.

Or at least, that’s what I thought.

I’m three chapters deep into my biochem textbook, highlighter hovering over a particularly dense paragraph, when I feel it. A shift. A presence.

Someone sits down across from me.

I don’t look up at first. The library gets crowded around this time, and I’ve claimed one of the better tables near the windows. It’s not unusual for someone to take the empty seat, especially during midterms. I give them the benefit of the doubt, assuming they’re here for the same reason as me—to study. To be quiet.

Then I feel it. A gaze. Heavy. Intentional.

Slowly, I look up.

The girl across from me is staring, chin resting on her hand, elbow propped against the table like she has all the time in the world. She’s blonde, blue-eyed, and wearing a sweatshirt that looks like it was stolen from a teammate. There’s something about her posture—relaxed, confident, too at ease in a way that makes me suspicious. Like she knows something I don’t.

I shift slightly in my chair, fingers tightening around my pen. “…Can I help you?”

She grins, not at all deterred. “Just wondering how long it’d take you to notice me.”

I blink, staring at her. “Notice you?”

“You were locked in.” She nods toward my book. “I sat down, and you didn’t even flinch. Impressive focus.”

“Yeah, well,” I say, adjusting my glasses, “some of us actually have to study to pass our exams.”

“Ouch.” She presses a hand to her chest like I’ve physically wounded her. “What makes you think I don’t study?”

I gesture vaguely at her. “You don’t have the look of someone stressing over midterms.”

She laughs, and it’s entirely too casual, like we’re old friends instead of two people who just met. “Maybe I’m just good at hiding it.”

I hum noncommittally and turn back to my book, hoping that’s the end of it. But I can still feel her watching me.

“So…” she starts again, like silence is something she physically cannot endure. “What are you studying?”

I sigh. “Biochem.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Damn. No wonder you were so serious.”

I don’t respond, already trying to refocus on my notes.

“So, are you, like, pre-med?”

I exhale slowly, willing myself to be patient. “Yes.”

“That explains the intensity.” She tilts her head slightly, eyes scanning my open textbook like she actually understands any of it. “You must be ridiculously smart.”

“That’s usually the goal.”

Her lips twitch, like she’s holding back a smile. “You always this serious?”

“Only when I’m trying to study,” I say pointedly.

“Fair enough.” She leans back like she’s finally going to let me work. I take a deep breath, hoping that’s the last of the distractions.

Then, barely a minute later—

“You don’t know who I am, do you?”

I freeze, highlighter hovering over the page. When I look up, she’s watching me expectantly, like my answer actually matters to her.

I study her for a second, narrowing my eyes. She does look vaguely familiar, but I can’t place her. Maybe we’ve had a class together? No, I’d remember her. She doesn’t have the exhausted look of an honors student running on caffeine and blind hope.

“…Should I?”

Something flickers across her face—shock, then amusement. “Wow. That’s… refreshing, actually.”

I frown. “Refreshing?”

She grins, leaning forward slightly. “I’m used to people recognizing me.”

I squint at her. “Are you famous or something?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “Something like that.”

I roll my eyes. “Well, congrats on being mysterious, but I really don’t have time for whatever game you’re playing.”

She holds up her hands in mock surrender. “No games. Just curious. You’re probably the first person on this campus who hasn’t immediately said my name.”

I sigh, rubbing my temple. “Okay, well, I’m Y/N. And now you know my name, so we’re even.”

She hums, testing it out. “Y/N. I like it.”

“Great,” I mutter. “Now, if you don’t mind—”

“Wait,” she interrupts again.

I snap my head up, incredulous. “Oh my God, what?”

She has the audacity to grin. “One fun fact about you.”

I let out a slow, measured breath. “You are relentless.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

She just smirks. “One fun fact. Then I swear I’ll let you study.”

I stare at her for a long moment, debating whether or not she’ll actually keep her word. Finally, I sigh. “I can recite the periodic table from memory.”

Paige’s eyebrows lift. “Wait, seriously?”

���Seriously,” I confirm. “Now, please—”

“Okay, okay,” she says quickly, still grinning. “No more distractions. Promise.”

For once, she actually falls silent. I give her a few suspicious glances, but she seems content, fiddling with a pen she definitely wasn’t using for actual studying.

I start to relax, falling back into my notes, my focus returning to the words in front of me.

Then—

“Okay, but can you actually do it right now?”

I slap my pen down so fast it startles even her. “Paige!”

She bursts out laughing, hands up in surrender. “I had to ask!”

“You did not have to ask!” I huff, shoving my books into my bag.

“Wait, wait, wait—” Paige leans forward like she’s suddenly desperate. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you,” I mutter.

She gasps, clutching her chest in mock offense. “You can’t just leave me!”

“Watch me.”

“You wound me, Y/N.”

“You’ll survive.”

I push my chair back and head for the exit, fully prepared to never interact with her again.

But as I reach the door, she calls out—

“Hey, Y/N?”

Against my better judgment, I pause.

When I turn around, she’s watching me with that same smug, entertained glint in her eyes.

“I am gonna figure out who you are.”

I roll my eyes. “Good luck with that, Bueckers.”

The second her last name leaves my mouth, I see it—the way her expression flickers between shock and delight.

I don’t give her the satisfaction of reacting. I just smirk and walk away, finally leaving her behind.

For now.

[illbegottenfaith]

the one where theo asks you out to a wedding

exes to lovers

In his defence, Theo landed on your doorstep only after he had exhausted all other options. He took in a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and knocked. After a minute or two, he heard the patter of hurried footsteps and the door swung open.

"Hey."

Your face looked a little less round, perhaps. Your hair was shorter than he remembered, but your eyes looked just as sweet and forgiving as they always did. Only now

"Hey."

No open hostility. Theo could work with that. He was starting to feel a little hot in his suit. He scratched the back of his neck. Your eyes narrowed at the action.

"What do you want?"

Theo coughed awkwardly.

"Why do you just assume I want something?"

The corner of your lip quirked up.

"I dated you for years, Theodore. I think I know when you want something."

He took a deep breath and stuck his hands into his pockets, glancing at the door as he struggled to meet your eye. He should have brought flowers or something. Merlin, what was so nerve-wracking about talking to you? He did it plenty enough, once upon a time.

"I...need a favour."

"I figured."

Theo wished you'd stop staring at him so plainly. Instead, you leaned against the doorframe, tilting your head up at him while you patiently waited for him to spit out whatever he had to say.

"Mattheo's getting married," he blurted out.

Instantly, your face softened. Theo felt a pang of guilt somewhere deep inside his gut. When the two of you were dating, you always had a soft spot for Mattheo, as did he for you. In fact, he seemed more heartbroken than Theo after the breakup. But the fact remained that he, like a lot of your mutual friends, knew Theo before you, and so his social circle remained somewhat intact while you faded into oblivion.

He hadn't thought twice about it at the time, but seeing your face light up made him realise that this must be the first you had heard about any of your old friends since graduation. He had never meant to tear you away from friends who were every bit yours as they were his.

Then again, he had never wanted to break up with you in the first place.

Your lips curved into a familiar smile that tugged at something inside his chest.

"That's...wow. I'm so happy for him. That's incredible."

"It is. I'm the best man."

"I should hope so. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

Another painful silence drew out between the two of you. Theo stared at his palm uncomfortably.

"I need a date," he forced out.

You looked unimpressed.

"And? None of your model girlfriends can make it?"

Theo had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"I'm sick of - they're not my girlfriends."

"Right," you drawled, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too famous to be tied down, are we?"

Theo pulled at the knot of his tie desperately. He didn't remember you being this frustrating.

"I don't want to take any of them."

You shrugged. "Then go solo."

"C'mon, Y/N. Everyone's bringing a plus one."

You leaned towards him with a sardonic smile.

"That's the wonderful thing about not being your girlfriend anymore. Not. My. Problem. Bye now."

Theo jammed his foot in as you unsuccessfully tried to close the door.

"I'll pay you."

You laughed incredulously. "You can't be serious."

It had been a long shot, but he was running out of ideas. He dragged a hand through his hair.

"What do you want?" What did you want? "More attention? More gifts? I'll pay for your dress. I'll buy you dinner."

"Careful, or I'll think this is an actual date."

"Please, Y/N," he started saying before his brain could catch up. "We used to be so good together."

Your eyes darkened. You bit the inside of your cheek.

"What happened?"

You folded your arms, your eyes gleaming in the dusk that had settled around the two of you. You shook your head almost helplessly.

"I don't know. You were...you were great. I loved you. You loved me. You started playing Quidditch. You got good." Your pressed your lips into a thin line. "Then you got mean."

Theo scoffed half-heartedly. "Look, I didn't -"

"You stopped listening to me, Teddy," you interrupted.

That shut him up. He didn't know what to say. You didn't sound upset or even angry. Just hollow and a little disappointed.

You took the invitation Theo had been loosely holding and scanned the details.

"What the hell," you muttered. "Sure. Why not?"

Theo blinked a few times. As hard as he had tried to persuade you, he hadn't expected you to actually agree.

"Really?"

He looked so earnest, you couldn't help yourself. You rolled your eyes almost affectionately.

"Keep your wallet away. I'll foot the bill for my dress."

"No - please, let m- "

There, in the dim twilight, with the salty evening air stinging your faces, you cut him off with a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Night, Teddy," you murmured.

This time, he didn't try to stop you as you shut the door.

[doll3scent]

𝐼 𝒢𝑜𝓉 𝒜 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒪𝓃𝑒

Simon Riley x reader

Warnings- none. tiktok trend.

wc. 1k

a/n. based off this video

Master list 𓂃۶ৎ

Your ex had a bad habit of resurfacing every few months—always after vanishing without a word, like clockwork. It used to get under your skin, the way he acted like he still had a place in your life. But this time was different. This time, you had a boyfriend.

A tall one.

It wasn’t that your ex was short, but compared to Simon, he might as well have been.

You and Simon were cuddling on the couch. “Si look, look at this!” you said excitedly, holding up your phone with a grin.

Simon barely glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch, remote in hand, flipping through channels with the kind of focus he usually reserved for missions. His expression was already teetering on exasperation, but there was a hint of something else too—something almost amused. “What is it this time?” he asked, voice gruff but not unkind.

You had a habit of shoving your phone in his face whenever you found a video funny, and even worse, roping him into all the couple trends you thought were cute. Most of the time, he refused. But sometimes—if you were lucky—he’d humor you.

You showed him the video, grinning as you waited for his reaction. Simon watched it in silence, his expression unreadable as the familiar trend played out on your screen.

After a moment, he let out a slow exhale and looked at you. “I don’t understand the purpose of these TikTok videos,” he said dryly. You rolled your eyes “It’s funny, Si. The whole point is that the guy is so tall”

He gave you a long, unimpressed stare. “Sounds like a waste of time.”

“Please do it with me” you whined. His brow arched slightly. “Absolutely not.” You huffed dramatically, turning away from him with a pout. "Why do you hate me?"

Simon let out a short chuckle, the deep rumble of it making your stomach flip. "I don't hate you."

"Then do the video with me." You glanced at him over your shoulder, batting your lashes for extra effect

Simon shook his head, clearly amused despite himself. "You're a real pain, you know that?" he grumbled, but there was a warmth in his tone that made it clear he wasn't truly upset.

You grinned, practically bouncing with excitement. Simon rolled his eyes, but there was an undeniable softness in the way he looked at you. Despite his initial protest, he set his book aside with a heavy sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "Get your phone. Let's do this damn video."

You grinned as you jumped off the couch, pulling Simon with you and guiding him in front of the bookshelf. He stood behind you, his towering figure casting a shadow as he crossed his arms, a silent presence that seemed to fill the room.

He was so close that you could feel his breath on your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

As you picked out the sound, you could hear his heavy breathing in your ear, the sound of it making your heart race. It was almost overwhelming having him so close, his presence so intoxicating.

You raised the phone in front of you, the camera only capturing Simon’s neck down, your smaller figure in front of him. His arms were crossed, the large muscles in his arms and chest visibly flexing as he stood stoically behind you. With a quick glance, you hit record, then mouthed the words

“Sorry, I’m not into short guys”

Without missing a beat, Simon reached around you, uncrossing his arms with a fluid motion. He grabbed the phone, effortlessly lifting it up to his head. But instead of holding it normally, he tilted it down just enough so it only captured his neck and shoulders, towering above you, showing how dwarfed you are to him. You turned, eyes locking with the phone’s screen, staring up at it as you wrapped your arms around his torso and the video ends.

Simon held the phone easily, his hand easily dwarfing the device as he towered over you. It was a stark reminder of just how large he was compared to you, his broad shoulders and muscular frame making you feel almost dainty in comparison.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding onto him tightly as you looked up at the phone screen, feeling a strange mixture of excitement and awe. Simon was even more imposing from this angle, his sheer size and presence almost overwhelming.

After you uploaded the video, you didn't hear from your ex at all. You knew he had seen the video-he'd always kept tabs on your socials-but now, nothing. No late-night texts, no vague attempts at getting your attention.

On the other hand, Simon had unknowingly become a TikTok sensation. The video of him towering over you had gone viral, with women practically drooling over his massive frame. His imposing figure had caught the attention of a lot of people, most of them swooning over his muscles and that intimidating air of his.

The requests for his TikTok handle started pouring in, and each time you had to reply with a small, almost apologetic, "Sorry, he doesn't have one." It was always the same answer, and it made you smirk every time.

Simon didn't know about the video, and you knew he wouldn't care even if you told him.

Social media wasn't his thing, and he preferred to stay away from the spotlight.

You figured it would just blow over. But then Johnny, with his big mouth, had to get involved. Johnny was one of those guys who could be called "chronically online." Always scrolling through Twitter or TikTok, and never missing a trend. He had an uncanny ability to keep tabs on everything happening in the digital world, whether it was relevant to him or not.

So, naturally, Johnny couldn't help himself. One day, out of nowhere, he mentioned the video to Simon, his grin widening as he did.

"You see that video with you on TikTok? The one where you make her look tiny?" Johnny asked, unable to resist a little tease.

Simon shot him a look, his eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell are you talking about?"

Johnny didn't let up. "Oh, come on, man. You went viral. Everyone's talking about it. Women can't get enough of you."

Simon's expression darkened as Johnny continued to talk. "I don't care about any of that," he said gruffly.

Johnny chuckled. "You should.Seriously, your fans are going crazy over that video. The comments, the messages...they're all obsessed with you." Simon rolled his eyes. "That's just social media. It doesn't matter in the real world."

Johnny shrugged. "Maybe not, but it doesn't hurt to have a few thousand women swooning over you. Just saying"

Johnny read out some of the comments

“raw, next question”

“he’s our boyfriend now”

“til my jaw locks”

Johnny, clearly enjoying himself, chuckled as he scrolled further. "Oh, this one's good:' would let him do anything to me.'"

Simon rolled his eyes, trying to keep his usual cool demeanor. But there was a hint of something behind his gaze, something almost amused, as Johnny continued reading more of the comments.

But Simon, always quick with a comeback, couldn't resist a cheeky response. "Well, my girlfriend already lets me do anything to her."

Johnny's grin widened, but Simon's words— casual as they were-carried a certain possessiveness, a quiet confidence. It was clear that while the attention from others might be amusing, Simon had no interest in anyone but you.

[keeryhours]

kiss me - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x female reader

Summary:

Steve has a crush on you, but he’s too scared to make a move.

1k celebration prompt: “So…are you just going to keep staring or are you going to kiss me?”

Warnings:

None, just kissing

Word Count: 1k

A/N:

Thank you @the-witty-pen-name for your request and for celebrating with me! Join in my celebration here 🍾

Steve Harrington was not scared to ask girls out. He had spent years being King Steve, after all. Every girl at school wanted him - that was until he dated Nancy and lost his spot at the top of the popularity chain. But he still had moves, right? He asked out girls and went on dates all the time.

That was before you. Before you came walking into Family Video, looking for a job. Before Keith hired you on the spot, because he always liked hiring the pretty girls. And god, were you pretty.

Beautiful, in fact. The most beautiful Steve had ever seen. He no longer noticed the girls who came into the store, because you were right there. Robin noticed immediately and started teasing him about it all the time.

“Too scared to ask her out, little Stevie?” She’d tease, Steve rolling his eyes and throwing the candy he was eating at her.

But the truth was, he was too scared. He didn’t think he could take it if he asked you out and you said no. For one, he’d have to work with you still and see you everyday after the most embarrassing denial of his life. And second, he cared too much about you. Most of the time he’d ask a girl out and if she said no it might bruise his ego a little, but with you? It would be earth shattering.

So he just looked. From afar. And admired. There was a lot to admire, he thought. The way your clothes hugged your curves, showing off your body. The view of your ass when you bent over to shelve some tapes or help a customer find what they wanted. The way your hair was always perfect, he so badly wanted to brush it off your shoulder and kiss your neck. How soft your lips looked, how perfect he knew they would feel pressed against his own. He needed a taste.

He had never been scheduled to work alone with you, always accompanied by Robin or Keith. But when Robin got hit with the flu and called out, it left only the two of you.

Steve said your name in shock when you walked in right on time on your own, and you looked at him like he’d grown another head. “Yeah?”

“What- what are you doing here?”

You stared at him. “I…work here?”

Steve shook his head, willing himself to get his thoughts together. “No, yeah. I mean, like, it’s just us today?”

“Yeah, you didn’t hear?” You asked, pulling your vest on over your striped shirt and walking to the back room to leave your bag. “Robin’s sick. Just us today.”

Steve wasn’t sure if he should be celebrating or running far away. Instead he watched your ass as you walked into the back room, quickly averting his gaze when you came back out.

It was a quiet evening at Family Video. Not many customers came in, and it left you and Steve in awkward silence or stilted conversation. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, Steve couldn’t get a coherent thought out when it came to you.

“What’s your favorite movie?” He asked.

You thought for a minute, and Steve thought you looked so cute when you were contemplating. “Maybe The Rocky Horror Picture Show.”

“Really?” He asked. He wouldn’t have guessed that. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Oh, you have to,” you said. “It’s so unbelievably good. Good songs, too. What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s your favorite movie?” You reminded him with a laugh.

“Oh,” Steve thought. “Um, Animal House.”

“Animal House?” You laughed.

“Yeah! It’s a good movie!”

You shook your head, grinning. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The day went on, Steve unable to take his eyes off of you. He was distracted dealing with customers, shelving movies in the wrong place. “Uh, dingus,” he could practically hear Robin’s voice in his head, “just talk to her.”

He thought he would, and he tried to work up the courage all day, but before he knew it the day was over and it was closing time. He cursed himself for ruining his chance as the two of you straightened up and wiped down the counters. When you were done, you both headed into the back room to grab your stuff.

God, you looked so good. So pretty. He loved those jeans you were wearing, your striped top showing off your boobs in a way he definitely appreciated. He was practically drooling as he grabbed his car keys and slid his vest off. When you turned and looked him in the eye, it startled him- he’d been caught.

“So…” you said, a slight grin on your pretty lips. “Are you just going to keep staring or are you going to kiss me?”

Steve blinked in surprise. Had you really just said that, or had he finally lost it? “Huh?” He asked, like an idiot.

You looked at him. “Steve, you’ve been staring at me all day. Since I got hired, actually.”

A blush rose to his cheeks. “I…”

“It’s okay…” You said quietly, taking a step closer to him. “I like you, too. So are you gonna kiss me or not?”

Steve wasn’t about to let this chance go to waste, dream or not. He closed the distance between you and placed his hands on either side of your face, pulling you into a kiss. Your lips felt just as soft as he imagined. He had never kissed someone who’s lips felt as perfect against his, he swore he could see the metaphorical fireworks.

He moved his hands down to grasp at your waist as your arms slid around his neck. He lifted you and sat you on the table, standing between your thighs and kissing you deeply, tongue tracing along your bottom lip. You easily let him in, your tongues moving together in a way that gave Steve butterflies.

His hands gripped your hips, caressing your body with his large hands as he kissed you. He pulled you closer to him, as close as you could get. God, this was even better than his dreams.

When he pulled back he rested his forehead against yours. You both breathed heavily, big smiles on your faces as you looked into each other’s eyes.

“Go out with me sometime?” He asked, squeezing your hips, his forehead nuzzling against yours.

“Duh,” you laughed. “At least you finally asked.”

[hettyoon]

❥︎ Characters; Rafayel, Xavier Game; love and deepspace

❥︎ Genre; fluff !! Prompt; petting/kissing their cat ears || established relationship || 2nd pov

❥︎ Warnings; none !!

❥︎ Notes; yes this has been sitting in my drafts since the kitty cards first came out–

❥︎ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋;

Honestly, as much as the purple haired boy kept glaring at you for the face you made when he walked into your apartment sprouting a pair of cat ears out of his head and a matching tail swishing behind, you could not for the life of you stop laughing at how ironic the situation he got himself into was.

The same guy who was constantly complaining about how evil and sly the small kittens were, and how their only goal was to trick and deceive humans into showering them with love and affection, has now become one of them himself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You wiped the tears from the corner of your eyes, your laughing fit still not over yet as small chuckles continued to escape your lips even after your poor attempts at muffling them. "It's just, I never expected to see you in this form. You look adorable!"

Rafayel was certainly not amused by your compliment–anyone could tell that much–and instead tried to twist your words against you. "Oh so now you're saying I wasn't adorable before, huh?"

"You know that's not what I meant." You use your hand to motion for him to come closer. "Come here, I want to see them up close."

The lemurian huffed at you but still walked closer nonetheless, pausing in his steps when there were only a couple of centimeters between you left. "What? Are also you going to pet me like a cat now?"

A smile grew on your face at his question. I mean, could he blame you? You loved cats and he knew that, this was like a dream come true for you. "If you don't mind, I'd be more than willing to."

His gaze flickered to the side and one could make out a slight blush starting to form on his cheeks. "You say that as if you don't know I can't refuse you."

Knowing how stubborn your lover can be, you took that as his unique way of giving you the green light to do so. Therefore, it wasn't long before you had both of your hands reaching up to his face, one cupping the side of his cheek while the other stretched up to rub gentle strokes on the bundles of fur above his head.

The more you continued on stroking the more you could feel the man in your hands start to relax his body more and more. He was obviously enjoying the strokes of affection you were showering him with as much as he refused to say so. If it wasn’t obvious from the way he leaned his face deeper into your palm, then it definitely was by the now much more visible blush dusted on his the apples of his cheeks to the tip of his ears.

"You're enjoying this way too much." He muttered out.

"Hmm?" One of your fingertips came to stroke the fluffy piece of fur that was puffing out from the bottom of his ears and you could hear him let out small sigh of content. "I think I am the one who should be saying that."

Rafayel surprisingly didn't voice out a comeback at your reply, just choosing to let it slide this time as he was clearly more busy with other things (like keeping himself from completely melting into your arms) to give it much thought.

A few more moments of silence followed. With Rafayel finally caving in to your gestures, his face now buried into your neck instead so you can better reach his fluffy ears. Since you were no longer holding his cheek, both your hands were now free to bury themselves into the mass of soft purple hair and fur.

You just continued gently petting him for a couple more minutes, enjoying the heartwarming moment, until you heard something quite strange. Your mind had to take a double take at first because is that really what you think you're hearing right now?!

"Rafayel, are you...purring?"

The moment those words left your mouth you could practically feel the heat radiating off of his skin as the blush on his cheeks rose to a shade you did not even think was even possible. A groan came out of his mouth, the embarrassment hindering his ability to even come up with any words of defense as your laughter once again filled the quiet room.

❥︎ 𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑;

You woke up to a weird sensation tickling your nose. Which was strange, yes, but the initial plan was to simply brush it off as a fragment of your imagination and just go back to sleep. Alas, you definitely couldn't ignore the feeling no more when you felt a very obvious flick attack the side of your cheek, which made you certain that you were very much not dreaming of such sensation.

You groaned as you groggily tried to open your eyes and get them used to the sunlight that was seeping through your curtains. As your eyes tried to focus on the view in front of you, you wondered what could possibly be the thing that woke you up at such early hour. A stray piece of fabric? Or maybe you still had some fur stuck on you after you and Xavier's trip to the cat cafe yesterday. Both of which could never move by their own but those were the only possibilites that your sleep-depeived brain was capable of coming up with right now.

What you didn't expect though, was to see a pair of ash coloured cat ears twitching right in front of your face when you were absolutely certain you had no such feline anywhere in any room of your apartment.

This new realisation had you instantly shooting up from your place between Xavier's arms, sitting up straight in your bed and staring in utter disbelief at the scene in front of you. One blink, a second, and then you rapidly rubbed your eyes just for good measure. It really wasn't a hallucination, your boyfriend had a set of moving cat ears stuck on top of his head!

Then your eyes flashed down to his back upon noticing another yet another mind-boggling feature. 'Oh my god he even has a tail!' The bushy tail–as if suddenly noticing your eyes on them–moved to curl around Xavier's thigh, further proving their realness.

How did this even happen? Was it related to your trip to the cat cafe yesterday? That's the only logical explanation you could think of right now and it didn't even make sense!

Whatever it was, now that you've came out of your initial shock (although you were still baffled at what you were seeing), you could not deny how absolutely adorable Xavier looked with his newly added assets. The ears on his head lay still save for a couple twitched here and there and the tail on his back moved again to unfold in a more stretched out position instead.

Wait, you should probably wake him up to ask him about this, right?

"Xavier. Hey Xavier." You rubbed your hand up and down his arm in hopes of coaxing him out of the land of dreams. Gosh, this is totally not the reason you ever expected to be waking him up for.

When that method came out useless you resolved to lightly petting his new ears instead, wandering if he would feel the sensation on them like a real cat would.

You couldn't help yourself but inwardly squeal at the way they relaxed under your touch, drooping down slightly from their perked up state which you took as a silent invitation to continue your actions. After a few more moments of your lover still not waking up from your methods, you couldn't help yourself but lean down to place a soft kiss to the side of his ear. To your surprise, that seemed to finally do the trick, as it gave you a flick in response and you could hear Xavier letting out a low mumble beneath you.

His first words came out a bit coarse, sleep still holding quite a strong grip on him. "Mhm...why are you up so early?"

First thought that came to mind was that Xavier seemed way too relaxed for someone who discovered they got cursed by some sort of cat magic, which made you come to the conclusion that he most likely did not know about the little problem he had going on at all.

"Xavier, love, do you not feel the added weight on top of your head? Or the new attachment to your back?"

His eyebrows furrowed in response before both of his hands moved at once, one reaching out to touch his ears and one down to feel his tail. "Oh."

Okay, nevermind, you take back your previous words. Knowing Xavier, he probably would indeed be this relaxed even if he had known about what happened beforehand. "I think this warrants more than an 'oh'."

A small yawn escaped his lips and you just wished that you had even half the calmness that your boyfriend had at the moment when you got into any problems. "I'll deal with it later; I'm still tired right now. You should come back and sleep with me too." His arms opened up as an invitation, and he made sure to add on those pleading eyes of his that he very much knew you could never resist no matter how much you tried.

You shook your head but slid back down the sheets to cuddle up with him regardless. "Not like I can complain, cuddling up with you when you look this adorable." Giving in to the temptation, you fingers moved up to give his cheek a soft pinch. "Oh gosh, you're so cute like this."

"Hmm." Xavier's eyebrows furrowed listening to your words and you had a gut feeling you knew where this conversation was about to head to. "First it was Lumiere and now me with the cat features. Do you like my cat form more than my usual self?"

Oh yes, just Xavier being jealous of himself as usual. "I never said tha���"

"Maybe I should just stay like this forever then, I don't think it'll impact my combat abilities that much."

"Xavier! We are not doing this right now." You playfully pinched the cheek you were holding. "Just go back to sleep, we'll find a way to turn you back once we wake up, okay?" A hand of yours raised to guide his head to rest on top of your chest, while simultaneously threading through the strands of his hair and rubbing gently on his ears. Xavier relaxed into your hold, raising his head to place a trail of gentle kisses on your jawline before laying his head back on your chest, slowly drifting off back to sleep to the soothing rhythm of your heartbeat.

[hancorys]

5:06 — dance with me

genre: fLUFF, established relationship, leehan best boy !! pairing: bf!leehan x afab!reader wc: 793 warning: tooth rotting fluff, jk. none, js two love birds listen: dance with me — beabadoobee

the morning light barely filters through the curtains, but leehan is already awake. the soft rustle of his movements stirs the quiet of the room, but he’s careful not to wake you. you don’t notice the faint hum of the kettle boiling in the kitchen or the clink of a spoon against ceramic as he prepares your coffee. just the way you like it—no sugar, just enough milk to make it creamy. he’s memorized it, down to the precise shade of beige it turns when it’s perfect.

by the time the clock strikes six, he’s at your bedside, his voice soft and warm as he sings your name into the morning. “time to wake up, love,” he whispers, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. his voice, his presence—it’s the kind of comfort that makes waking up bearable, even on the hardest days.

you sit up groggily, and there he is, coffee in hand, a smile on his face that makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

leehan has a way of making the world feel less heavy.

—

on days when college assignments pile up, leaving you drained and irritable, he’s there. he doesn’t say much; he doesn’t need to. instead, he sits beside you, pulling your legs onto his lap, his hands warm and steady as they massage the tension from your calves. his touch is gentle, almost reverent, as if he’s telling you with his hands what words cannot fully convey: i’m here. i love you.

he watches you with quiet admiration, the kind that makes your heart swell, and when your head droops onto his shoulder from exhaustion, he presses a kiss to your temple. “take a break,” he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves.

leehan knows you like no one else does.

he’s the kind of person who notices the little things—like how you always forget to bring a towel to the gym or how you need tissues when you get too sweaty on hot days. so, he carries an extra towel in his bag and a pack of tissues in his pocket, just for you. he doesn’t make a big deal out of it; he simply hands them to you when you need them, his eyes crinkling in that way they do when he smiles.

“see? i’ve got you covered,” he says, and you can’t help but laugh, grateful beyond words for his thoughtfulness.

—

sundays with leehan are your favorite.

the two of you fall into an easy rhythm—he takes care of the laundry while you hunch over your desk, finishing assignments. he hums softly to himself as he folds the clothes, glancing at you every so often to make sure you’re not overworking yourself.

when evening falls, you switch roles. he lays on the couch, his head resting in your lap, as your hands knead the tension from his shoulders. “you work too hard,” you tease, earning a chuckle from him.

“and you don’t?” he counters, looking up at you with those warm, brown eyes that make your heart skip a beat.

later, you curl up together, watching your favorite tv show, his arm draped over your shoulders. it’s simple, but it’s everything.

leehan has a knack for turning ordinary moments into magic.

like the time you decided to try a new recipe from a cookbook he’d bought for you on a whim. the kitchen was a disaster—flour dusted the counters, sauce splattered onto the stove, and yet, neither of you cared.

“dance with me,” he said suddenly, grabbing your hand as your favorite song played softly in the background.

you laughed, your cheeks warm, but you didn’t resist. he spun you around the kitchen, his hands steady on your waist as he guided you. the two of you moved clumsily, tripping over each other’s feet and laughing until your sides hurt.

in that moment, the mess didn’t matter. what mattered was the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

—

at night, when the world quiets down, leehan’s love shines the brightest.

you fall asleep in his arms, your breathing even and peaceful. he watches you for a moment, brushing his lips against your forehead.

“i love you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, as if the words are meant only for you and the night.

he kisses your temple, then your cheek, before finally settling in beside you. his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, and even in your sleep, you lean into him, as if you know he’s there.

leehan smiles, content, as the two of you drift into the kind of peace that only comes from knowing you’re truly, deeply loved.

© hancorys, 2025.

[msbigredmachine]

Die With A Smile (tbnd Roman au)

They are the most wanted, the most feared, the most worshipped. A couple bound by lust, violence, and an unshakable love that only burns hotter with every crime they commit. He’s the muscle, she’s the fire, and together, they are unstoppable. The world calls them criminals, outlaws, the devil’s own...but to each other, they are salvation.

With the law closing in, they know their story can only end one way. But if they go down, they’ll go down together. And they’ll die with a smile.

Pairing: Criminal!Roman Reigns x Criminal!Ivy

Warnings: DARK themes, smut, violence

Word Count: 3.8k

TBND MASTERLIST

A/N: So, this was my initial reaction to this Ask. But I thought about it again, and went...why not? Also I've seen how most readers have reacted to the current TBND arc, so I decided to go off script a bit. Hope you enjoy!

The motel room stinks of sweat, sex, and gunpowder.

The sheets are tangled around their bodies, damp from heat and the hours they’ve spent tangled together—moaning, grasping, taking. Ivy is sprawled across the mattress, her naked body glowing in the dim motel light, a cigarette balanced between her fingers. Her boyfriend Roman is beside her, his broad chest still rising and falling from the weight of their latest round. His palm rests lazily on her thigh, long fingers stroking over her bare skin like he’s memorizing her all over again.

“You ever think about it?” she murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion and something softer.

He exhales, rolling onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow as he looks at her. “What?”

“Our future. That little house.” She flicks ash onto the nightstand. “White picket fence. Babies running around.”

Roman drags his fingers up her thigh, over her stomach, brushing his knuckles between her breasts before cupping her chin. “That ain’t for people like us, baby.”

She turns her head to look at him, her lips curling into a sad little smile. “I know,” she whispers, “but one can only dream.”

Roman doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves, slow and easy, pressing his lips to her throat, kissing his way down to the valley between her breasts, tracing his tongue over the sweat-slicked skin. She exhales sharply, her fingers tangling in his hair as he moves lower, hands spreading her thighs apart again.

They’ll never have that house.

But they’ll have this.

And it’ll be enough.

The Beginning 

The first time they meet, Ivy already knows how it’s going to end.

She’s seen men like him before—tall, dark, brooding, money-heavy and dangerous. But none of them have ever looked at her like that. Like he already knows the way she sounds when she moans, how she’ll taste on his tongue. Like he’s already decided she’s his.

He’s watching her from the VIP section of the club she strips at, sprawled in the booth like a king, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease muscle and ink. There’s a gold watch on his wrist, a thick chain around his neck, and a look in his eye that makes her pulse quicken.

She’s not supposed to interact with the patrons unless they pay. He hasn’t paid. But when she struts past, his hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her wrist.

She stops. Raises a brow. “Touching’s extra.”

His grin is slow and confident. “Ain’t about the money, baby.”

The way he says it—deep and lazy, voice dripping over her like warm honey—makes her pussy clench. She yanks her wrist back. “Then what’s it about?”

Roman leans in, close enough that she can smell his cologne—dark and masculine, like smoke and whiskey. His voice drops low, thick like honey. “It’s about me wanting you.”

She doesn’t know why she plays into it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at her, or maybe it’s the way her body responds, like she already knows where this is heading.

“You talkin' real big,” she murmurs, eyes flicking down to his lips. “Think you can back that shit up?”

His eyes darken.

Within the hour, she’s slammed against the brick wall behind the club, dress bunched up around her waist, legs wrapped around his thick body.

Roman groans as he thrusts into her, one hand gripping her hip, the other fisting in her hair. Her nails claw at his back, at his arms, desperate to hold on as he takes her apart, dragging pleasure out of her with deep, punishing strokes.

“This pussy is mine now,” he growls against her lips, teeth scraping, biting. “You’re mine. You hear me?”

She gasps, body shuddering, surrendering. His mouth is everywhere—her neck, her breasts, her lips—hungry, scorching, devouring. She gasps into the night air, and his hands grip her thighs so tight she knows she’ll bruise.

By the time he’s done with her, she can barely stand.

She doesn’t even know his name. But she already knows she belongs to him.

She doesn’t know that she just let the devil between her legs.

But she already knows that she’ll never want to let him go.

Partners In Crime

They rob their first bank a month later.

It’s easy. Too easy. Roman walks in, calm as hell, AK-47 swinging at his side like it’s a goddamn accessory. Ivy is in the getaway car, engine running, her heart pounding.

She watches him through the windshield, sees the way people shrink when he moves, the way the bank manager practically pisses himself handing over the cash.

And then he walks out like he owns the world, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, his smirk lazy, devilish, and satisfied. He slides into the passenger seat, tosses the bag onto her lap, and says, “Drive, baby.”

She does.

And she never stops.

Roman is more than just muscle and a pretty face—more than the brute force the world assumes him to be. He’s calculating, meticulous, sharper than the knives strapped to his belt, deadlier than the bullets in his gun. Every heist is a battle, every escape a game of strategy, and he plays to win. He studies blueprints like scripture, memorizes exits before they ever step inside, exploits weaknesses before anyone even knows they’re vulnerable. His mind is a weapon, just as lethal as his fists. And he’s been perfecting his craft for far longer than he’ll ever admit.

Ivy watches him work, watches him command, calculate, conquer—and it thrills her. Turns her on. There’s nothing sexier than watching her man outsmart the world, bending it to his will. Because she’s learned that when Roman Reigns has a plan, nothing and no one can stop him.

She also learns to be more than just the getaway driver. She’s the one who distracts, deceives, and manipulates when needed, using her charm and wit to slip past security, talk her way out of tight spots, and keep the heat off Roman. Whether it’s charming a bank teller into silence or slipping into a high-stakes poker game unnoticed, she knows how to play people like a pro. Her beauty and brains make her the perfect accomplice, and she loves every moment of it. Together, they are a well-oiled machine, each one complementing the other’s strengths and instincts.

They become legends.

From banks to jewelry stores to high-stakes poker games, they leave a trail of empty vaults and cold bodies across six states, their spree turning them into America’s most wanted. They move like shadows, strike like ghosts, and vanish before anyone can catch them.

The media can’t get enough—two dangerously beautiful outlaws, madly in love, untouchable. They christen them The Blood Money Lovers, their names whispered like myth, their faces splashed across headlines.

The Sexiest Criminals in America.

The Lovers Who Kill.

Wanted: Dead or Alive.

Roman and Ivy lean into it.

They pose for security cameras, tongues down each other’s throats, middle fingers up. Ivy leaves lipstick prints on crime scene notes. They fuck on stolen money, moaning into each other’s mouths, high on adrenaline and the knowledge that they’re too good to be caught.

They live for the rush—the heists, the gunfire, the chase—but nothing gets them higher than each other.

The convertible barrels down the open highway, the sun bleeding into the horizon, casting them in gold. The backseat is stuffed with duffel bags of stolen cash, the scent of money thick in the air, but it’s not the loot that has Ivy breathless—it’s Roman.

One hand on the wheel, the other buried in her pussy, fingers stroking, teasing, owning. Ivy moans out loud, her head lolling back against the seat, hips shifting as he plays her like his favorite weapon—with skill, with intent, with absolute control.

He smirks, eyes dark, voice rough. “Yeah, scream for me, baby,” he orders, staring at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Because she is.

Adrenaline is their drug. Love is their religion. And the knowledge that they’re untouchable? That’s what sends them over the edge, again and again.

Soulmates, bound by blood, bullets, and an unholy kind of devotion.

The Hunter

Cody Rhodes is a problem.

The kind that doesn’t scare easy, doesn’t quit, and doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty.

At first, they brush him off—just another badge, another fool chasing ghosts. But ghosts don’t leave trails, and Cody? He’s on their scent like a wolf starving for the kill. He’s relentless. He’s ruthless. He’s getting too damn close.

He’s not just some lawman playing hero. He’s filth wrapped in a badge, a predator disguised as justice. He beats the truth out of informants, holds families hostage with threats that don’t feel empty, leaves bodies behind like breadcrumbs. The media worships him, paints him as the last good man in a world of criminals.

But Roman and Ivy know better. They see the blood he spills, the bones he breaks, the fear he leaves in his wake. And soon, Cody makes the mistake of turning that cruelty on them.

Ivy’s pulse pounds in her ears as she weaves through the crowded marketplace, her hood pulled low over her face. Cody is behind her—too close, too fast, too fucking relentless.

She ducks between fruit stands, knocking over crates of oranges, hears them roll across the pavement as people curse and scatter. But Cody doesn’t slow down.

“Ivy!” he barks through gritted teeth, his voice sharp, cutting through the chaos.

Shit.

She bursts into a side alley, feet skidding on wet concrete. Dead end.

A brick wall looms in front of her, too high to climb in time. Ivy whirls around, reaching for the gun tucked in her waistband.

A car screeches to a stop at the alley’s entrance. The passenger door flies open.

“Get in!” Sami yells from behind the wheel, his wild red hair barely tamed under a baseball cap.

Ivy doesn’t hesitate. She launches herself into the car just as Cody rounds the corner, gun drawn.

Bang!

The bullet shatters the back windshield as Sami slams the gas. The car fishtails before rocketing forward, leaving Cody furious and empty-handed in the dust.

Ivy slumps back, chest heaving, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Close one,” Sami mutters, knuckles white on the wheel.

Ivy tucks her gun away. “You love this shit, don’t lie.”

Sami groans. “You two are gonna get me killed.”

She laughs, feeling the adrenaline rush through her veins. “Not today, Zayn.”

The Contact

Sami Zayn wasn’t always a getaway driver, but prison changes a man. He met Roman on the inside, back when survival meant choosing sides, and Sami had none. A shiv to the ribs would’ve been his fate if Roman hadn’t stepped in, breaking the attacker’s arm like it was nothing. From that day on, Sami owed him—a debt not paid with words, but with action. So when Roman and Ivy needed someone with quick hands and an even quicker engine, Sami didn’t hesitate. Loyalty runs deep, and in their world, debts are always collected.

The safe house is a run-down apartment on the edge of town, the kind of place no one looks twice at. Sami pulls up fast, tires screeching, and Ivy is already moving before the car fully stops.

Roman is waiting.

He steps out from the shadows of the doorway, broad and imposing, a blunt dangling between his fingers. His sharp eyes rake over her, searching, checking.

She barely gets the car door shut before he’s on her.

“You good, baby?” His voice is low, rough with the kind of worry he’d never admit to anyone but her.

Ivy smirks, something more than adrenaline crackling through her. “Never been better, daddy.”

His big hands grip her waist, pulling her against him, hard enough to steal her breath. His lips crash into hers—hot, hungry, possessive—like he’s staking his claim all over again.

Sami groans from the driver’s seat. “Can y’all save that shit for later?”

Roman ignores him, tilting Ivy’s chin up, his fingers gentle even as his voice darkens. “Did Rhodes touch you?”

Ivy shakes her head. “Didn’t get the chance.”

A dangerous glint flickers in Roman’s eyes before he finally looks at Sami. “You did good, man.”

Sami scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. You two get to keep your little crime-spree romance going for another day. You’re welcome.”

Ivy grins, leaning into Roman’s chest as his arms stay locked around her.

Before dawn, they're out of there. They never stay long.

The High

The night air is thick and humid as they prowl another set of streets in another state, hunting for another score. Roman’s fingers tap against the steering wheel, his mind already on the job. Ivy sits beside him, legs kicked up on the dashboard, her eyes flashing with the same excitement that always comes before they raise a little hell.

They pull up outside a high-end jewelry store, the kind of place rich assholes get their diamonds from. It’s late, the streets are quiet. Perfect timing.

Roman smirks. “You ready, baby?”

Ivy grins, pulling her mask over her face. “Always.”

In less than five minutes, chaos erupts.

Glass shatters. Alarms wail.

They move fast—Roman grabbing the high-value pieces, Ivy keeping her gun trained on the trembling night guard. No witnesses, no mistakes.

Then...

Another siren.

Cops.

Ivy shoots Roman a look. He grins. They love the chase.

They bolt, slipping out the back, vanishing into the night before the blue lights even hit the front of the store. Another crime. Another escape.

Tomorrow, the news will be buzzing with their names again.

They wouldn’t have it any other way.

They celebrate in a dimly lit hotel room, the air thick with the scent of sex, sweat, dollar bills, and something even more intoxicating—power.

Roman has Ivy right where he wants her—bent over the mahogany dresser, her body naked and trembling. His hands roam—rough, possessive, needy. He caresses her thighs and her ass, then rests them on her waist, keeping her pinned down as he drives into her with hard, punishing thrusts.

Ivy gasps, her head falling forwards, her lips parting in a broken moan. “Fuck, daddy…”

“Damn, you fucking wet.” Roman’s voice is low, teasing, dripping with sin as his fingers tangle in her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her whimper. He drags his mouth along her jaw, down to her ear, his hot breath sending a shiver through her spine. “You like that, baby girl? Like how daddy fucks this pussy, huh?”

She doesn’t answer—not with words.

She can’t.

Instead, she moans, arching into him, throwing her ass back just the way he likes it, taking everything he gives her and begging for more.

Roman chuckles darkly, his free hand sliding down between her thighs, his touch just enough to send her spiraling. “I knew you’d love this shit.” His voice turns softer, more reverent, even as his grip remains firm. “You love me, baby?”

Ivy shudders beneath him, her fingers digging into the wood of the dresser. She loves him. She loves the way he owns her, how he wrecks her and makes her feel alive all at once.

“Roman!” She gasps his name, the only answer he needs.

Roman yanks her off the dresser, lifting her effortlessly and dumping her onto the pile of stolen cash scattered across the bed, crisp bills sticking to her damp skin. He climbs on top of her, his weight pressing her into everything they’ve stolen, everything they’ve taken.

His mouth claims hers in a hot, searing kiss. And then, his dick slides back in and his hips roll, causing her nails to rake down his back, leaving deep, red lines in his flesh. He growls against her throat, the sharp sting only fueling him more. As their bodies move together in perfect, reckless harmony, he exhales three words against her lips—words he’s never spoken before.

“I love you.”

Ivy’s breath catches, her pussy seizing around him. Her heart pounds, her vision swims at the sight of his heart in his eyes.

She opens her mouth—but he kisses her before she can say it back.

Because he already knows.

Because she’s his, just as much as he’s hers.

Forever.

The Message

Rhodes storms their old safe house, hunting them like an animal. It’s empty, neither of them to be found.

But he finds Sami.

Hours later, he sends them a message. A Polaroid.

Ivy’s hands shake as she stares at the picture—Sami, beaten to death, hands zip-tied behind his back, his blood soaking his red hair and beard like a grotesque crimson mask. Cody’s boot planted on his pulseless neck, as if claiming a trophy.

The meaning is clear: I’m coming for you.

Ivy’s breath turns shallow, panic clawing up her throat. “Roman, what the fuck are we gonna do?!”

“Calm down.” His jaw is tight. His hands ball into fists. He’s seething, but he won’t show it.

“Calm down?” Ivy’s eyes water. “Sami is dead, Roman! That sick fuck…he…” Her voice cracks, a rare slip in composure. She presses her palms into her temples, trying to block out the image burned into her mind.

“Baby, look at me.” Roman grips her wrists, forcing her gaze to his. “We are gonna handle this. Like we always do.”

Ivy’s chest rises and falls, her breath uneven. She searches his face, the ice-cold rage simmering beneath the surface.

He takes the Polaroid and holds it to the flame of his lighter. They watch in silence as the edges curl, blacken, disintegrate into nothing. A life reduced to ash.

Like Sami’s.

Roman steps behind her, arms sliding around her waist, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. His voice is a vow, a death sentence.

“We’ll kill him first,” he murmurs. “That motherfucker is gonna pay. I promise.”

Ivy closes her eyes, the firelight flickering against her lids. She exhales, steady now. Nods.

The End

It happens in New Orleans.

Their last job—one final score before disappearing forever. The plan is airtight, the timing perfect. But something feels off. Roman is restless. Ivy is uneasy.

The familiar wail of sirens erupt.

They barely make it out the back before the cops swarm. Rhodes is leading the charge, his icy blue eyes wild, his face twisted in victory, his gun already drawn.

They run.

But this time, the streets are blocked. Security armed to the teeth. There’s nowhere to go.

Roman pulls Ivy into an alley, his grip bruising. “We fight.”

Ivy nods. “Till the end.”

A painful moment drags by before he crushes his mouth to hers, desperate and wild, their lips colliding like gunfire. She tastes like cigarettes and adrenaline, like love and death.

“Let’s fuck shit up,” she whispers, her voice wavering even as she licks the blood from his lip.

Roman smirks, bittersweet and resigned. “Yeah, baby.”

Then they charge.

Bullets rip through the air, bleeds chaos around them—sirens screaming, bodies dropping.

Roman and Ivy move as one, cutting through the night like death itself. Every shot is precise, every kill ruthless. They fight with the desperation of people who have always known their ending would come in a hail of gunfire.

Ivy is ahead of him, her lithe, beautiful body swaying gracefully as she reloads her Remington, ducks, shoots, kills. She’s fucking perfect, his queen, his ride-or-die.

Then—

Bang.

The sound tears through the air, louder than the rest.

Ivy jerks. Violently.

Her breath catches, her gun slipping from her grasp. She stares down at herself, at the thick, red stain blooming across her stomach, fingers twitching as if she can stop the inevitable.

Roman’s heart stops.

Another shot.

Agony explodes through his side, knocking him back. His vision tunnels, pain ripping through every nerve. But none of it fucking matters.

Because Ivy is falling.

And standing there, gun still raised, is Cody fucking Rhodes.

Smirking. Smug. Like he’s already won.

Roman sees red.

Everything in him burns, fury swallowing the pain in his body whole. A fucking bullet isn’t going to stop him. Nothing will.

With a ragged snarl, he raises his gun and fires.

The first bullet hits Cody in the shoulder, knocking him back. The second shatters his ribs. But Roman isn’t done.

No one—no one—touches his girl.

With blood pouring down his own side, Roman staggers forward, towering over Cody’s faltering frame. He grips his Beretta with both hands, breathing hard, and aims it square at his enemy’s skull.

Rhodes gasps, face twisting with shock and fear. He tries to lift his own gun, but Roman is faster.

The last thing Cody Rhodes ever sees is Roman Reigns’ cold, merciless rage.

Bang.

The bullet rips through Cody’s skull, snapping his head back in a gruesome spray of blood, drenching the blond in his hair. His body crumples like a useless sack of flesh, his gun clattering beside him.

Roman doesn’t waste another second.

He’s already collapsing beside Ivy, hands pressing against her wound, desperate, shaking. “Stay with me, baby.” His voice is raw, thick with pain; for him, but more for her.

She smiles at him. That soft, lazy smile that made him fall in love with her in the first place. “Big daddy…looks like we’re outta time.”

Roman shakes his head, a sharp, pained growl leaving his throat. “No. Fuck that. You’re not leaving me.”

But he already knows.

Her blood is warm against his palm. Her fingers grasp at his shirt weakly, tugging him closer, even as the light in her eyes starts to fade.

The sirens are closing in.

Boots stomp against pavement. More cops. More guns. More death.

Roman knows how this ends.

He leans down, presses his lips to hers, their noses brushing, their breaths mingling. His trembling fingers lace through hers, his grip just as tight as the first time he ever touched her.

She smiles.

“Till the end,” she whispers. 

Her lashes stop fluttering. Her eyes are open, but they’re no longer seeing.

His chest caves in. His heart shatters.

“Till the end,” he vows.

Then, with the last of his strength, he grabs his gun and rises.

They won’t take him alive.

With one final, defiant roar, he opens fire.

Bullets rip through his body. He staggers, drops to one knee. But he keeps shooting, keeps fighting, keeps going, because this was never about surviving.

This was about dying on his feet and being with the only woman he’s ever loved.

By the time the final bullet finds his heart, he’s already smiling.

Because in his last breath, he swears he can still feel Ivy’s lips against his. He can see that big ass house with the white picket fence in Hartford, Connecticut, a pair of twin boys and their little sister running around the backyard. Just like Ivy wanted.

Head resting on her bloodied lap, he exhales.

And then, nothing. 

Two heartbeats extinguished.

The Blood Money Lovers die how they lived—bloody, reckless, and madly in love.

THE END

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[writingwithciara]

aggravations -nico hischier-

summary: after a particularly tough game, nico comes home and accidentally lets his frustrations out on his roommate, shifting their relationship in the worst way

word count: 3.3k

pairing: nico hischier x roommate reader, jesper bratt x best friend reader

notes: had this idea written down in a notebook for a long time. i can't believe nico is injured now 🥺 also i couldn't decide which gif to use so i chose all 3 because he's too cute 😍😊

y/n watched the devils game on the edge of her seat. she had gotten home from work just before the 2nd period started and she watched her best friend & his teammates play their hardest.

jesper took several shots on goal but only one made it in. he had tied the game just as the period was ending.

the third period was way more intense, however.

no shots were going past the goalie for either team and she could sense the frustration from each man. even through a television screen, it was easy to tell that jesper and nico were taking it the hardest. perhaps it was because she lived with nico and had known jesper her entire life basically.

she glanced at the image of the man that popped up on her screen. nico's stats so far that season had been impressive. but the broadcasters were comparing them to his performance on the ice & it wasn't good. and it wasn't fair to him.

things only got worse when the other team finally scored. y/n watched as the camera focused on nico's face. he wasn't mic'd up but she was an expert lip reader.

what the fuck was what he muttered. and it tugged at her heart as she watched the waves of frustration roll off him.

his frustration translated into his playing style and shortly before the end of the game, he got tripped and fell awkwardly. he had to be helped off the ice.

y/n watched as her best friend winced in pain while they helped him off the ice. she immediately got to work on setting up the apartment to cheer him up and help him feel better about the injury.

but the moment he walked in the door, everything fell apart. nico was more frustrated than he was at the game and whenever y/n would try to talk to him calmly or try to help with the injury, he would only get more upset. it culminated into chaos when he finally raised his voice and said the one thing y/n thought she'd never hear from him.

"god, i just can't stand having you here."

she was nearly speechless as she felt the tears prick her eyes. but she managed to get out a few strangled words. "screw you, nico."

"y/n, i didn't.."

but nico's apology fell on deaf ears. y/n was already in her room, grabbing a bag and throwing clothes into it. nico stood in her doorway.

"y/n, please." nico watched her every move and felt terrible. he never meant to say those words to her. he was frustrated beyond belief and instead of thanking her for her efforts, he screwed up.

y/n grabbed her bag and shoved past nico rather roughly.

"y/n where are you going?"

"none of your business, nico." y/n fought hard against her tears as she headed to the door.

"y/n please."

"no, nico. you don't get to say those things and act like i'm the one who hurt you." she grabbed the handle and took one last look at nico before slamming it in his face.

she got in her car and let the tears finally fall. she didn't know where she was going but she needed to put distance between herself and the apartment.

so, she drove. she didn't care what time it was. she just drove. by the time 7 am rolled around, y/n was wide awake and still in her car. she turned off the 'do not disturb' feature on her phone and stared at her screen as the texts from nico came through. mostly generic apologies.

i'm sorry please come home i'm really sorry i didn't mean it where are you? are you safe? if you won't come home, please tell me you're safe i don't know what i'd do if something bad happened to you seriously, please text me even if it's to say you hate me, which i deserve please

even though she was upset as his words replayed in her head, she couldn't help but feel bad.

instead of replying to his text, she checked the one from jesper.

hey. nico just called and told me what happened. please tell me you're alright

she hit the call button and he answered before it rang a second time.

"y/n, are you okay?"

"physically, yes. but i've been up all night just driving around town and i'm exhausted. plus, my heart feels like it's been blown up or something." she sniffled and wiped her eyes.

"you know you're welcome to come by and get some rest here. i won't tell nico."

"i should probably get some rest, huh?" y/n started her car and connected her phone to the bluetooth. "thanks, bratter. i'll be by in a few minutes."

"i'll have the guest room set up for you."

"greatly appreciated." y/n sighed and drove to her best friends house. when she arrived, jesper handed her a cup of coffee and let her take her time as she rested in the guest room.

a few hours later, y/n woke up and ventured back into the living room. jesper was waiting for her.

"hey. how are you feeling?" he asked as she sat down.

"a little better. i'm rested but i'm still incredibly hurt."

"that's understandable. nico told me he snapped at you but he didn't tell me what was said."

"after the game," y/n sighed. "he came home and i was trying to cheer him up. figured he could use it. but he got even more frustrated and said that he couldn't stand having me there."

"he seriously said that?" jesper's eye widened. "y/n, i'm so sorry."

"you don't need to apologize. it's not your fault, jesper." she looked at her friend. "maybe it's mine. maybe i pushed it a little too far."

"no. you definitely didn't do anything wrong, y/n. and i'm sure nico feels the same way. we had a bad game last night and i'm positive he didn't mean to take it out on you. that man adores living with you."

"i'm sure he does. but i need time away from him. to clear my head, and whatnot."

"that's understandable. and you're more than welcome to stay here. the guest room is yours."

"i appreciate it jesper." y/n stood up. "you guys have an away game soon, don't you?"

"yeah. 2 days in florida then we're back here."

"okay. that might be enough time to clear my head." she nodded and headed into the guest room.

2 days later, as jesper was getting ready to head to florida, he stopped by y/n's room to check on her.

"hey. are you sure you'll be okay here until i get back this weekend?"

"i'll be fine, jesper." y/n smiled. "you're going to crush it in florida. guaranteed. tampa and florida won't stand a chance."

"no they will not." he chuckled. "i'll be back saturday night."

"looking forward to it."

while he was away, y/n watched both games on the tv. nico was not playing to his strengths and while it wasn't hurting the team, she could tell it was messing with him.

and she wanted nothing more than to be there for him. she just couldn't bring herself to forget what he had said to her. it was still a sore spot for her to even think about.

when the last game was over, tampa had completely shut out the devils. y/n had to turn the tv off before they did the post-game interview with nico. she couldn't listen to him beat himself up over their loss.

on saturday night, jesper walked through the front door, waking y/n. she had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room just over an hour prior to his return.

"oh shit. i didn't mean to wake you."

"it's alright." y/n got up and followed jesper into the kitchen. "i watched the games."

"i'm sorry."

"i should be the one saying sorry to you. you guys tried your best out there. but both of the florida teams are brutal. you guys fought a good fight."

"not as good as we normally do." jesper ran a hand through his hair and looked at y/n. "nico is blaming himself for the loss."

"i figured he would be." she sighed. "it's not his fault though. you guys are a team. you win together and you lose together. the blame should never fall on one specific player."

"i know. but try telling him that. he thinks just because he's our captain that he's supposed to carry the weight of it all when we end up sucking."

"i would tell him. but i'm still mad at him. for everything."

"well if it's any consolation, he's suffering. bad."

"good." y/n straightened herself up and looked at jesper for a second. "i'm going back tomorrow to get my stuff. and i'm gonna take it to a storage facility & i'm going to tell nico that i'm moving out."

"y/n, you know that's going to crush him." jesper shook his head. "you and i both know what happened last time someone broke his heart."

"i'm not breaking his heart, j. maybe we've just grown apart over the last few weeks and he's finally had enough." y/n shrugged.

"i can see i'm not going to be able to convince you of anything regarding nico. so i feel like i should end this conversation by telling you that you're welcome to stay here as long as you need."

"thanks, jesper. i'll see you in the morning." /n patted his shoulder and went to her room. she was out like a light.

the next day, y/n drove slowly to nico's apartment. she was procrastinating and she hated it. it meant that the longer she put it off, the more likely she'd be to move back in with nico. and she was sure that he wouldn't want that happening.

she climbed out of her car and rode the elevator to the right floor and stood in front of the door, unsure if she should knock or walk in. after debating with herself for 2 minutes, she decided to just use her key.

as she entered the front hallway, she surveyed the room. it was quiet. which meant nico wasn't home. she already knew that, seeing as how jesper had informed her of an afternoon skate for the team. and that was why she decided now was the perfect time to get her stuff.

unfortunately, time was not on her side.

just as she was packing up a third box, the front door opened and footsteps approached her bedroom door. she looked up to see nico standing in the doorway.

"you're back."

"just packing up my stuff, nico."

it was then that he finally glanced around the room, taking in all the boxes and the mess on her bed.

"you're leaving?"

"i have to." she stood up and stacked the box onto the others. "i'm taking most of my stuff to a storage unit until i get my own place & i'll be officially out of your hair by friday at the latest."

"i don't want you to go, y/n."

"i don't really have much of a choice, seeing as how you can't stand me being here." y/n brushed by him while she headed to the kitchen.

"come on. you know i didn't mean that."

"it sure seemed like you did." y/n sighed and turned to face him, recognizing for the first time, the tears welling up in his eyes.

"i didn't." he reached out for her but she moved back. "uh, where will you be staying?"

"with a friend. you don't know her. she's from work."

"okay. as long as you're safe, i guess." he ran a hand through his hair. it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her he loved her. "y/n?"

"what?"

"um, nothing. it's not important."

"okay then." she grabbed her favorite mug and headed to the front door. "goodbye, nico."

"goodbye." he muttered to the closed door. he was 2 seconds too late.

the next 2 weeks were harder than ever for nico. and in turn, they were also harder for the team. it was hard on jesper too because he was stuck watching his two best friends slowly shut themselves down.

he couldn't stand it anymore. so after a huge shutout, with the opposing team winning 6-0, jesper walked into y/n's room without knocking.

"dude, what the hell? ever heard of knocking? i could've been naked."

"i really don't care." his tone came out a little more harsh than he intended it to. "i'm sorry. didn't mean to sound rude there." he sighed. "look, you and nico are not children, y/n. but with the way you two are acting, it would sure seem like you were."

"well what do you expect me to do? my best friend decided that after one bad game, he was gonna come home and rip my heart out. and he did it so easily too. that's what hurts the most. like it was building up for years and he was just looking for an excuse to let it out."

"he didn't mean it and you know it. plus, he's apologized so many times. and i'm really tired of you two agonizing over what happened. and nico hates himself for than ever. isn't that good enough for you?" jesper looked at her. "you haven't been to one of our home games in a long time. can you please come to tomorrow night's game?"

"i don't know, jesper. what's in it for me?"

"a happy best friend and 2 weeks of me waiting on you, hand and foot?"

"fine. but it's for you and you only. that means you gotta play your ass off."

"for you? anything." y/n smiled and jesper walked out into the hallway.

the next night, y/n found herself in the stands, watching as jesper passed a shot to nico. he hesitated for a second but it was enough for him to calculate the shot. he took it closer to the net and sent it flying past boston's goalie.

2 minutes later, nico was passing to timo. he also ended up scoring.

2-0 new jersey.

by the end of 2nd period, the score had jumped to 4-0, with 2 assists and a goal from nico.

during the jumbotron flashed each players headshot along with their selected photo. jesper's popped up and it showed him smiling with his team and y/n.

when nico's picture came up, y/n felt her walls breaking down. the picture nico had selected was one of the two of them. he had his arm around y/n and while she was smiling at the camera, nico's eyes were glued to her. he was even sporting the wide smile that prominently showed off his dimples.

her heart melted as she averted her eyes and fiddled with the hem of the jersey she was wearing. it was a hischier jersey and she had been hesitant to put it on before the game. but now it was making her feel warm inside.

as the boys took to the ice for the final period, y/n's eyes instantly glued to nico. she couldn't take her eyes off of him even if she tried. he was her sole focus now. and she loved it.

by the time the game was over, new jersey had shutout the other team 7-0. it was a monumental win and y/n knew they'd be excited so she hurried down to where the girlfriends and families usually were and waited for nico and jesper. as she waited, she chatted with jack's mom, ellen, who had traveled to come see her boys play.

she had her back turned towards the locker room doors when nico walked out. but he knew it was her. he was shocked and pleased she was not only at the game, but wearing a jersey with his name across the back.

he watched as ellen made a gesture and y/n turned around. when their eyes met, nico couldn't stop himself from propelling forward and yanking her in for a hug. he didn't care that she was still mad at him. he needed this more than he thought.

and when she hugged him back just as tight, he glanced down at her.

"you're here." he whispered, as if he was still in disbelief. "you're actually here."

"i know." she smiled. "i didn't want to come at first, but jesper's offer was too tempting to refuse."

"what offer?"

"that man is now my servant for 2 weeks, correct?" she glanced behind nico at the swede who just exited the locker room. he stopped in his tracks and smiled.

"that was the deal, wasn't it?" he chuckled. "wait, does that mean you're staying for 2 more weeks? because i think it'd be difficult to wait on you hand and foot if you're not under the same roof as me."

"you've been staying with jesper this whole time? how did i not piece that together?"

"because you're an idiot." jesper smiled. "but that's okay. we still love you anyway, nico." he patted his captain and walked away.

nico turned back to y/n & his smile began to fall as he came to a conclusion. "you guys aren't, like, hooking up....are you?"

"me and jesper? no. absolutely not, nico." y/n couldn't help but chuckle. and suddenly, she found the courage to tell nico what she recently discovered. "i love you, you idiot."

"well that's a relief." nico chuckled. "wait. me? you love me?"

"yes. i figured it out recently and once i realized how much my life sucked without talking to you every day, i noticed that it was why your outburst hurt way more than it should've. i got scared and after you said you couldn't stand me being there, i realize now that it was because there was no way you loved me too."

"that's not true. i do love you. and i didn't mean what i said." he looked at her. "after you left, actually while you were packing, i knew that it hurt you and i couldn't forgive myself. i wanted to reach out to you over and over again but i figured you needed your space so i stopped after the first night. i wanted you to have the space you needed. but i regret ever uttering those words. they were harsh and extremely uncalled for. we had a bad game but you didn't deserve the frustration and i am so, so sorry."

"nico, it's okay. it's part of your job."

"i never want to do that to you again." his large hands framed her face as he held her. "move back in with me, please? i'll take over jesper's servant duties if that's what it takes." he sighed. "please? i just need you close to me in whatever way you'll allow."

"okay." y/n smiled contently and nico wasted absolutely no time. he was eager to crash is lips to hers. it was everything he had ever dreamed of, and then some.

"i love you so much. it was unbearable being away from you."

"i love you too, neeks. and i'm here to stay."

"good. i'm glad to hear it."

jesper leaned against the wall, not far from his friends, and smiled. they were perfect together and he knew that more than anyone. thank god he was able to push them back together. suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"wait, does that mean i don't have to be your servant anymore?!"

[little-riddles]

mad as hatter | one

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader word count: 5.2k warnings: none

y/n wasn't sure when she had her first visions, she'd had them as far back as she could remember. the echoes of voices from all those around her to the flashes of memories she wished she could forget. her parents thought the girl was going crazy, that their daughter was just making things up and eavesdropping on their conversations. She was shunned and shushed whenever she tried to ask questions about her odd dreams or the words that no one else was hearing.

she'd heard every hurtful comment before they even left people's mouths, seen the atrocious things people envisioned as they walked past her. no one believed she wasn't just a no-good nosy child. kids in school would call her psycho, hearing her mumble under her breath in class, and often stare off with a dazed look in her eyes. doctors have tried to get her on every medication possible but nothing helped numb the visions or silence the voices in her head.

she only had one person who ever tried to believe her growing up. there was a boy who lived down the road from her, who often would be sitting by himself in the school canteen. the pair were never officially friends, only ever sitting with one another, but were as close as either of them came to having a real friend.

y/n never learned the boy's name, having only interacted by talking about the school bully who would harass the pair. the pair weren't even in the same year, only really seeing each other during class breaks. so, when her parents decided to move the entire family up north once y/n had left primary school, she was not the least bit upset. sure, she was losing the only friend she'd ever made, but she knew she'd be long forgotten soon.

the thompsons weren't your typical family, both parents worked for the government and often spent the whole day out of the house. they would go on work trips for up to a week at a time, leaving their children to look after themselves. they had to learn how to take care of themselves from a young age, each taking up a role in the household; hughie was in charge of the outside of the house, ensuring none of the neighbours would know they were home alone; ned took care of their finances, ensuring all the bills were always paid and everyone had enough money for food; alex and y/n split the roles of cooking and cleaning the house, only allowing the other to ever try to go anywhere near the stove after the ramen incident with poor ricky, who was in charge of charming all of the nosy aunties who liked to pop round and nose around in their business.

this was how it wasn't a surprise when y/n's hogwarts letter sat unopened for months after they arrived, catching dust in their parents' bedroom along with the other unimportant post. it was only when an enthusiastic hughie came running into the kitchen one late july morning with a bundle of letters that the siblings took notice of the increase in post.

"what you got there hugh?" y/n nodded to the pile of old-looking letters on the dining room table.

"letters." hughie stuck his tongue out to the blonde girl. "they're all addressed to you, y/n."

"really? all, what, thirty of them?" alex scoffed as she entered the kitchen with a sleepy Ricky on her back.

"yeah. see, here. it says 'miss y/n y/l/n, the bigger bedroom in the loft, 3 whiteditch lane.' it even knows which room you're in y/n!" hughie shoved one of the letters into his sister's face.

y/n grabbed the letter addressed to herself, smirking at the words written on the front, knowing she did in fact have the bigger bedroom on the first floor. turning it over she was shocked to find a real wax seal instead of the usual paper closing. whoever had sent these letters to her was ancient, she thought.

"the bloody hell is hogwarts?" alex scoffed, using the kitchen knife y/n had just cleaned to rip open one of the letters. "oh, this has got to be some weird joke."

"what does it say?" ricky tried to peek over her sister's shoulder.

"'dear miss y/l/n , we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry."' y/n read out loud for the siblings to hear, not quite believing what she was reading either.

"what a load of bullshit." hughie scoffed, pouring a glass of juice for himself and ricky.

"language, hubert!" alex smacked him upside the head.

"he's right." ned appeared in the door frame. "there's no way that's real. If so, why hasn't one of us gotten a letter as well?"

y/n was speechless, letting her brother's words sink in. why was it only her who had received these mysterious letters? what was so special about the girl compared to everyone else?

"well, it's no use thinking about anyway. there's no return address and you've missed the date to send them a response." alex shrugged, chucking the opened letter into the recycling along with all the others on the table.

y/n watched as all her siblings sat around the dining room table, dishing out the food she'd just finished making. she couldn't help but feel like they were wrong about the letters. something had clicked in her brain and felt like things were starting to fall into place as she opened it. all of the voices in her head were starting to say the same thing for once, instead of the usual rambling mess that only seemed to disappear around her siblings. she felt like a part of her that had been missing her whole life was finally complete.

"you should forget about those letters, y/n/n. they're a load of nonsense. probably just a prank from billy down the road." ned walked over with a plate of food for the blonde.

"yeh. you're probably right." she smiled falsely, joining her siblings at the table.

"like magic could be real." hughie scoffed, already helping himself to seconds of the pasta.

—————

it wouldn't be until three days later that the siblings were proved wrong as their front door was once again stuffed with triple the number of letters through their letterbox. looking out his bedroom window, hughie gawped as he spotted at least twenty owls sitting on their fence. he'd never seen such behaviour from the animals before, worrying that it was a sort of premonition.

"lexie! you might wanna come see this!" he called out to his oldest sister.

"what do you want?" alex rolled her eyes, not looking up from the book she was reading. "this better not be another one of you and ricky's pranks again."

"it's not. look!" hughie fully opened the curtains, stepping back as two owls flew directly onto the window ledge.

"so? it's just some birds." alex rolled her eyes, walking out of the room.

"it's not just some birds. it's a fucking tonne of them!" hughie tried to protest.

"language, hubert!" ned's voice could be heard from the other side of the house.

hughie could only roll his eyes like his sister, following her out into the hallway. "if you'd actually pay attention to anything other than that bloody book, you'd see i'm not exaggerating."

alex stopped at the top of the stairs, finally looking up from her book. at least fifteen owls were sat in their front garden, all having their eyes trained on the y/l/n house and a familiar letter in each of their beaks.

"uh. y/n! you mind coming downstairs?!" alex shouted, walking into the living room and stopping at the pile of letters stacked high in their front hall.

y/n ran down with ricky and ned following not far behind her. she looked around confused as the owls all began to land on the window ledges. "uh. why are there owls in our garden?"

"i have no idea. but I'm a little scared for when mum and dad get back later." ned started to close the blinds, nodding to the pile by the front door. "i think you have some post, y/n."

"yeh," y/n whispered, walking to the last open window and spotting a couple standing at the end of their drive in unusual clothing.

she drew the curtains without breaking eye contact with the snowy owl that hooted by the window. her siblings were all stood at the base of the staircase, mumbling to one another. y/n could feel their eyes as they all glanced over at her, then at the pile of letters, then back at her once again.

"look. this can't be some weird joke again." y/n finally ended their constant mumbling.

"you can't be serious, y/n." ned scoffed. "there's no such thing as magic or witches or wizards."

"but what if there is? what if somehow this is all real?" y/n tried to argue with her brother.

"oh come off it, y/n." It was hughie who scoffed this time, walking towards the pile of letters. "if magic is real then how come you've never done any, huh?"

y/n didn't know how to answer her brother, trying to remember a time when something had happened without her trying to. the day when it had randomly started torrentially raining after y/n had thrown a tantrum and refused to go to their aunt's house came to mind. or the time when she had fallen from the tall oak tree in their back garden and landed unscathed on her two feet. or the time her parents' cars both suspiciously had flat tyres and weren't able to go to an important meeting on her birthday last year. had it all been just a coincidence? or had she been the reason behind all the strange happenings surrounding her?

she couldn't put another word in before their doorbell went, silencing and stilling the room. no one dared move towards the front hallway. they weren't expecting anyone, their parents had keys to the front doors. y/n moved towards the door, stopping as it slammed open with a blinding light.

"oh, not again!" a voice groaned from outside of the house, walking through the now open hole in the front hall. "sorry about that, dears. not used to these muggle doors."

"what's a muggle?" ricky's small voice asked from behind her siblings, who'd all huddled once again at the base of the stairs.

"oh, now that you're not supposed to know." the woman chuckled to herself, dusting off her odd green robes.

"i'm sorry but who are you? and why have you broken into our house?" ned stood firmly in front of his siblings, arms out protectively.

"oh, how rude of me. my name's minerva mcgonagall, professor of charms at hogwarts." the woman tipped her head slightly, her pointed hat staying perfectly upright.

"oh, not this again," alex grumbled. "look. whatever joke this is, it's gone too far. get out before we call the police."

"well, i know you are not who i am here for then," mcgonagall mumbled under her breath. "i am here on behalf of professor dumbledore. he wanted me to personally guide miss y/l/n to gather her supplies for the year."

"you're not taking our sister anywhere." hughie pulled his sister closer to him.

"i did not expect so much push back on this. but if this is what it'll take for you to believe me." mcgonagall shrugged her shoulders, taking out a wooden stick from the sleeves of her emerald robes and pointing it at the empty fireplace.

it sparked to life into a roaring fire, the stack of letters left scattered by the front door flying into the open flames. one sole letter remained unscathed, landing in the professor's hand.

"h-how did you do that?" ricky's head appeared from behind her sister, wonder glowing in her blue eyes.

"magic, of course." mcgonagall tilted her head at the siblings. "did your parents not tell you any of this?"

"o-our parents aren't magic. they work for the government." hughie, too, was still staring at the burning ashes of the letters.

"what about your grandmother?" mcgonagall pulled out a scroll from her robes, reading the name of the family's closest magical relative. "a hilda kim. she must have told you something, yes?"

"nana kim's dead. uncle roger killed her." ricky spoke before she could think.

"frederica!" ned shoved his youngest sibling with a huff.

"sorry, neddy." ricky returned to her safe space behind alex.

"k-killed? are you sure? she's still registered as an active witch with the ministry." mcgonagall reread her list once more. "i've never had our charts be wrong."

"nana kim's alive?" alex whispered in disbelief.

"no. she's lying. we went to her funeral, remember lex?" ned refused to believe what this strange woman was saying.

"y-yeah. you helped mama write her eulogy." alex nodded, turning to the professor who was still stood bewildered in their living room.

"well. i will have to have a word with the minister himself. never in my life have i seen this be incorrect." mcgonagall tucked the scroll back into her robes.

"who was that man outside?" y/n looked back towards the professor, remembering there was another person with her.

"that was professor dumbledore himself, headmaster of hogwarts. he was seeing to it that i had the right house. you muggles and your weird house names." the professor shook her head.

"so will he be teaching me at hogwarts?" y/n's face lit up slightly at the thought of learning to do what the professor had done with the fireplace and more.

"oh no. professor dumbledore resigned from teaching a few years after your very own grandmother attended hogwarts." mcgonagall finally looked around the home spotting the clock on the wall, jumping at the time she could read. "oh. we must get going, miss y/l/n. we don't have much time to gather your supplies before everything closes."

y/n hesitantly walked forward, still staring at the still roaring fire then back at her siblings' awe-struck and perplexed faces. "how long will i be gone? my parents are coming back soon and i don't want to worry them."

"not long. i would like to have a talk with them myself when we return to explain everything anyway." mcgonagall turned her nose up at the knowledge that the children's parents had left them home alone.

"take this with you, i wrote down the house number in case you forgot." alex pulled away from the sibling huddle to rip out the house's phone number from the phone book.

"call us if you need us to come and collect you, yeah?" ned approached his youngest sister, pulling her into a tight hug. "we'll let you know if mum or dad say anything once they're back."

"thanks, neddy." y/n half smiled, still shaken up from everything that had been revealed before.

"come along, dear. we have much to do." the professor walked back towards the hole she'd made in their doorway. "oh, i almost forgot."

with a wave of the stick she had procured earlier, the door frame reconstructed itself back to the way it was before. the door even looked as though it had had a clean to it.

"there. apologies for the break-in earlier." mcgonagall walked towards the door, hesitantly turning the handle and pulling it open. "i shall see you all later."

"bye, y/n." ricky ran forward, pulling her sister into one last hug before running back up the stairs.

"we'll wait downstairs in case the phone rings whilst you're gone." ned waved his sister off, not quite trusting her safety in the hands of the stranger she was leaving with.

y/n waved her siblings off one last time before following the professor down their driveway. there stood the long-bearded man from before, carefully inspecting their neighbour's new car.

"professor dumbledore. i have miss y/n, shall we go?" mcgonagall raised her eyebrow at the man.

"ah, miss y/l/n. what a pleasure to meet you. albus dumbledore. headmaster of hogwarts." dumbledore held his hand out for the young girl to shake.

"nice to meet you too, professor." y/n shyly shook his hand.

"now, i can't come with you to diagon alley but i do look forward to seeing you at hogwarts in september, miss y/l/n." dumbledore tipped his head slightly before he disappeared with a crack.

y/n gasped in delight, amazed by the wonders of the magical world he was being exposed to. "h-how did he do that?"

"apparition, my dear. you will have plenty of time to learn all about that and more once we get you ready for hogwarts." mcgonagall took out her wand. "now, are you ready?"

y/n simply nodded her head, holding on gently to the professor's outstretched arm. she felt her body twist uncomfortably, seeing the world warp before her and in a blink she landed in an overly crowded high street.

"welcome to diagon alley. here, we will be able to find everything you'll need for your time at hogwarts." mcgonagall was already speeding ahead down towards a tall, slightly wonky building.

"but, professor, i didn't bring any money with me. how am i going to pay for anything?" y/n looked around worriedly, catching the knowing looks of passersby as they spotted the Professor walk past.

"your grandmother left some wizard money in a vault at gringotts for when any of her grandchildren came of age. seeing as you are the first of your siblings to attend hogwarts you'll have full access to the vault." mcgonagall claimed the steps up to the looming building.

"a whole vault?" y/n whispered, following the professor.

"yes. now, i'll have you stay out here whilst I go and retrieve it for you. why don't you go down to ollivander's for your wand? best to get it out of the way first." mcgonagall nodded to the black-fronted building with a swinging sign saying as such hanging out the front. "i'll be out shortly."

without another word, the professor walked through the doors and left the poor girl alone on the steps. y/n turned in a few circled before she spotted an old wooden sign with the name that the professor had mentioned before.

she felt slightly sick as she walked into the empty shop, a small pouch of coins grasped firmly in her hands. professor mcgonagall had said that this was where she could find a 'wand', though y/n wasn't sure exactly what that was or if she even wanted one. She thought back to when she'd seen the professor light the fire and repair their front door and remembers her holding a strange stick in her hand.

"ah, miss y/l/m. i knew i'd be seeing you at some point this year." an old man appeared from the aisles of boxes. "here for your wand are you?"

"y-yes." y/n meekly nodded, staring up at the man.

"i remember when your grandmother came for her first wand. 10 inch, ash wood, dragon heartstring core. very powerful witch your grandmother was." ollivander nodded, turning around and mumbling to himself as he reached for a box behind him. "now, try this one."

y/n carefully lifted the light-coloured wand from the box, feeling a stinging sensation go up her arm as soon as she lifted it. with a yelp she dropped it back into her place, shaking off the shock that still traveled up her arm.

"no. no. that won't do. let me try another." ollivander returned to the aisles, going further back before returning once more

the wand this time was a much darker colour, slightly lighter in her hands as y/n lifted it up. no sparks went up her arm this time, taking this as a good sign she gave a slight wave of it. a bust of light came out of the end of the wand, sending a stack of papers flying across the entire shop.

"not that one either." ollivander grabbed the wand out of the girl's hands, rushing back to find another choice.

y/n felt slightly deflated, questioning if the professor had been right. her mother had never mentioned anything about their grandmother since she'd passed, never saying a thing about there being a possibility of any of this being true.

"this one. this one has to be it." ollivander nodded, placing the final box down.

y/n was even more cautious, scared that being a muggle would cause the wand to backfire on her once again. her hopes were lifted as soon as she looked into the box. this wand felt different, it almost seemed to hum slightly in her hands. another shock ran through her arm, this time settling over her entire body. she felt her entire body feel like it was floating, the wand humming in tune with her mind, becoming one with her.

"fred weasley you get back here right now!" a woman's voice screeched from the doorway of the shop.

y/n dropped the wand back into its box in shock, turning and stepping back instinctively as a pair of ginger boys ran into the shop giggling.

"he's not fred, i am." the boy on the left giggled.

"honestly, you'd think you'd of learnt the difference by now." the twin on the right shook his head at the short woman who was angrily walking into the shop.

"that still doesn't mean you can run into shops as you like." the ginger woman rolled her eyes finally spotting the panicking y/n who was trying to creep out of the shop unnoticed. "oh. i'm so sorry dear for my boys interrupting you. see, this is what i mean. you two outside now!"

the twins tried to protest their mother's words, stopping at the deathly glare they received. the two trudged back out of the shop, shoving each other as they went and blaming the other for what happened.

"again, i'm sorry dear. you carry on. i'll make sure those two apologise before you're gone." the woman smiled warmly at y/n before following her sons back outside.

y/n stifled a giggle as she heard the woman's voice immediately start screeching at her sons outside the doorway, only stopping as ollivander cleared his throat. "i believe you have found your wand, miss y/l/n."

"a-are you sure?" y/n walked back over to where she'd dropped the wand in fright.

"oh, i'm most certain. 13 inch, ebony wood, thunderbird feather core. very peculiar wand but i am certain that wand was made for you." ollivander gave her a knowing look. "i think professor mcgonagall is outside waiting for you."

"y-yes." y/n nodded, carefully lifting the box off of the counter and holding it tightly to her chest. she began to walk towards the door before she realised what she'd forgotten to do. "oh, i don't have any money to pay."

"ah, miss y/l/n. there you are." mcgonagall's voice called from behind her, making the girl jump. "i believe you'll be needing this."

the professor dropped a small pouch into the girls hand, nodding her head slightly at the awaiting ollivander. y/n began to dump the coins out of her pouch onto the counter, hoping it would be enough to cover the cost of the wand.

ollivander chuckled as he sorted the coins he needed before sliding the majority of the pile back over to the girl. "you'll be needing those for the rest of your supplies i'm sure, miss y/l/n."

y/n only nodded, shocked that what she was grasping in her hands was really hers. she thanked ollivander before collecting her coins and hurrying out of the shop with the professor.

"i'd just like to apologise again for my boys' behaviour. they would also like to apologise." the ginger woman from before shoved her twins forward as y/n left the shop.

"sorry." they mumbled in sync, looking bored out of their minds.

"i-it's okay. you didn't know anyone was in there. it's fine." y/n smiled, hugging her new wand tighter to her chest.

"did you get your wand?" the one on the right gasped.

"let us see it." the twin on the left egged her on.

y/n paused, not feeling confident enough to share something so personal with the boys she'd only just met. their mother seemed to have the same idea as she smacked them upside the head. "boys! she clearly wants to leave. say you're sorry and let's go get your own wands so you can stop badgering her."

"sorry for bothering you." the twins said in sync once again, creeping the girl out slightly.

"it's okay, honestly. mistakes happen." y/n shrugged, trying to pass them to get to where professor mcgonagall was now waiting for her.

"hope to see you at hogwarts!" the first twin called over their shoulder.

"hope to not see you in slytherin!" the second twin shouted as well.

the two boys were pulled by their ears by their mother into the shop, who sent back an apologetic smile once again. y/n felt herself chuckling at their antics, turning to join mcgonagall who had already started to walk towards a new shop.

"professor, who were those boys?" she asked curiously.

"that was fred and george weasley. trouble, i'm sure of it. merlin help us all these next few years." mcgonagall muttered the last part of her sentence under her breath.

y/n giggled once more, silencing as she caught the professor's stern glare pointed down at her. she didn't dare say anything else about the boys, silently smiling at the thought of becoming friends with the pair at hogwarts.

—————

it wasn't until well past four in the afternoon that y/n and the professor returned to the y/l/n souse. two silver cars sat parked in the drive, a sign both of her parents had returned early from their trip. y/n rubbed her hands against her trousers nervously. what would her parents say when she returned? would they even believe anything professor mcgonagall said? or would it take more fireplaces being lit for them to trust the woman? she had no time to consider her options of escaping before the large oak door swung open to reveal the worried face of her mother.

"oh, y/f/n. i was so worried." nancy held her daughter tight to her chest, glaring over at the woman who had arrived with her. "who do you think you are to kidnap my child?"

"mum, it's fine. professor mcgonagall will explain everything inside." y/n tried to ignore her mother's use of her full name and ushered her inside.

"no. It's not right, y/n. get out of this house before i call the police." nancy shoved y/n inside of the house.

"mum! just listen to her. please!" y/n begged her mother.

"maybe we should listen to her, nance." robert tried to argue with his wife, reeling back at her hard glare.

"i'd like some answers." ned shrugged his shoulders, startling the group at his sudden appearance. "it'd be nice to know where our sister is being carted off to in a month."

"she' is being carted off nowhere's not being carted off anywhere!" nancy's protest fell on deaf ears and robert and ned welcomed the witch into their house.

y/n didn't look back at her mother, instead following her brother into the living room. her siblings were huddled on one of the sofas beside the still-roaring fire. they all sprang up at the sight of y/n, the youngest pulling her into a tight hug and running her ear off with questions about everything she'd seen.

"frederica, let go of your sister and sit down." robert gave his youngest a stern flare before offering a seat doe mcgonagall to sit. "now. tell us where you kidnapped our daughter to."

"i wouldn't call it kidnapping. i simply offered to take her to diagon alley and gather her school supplies." mcgonagall assumed that the children had already filled their parents in on the main things. "i have everything you will need here for taking her to king's cross on september the first."

she slid over another parchment letter, sighing as she finally saw the deathly glare she was still being dealt by mrs y/l/n. "i believe your mother had her reasons for keeping all of this a secret from you, mrs y/l/n. and i am sorry that you do not have the opportunity to go to her and ask yourself."

"did you know her? my mother?" nancy finally said.

"yes. miss abbott, as i knew her back then, was an excellent student and a brilliant witch. she was top of her class. it was such a shock to the whole teaching staff to find out she left the wizarding world after she graduated." mcgonagall looked down at her watch and sighed knowing she'd have to be back at hogwarts soon.

"does this mean that any of the others could be magic as well?" robert held his wife's hand, speaking on behalf of the shaking woman.

"we keep a very close watch on all descendants of witches and wizards for signs of magical abilities. if they had shown any they too would've received their hogwarts letters already." mcgonagall saw the three eldest siblings deflate slightly at her words. "but there is always a chance that your youngest could still be welcomed into hogwarts if she too shows the same magical capabilities as miss y/l/n."

ricky's worried expression grew brighter and more joyous by the second as mcgonagall spoke, already dreaming of her time going off to hogwarts and becoming a witch herself. y/n's face too grew into a smile at the idea of one of her siblings being able to join her.

"i do have to get back to hogwarts but if you have any questions here is the address to send letters to my office." mcgonagall pulled yet another scroll out of her robes and passed it to robert. "were there any last questions?"

y/n's mind went to the voices she'd been hearing, the visions of people she'd never met before in horrific accidents and deaths. could her 'episodes' be a part of being a witch? she didn't have time to ask the professor before her parents were ushering her through their front door. y/n couldn't leave her question unanswered and ran out through the door to the end of the driveway where professor mcgonagall had her wand out ready to leave.

"i have one!" y/n shouted after the professor before she could apparate away. "do witches and wizards often have visions of things? things that never happened to them but felt like they did? or voices in their heads of people around them?"

"what sort of visions?" mcgonagall walked quickly over to the girl.

"w-well like the time that i saved ricky from being run over by a car because i'd had a dream the night before of the exact same situation. or how i saw how my maths teacher was diagnosed with cancer weeks before it happened?" y/n felt herself becoming more and more nervous at bringing up the topic as she spoke.

"and the voices? what are they saying?" mcgonagall pressed on further.

"l-like right now you're wondering if i'm a s-seer? and something called legilimens. what do those mean professor?" y/n gulped weakly.

"i'll be in contact before you come to hogwarts, miss y/l/n. i must discuss this with dumbledore." mcgonagall turned and apparated away before peggy could ask any more questions.

she was worried she'd scared the professor away, she would tell dumbledore exactly what all of the kids at school and doctors would tell her; that she was insane.

[here-there-be-fics]

There are so many things about Buck and Tommy's relationship and the breakup that constantly have me asking why?

Why only Tommy calling him Evan exclusively?

Why have them be so domestic and attentive, Tommy especially, caring for Buck when he's injured, turning up for Chris's birthday, turning up at the hospital for the wedding, having Buck talk about Tommy to nearly everyone he knows, where previously it was only really Bobby he spoke to..etc etc, no other love interest has been included 'just because' quite like Tommy.

Why bring back a character so connected to the team, already so integrated in Buck's life and family? That fits so well into future storytelling both on a work front and in the team's personal lives.

One thought I recently had in more depth was why the hospital scene when Denny was injured? Why make such a show of having Tommy there at the hospital, comment on how amazing it is to have a group of people always be there for you, saying it in such a way that makes it clear he's never really had it himself...this scene wasn't about Buck and his journey but about Tommy's. Then Buck affirms Tommy's comment and includes Tommy in that group, bringing him into Buck's journey of finding where he belongs and seemingly sets Tommy up to do the same. Something that Buck has done previously when he talked about Tommy throwing in with them during the ship rescue. Especially considering that you had nearly the entire main cast in that hospital scene surrounding them to show the similarities with Bucktommy and Banthea and Tommy's connection with Chim, Eddie and Hen(who they are all there to support). A costly and time-consuming task for a production that moves very quickly and shoots down to the wire, they could have easily removed that scene or tommy from that scene but instead they almost entirely focused on him instead.

Having all that happen and then back it up again in the cemetery scene just to end it all with a sudde breakup in very next episode is insane....and such a waste.

The breakup would have been effective without all that because it was a significant storyline for Buck last season that proved incredibly popular among the general audience and fans alike - it could have been a really lovely positive end to that story, both of them going their separate ways with Buck learning something new about himself and a new friend in his back pocket, a character they could be brought back for nearly any of the mains if the story required. But instead they made it really hurt, continue to hurt episodes later and leaving a gaping 'what if?/what now?' hole in the story.

It seems negligent to waste so many good storytelling moments to indicate to the audience that this one, this relationship, this character in particular is special. And none of those moments were because he was the first man Buck has been with but about Tommy in particular. It's hard to find time for side characters in a rather full ensemble cast, the audience rely on these indicators about side characters to understand their purpose and place in the story and impact on the main characters. If Tommy isn't coming back they have wasted some really fantastic endgame LI material that can't be replicated. It will be hard to top those moments for any future love interest and it'll fall flat if the writers don't find a way to out do those scenes with Tommy.

[ohsoimaginari]

healthy study habits || cjh

synospis: in which you need a little motivation to help you study for exams 

cw: fluff, studying, the chosen course here is environmental studies lmao, squint and it’s an idol au, sweet jongho kisses, use of y/n, one curse word, slightly suggestive at the end 

boyfriend!jongho, fem!reader

words: 1396 (unedited)

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You groaned as you slumped onto your arms in defeat. You hated exam season. It seemed as if no matter how much you studied, it was never enough. 

Each time you quizzed yourself at the end of a chapter, you found yourself stumbling over answers which only discouraged you more and planted more seeds of doubt in your mind. The words themselves became a jumbled mess around the third hour of your session. 

You’d done everything right: taken adequate breaks, broken down the sections for easier grasping but no matter what you tried, nothing seemed to work. 

It was important that you did well in this upcoming final exam. It made up a large portion of your final module mark. You felt the pressure from how you’d stare at the words and they’d simply stare back at you, as if in a foreign language you’d never learned. You found this perplexing because you knew merely weeks ago you knew this work like the back of your hand. You’d be able to explain it in clear and concise terms but today, you weren’t even sure you understood the basic language it was offered in. 

You finally accepted defeat and closed your laptop. “And I’m done.” 

Your statement caught your Jongho’s attention. He looked so peaceful as he languidly lounged on the couch, his laptop on his lap. He wanted to keep you company as you studied because you hadn’t seen each other in so long and this was one of those rare opportunities where you were both in the same place even if you were busy. 

He sat perfectly still as he allowed you to finish up with your studying, even offering to time your one hour increments which was why he currently looked at you with a flummoxed expression. 

“No?” He grabbed his phone. “You have twenty minutes left.” 

He nearly thought he’d forgotten to set the timer this time when he couldn’t recall it ringing, only to find you were trying to end the session prematurely. You groaned at being caught. 

“Jongho…”

“Y/n…” he returned in a teasing tone. He’d already put down his laptop and made his way to you. He was now leaning over you at the desk, his tanned arms caging you on either side. 

“I’m tired. Nothing’s going in and I’ve tried everything,” you complained. 

Jongho smiled while you pouted, imploring him to understand your point of view and give you a break but you knew him better than that. 

“You haven’t tried everything. You haven’t tried me yet.” Your eyebrows came together. 

“Let me quiz you.” 

This only made you groan even harder than before, if that were even possible. You put your head in your hand, trying to find a way out of this but you knew there’d be none. 

“Jongho, please,” you pleaded as a last resort. You knew Jongho had a soft spot for you, even when he tried to deny it. You’ve worn him down many times before and hoped today would be another one added onto your many success stories. He wasn’t budging this time, unfortunately for you. 

Instead, he grabbed your notebook as well as your hand and brought you over to the couch. You plopped onto it, feeling the weight on your shoulders pushing you down. 

All you wanted to do was close your eyes. You were certain there was nothing else he could possibly try that would help you, but you were grateful he offered to help so you’d also do your part as best as you could. But you were making no promises. 

“For every correct answer, you’ll get a reward.” You perked up. 

“What kind of a reward?” Jongho chose to leave the question unanswered. He only carried on paging through your notes, looking for something he could quiz you on.  

Once he found his target, he dramatically cleared his throat. It took everything in you not to giggle at the sudden serious expression on his face. 

“Question one. What was the purpose of the Montreal Protocol?” 

You’d read about so many treaties, policies and protocols at this point that they all seemed to blur together. You could only guess what it could be. It sounded vaguely familiar and your brain scrambled to connect it to the notes you’d written. A lightbulb went off in your head. 

“It was to phase out the use of harmful chemicals that would damage the ozone layer…right? Like chlorofluorocarbons?”

“Correct.” 

Your elated squeal was soon replaced by one of surprise as you suddenly felt his soft lips on your neck. Before you could even fully register what had happened, he was gone again. You blinked. Then again. And then felt your face heat up. 

“Oh,” you squeaked out, finally realising what your reward would be. 

You immediately got excited, determined to get the next answer correct. Jongho’s smirk wasn’t one that could easily be missed in that moment.  

“Question two.” 

Jongho had already begun asking the next question and you listened intently. Or at least you tried to. Your heart was still beating in your ears from the previous quick interaction.  

“Question two, y/n. What’s the answer?” You hadn’t noticed you’d partially zoned out.  

“Oh…um…a cap and trade policy?”

“Are you sure?” You nodded enthusiastically, albeit unsure. “I’m sure. I’m so sure.” He couldn’t know, though. 

Jongho looked at you for what felt like forever—his face giving nothing away—until finally he smiled with mischief. “Correct.” 

He picked up from where he left off and peppered soft, slow kisses along your neck to your jaw until the corner of your lip, lingering a moment before pulling away. 

This went on for several more questions, each kiss lingering longer on different parts of your body; your shoulders, your wrists, your fingertips, your knuckles…any body part available to him at present. He always knew how to make it both sweet and sensual and, surprisingly, helped with increasing your focus (when he wasn’t completely taking your breath away, that is). 

You were nearing the end, only a few more questions left, he’d told you, but you were now impatient. He’d kissed you everywhere but where you wanted him to the most. 

As if sensing your impatience, he seemed to tease you by paging through your notebook ever so slowly in search of the next question. You wanted to grab the notebook and chuck it away but you restrained yourself. 

He really was helping you get through your notes effectively. You’d just have to wait. 

“What is topology?” 

You almost scoffed at how easy the question was. “The study of the land’s surface.” 

“Wrong.” 

Your eyebrows met. “What?” 

He shrugged and casually leaned back. “That’s not the answer.” 

For a moment you thought he was surely pulling your leg but upon further search of his face, you realised he was telling the truth. 

“Oh, fuck. What’s the answer then?” you spoke more to yourself than him. 

Your head scrambled to find the answer, realising you’d once again confused two concepts of your studies that always tricked you. 

Finally you remembered and almost scolded yourself for getting it wrong. You gave him the answer dejectedly, more so upset with yourself that you’d let it happen again.  

“Correct.” 

You almost forgot what was at stake if you got the correct answer. Almost. His response was enough to remind you and brighten your spirits once more, your blunder long at the back of your mind. 

“Good.” 

It wasn’t often you took him by surprise. If anything, it was often the other way around so the few moments you do, you relish in them. Pulling him closer to you and finally sealing your success with a long awaited kiss put a small smile on your lips—especially because of Jongho’s surprised face at the sudden action but eventually fell into the groove. You pushed him down onto the couch and were now firmly on him, his hands placed expertly on your hips. 

“We need to carry on,” he said in between kisses but you were having none of it as you shut him up with another kiss. He happily surrendered. 

“What will I get if I do well on the test?” He smiled and kissed you once more on your lips before making his way down to your neck again. You could feel his smile on your skin before you heard his words.

“You’ll see.” 

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i hope the academic year is easy on you guys this year <3

[jules-makes-stuff]

Been seeing ppl on reddit argue about magic in fantasy for a while and I don't want to lose 3 hours bickering over there but I have *thoughts*

By now hard and soft systems are pretty well known but people ague againt hard systems because it "takes away the, well, MAGIC of magic". I think people aren't considering tone and the overall goals of a work and are conflating personal taste with truth again.

In my mind it really depends on the above though. Say you are Hoffman writing The Golden Pot. You want your work to be dreamlike, ethereal, like a half remembered song. Everything operates on dream/fairytale logic and emotion is reality. You should absolutelt NOT explain magic. It should be a strange force adhering only to narrative and emotional forces.

If you are writing a magical realism piece, like One Hundred Years of Solitude, the magic again is there to emphasize the absurdity of reality people at the time faced. Explaining anything takes that away. Same with horror or something like Metamorphosis. You don't know why this is happening and that means you cannot stop it or it doesn't matter how it happened, only the consequences.

Then there are more classical fantasy stories like Lord of the Rings. Magic is something ancient and grand and mysterious.... and none of the hobbits have it besides stray magic items. That is what people miss, I believe, when using this example. Gandalf isn't our pov character. Most characters there do not have magic or only have limited magic w very specific limitations, tools essentially. So we can follow along and anticipate how these will be used. There is big, scary, unknown magic, but it is usually something used by the opponents or characters that come in and out of the narrative. And I think that's a good balance! Its fine that we dont know the science of magic, because we understand enough when we need to, we can make predictions and there is enough wiggle room for something like Gandalf the White to happen. A looot of fantasy had followed this setup: the mc has only a few well defined spells and magic items, the world has more deep magic.

But, I personally do like harder magic, if the mc is supposed to be a wizard (or the equivalent). I would call most battle shonen hard magic (I think this is where ppl might want to kill me) becauss in a good battle shonen we know what everyone can do and we can plan along with the characters and predict how the fight will go. When a problem is solved in an interesting way we can go "I should have seen that comming!"

In BAD versions people yell really loud and whoever yells loudest about friendship (once we wasted enough screentime to call the third act done) wins. And this here is my problem. Because I have seen stories where characters do the same with magic and it breaks my immersion. When magic used by the mc can suddenly do anything and everything what is the point? I'm no longer following a story w interesting twists and turns, Im waiting for the author to say "ok thats enough we can push the win button now". And listen, obviously its a made up story, none of this is real or matters, but its the authors job to keep the illusion alive that it isnt.

This is different from creating a mcguffin that can do anything once and having a quest about it, there getting the item is the challenge, not using it.

And a system being hard doesnt mean we need to know the science behind it, just that we need to know what it can do and the limits. In avatar they can manipulate the elements w martial arts. Period. Why? How? The spirits said so. Most ppl fuck up hard magic imo by starting to write a thesis about magical physics or overcomplicating it instead of taking 1 simple idea and exploring all the cool things that it can do. Witch Hat feels super magical and yet all there is to magic is drawing magic circles and we actively learn how to draw them in the series and the way the characters problem solve w magic and their try-fail cycles are super fun!

The point of this ramble is that I need structure that fits the narrative goals of the work. If we're doing a dream like narrative throw away explanations. If Im a wizard playing mind chess w other wizards you better tell me what chess pieces we have.

[crapeaucrapeau]

Replies below the cut !

D) none of the above. ;)

Gosh darn it, I knew there were other letters after c). D:

Okay, thanks for clearing things up, I had misunderstood a few things.

Could the Harsa-Exodus and Aethon-Apien be primary relays that are farther out from their stars than expected, unnoticed because space is big?

That's entirely possible, but my problem with an explanation like that is that it requires both relays at the end of the connection to be inaccessible, presumably because of two separate accidents since (in the case of Aethon/Apien) we're dealing with two sapient species the Reapers would want to easily find and access the relays leading to the Citadel. I think it's one of the best explanations, but it relies a bit too much on coincidence to my liking (but then again, why not ?).

(Personally, I deal with this by slowing everyone the fuck down. It makes relay dependence and 'holding' a relay against the reapers make a lot more sense if they go "only" 2000x the speed of light, instead of 4380. But how much you buy that speed # makes a difference in what kind of map is useful to your military).

Interesting ! I'm working on a post right now for H2HGE extrapolating speeds and travel time from everything we've got in canon (spoilers : it's somewhat inconsistent because the BW devs never gave it as much thought as we do), but personally the way I go with it is that those darn spaceships need to keep accelerating and they can't do it forever. Off the top of my head, I think there's a fairly hard 50-hour travel time limit in canon before drive charge fries everything ? So starships can accelerate to super-mega-speeds, but they need to accelerate to that point first.

The Reapers obviously work on a completely different set of rules, which I think adds to the eldritch power differential they're supposed to have. They can cross vast expanses of interstellar emptiness in the blink of an eye…

Speaking of them…

The reapers invaded Taetrus before Palaven, and unless they swung by the Serpent Nebula en masse, thumbing their mechasquid noses and making fart noises at the Citadel as they went by, they must've had another route between human and turian space.

I agree that there necessarily is a route connection human and turian territories re : Shanxi, but in the case of the Reaper War, it's also possible to believe that the Reapers actually open multiple fronts (at least one explicitly : in the Silean Nebula). Personally, this leads me to headcanonically place Taetrus' cluster close to dark space, i.e. on the galaxy's edge.

(Side note : fuck, I really appreciate how pretty and legible your map is. I'm salivating with envy.)

Mass Effect galaxy map

(For the Rhi Shepard universe)

I've been writing, if by 'writing' one means 'making a new galaxy map to use as a reference, because I'm too picky.'

I copied some symbology from Droot1986's excellent galaxy map. I also used Engorn's map as a reference, but ultimately the clusters and connections are based on the wiki. All systems within a cluster are listed, with inhabited planets in parentheses.

(...yeah, I should probably make a legend, but I only made it for my reference, so).

Features/changes

The relay in the Sol system only connects to Arcturus. This is how it's supposed to work in canon lore; Arcturus is important because it's a gateway system, while Sol is a dead end.

(Also, Sol is now in basically the right place compared to the underlying artist's impression of the milky way. Thank you NASA.)

Batarian's now have some space of their own, because lumping all batarian space into the human Systems Alliance was just BEGGING for a war. Like, WTF. Their government is flat out evil but that doesn't mean we just get to say their planets are ours now.

Combined inner and outer council space because idgaf.

There's a new, boringly named relay between Kite's Nest, Petra, and Exodus, because I needed one in chapter 14.

If a cluster had written lore about where it was in the galaxy, I tried to reflect that — so Styx Theta, Hawking Eta, and the Pangea Expanse are all close to the galactic core, Sentry Omega is on a political border, etc. Otherwise, I adjusted location to make the relay routes clearer. (Also I wanted the giant hub that is Omega to be almost opposite the Serpent Nebula and the Citadel)..

I imagine that there are actually a LOT more mapped clusters in Council Space than we see; they were just never relevant to the game. If not, the vaunted 'all relays lead to the Citadel' reaper web is just flat out wrong. Omega has more connections, and quite a few other clusters have as many. If there are more inhabited clusters in Citadel Space it also makes the veritable explosion of humanity look a little less ridiculous. (Seriously, humans have been on the galactic scene for thirty years. LOOK at how far we've gone. Council races are right to be freakin' terrified, the Sol system was like one of those plants with exploding seed pods where you bump it and POOF now they're EVERYWHERE). So let's assume the rest of the galaxy is as cluttered as Systems Alliance space, it's just not been relevant to our anthropocentric bag of dicks worldview.

Anyway. What the fuck is even up with the Attican Traverse?

[bomberqueen17]

middle-aged stuff

This is the time of year when I have determination and free time so i do all my medical appointments. This year I'm old enough that they want to screen me for colon cancer.

it's funny because current events, so i'm like, ah, it's the downfall of the western world. my taxes are funding genocide and man-babies playing dolls have decided that cruelty makes their enemies squeak satisfyingly and I get to watch babies starve about it. Meaninglessness blah blah. Oh and I have to get all these cancer screenings, and petition my insurance company about having them covered since they're supposed to be. And oh yes this and that. Mundane. Boring.

Also in current ongoing things, my most politically-active IRL friend, who lives over near the farm and dedicated her life from 2016-2024 to the Run For Something kind of aesthetic of trying to reform local politics first, recently (this week) succumbed to a prolonged fight with cancer, and it's incredibly sad and depressing and at least I know she's not seeing what's happening now, but I'm like. Well.

Well I'm taking my cancer screenings seriously I guess. Hers was a special case with many contributing factors but oh my gosh it was brutal and they tried everything and she fought so hard and god, how draining. I said goodbye to her in November, and she was so cheerful about it because that's the kind of person she was. My sister and BIL were taking some of the shifts to sit with her toward the end, so her family could sleep sometimes. It's just so brutal. So.

One thing: this is only the second time I've managed to go get a mammogram, but the form is the same. on the form, they want you to attest: I am not pregnant. And then they give you three boxes you can choose from, for how you can prove to them that you are not pregnant. One: I am postmenopausal. Two: I use an effective birth control. (List it here.) Three: I have undergone surgical contraception/sterilization (List date of procedure). None of these is the extremely, incredibly common scenario that happens to be my scenario, which is My partner has undergone sterilization and I am monogamous. Which I understand is not foolproof-- if you are lying or in some other way not actually living up to the second part of that statement (I myself have in idle thought exercises fallen victim to the extending my I-can't-get-pregnant-by-accident relief to scenarios that of course would not be covered by it; I'm sure many people over the ages have absentmindedly forgotten that their Foolproof Birth Control that affects only their partners actually makes it *more* important that they avoid all contact with anyone else.) But good Christ if I am lying, even to mysef, then this form is void. It kind of drives me nuts every time and I know they don't really care it's a CYA form but oh my god. (There's also no option for I am not sexually active or I am not sexually active with a partner who could impregnate me, which are also both foolproof and common scenarios!)

But as for colon cancer screenings, I'm gonna put that behind a cut.

There's this newfangled thing right. You can either go in for a colonoscopy, which is a routine and basic and fine normal thing people do all the time don't even worry about it, OR they can send you a kit where you submit your uh relevant excreta for testing and they look at it and find out if you have the DNA or other markers of cancer in that, and it's good for only 3 years instead of the 10 that a colonoscopy is good for, but I was like well, I will try that and see how it goes.

Friends. Friends. I thought, I am a person who, due to my lifestyle, quite often shits in a bucket in the woods, I am not precious about my toileting facilities, to be perfectly blunt. But I discovered that it is extremely difficult to contemplate shitting in a box in your own house, and then taking that box, nicely-packaged as it is, and sealing it up all nice and bringing it to a UPS store to drop off, and the outside of it has the testing company's logo and slogan, which mention the colon, prominently emblazoned.

It was not trivial. And at one point, as I struggled with my body's reluctance, I thought, it would probably have been better to take the turbolaxatives they give you, and the indicator liquid, and go and get buttwanded in a hospital. So I will do that next time.

All this is just to say, when you reach the appropriate age for such a thing, do not fall victim to thinking "shitting in a box at home sounds way easier than shitting for twelve hours and then going and being sedated in a hospital" like, by default. It may well be, you may well have really good reasons to think that, but my gosh. It was not as much easier as I'd expected.

(It's not really shitting in a box they send you a whole kit with the collection container and a sample thingy and preservative and a sealing lid and a hundred pages of instructions and a video you can watch that's sort of disturbingly clean and smiley but like. In the end. It's you, and this box, and your sense of self.) (Actually it would have been significantly easier for me to have done this in the woods than in my own house, now I think back on it. Context is king.)

anyway. anyway.

oh and. am i insane or did doctors used to be able to send prescriptions/referrals straight to the other facility? I showed up for my mammogram having left the piece of paper the doctor gave me about it on the kitchen table at home, and said as much to the receptionist. "Should I drive home and get it?" I asked-- 22 minutes each way-- and she said no no, i'll call them, but i have to call them, I can't go ahead and do the test without the thing. Best if i can speak directly to them and get a verbal approval. (What? do we not have emails anymore?)

She came to me and was like "they're not picking up and I have to check in other customers, can you call them" so of course when I called them I got right through, and they said oh we can send it, but the fax doesn't always work, so if you need a verbal, call right back and we'll pick up. I wanted to hand the phone straight to this receptionist but she was checking in a disoriented 84-year-old and I felt I really couldn't break in. So I hung up, the receptionist then said the fax thing hadn't worked, so I called back. The phone rang until it automatically hung up.

The confused 84-year-old who'd arrived after me went in for her screening. The sixtysomething with a cane who'd come in after her went in for her screening. The thirtysomething with impeccable nails who'd come in later than either of them went in for her screening.

20 minutes on hold later, I finally got through, to a different person at the doctor's office who could not understand what I wanted, did not know what to do, I finally handed my phone over to the receptionist at the radiology clinic, who managed to convey to this person what we needed.

God, I miss the like. halcyon good old days of 2012 when they could actually electronically send one another forms. And when not everyone was so horrifyingly understaffed that the prerecorded phone thing had twenty minutes of material on it because they know they won't get to your call.

Nobody wants to work anymore I guess????

Ugh. It was incredibly stressful and time-consuming and meant that I was so sweaty by the time the tech was trying to take images of me that she yelled at me for having put product on. (No ma'am, that's just stress sweat, you told me I couldn't have deodorant remember?) Had to baby-wipe myself off and then dry off on the ludicrous hospital gown. Ay yi yi. But I got my squashed glamor shots, and I am here to reassure you that all those horror stories about mammograms hurting are really for itty bitty titty types, if you have gazongas you can just plunk up there & it's a ton easier for them to get good pictures. So don't worry. It's not pleasant but like, i can basically stand outside the room while they're doing it. (No, this is hyperbole. I did take ibuprofen afterward but there were other contributing factors. My first time, when I was not so sweaty and stressed last year, was much easier.)

i am getting a lot of writing done. much of it is The Wrong Thing but it's all good. it's all good.