#inside job season 1 part 2

[berkcastteam]

We're back join HC, Wolf, @kingofthewilderwest, and @jayalaw as they talk season 1 part 2 of Inside Job. As always we hope you enjoy, and let us know what you think.

-Wolf

[my-gender-is-revolution]

rambling abt the season 1 part 2 finale of inside job

Talking about reagan

so I was like why doesn't she just develop an algorithm and then run away with Ron like that's what algorithms are for but also I was like damn men don't have to choose btwn having a job and a family like they just go away on a business trip every other week and no one cares but also ig she doesn't want to be like that due to the trauma with her dad and why does capitalism make us work so much that we cannot do the things that are human anyway (is this why the robes may not be human) and capitalism and the 40 hr work week is why we have patriarchy and gender roles and shit one person does the work the other does the Family everyone is overworked there is no time for anything

tldr cartoon causes me to think about how capitalism cause gender

[notwhatiam]

OKAY.

So.

I was on a call with my parents today.

We were talking about the Inside Job cancellation, because I’ve been really upset about it and they were actually the ones who got me into the show in the first place. I was saying how weird and unfair it was that it just got pulled out of the blue, when my dad chimed in with something along the lines of, “yeah, but it’s not as though this kind of thing hasn’t happened to the show before. Remember that episode from the end of Part 1 that Netflix ended up taking down?”

And I was immediately like

And my mom and dad were like, “yeah, you don’t remember? That episode at the end of the first part of Season 1. The one with Reagan’s childhood friend that Rand erased from her memory.”

I said, yeah, the part where Reagan goes into her own mind and discovers that she had a friend named Orrin that Rand made her forget. At the end of the episode, she goes back to the present and uses his name as the password to shut down Bear-O and save her friends. That episode is still on Netflix. It didn’t go anywhere.

They were like, “no, but then there’s another episode AFTER that. The one where we find out what actually HAPPENED to Orrin.”

According to them, there was a lost eleventh episode after Inside Reagan. This episode revealed that Rand had trapped Orrin in a cartoon-inspired play land where he had been stuck for the last twenty years. Everyone in the real world thought he had died, and his dad had turned into a broken-down shell of a man over the loss of his son. Reagan and Rand ended up going into the cartoon world to try to save him, and they found out that Orrin had been surviving the whole time by breeding with the cartoon creatures and eating their offspring. They said that they were really confused when they went back to rewatch the first season and the episode wasn’t there, but they could also understand why it had been taken down, because it was honestly one of the most disturbing pieces of television that they had ever seen.

At this point in the conversation, I just assumed that they were messing with me. It’s not like they don’t have a history of pulling twisted shit like this (for context: my dad told me to start watching Inside Job in the first place because he relates to Rand and thought I’d relate to Reagan, and he was 100% right), so I asked them straight-up if they were trying to play some kind of prank. A “ha-ha, you made your own Mandela-effect-style conspiracy” type of prank. They swore up and down that they weren’t lying, and that they both distinctly remembered watching this episode together. They were shocked that I had never seen it, and the entire time over the past year and a half that we’ve been talking about the show, they had thought that this was a part of our shared experience.

So commenced the weirdest Googling spree that I have ever been a part of. I looked for “Inside Job lost episode”, “Inside Job episode 11”, and then a lot of stuff like, “kid gets trapped in cartoon world and mates with creatures to eat their offspring” (which provided a LOT of results, but nothing useful for any purpose except probably for sending the FBI to my house). My parents kept searching for stuff based on details that they could recall from the episode (for example: they remembered a specific moment where Reagan jumped off a cliff and discovered that the ground was bouncy), but they couldn’t find anything on their end. I asked them if they were absolutely sure that this was part of Inside Job, and they weren’t just mixing it up with another show. They were both completely certain that it had been Inside Job, and my parents don’t watch that much animation, so it would have been pretty hard for them to draw on anything else. I went through the Tumblr tag for Orrin Carthwait again, and it was all speculation about what COULD have happened to him, which meant that nobody else had seen this mystery episode, either. Besides, I love this show, and I practically live on Inside Job Tumblr, so if a lost episode existed somewhere, I have a really hard time believing that I wouldn’t have come across it. We’ve been on the phone for an hour at this point. My parents are going through their Netflix history trying to figure out what the fuck they watched. Meanwhile, I’m just lying face-down on the floor having a meltdown because I’m convinced that my parents and I live in different realities. The thing was, it wasn’t a totally impossible scenario? The story did seem to fit together fairly well with the parts of the show that I knew. Also, there’s an episode of Gravity Falls (which was made by a lot of the same people who made Inside Job, and contains a lot of similar themes) where Mabel gets trapped in a cartoonish fantasy land that sounds fairly similar:

So, maybe it was possible that Inside Job contained the more adult version? There’s also the fact that Alex Hirsch did that thing where he basically long-form gaslit the GF fandom back in the day by releasing fake footage of a nonexistent spoiler to throw people off the trail when theories started getting too accurate (I’m too lazy to find a post to link; just look it up if you don’t know about this). Maybe the creators were trying to mess with people by releasing an episode to only a handful of viewers and then yanking it, thus creating a conspiracy about the show in itself? Still, it wouldn’t make sense that EVERY trace of the episode would be wiped from existence. You’d think somebody would be talking about it somewhere. I started wondering if maybe it was possible that I HAD actually seen it, and just didn’t remember it. The thing was, it did actually sound really familiar, and some of the details my parents were describing felt way too clear in my mind. Did I just block it out? Where was it, then? I was absolutely losing my fucking mind at this point, so I started a last-ditch effort to just go through any adult animation shows I could think of and read the synopses of every single episode to see if one matched the description. And finally, FINALLY,

I found the bitch.

It’s Rick and Morty, Season 3, Episode 9: “The ABCs of Beth.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve seen it, so I guess I forgot most of the details. Rewatching it back, though, it’s undoubtedly the same story that my parents were describing. The episode is about Beth discovering that Rick trapped her childhood friend, Tommy, in a fantasy play land of his own design called “Froopyland”. She goes back to try to save him, and discovers that he’s been surviving there the whole time by mating with the Froopyland creatures and then eating their kids. The story is basically about Beth coming to terms with the fact that, while her dad is a really fucked-up person, she isn’t entirely unlike him (for better or worse). Honestly, I can understand why my parents’ minds conflated this episode with the ending of Inside Job. The design of Tommy:

Could conceivably be an adult Orrin:

And a lot of the themes about dysfunctional family and fucked-up childhoods (including missing childhood friends) are actually incredibly similar.

Still, I can’t believe that I was actually briefly led to think that there was a lost episode of my favorite show that I had never seen, which was either purged from the collective consciousness or deleted from my own personal memory. This is the worst thing that my parents have ever done. If I ever go to a therapist, they’ll be hearing about this first.

[anti-gravity-insanity]

WHY DID THEY CANCELED INSIDE JOB :(:(:(

[chichiscloset]

It's never too late to re-invent yourself.

What does reinventing yourself mean?

Reinventing simply means identifying patterns, values, or activities that no longer serve you and changing them for better options. It can involve external characteristics, like job, hobbies, appearance, relationships, and location. True reinvention also happens inside, in how you think and behave. It will be different for everybody, which is what makes it so powerful.

Reasons to reinvent yourself

There are many reasons why you might find yourself craving self-reinvention. Ultimately, it’s a sign that you are seeking change in some area of your life. Here are some possible reasons why it could be time for you to start reinventing yourself. 

You’re stuck in a rut.  Being stuck means you feel like you’ve stagnated in some way. This feeling of languish could be because of a static relationship, tiresome job, or lack of general inspiration.

You’re seeking fulfillment out of life. Wanting to reinvent yourself could come from your desire for personal fulfillment and deeper meaning and purpose in your activities and how you spend your time. This need for self-improvement tends to happen when we acknowledge how much time we’ve wasted on things that don’t bring us joy or meaning.

You need a change. There doesn’t always have to be an exact reason why you crave self-reinvention. It could be that it is simply time for a seasonal shift to occur in your life. From a new haircut to breaking up with your toxic partner, change is a natural thing to desire.

5 steps for reinventing yourself

1. Start with self-understanding and self-awareness

One of the first steps you can take towards reinventing yourself is self-awareness. This means actively assessing your situation and what you would like to achieve. Contemplate your current position in life and what brought you to where you are now. Think about what you’d like to achieve in the next five years and where you would like to be in the future.

2. Define your core values

One really useful practice is defining your core values. It will be much easier to make positive changes if you know exactly what they look like and why you want them. Use these core values to create a personal vision statement that will orient you toward how you want to reinvent yourself.

3. Ask yourself what you want to change

Everybody wants something that they do not have. But chasing after what you don’t have is only worth it if you’ve deeply considered what it is you really want and why. Take a moment to yourself and ponder what is missing from your life. Where/who do you want to be, and what constructive changes can you make?

4.Be honest with yourself

Being honest with yourself can force you to deal with some hard truths that are uncomfortable to acknowledge. This makes it all the more important. Lying to yourself will only hold you back from personal development.

5. Surround yourself with the right people

The type of people that you surround yourself with has the power to either lift you up or bring you down. Make sure that the people around you are kind, honest, and want what is best for you in life. They will encourage you to do the right thing and keep you grounded. 

Reinventing yourself means discovering yourself

Reinventing yourself doesn’t necessarily have to be a complete overhaul of who you are as a person. It should be about recognizing your values and living your life as your authentic self.

Whether your goals involve a new career, moving to the countryside, or finally learning to love yourself, self-reinvention is a quintessential part of life. It is also a lifelong journey.

Until next time.

Chichi ❤️

[reiderwriter]

✍️Introduction and Masterlist✍️

About me: Hi! I'm Kacie, I'm 21, and I use she/her/any pronouns. I'm from the UK but I'm currently an English Teacher in South Korea (if you want to know more I'm totally open to conversations about it!) and this is my side blog, so I follow and respond to comments from @studykac

Writing: At this point in time. I only write for Spencer Reid. I will pass on any requests that focus on other characters because I don't currently write for them. A lot of my work is also NSFW. If you are under the age of 18, do NOT interact with any of my posts that are tagged #maturereiding - please block this tag!! When my requests are open you can request through the Ask box, or through DMs, but please keep in mind I do have a full time job, so I will do my best to get things out quickly. You can find my recommendations in the tag #reiderrecommends!

Other interests: kpop, especially Seventeen, SHINee, NCT and BTS, Criminal Minds (obv), NCIS, reading any genre of books (here's a link for my GoodReads page), Percy Jackson, languages (learning Korean currently!), English Literature, Jane Austen etc.

Requests are: CLOSED - find my request guidelines here!

Writing:

Spencer Reid x Reader NSFW

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress // 3.8k

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress pt. 2 // 2.4K

Summary: After a hot encounter in your car, Spencer pulls you inside your apartment hoping to give you some more relief from the heat.

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, soft Dom, oral (M receiving), pet names, degradation, face fucking, messy sex, creampie, breeding kink

Margaritas and Mistakes // Part 1 // Part 2

Summary: On a group night out, you get a little more drunk than you want to, and when Spencer shows up looking like the love of your life and not just your coworker, you realise that the margarita’s are having more of an effect than they should be.

Warnings: Suggestive language, dirty talk, heavy petting, hickeys, making out, mentions of arousal etc. (part one)

Show You What Devotion Is ❤️‍🔥

Summary: After a lustful encounter on the jet, you and Spencer decide to try out a friends-with-benefits relationship. What you didn't expect was for his sex drive to be so high, and your need for him to overpower your ability to function properly.

Warnings: So many, check the post for details.

More Than Words 🫶 // 8k

Summary: After telling a white lie to your family about your relationship status, you're forced to ask your coworker Spencer to pretend to be your boyfriend for a weekend wedding.

Warnings: Mostly fluff, penetrative sex, creampie, mentions of Spencer's childhood.

The Us That Could've Been 💔 // 5.7k

Summary: They say to get over a man, you have to get under another. Spencer isn't sure why the idea of you doing just that makes him feel so bad.

Warnings: angst, unprotected sex, creampie, spoilers for season 8, mentions of Maeve, Spencer is emotionally illiterate etc.

Unhappy Holidays 👻🦃🎄🎆// 5k

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Flirting with the FBI // 7.1k

Summary: To catch a killer, you have to first out him on the FBI's radar. By hacking their systems and flirting with Spencer Reid, of course.

Warnings: Rough sex, Dom Spencer, bimbofication, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, use of slut and good girl, more in the fic warnings.

Spencer Reid x Reader SFW

The Lightbulb Moment // 4.8k

Summary: You want Spencer all to yourself for the first few months of your relationship and he's only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, you're two dumbasses who can't keep their hands off one another.

Just Hanging Out // 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

(Not smut but highly suggestive, read at your own discretion).

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy? // 2k

Summary: You're a teacher, and you have to call in one of your students' parents to talk about their recent troubling behaviour. It's more embarrassing than you thought when Spencer Reid shows up.

Series

That's What You Get // complete 💕

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise that one of the sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs Reid.

Genres: Fluff, smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters, happy ending.

Playlist: Me and You in 2024

Summary: One song fic a week throughout 2024!

Genres: Various, check individual chapters for specific warnings!♡

Answered Requests

(NSFW) Request inspired by Taylor Swift's False God 🙏// 2.2k

(NSFW) Request for a soft!Dom Spencer with cockwarming and breeding kink 💕 // 2k words

(NSFW) Request for Reader introducing vanilla!Spencer to a BDSM lifestyle ✨// 0.7k words

(SFW) Request for Reader kidnapped by unsub and saved by Spencer 💕 // 2.2k

(SFW) Request for pregnant Reader and Spencer who is an absolute fool for her 🌸 // 1.2k

(SFW) Request for shamelessly flirting with an oblivious Spencer 😊// 2k

(NSFW) Request for post-Maeve Spencer who uses sex as a coping mechanism 🫡//4.6k

(NSFW) Request for alt!sub!Reader meeting the team for the first time (and they totally think she's the Dom) 🤭// 1.5k

(NSFW) Request for CNC office sex with Spencer 🚫// 1k

(SFW) Request for Spencer finding out you knew Emily was alive 😿// 0.7k

(SFW) Request for training session with Spencer 🤼‍♀️// 1.8k

(SFW) Request for I Can See You inspired angst 🥺// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer making the reader beg for it ❤️‍🔥// 1.6k

(NSFW) Request for CNC with soft!Dom Spencer - shower sex 💦// 1.3k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Professor Reid doesn't know he's distracting the class 👓// 3k

(NSFW) Request for Sub!Spencer begging reader to dominate him 🫣// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for Genophobic virgin!Reader ❤️‍🩹// 5k

(NSFW) Request for Professor Spencer with a jealous gf 🐺//2k

(SFW) Request for reader helping Spencer through recovery 🤕// 1k

(NSFW) Request for possessive Spencer reacting to your little black dress 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - Undercover with an "excited" Spencer 🕵‍♂️// 3.6k

(SFW) Request for playing video games with Spencer 🎮// 1k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - munch! Spencer is obsessed with you 👅// 2k

(SFW) Request for Spencer babying an oblivious reader 👶// 2k

(NSFW) PROMPT REQUEST - sharing a cold bed with Frenemy Spencer 🛌// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for reader being distracted while Spencer is reading 📚// 1k

(NSFW) Request for Pillow fort sex with Spencer ⛺️// 2k

(NSFW) Request for car confession and oral with Spencer 🚗// 1.7k

(NSFW) Request for dancing the night away with Spencer 💃// 2.5k

(NSFW) Request for the morning after Spencer loses his V-Card 😶// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for reader confessing to Spencer when he's in his anthrax shower 🚿// 0.7k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer finding readers unusual sensitive area 🤝// 3.5k

(NSFW) Request for Spencer and Hotch!Reader secret relationship 🤐// 6k

(SFW) Request for reader being jealous of Spencer and Lila 🤽‍♀️// 2.1k

(NSFW) Request for gun kink 🔫//3k

(SFW) Request for Shy! Spencer and Flirty!Reader 🫣 // 2.3k

[missnxthingg]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃 - 𝑂𝑁𝐸

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Lando Norris x Single Mom!Reader (Best friends to lovers) 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - Lando and Y/N have always been the best of friends, always there for each other through thick and thin. After years of sharing the paddock and building their own silly little family, both of them just can't hold their feelings inside anymore, even though they're are both afraid it would ruin their friendship. So who'll take the first step? 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 - 4.1 K | 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - None (so far) 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - All chapters come with a social media version. Click bellow and find more about this story!

smau version | series masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

“My hair is absolutely fine”, Lando complained. He had just woken up from his usual nap before the race and would’ve much rather have used the past five minutes sleeping then getting his hair fixed. Y/N ignored his whining and kept fixing his curls, making sure they fell perfectly into place. “Y/N, I'm literally putting on a helmet five minutes from now”.

“Shut up”, she furrowed her eyebrows and kept herself concentrated on his hair. “You’re gonna look perfect for the pictures before getting in the car with this hair”.

“Y/N L/N, full-time groomer, part-time comms girl”, he joked, making her open a small grin. It’s always nice to have small moments like those in the middle of all the mayhem that is the Formula 1 paddock, specially after so many years knowing each other. Lando and Y/N always found a way to make it even more fun by being there together.

“My job is to get the best image of you out there”, she dusted off his shoulders and winked at him. “Excited to be back?”

“Very”, he smiled at her. “Missed me over the winter?”

“Haven’t had the chance to miss you since you insist on us having a friendship outside work and keeps stopping by my house all the damn time”, she joked, pulling him to walk along with her. “Also, have you forgotten the headache you’ve given me on New Year’s Day?”

Lando went to Bali with his friends on the New Year’s and ended up partying a little too hard, which resulted in Y/N having to work all day as everyone else was enjoying their holiday. She had to stay at her hotel room all day in reunion with his PR team, trying to come up with solutions to his mess. When he found out, he even paid her dinner to apologize for the mess he made.

“I already said I was sorry”, Lando nudged her away with his elbow, making Y/N giggle. Then she toughened up and rolled his eyes at him. They soon were inside the McLaren garage, almost ready to start the first race of the year.

“You can apologize properly by doing great today”, she helped him close his suit, feeling his gaze burning on her face. Lando lowered his sight to pay attention to his friend, making her whole body tingle just with the looks.

“I'll try my best”, he shrugged. And Y/N knew that he was going to be good anyway, even if he didn’t really believe in himself. Lando had done great all weekend, so she knew he was also going to do great on track. She was known to have a sense of when her best friend was going to do good on the race, and today was one of those days. She just didn’t tell him.

It’s been like this since the very first moment they met. Lando and Y/N got to know each other when he was still in Formula 2, but already looking into enrolling in Formula 1 with McLaren. She had just got an internship at the team, working in communications, focused on their social media, and was starting to get into the motorsports world as she worked her way through a degree in college. Lando was also building his career, starting as a test driver and growing into a rookie. With both of them being new into this world, being friends made this entire experience less lonely.

“All good?”, she asked, opening a comforting smile at him to make sure Lando was cheerful enough to kick off the season. 

“Does my hair look good for the balaclava?”, he joked as he took his last pieces of fireproofs to wear. Y/N rolled her eyes and nudged him away. “Yes, curly king”, she giggled, earning a quick hug from the boy, who was now ready to get into the car. He sneaked a tiny kiss on her cheek and buried his nose on her neck. “Good luck, champ”.

“Thank you”, he winked at her, walking towards his engineers to have a quick chat before the race.

Y/N’s job was basically on hold for the rest of the race. She already knew the procedures of the media pen after the race, so all she had to do was wait and cheer for her team. It felt good to be back on track, and beginnings of seasons always give her a little bit more of power to do her job. And Bahrain was a solid start for McLaren, with both Lando and Oscar finishing above P6, getting good points for the team. 

“I knew you were going to do good”, Y/N commented when she saw Lando walking towards her; his suit already hanging low on his hips and with a tired smile on his face after he finished the countless post race interviews. He wrapped his arms softly around his friend as he stole her bottle of water. “Congratulations!”

“Thank you”, he held her a little tighter and immediately felt relaxed next to her. For years, Y/N has been the calm after the storm for Lando. “Tired?”

“Not really. Just a little bit”, she shrugged, as they walked back together to the McLaren motorhome, ready to get her things and walk away from the paddock.

“Want to grab something to eat before heading back to the hotel? I’m starving, and I really could use some time without talking to anyone but you”, he giggled, knowing his best friend knew how to respect his silence when he needed. Also, they had been working non-stop together for the past month, without a single time to just enjoy their time together. It would be nice to do absolute nothing next to each other.

“Oh, I’m heading back to London tonight. I have to be at the airport in… two hours”, she said, looking at her watch with a sad smile. “Little one needs me. She has a ballet presentation tomorrow, and I have to be there for her”.

“Of course”, Lando said, feeling the endearment on his chest with her words. “Ollie has the best mom in the world. She’s the luckiest little girl”.

Y/N got pregnant shortly after she started her second year in Formula 1, after being very careless with a college boyfriend, who took off the second he found out they were having a baby, only helping financially every month, but not being there to help her with anything. On the first years, when she was mostly required to be in England, it worked. But now that she grew on her job and was asked to travel the entire world, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from her daughter. So she always comes for the weekend and goes back home as soon as she can.

“You’re heading back to England tomorrow for the post-race debrief, right? You should come have dinner with us after the ballet presentation”, Y/N suggested.

“Am I banned from going to the ballet as well?”, Lando arched his brows, making Y/N's cheeks heat up.

“I mean, I thought it would be quite boring for you”, she shrugged, making Norris laugh.

“Are you joking? Olivia can never be boring. I always want to see her, especially on nice days like these”, he said. “I'll be there. And then I'll take you to her favourite restaurant”.

“She’s four, Lando. Her favourite restaurant is McDonald's”, Y/N rolled her eyes, but he shrugged.

“McDonald's it is!”, he giggled. “I'll see you tomorrow. Have a safe trip back home”.

“You too, Lan”, he pulled her for another quick hug and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head.

Lando has been there for Olivia since before she was born. After her boyfriend took off, Y/N was left pregnant, completely scared for her future. She didn’t know how to keep doing her job and her studies. Norris was the one who stuck by her side, did everything in his power to not get her fired, or not to quit her job, and pushed her to keep going with her education. He was there to take her to doctor's appointments whenever he could, and he was there to hold her hand when the time came. Lando was one of the first people who ever had the opportunity to hold Ollie in the arms. And for everything he did for both girls, he immediately became the little baby’s godfather. There was no one else in this world Y/N trusted more.

She has been more than special in his life as well. Y/N understood him better than anyone, and was his home away from home. She made him laugh, and she made sure that he felt comfortable, loved and happy all the time. And if things weren’t alright, having her support always made things better. So before she left, Lando took one last glance at his best friend and thought: “How lucky I am to have her in my life”. But he kept that thought to himself, trying hard not to think too much into it. Deep down, he knew there was something more on the way his heart raced every time he looked at her.

For the next day, Lando felt anxious to finally get home and be with his tiny second family. He hasn’t seen his goddaughter since the pre-season started and was looking forward to being in her presence again. It was his favourite way to relax after a full weekend, being with the people he loved the most in the world. So it felt good once the meeting at McLaren back in Woking was over, which meant that now he could go to the ballet presentation and be with his girls.

He arrived at least twenty minutes before the presentation started and found Y/N among the crowd, sitting right in the front, using her Instagram as a pastime to wait until Olivia was on stage. She updated her social media with a few shots from the weekend in Bahrain before she was pulled out of her thoughts by Lando, who found his spot next to his best friend.

“Hello”, he greeted with a beautiful smile on his face. Norris was wearing an all-black outfit, trying not to catch much attention to his presence, not wanting to deal with the public eye in such an intimate moment between family. “Am I late?”

“No, don’t worry”, she smiled softly at him. “Ollie will on go on stage in a few moments, so you’re fine”.

“Good. I’m glad to be here”, he elbowed his friend and got comfortable next to her. “How was your flight back home?”

“It was fine, a bit tiring. I got home just in time to have some breakfast and get Olivia ready to go to school. My mom drove her and I knocked out on the couch until lunch. Then I got her from school, we had lunch at a restaurant, and then I took her home to get our ballerina ready��.

“Cute”, his cheeks tinted in a pretty pink shade. “At least one of us had some proper sleep. I woke up at four, then flew here and went straight into MTC. I got changed there, had a nap, and now I’m here”.

“You should’ve gone home to rest, Lando…”, she started, but he cut her through her sentence.

“I told you I wanted to be here. I always want to be here for Ollie’s big days, you know that”, he assured, and Y/N knew he was telling the truth. After all, he has always been there for her daughter, coming to see her whenever he could, never forgetting to get her gifts on Christmas and birthdays, always calling to make sure his goddaughter knew how much she was loved by him. Lando cared about Olivia as if she was his own daughter.

“I know”, she smiled, searching for his hand in the darkness of the room to give it a squeeze. “You’ve always been here for her big days. But I worry about your health”.

“Oh, shut up”, he laughed. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me”.

Then Y/N noticed that Lando was holding flowers in his hands, and her heart immediately felt full at the sight. He definitely is a treasure in her daughter’s life. 

“You brought her a bouquet?”, she commented, making her friend blush with the comment. “Oh my God, that’s so cute!”

“Of course I did! She deserves it”, he smiled, pulling the bouquet to show it to Y/N. “Do you think she’ll like the daisies? I thought roses were too boring and Ollie is never boring”.

“Obviously. She loves everything you give her”, she giggled, finishing just before the music started and the presentation began. 

Y/N obviously cried to see her daughter dancing beautifully on stage, knowing she was on the right path to provide the best life for her little girl. But her heart actually melted to see Lando’s smile as he sat next to her, admiring Olivia’s movements with a hug smile on his face. 

“She’s really good”, he commented, not tearing his eyes away from the girl. “Look at her, wow!”

Y/N threw her arms around him and snuggled close to his body, hugging him from the side. She just couldn’t contain her happiness by him being there for her family. Lando only tore his eyes away from Ollie to look at his best friend for a second. He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and rested a hand on her knee. That was his way to tell her that she was doing a good job.

After the presentation was over, the duo went backstage to pick Olivia to go out for dinner. The little girl was still dressed in her ballerina attire, now with a huge smile on her face as she ran excitedly towards them. But there was only one person she had her eyes for.

“Uncle Lando!”, she shouted, rushing her pace to him, who squatted to hug her. Norris waited for the impact and relaxed once he felt her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. “You came!”

“Of course I came! I wouldn’t miss the best ballerina in town doing her beautiful performance on stage”, he leaned back to look her in the face, the smile never faltering from his face. “You look so beautiful, wow. I’m so proud of you!”

“Thank you”, Ollie giggled, her tiny hands landing on his cheeks, making his smile even wider. Then he pulled the bouquet in his hands and showed it to the girl, who sparkled her eyes at the sight of the flowers. 

“These are for you”, he said, and Ollie quickly wrapped her hands around the bouquet, pulling them closer to her face to smell it. She started jumping in excitement before pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, that’s nice”.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, Olivia said. “I love you, uncle Lando”.

“I love you too, baby”, he declared before picking her up from the floor, walking towards Y/N, whose eyes were welled up with tears from watching the interaction between them. He whipped it off with one of his thumbs before pulling his best friend for a group hug.

“Why are you crying, mummy?”, Olivia asked, her cheeks pressed between Lando and Y/N’s body. 

“Oh, it’s because you look so beautiful. I’m so proud!”, she giggled. “These are happy tears, I promise”.

“I love you too, mummy. Just as much as I love uncle Lando”, the girl declared, making Lando’s heart warm up with the comment.

“I love you too, Ollie”, Y/N pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “Are you hungry, baby? Uncle Lando is taking us for dinner”.

“And you get to choose where”, he smirked, making Olivia even more excited with the proposition. 

“McDonald’s!”, she shouted, making Lando laugh. Then he looked at Y/N, who had that ‘I told you so’ look on her face. “I want a burger, nuggies, fries and ice cream. Oh, and the little toy”.

“Your wish is my command”.

Lando always bent over backwards to see Olivia smile. He bought everything she wished to eat, and she was stuffed with goodies that made her belly warm. Then she filled him in with everything that was going on in her life, making Y/N sit back, eat her burger, and admire the interaction between them. He had been helping her with food as he listened carefully to every single world she was saying. It was good to have someone else taking care of her, lifting the weight off her shoulders for a second. By the time they were done, Norris held both of his girls' hands and walked to his car, ready to go home with them.

Olivia fell asleep on the way home as they had a very quiet ride, only listening to some of Lando’s chill music. Then he helped carry her inside when they arrived, as Y/N opened the door and got her daughter’s bed ready for the night. She changed the little girl’s clothes and tucked her in bed, not forgetting her signature forehead kiss before leaving. Norris watched it from the door with a tender smile on his face. He pulled his friend by the elbow, engulfing her in a comforting, long hug. 

In the quietness of her house, everything felt perfectly into place. Lando rarely gets those moments alone with his best friend when they are rushing around the paddock. So whenever he sees the opportunity, he takes it. And they stood there, holding each other for a few minutes until he pulled Y/N out of the room. She takes care of both him and Olivia all the time. It’s only fair that he took care of her sometimes.

Norris sat her down on the couch and quickly picked a few items from her room, such as a soft blanket, along with some skincare to take off her makeup and make her relax. Then he sat next to her and patted his lap, just so she could lie down and rest. Lando softly ran wipes across her face, removing her make up before putting a relaxing face mask on her skin. Then he massaged her scalp as she sighed in comfort, enjoying every second of that treatment. He finished the skincare with moisturizer and a little kiss on her forehead, making her smile.

“I don’t deserve you”, she commented as Lando blushed. “Seriously, Ollie and I are so lucky to have you in our lives”.

“I’m just taking care of the people that I love”, he shrugged. “Do you want some tea?”

“I want some wine”, she giggled, making him tag along. “I think there’s a bottle in the fridge and the glasses are still in the same place”.

Lando shot up from his seat, but quickly came back with the bottle, an opener and two glasses. He wasn’t someone to drink much, but he would never refuse this bonding time with his best friend. Still, he poured just a little in his glass before toasting with Y/N.

“God, I’m so tired”, she vented. “I can't sleep when I'm away from Ollie”.

“I know”, he squeezed her knee and Y/N leaned her head into his shoulder. “It sucks having to be away all the time. But I promise you’re doing great in this parenting thing”.

“If you think so”, she shrugged. Most times, Y/N second-guesses herself, wondering if she was being a good mother by leaving her child every other week with their grandmother, only to travel to another country. But she knew that was the only way to provide Ollie with the best life she could have; after all, the salary is very good.

“I know it”, Lando assures. “Olivia is the sweetest kid of all time. She’s kind, funny, very talented and polite. And she absolutely loves you, because you are the best mother in the world”.

“Thanks, Lan”, she smiled at him. “I’m glad she has someone like you in her life. I’m glad to have someone like you in mine”.

“I’ll always be here for you and Ollie, you know that. I’ll take care of you both until the end of my days”, he promised, pulling his best friend for a quick kiss on the crown of her head. “And in the end, everything is worth it, right?”

“Olivia is always worth it”, she assured him, opening the biggest smile. “She’s everything to me. And it’s crazy how much someone can mean to you. But I guess motherhood is always like this”.

“I can’t wait to be a dad. I know I’m going to love it just as much as being a godfather”, he said. “You’re going to enjoy being a godmother someday too”.

“I will be the proudest auntie in the world! Your kid will love me because I’ll pamper them with all the love I can give”.

Deep down, Lando knew he didn’t want Y/N to be the godmother of his children. He has known for a while that he wanted her to be their mother; to be the one he raised a family with through the years. He was very happy whenever he was with her and Olivia, loving more than anything that little family he built with his best friend, so he wanted that to grow even more, maybe with some children of their own.

But confessing his feeling for Y/N tonight, or any night in the near future, wasn’t in Lando’s plans. He would rather just enjoy this little family without taking the risk of losing it for unrequited love. After all, if it didn’t work out, he loses both of the loves of his life.

“Are you staying the night?”, she broke the silence after a few minutes just listening to the sound of television, as they finished their wine together.

“Of course. Did you think I was going to pass the opportunity of cuddling with you?”, he frowned. “I was pissed when McLaren didn’t book us at the same hotel, so I could have an excuse to sneak into your room”.

“Well, you’re the famous driver, McLaren golden boy. I’m just the comms girl. Not all of us can stay at swanky hotels”.

“You deserve the swankiest of them”, Lando said, making Y/N flustered with his comment.. “Come on, you barely can keep your eyes opened. Let’s go to bed”.

He swiped her off her feet and carried her to the bedroom as she tried to laugh quietly to not wake Olivia up. Lando threw her in the mattress as he laughed along, but immediately went into ‘take care mode’ when they were inside those four walls. He chose a comfortable pyjama for Y/N and picked some of his clothes, which he conventionally left in her house for nights like these, then went into her bathroom so they could have some privacy to change.

After they were both dress, Lando hopped into bed too and quickly found his favourite spot: his head resting on her chest, with his arms engulfing her in the most comfortable hug. He felt the tiredness of the weekend crash his body, but he felt relaxed to be in his favourite girl’s arms.

“Does Ollie have school tomorrow?”, he asked, feeling Y/N nod, even with her eyes closed.

“She does, I have to be up very early tomorrow”, she groaned, already feeling too lazy to wake up early tomorrow. 

 “I can take her to school, don’t worry”, he said, wanting to take this weight off Y/N’s back. After all, he could very much take care of Olivia for her, as he had done countless times before. “And then after classes, we can all do something fun, like going to a park or something. Maybe I can take her to a toyshop and she can buy anything that she wants”.

“Don’t spoil my child too much. I don’t want her to grow as a spoiled kid. You’ll ruin her!”

“I will”, he giggled. “But Olivia deserves everything in the world and more”.

They fell quiet for a moment, and Lando was sure that Y/N had already fallen asleep. That until her fingers rolled in his curls, making him hum in satisfaction. He wanted that feeling for the rest of his life. He wanted to sleep next to her every night until the end of days.

And then came the three words he always adored hearing from her.

“I love you, Lan”, she mumbled. “Thank you for being the best friend one could ever wish for”.

Even after being friend zoned, Lando didn’t care about anything else, feeling his chest burning in adoration for his favourite girl. “I love you too, baby”, he whispered back, his words carrying more than he actually wanted to mean. 

⋘ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 // 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 ⋙

𝒔𝒐𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒎𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒂 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 . 𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @celestialams @kapsylia @igotnorrrizz @hiireadstuff @bishhhitsaurion @mrsmaybank13 @bborra @sltwins @riccdannyf1 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @ctrlyomomma @lan4cha16 @alltoomaples @ellen3101 @hellyesjaehyun @tastebaldwin @sweate-r-weathe-r @carmenita122 @m0cha-bunny @lqvesoph @itscrzy @fangirlvibez @poppyflower-22 @livelovesports @logischeroktopus @happy-jj @saturnbloom77 @formulaal @secretgal66 @taisferrari-blog @sunsshinesunny @eclipsedcherry @tems13 @readingbringsjoy @timmispeach @kenzeyeballs @alilcloudy @rchitect-2015 @tillyt04 @eringaitskill @Honeyhatty12 @dreamercrowd @demig0d0fapollo @mxmtewnz @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @beyond-the-ashes @ijustgomessitupx @floraav @laiba26mindflay3r @marialovesf1 @sltwins @lizaschronicles @katieschry1 @loveofmylife12 @diaa-20 @urfavsgf @likedbygaslyy @notturlover @c-losur3 @brizzy-xo @gorgrussell @ellasaddiction2 @morketheduck @kravitzwhore @darkacademicvibes @jenna123456789 @crispymcniall @arsyao @phantomxoxo @noobmaster6931 @ohlahlaa @c0rpsecore @rafegirly @darleneslane @annalisenelson @nataliambc @amorydsmt @slytherinholland @hstylesmermaid @harrysdimples05 @xxbaby-dollxx @neilakk @xxx-betty

[endless-ineffabilities]

Aaaand, CUT! (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: I've been watching a ton of The Office bloopers, which inspired this random little thing. This is set waaay back in part 1. Oh, the good ol' days.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan and the reader film a promo spot for season 2. They try to, at least.

The press day in Paris had been going smoothly for the most part. At least, that was how it seemed. You hoped that you have been able to act smooth, so to speak, having to sit in close quarters with a guy who can make your heart race a mile a minute, and all he has to do is turn those blue eyes in your direction. 

You and Ewan were halfway through your schedule of interviews and promo. But by the time the crew set up for the next clip—a quick promotional spot—you both were running on caffeine and shared inside jokes. 

You couldn’t believe you were sharing private quips with Ewan (Aemond himself!) but you found it easy to get lost in your dynamic. These were the kind of jokes that only made sense after hours and hours of interviews, with lights glaring in your faces and scripted answers rolling off your tongues like a broken record. 

You stood next to him, the House of the Dragon logo projected on a screen behind you. The task was simple: introduce yourself and tell the audience to watch House of the Dragon Season 2 on Max. Fifteen seconds, tops.

But you two had already spiraled into a fit of laughter in the last three takes. 

Somehow, saying the line together, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max,” had become the hardest thing in the world.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” the director said, sounding more tired than frustrated. “From the top.”

Ewan turned to you, his lips twitching. “Bet you crack first, darling.”

Your mouth fell open in faux indignation. “Shush. I got this.”

“Let’s see, shall we?” His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before he straightened up, ready to go.

The red light on the camera flicked on, and the cameraman waved a hand as a signal for you to begin.

You barely had time to shoot Ewan a warning glance before you introduced yourself. 

He followed smoothly, “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

It was going fine. Smooth, even. So professional.

Until you reached the part where you had to say the final line in unison.

“Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—” Ewan dropped his voice an octave, dragging out “Max” in an over-the-top baritone that sent you over the edge.

“Pffft—shit!” you snort uncontrollably. “What was that?” You pressed a hand to your mouth, trying desperately to keep it together, but it was too late.

Take, ruined.

“What?” Ewan crumbles into laughter, his low chuckle infectious.

The director sighed heavily. “Cut!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, wiping at the tears forming in the corners of your eyes. “We’re never going to get through this.”

Ewan leaned in, ducking his head to whisper, “You’re adorable when you laugh.”

“Stop it,” you shot him a look. Act cool. “You’re distracting me on purpose.”

“Stop what?” he smirked. “I’m just trying to help.”

“Right. Some help you are,” you said sarcastically, though the warmth in his gaze made it impossible to stay serious for long.

“Come on, focus,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “We’ve got a job to do here.”

“Maybe you should focus,” you retorted, arching an eyebrow. “You’re the one who keeps messing up with that ridiculous voice.”

He laughed again. “What can I say? I thought we needed some extra charm.”

You gasp playfully. “Is that your subtle way of telling me I don’t possess enough charm?”

“Oh, darling,” he said, “I could never say that to you.”

You clear your throat. “Mhmm… okay, well—”

His smirk stayed right in place, as he leaned back coolly.

“Alright, guys, one more time,” the director called out. “Please, just this one. Action.”

You stood a little straighter, determined to get it right this time, then recited your line. 

“... and I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you spoke in unison. “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on—”

But this time, Ewan leaned in just a fraction, whispering right at the end of the line, “Max... or maybe just come watch it with me?”

His breath was warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. You lost it completely.

“Oh my god, stop,” you gasped between fits of laughter, swatting at his arm. “Ewan, you can’t say that!”

The director groaned from behind the camera, clearly on the verge of giving up. “Alright, five minutes, people. Just take a breather.”

You were still laughing as you walked off the set, shaking your head in disbelief. “We’re never going to get this done.”

Ewan followed you, his grin softening into something more intimate as he glanced your way. “Maybe we could be stuck here all day together. Would that really be so bad?”

Your breath hitched slightly. He wasn’t looking at you like he was joking anymore. You opened your mouth to respond, but the words got tangled up somewhere between your brain and your throat.

Thankfully, the crew called you both back for another take before things could get any more complicated.

Once again, you took your places under the lights. You made the mistake of catching Ewan’s eye, and the memory of his earlier teasing flooded back, making it impossible to keep a straight face.

Ewan raised his eyebrows at you, as if daring you to start laughing again.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to laugh.

“I didn’t say anything,” he said, his lips twitching.

“You’re thinking it.”

He chuckled under his breath, his voice low. “I was thinking of something else entirely.”

Your cheeks burned. Before you could even process what he meant, the camera started rolling again.

You took a deep breath and said your line without a hitch.

Ewan jumped in, his voice perfectly smooth and serious this time. “And I’m Ewan Mitchell.”

Together, you said, “Go and watch House of the Dragon Season 2, only on Max.”

You made it. You actually made it through the line.

The director hurriedly shouted a relieved, "Aaaand, CUT!" then added, "Holy shit, you two—with all that flirting, I'm amazed we made it this far today."

[saradika]

— invisible string

din djarin x vaguely force sensitive!reader

rated e - 1.7k

tags: divergent timeline, soulmate!au, takes place across season 1 & 2, missed connections, the Razor Crest lives, PiV, marking, creampie, magical elements

a/n: for the TS Challenge by @beskarandblasters! This was so fun, thanks so much for hosting this event! 💖 I was so excited to get this song & character

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You feel as if you are always out of step.

Too early. And then somehow - just a little bit too late.

As if you've missed something crucial. A prickle on the back of your neck. Eyes scanning the crowds of people as you weave through cities - looking for someone.

As to whom, though - you're never quite sure.

You think it's always been there. A similar sort of feeling that flickers when you're in danger. That was something you had cultivated. Manipulated into a force you can wield. A push and pull, an aid - when you need it. Something you draw from often, during your days as a smuggler.

But you're not sure what to do with this.

The feeling is pushed down on Nevarro.

Contacted for a job, one that had been easy enough. Your goods exchanged in a dingy cantina - a shipment of stolen fuel cells furtively traded to an irritated man that went by Karga. Your eyebrows raised at the charred hole in the man's fine clothes - a half-hearted wonder at how the man was still standing.

The Imperial credits he offers you do not get you far. He's unable to offer you a puck - his trade was in bounty hunting, not smuggling. You're not sure if you'd take one, and the cells are enough to keep his crew afloat for a while. A dead-end for now, but you think - not always.

After, your ship drifts along an unseen track.

To Tatooine this time. A big job for the Hutts that takes you two weeks. Days in the sun spent waiting for the payments to transfer to your account, and so in the meantime - you tinker.

Trading your way up. A broken blaster fixed, exchanged for ship parts. The parts installed, the labor paid for with two, beat-up old speeders.

Only to sell them both to a cocky hot-shot bounty hunter for double their value - his over-blown self-confidence eclipsing the fact that you were absolutely swindling him.

It’s not your problem.

Though here, you can't help but feel the urge to linger. An itch beneath your skin, as if you've missed something, again.

You ignore it. Trading up one more time - swapping Mos Eisley for the sea. The choppy waters of Trask washing away the grit and sand that clings to your skin.

There's always work to be found here - deals to make with the Quarren and Mon Calamari. Those days spent at the inn, with lunches of warm homemade chowder and wrapped in chunky-knit sweaters.

Eyes snagging on a couple that often sits together at lunch. Their features frog-like, affection clear in their soft chatter, the slow blink of their large, black eyes. You imagine it to be a stolen moment - meeting up in the afternoon, too eager to wait until evening to see each other.

It’s nice.

It follows you, back to your room.

You think about them later - the obvious connection. A bone-deep urge to find another that matches a part of you. Something you've never had.

Somehow you know it’s out there.

But it's not time.

The next day, your ship takes off again.

There's a feeling deep down that for once, you're right where you need to be.

Your path is not guided by a job. Something spinning inside your chest like the point of a compass, your fingers keying coordinates with a mind of their own.

It's not a sea. Not a desert. Not a growing town, slowly rebuilding.

You're taken to a forest. The trees are unlike those you've seen - stretching tall and thin towards the sky. Their leaves sparse, but still filling the space with the sheer number.

There's a village - but you're drawn away from the tall walls. There's nothing inside that you seek. Drawn back to the trees you had seen from above. There's no tracks for you to follow, it's only your own boots pressed into the earth.

But you still go out, day after day.

It's on the third day, as you sit by the edge of a clear, shallow pool, that you hear the crack of branches under boots.

It should frighten you… but it doesn't.

It feels like an inevitability.

Your head turns, and there's a man there. His limbs encased in armor of shining beskar. A Mandalorian, you realize, when your eyes meet the dark visor that bisects his helmet.

"It's you." The words are a flat buzz, through his helmet. Unsurprised, somehow. Just as you are.

And it's him.

There's something about him, this man.

Deep down, it feels as if a string is tied around something vital inside you. A piece of you that you cannot live without, twined with its match inside him. Like the path you've taken has always led to this moment, this meeting.

You're not sure what that something is...

But think you are finally ready to find out.

His touch is familiar, though you've never known it. Much like everything else, it feels almost destined.

You know he feels it too. A slow circling dance, the weight of his eyes following you from behind the visor. That string inside no longer feels like a leash, but instead - a lifeline.

Finally being able to acknowledge that he has been what you've been orbiting around this whole time. Easing that ever-present ache of loneliness that had always followed you.

For some time, he had thought you would be the one to train Grogu. That perhaps this had been the reason why the fates had pushed you together.

You had tried, and failed. That part of you still too raw, too unfashioned. It lived inside you, but it was something you had been unable to teach another. How could you, when you did not even know the word for what it was?

And as time passed, you realized deep down that you were truly meant to be here now. Not for the before.

An aid at first, of course. You had gone with him to Tython. Traded in your ship, and traveled on the Slave 1. Had faced death by his side, staring into the black chrome of the Dark Troopers.

Had grieved with him, after.

You think this had been your place all along.

This liminal space, in those months that follow.

Giving him something to grab onto. Fingers sinking into flesh, your back hitting the mattress as he follows.

It’s dark, in the belly of his ship. With anyone else your senses would be screaming, a ringing alarm.

But you’ve come to know each room, fingers tracing the cold metal. From the walls, to the bunk, to him - the tips slipping under to tug at the fastenings of his armor.

He is quiet, like he often is now. But you can feel the heat that rolls off him in waves. The harsh buzz of his breath through the vocoder, before the light cuts out completely.

Before it’s just him and you.

His knees nudge your thighs wider. Pressing into muscle and flesh, forcing them up and apart. Your fingers twist in his curls, angling your mouth up to meet the kiss that is all teeth and tongue.

Fingers dip down, thick and calloused. Parting you, nudging inside to where you’re wet and waiting. Pumping deep with his thumb pressed snug against the button of your clit - leaving you dizzy and clenching and wondering if he just knew, as well.

You think he did. He does.

And when he works himself inside you, you finally feel full. Ripping a sound from each of you - his rough and swallowed, yours a broken murmur of his name.

Something else given in the dark, on another night akin to this. Pieces of himself peeled back and gifted, only to be carefully wrapped up and buried deep.

The pound of his hips itches at something you’ve been missing. Those hands tugging at your hips, pulling you to meet each harsh thrust. Fingers slipping down to swirl against you again - a spark rising each time you fit together, building swiftly to an inferno.

“Din,” You breathe, as something heavy flickers inside you, just out of reach, “Stars, please. Don’t stop-”

“I won’t,” It’s a low oath, as his cock grinds deep, “I’ve waited too long for you, cyare.”

He wrenches it from you, setting you ablaze. Your is cry loud in the tiny room as you come undone. The wild swirl of your senses narrowing down, until it’s just him. Din’s mouth against your neck, warm breath and teeth nipping marks into your skin - the pleasure flowing from you in pulsing waves, sinking into him.

Making him follow, no more than a dozen thrusts later. A gritted, bitten-back moan of your own name, before his hips are stuttering. Giving back what you passed to him, his cock throbbing inside you, buried deep.

Where he stays, until he’s gone soft. A pang of loss shuddering through you when he slips from between your thighs - expecting him to return to his own bunk.

To leave you, again.

But the mattress dips, next to you. The space narrow, a short sigh when you wiggle too much trying to get comfortable. Hands hooking around your wrists, hauling your hips over his. Settling you down on top of him.

And in the dark - he stays.

“Should have met you on Tatooine,” Din tells you later that night, unbidden. Letting your legs twine with his, thighs parted to make room for you. “I didn’t know it was you. If I had-”

His words end abruptly, hanging. Both of you thinking about all those moments when time hadn’t lined up. The synchronicity of your movements, just barely nudged out of time.

Both there, during that same moment. If you had stayed another day, maybe that would have been your meeting.

But you had left early, and he had came late.

“We’re here now.” You tell him, chin pressing against his chest. Eyes finding his in the dark, though you cannot see. “Isn’t that enough?”

There’s the brush of his hand along your spine - knuckles, and then fingertips as they unfurl.

“Yes.”

It is enough, for now.

You’re not sure if it’s forever. If, for some reason, you’ll be forced to part again. But tonight, you’re not worried.

Because, if you were to reach inside yourself and pluck that golden string right now - letting it thrum…

You think that he would feel it, too.

thanks so much for reading!! 💖

cyare - beloved

[amethystarachnid]

MUTANT BODYGUARD - part I

⤷ JAMES LOGAN HOWLETT

ᯓ★ Pairing: James Logan Howlett x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff and spicy (I mean, it's Logan...)

ᯓ★ Story type: short story

ᯓ★Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

ᯓ★ Word count: 6k

ᯓ★ TW(s): Reader has stalkers and crazy fans, said stalker gets inside reader's apartment and Logan uses his claws on him

ᯓ★ Timeline: doesn't follow a timeline in the x-men movies, just...maybe before days of future past?

ᯓ★ Request: not requested

ᯓ★ From: Marvel Bingo, Bodyguard romance x Age Gap

ᯓ★ Comment if you want to be added to the taglist (specify if you want the everything taglist or for a specific character)

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo (requests open)

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ If you are a Charles Xavier lover click on this link!

ᯓ★ English isn't my first language and this isn’t proof read

You’ve always hated the idea of needing a bodyguard. It feels ridiculous, like some over-the-top celebrity diva move. But ever since your career skyrocketed, the tabloids won’t leave you alone. A role in a blockbuster film, a few chart-topping singles, and suddenly everyone wants a piece of you. The constant media frenzy, the “fans” who somehow know where you live, the paparazzi camping outside your apartment—it’s become too much. When the threatening letters started showing up, your manager insisted on hiring a bodyguard.

You rolled your eyes, argued, but eventually caved. You love your career, but you’re not an idiot. You know when things get dangerous.

So, here you are, pacing back and forth in your living room, waiting for the “best in the business” to show up. The guy your manager picked. No name, no details, just a reputation for getting the job done. Whatever that means.

You stop mid-step when the door opens. In walks a man who looks like he’s seen and survived more wars than any human being should. His hair is a wild mess, and the dark scruff on his face gives him a rugged, almost dangerous look. He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and built like someone who could easily break someone in half with his bare hands. He’s wearing a leather jacket, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal thick forearms that have clearly seen some action.

You blink, not expecting…well, this.

“You’re the bodyguard?” you ask, eyes sweeping over him. You were expecting someone in a suit, maybe with an earpiece and sunglasses. Not…a lumberjack biker.

He glances at you with piercing, slightly narrowed eyes. “Logan. And yeah, I’m your bodyguard, sweetheart.”

You cross your arms, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Don’t call me sweetheart.”

He gives a half-smirk, the kind that’s both infuriating and somehow annoyingly attractive. “Noted.”

There’s an awkward pause as he looks you up and down, assessing you in a way that makes you want to shrink under his gaze. “So, what’s the deal? You a princess or somethin’? 'Cause I gotta say, this gig doesn’t exactly scream 'royalty.'”

“I’m an actress, actually,” you respond with a touch of sarcasm. “Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

Logan’s unimpressed. He shrugs, clearly not the type to follow pop culture. “Nope.”

You’re not sure whether to be offended or relieved. On one hand, it’s nice not to be recognized. On the other hand, what rock has this guy been living under? You’re practically everywhere these days.

“You can Google me later,” you say, waving a hand dismissively. “I guess I’ll just assume you’re qualified.”

“More than qualified,” he growls, his voice deep and gravelly, like it’s been dragged across the pavement. “I don’t do babysitting, but your manager was…insistent. Apparently, someone out there’s got a real interest in makin’ sure you don’t stick around long enough for the next season of whatever-you’re-in.”

You narrow your eyes at him, irritated by his attitude. “Well, lucky me, right? Having you around means I’ll definitely survive to make another movie.”

He smirks again, this time with more of an edge. “Keep that attitude up, and I’ll have you wishing they got to you first.”

You snort, because as gruff as he is, you’re not intimidated. “I bet you’re a real hit at parties.”

“I don’t do parties.”

“Shocking,” you deadpan, unable to stop yourself from throwing in a bit of sass.

Logan’s eyebrow twitches, but he seems more amused than annoyed by your attitude. “You’re gonna be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“Only if you deserve it,” you quip, sitting down on your couch and crossing your legs. “So, how does this work? Do you stand in the corner looking all broody while I go about my life? Or are you planning on following me everywhere like a lost puppy?”

He scoffs, taking off his jacket and tossing it over the back of a chair. “You wish. I’m not here to play lapdog. I’m here to make sure no one tries to kill you. If that means following you around and making sure you don’t get yourself into more trouble than you’re worth, so be it.”

“Comforting,” you say dryly. “It’s nice to know you think I’m worth saving.”

Logan pauses, eyes locking with yours, and for a second, the air between you shifts. His gaze softens just a fraction, enough that you almost forget the gruff exterior. Almost.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you were,” he says, his tone quieter but no less intense.

You blink, caught off guard by the sincerity. “Well…thanks, I guess.”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Then he glances around your apartment. “You got security cameras?”

“Uh, yeah. Around the building,” you say, still trying to shake off the weird tension between you two.

“Good. I’ll check the perimeter. You stay put,” he orders, turning to leave.

“Oh, sure, yeah, I’ll just sit here quietly while my life’s in danger,” you call after him, sarcasm dripping from every word. “Don’t worry about me.”

Logan stops at the door and looks over his shoulder with that damn smirk again. “I won’t.”

As he walks out, you can’t help but shake your head. This is going to be a long job.

The first couple of days with Logan are…interesting, to say the least. He’s always there, a constant shadow, but he’s not the hovering type. He gives you space, but you can feel his presence in the room, always alert, always watching. And the banter—well, that hasn’t stopped.

“You think you could maybe try not to look like you hate being here?” you ask one morning as you head out for a meeting with your agent.

Logan’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, that signature scowl on his face. “This is my happy face.”

“Really? Because it looks a lot like your ‘I want to punch someone in the throat’ face.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling. “That’s pretty much the same face.”

You sigh dramatically, brushing past him. “Well, you’re really selling the ‘friendly bodyguard’ vibe.”

“Good thing I’m not here to be friendly,” he shoots back, falling into step beside you.

“Right. You’re just here to make sure I don’t die.”

“Exactly.”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

He shrugs, but you catch the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Logan looks at you, his expression softening just slightly. “Yeah, but I’m growing on you.”

“Debatable.”

But as you both walk out into the chaos of cameras, fans, and flashing lights, you realize he might be right.

The next few days pass in a blur of meetings, interviews, and public appearances. With Logan by your side, everything is under control. He’s always there—solid, unflinching, and frustratingly good at his job. You don’t feel a single ounce of fear when he’s around, but you do feel something else, something that keeps tightening between you two like a stretched wire.

It’s impossible not to notice how Logan moves, how his muscles flex under that leather jacket when he’s surveying a crowd, the quiet, simmering power in his stance. And then there are the looks. God, the looks he gives you. It’s subtle, but whenever you catch his eye, there’s this electric charge, a tension that wraps itself around you both, even if no one else in the room can feel it.

You don’t acknowledge it, though. At least, not out loud. It’s ridiculous. He’s older—way older—and this is supposed to be professional. You’re not some starry-eyed girl who’s going to fall for her bodyguard just because he’s dangerous and good-looking.

Right?

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. But the more time you spend with him, the harder it is to ignore. He’s just so there, so…Logan.

The rumors don’t help either.

It starts with a photo—just one. The paparazzi manage to catch Logan opening your car door, his hand on the small of your back as you slip inside. It’s a simple, professional gesture, but in the world of tabloids, it’s something else entirely. Within hours, the internet is flooded with headlines: Mysterious Man Seen With Actress Y/N! New Bodyguard or New Romance?

You laugh it off at first, but the rumors snowball. Suddenly, every gossip site is buzzing with theories. Logan’s too attractive to just be a bodyguard, they say. You’re spending too much time together. There are whispers about the age gap, about the “forbidden attraction.” Some tabloids get more imaginative—Logan: The Bad Boy Who Stole Y/N’s Heart? or Secret Fling with Older Bodyguard? Inside the Dangerous Romance.

“I can’t believe people are actually buying this,” you mutter, scrolling through a particularly ridiculous article.

Logan’s lounging on your couch, reading through a security report. He doesn’t even look up when he responds. “You’re famous. People’ll believe anything.”

“Yeah, but this?” You wave your phone at him, exasperated. “Secret romance? Seriously?”

Finally, he glances up, his expression unreadable. “You worried about it?”

You snort. “No. It’s just insane. People will say anything for clicks.”

Logan’s silent for a moment, his gaze lingering on you a beat longer than necessary. “It’s not that crazy, y’know.”

You freeze, your heart doing a weird little flip. “What’s not?”

He smirks, just a touch of amusement in his eyes. “You. Me. The rumors.”

Your mouth goes dry. “I—what?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “People see what they wanna see, darlin’. You’re young, successful, in the spotlight. They think you’re gonna fall for the first guy that gives you a little danger, a little excitement.”

You narrow your eyes, heat prickling at your skin. “And you think you give me that?”

Logan’s smirk widens, slow and deliberate, like he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. “Don’t I?”

Your stomach twists in response. There’s no denying it—there’s something between you two, something you’ve been ignoring for days. Weeks, maybe. But hearing him say it, so casually, like it’s a fact you both already know, sends a rush of heat straight through you.

“Logan,” you start, trying to regain some control, “there’s nothing—”

“Yeah? You sure about that?” His voice is low, and suddenly the space between you feels smaller, like the room’s shrinking, the air thickening. He’s not even touching you, but it feels like he is, the weight of his presence pushing against every nerve in your body.

You swallow hard. “We—there’s an age gap.”

He chuckles darkly. “Yeah, there is. Doesn’t seem to stop ‘em from talkin’, does it?”

“No, but—” You stop, frustrated, because what’s your argument here? That you’re not attracted to him? That you don’t spend half your nights thinking about what it would be like if he wasn’t just your bodyguard?

Logan stands, slowly, and you have to tilt your head up to keep eye contact. His sheer size makes the room feel smaller, more intimate. He moves closer, and your breath catches in your throat as he stops just in front of you.

“Thing is, people are gonna talk,” he says, voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Doesn’t matter what we do or don’t do. So, the way I see it, you got two choices. You keep fightin’ what’s happenin’, or…”

He pauses, his eyes dropping to your lips before slowly moving back up to meet your gaze.

“…you see where this goes.”

Your heart hammers in your chest. There’s no more pretending, no more banter to hide behind. The air is thick with everything you’ve been avoiding—the attraction, the tension, the unspoken desire that’s been crackling between you both since the moment you met.

You take a shaky breath, trying to think through the haze of want clouding your mind. “Logan, this is—this is complicated. We can’t just—”

“Why not?” His voice is rough, raw, like he’s barely holding himself back. “You’re not some kid. You know what you want. So do I.”

There’s a dangerous edge to his words, something primal that sends another surge of heat through you. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity that makes it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

You try to hold on to logic, to the rational part of your brain that’s screaming at you to slow down. But when you meet his eyes, all dark and stormy, your resolve crumbles.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Logan murmurs, his voice so low it’s barely a whisper. His hand moves, just a fraction, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you, to pull you close. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Because you can’t tell him that. You can’t say the words when your whole body is aching for something you know you shouldn’t want but can’t stop thinking about.

He steps closer, and the air between you crackles with the kind of tension that makes your skin tingle. “Last chance, sweetheart.”

Your pulse races. Every rational thought, every reason you’ve been telling yourself not to cross this line, fades into the background. All you can think about is him—his scent, his presence, the way his body radiates heat like a furnace.

“Logan…” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

That’s all it takes.

In one swift movement, he closes the distance between you, his large hands finding your waist as he pulls you against him. The world tilts, and before you can think, before you can breathe, his lips are on yours—hot, demanding, and absolutely relentless.

You gasp against his mouth, but it’s lost in the kiss, in the way he takes control, his grip firm but careful, as though he’s been holding himself back for weeks and now there’s no stopping it. He tastes like whiskey and danger, and the moment his tongue brushes against yours, your knees threaten to give out.

You don’t even realize your hands are in his hair until you’re pulling him closer, pressing against him as if you can’t get enough. The kiss is rough, intense, filled with every ounce of pent-up tension you’ve both been ignoring.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Still think it’s just rumors?” he growls, voice ragged.

You can’t speak. You just shake your head, fingers still tangled in his hair, your body flush against his.

Logan smirks, his thumb brushing against your hip. “Thought so.”

Just as you start to lose yourself in the heat of Logan’s kiss, a sharp, sudden beep cuts through the haze. It takes a second to register, but when you pull back slightly, you see Logan’s face shift—his entire body going rigid. His phone is vibrating in his jacket pocket.

The change in him is immediate. The heat, the softness, all of it hardens into something sharp and dangerous. He pulls away from you, grabbing his phone with a quick, practiced movement. You don’t get a chance to ask what’s happening because his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing at the screen.

"Shit," he mutters, already moving toward the door.

“What’s going on?” You ask, heart still racing from a mix of adrenaline and confusion.

Logan’s whole demeanor has shifted into something colder, sharper—his focus laser-like. "Someone’s inside the building."

Your stomach drops. "What? How? Shouldn’t the security downstairs—"

"They got past it," he interrupts, throwing on his jacket in one fluid motion. His eyes are darker now, more alert, and it sends a chill down your spine. "Stay here."

Before you can protest, he’s out the door. But the idea of staying still, alone, in a situation like this? No chance. You grab your phone and follow him, keeping a few paces behind as he stalks through the hall, every movement precise, calculated.

He barely glances back at you, his body a wall of tension, like he’s ready to explode into action at any second. "I told you to stay back, Y/N," he growls under his breath, his voice low and urgent.

"And I don’t take orders," you snap back, even though you’re trembling inside. The hallway feels too quiet, too still.

Before Logan can argue, you both hear it—heavy footsteps, coming from the stairwell. Your heart skips a beat. You weren’t prepared for this kind of fear. Sure, the letters had freaked you out, but this? Someone actually in the building, hunting you?

Logan moves so fast you barely see it, pushing you behind him as the door to the stairwell creaks open. The figure that steps out is shadowy at first, but as the light hits him, you see a man—unshaven, wild-eyed, and holding a small knife that glints in the dim light. He’s muttering something under his breath, eyes locked on you.

"There you are," the man breathes, voice unnervingly soft. "I’ve been waiting for this moment."

Before you can react, Logan steps forward, his body a barrier between you and the man. "Back off," he warns, his voice so low it rumbles in his chest.

The stalker’s eyes flick to Logan, sizing him up, but instead of retreating, he grins. "You think you can stop me? I’ve been planning this for months."

You feel your skin crawl, bile rising in your throat. But Logan is a wall of calm fury. Without a word, he lunges at the man, moving so fast you barely register the impact. Logan’s fist connects with the guy’s jaw, sending him stumbling back into the wall with a sickening thud.

It should have ended there. Any normal man would have been down for the count. But the stalker scrambles to his feet, eyes wide with manic determination, swinging the knife wildly.

You gasp as the blade slashes through the air, missing Logan by inches. But he’s not rattled. He ducks, then pivots with a speed and grace that shouldn’t be possible for someone his size. And then, with a growl that sounds more animal than human, Logan throws the stalker against the wall, pinning him there.

The man struggles, trying to bring the knife up again. But then, something happens—something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

Logan’s hand shoots forward, and suddenly there’s a metallic SNIKT. Three long, razor-sharp claws extend from between his knuckles—gleaming silver, impossibly deadly. They punch through the man’s jacket, pinning him by the shoulder to the wall.

The stalker lets out a scream, eyes wide in terror. But your own scream is stuck in your throat. All you can do is stare, your brain struggling to comprehend what you’re seeing.

Logan has claws. Metal claws.

What the hell?

With the stalker writhing in pain, Logan leans in close, his voice a low growl. "You picked the wrong damn target."

The man whimpers, his bravado completely gone as blood trickles from the shallow wound. Logan jerks the claws free, and the man collapses to the ground, groaning in pain but still breathing. Without a second glance at his attacker, Logan turns to you.

“Y/N,” he says, stepping toward you, his voice a low, rough murmur that sounds far away. “It’s not what you think—”

But you stumble back, the knife in your hand trembling, not because of the stalker lying on the floor, but because of him. Because of what you just saw.

“Y-you…what—” You can’t even get the words out, your mind scrambling to make sense of what just happened. “What are you?”

Logan’s face tightens. He’s clearly seen this reaction before. “I’m a mutant,” he says quietly, the calmness in his voice almost unnerving given what just went down. “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but—”

“I—” You take another step back, your heart still racing. “Mutant? Logan, you—what the hell did you just—” Your eyes drop to his hands, where the claws retracted just moments ago. “You have claws?”

Logan doesn’t move, his hands by his sides, still covered in a few drops of the intruder’s blood. His whole body looks tense, as though he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. “I know what you’re thinking,” he says, his voice low and steady. “But I’m not gonna hurt you. I’d never—”

“You—” You’re shaking your head, not even sure what you’re trying to say. Everything’s too much. You’ve only ever heard horror stories about mutants, about how dangerous they can be, how you should keep your distance. You’ve never known anyone who was one…until now.

And it’s Logan. The guy who’s been protecting you.

The guy who just kissed you.

“I need…I need some space,” you manage, your voice barely a whisper, your mind still reeling.

Logan’s expression shifts, a flicker of something that looks almost like regret crossing his face. But he nods, stepping back slowly. “I get it,” he says, his voice rough. “You’re scared. But I’m still the same guy I was five minutes ago. I’m not the enemy, Y/N.”

You know that. Deep down, in some part of yourself, you know that Logan wouldn’t hurt you. He’s saved your life, protected you, and been nothing but loyal. But right now, your instincts are screaming at you to get away, to process what the hell just happened.

“I just…please, I need to be alone,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

Logan’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, he looks like he’s going to say something. But then he nods once, giving you space, just like you asked. “I’ll be close,” he says quietly, before turning and walking away, leaving you alone in the hallway with your racing thoughts.

As he disappears around the corner, you lean back against the wall, your knees threatening to give out. You’re not sure what scares you more, the stalker lying unconscious on the floor, or the realization that Logan isn’t just a man with a bad attitude and a dangerous past.

He’s something else entirely.

And you have no idea what that means for you both.

The next day is a whirlwind of confusion and conflicting emotions. You wake up to the soft light filtering through the curtains, but instead of feeling rested, your heart pounds in your chest, and the events of the previous day come flooding back. Logan’s claws, the way he fought off that intruder, the raw power he displayed—it all feels surreal.

You spend the morning trying to distract yourself, throwing yourself into your usual routine. You have interviews lined up and a photoshoot to get through, but every moment, you can’t shake the image of Logan standing over that intruder, the fierceness in his eyes as he retracted those deadly claws. There’s a knot in your stomach, a strange mix of fear and something else you can’t quite place.

Despite your attempts at normalcy, you’re acutely aware of the absence of Logan. He hasn’t checked in, hasn’t texted, and that silence weighs heavily on you. You told him you needed space, but now, part of you wonders if you made a mistake pushing him away.

As the afternoon stretches on, you finish your last interview and head back to your apartment, an unshakable sense of anticipation coursing through you. The place feels different without Logan’s presence, quieter, more hollow. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for whatever comes next.

The door swings open, and you step inside. The scent of leather and Logan’s cologne still lingers in the air, sending a shiver down your spine. You glance around, half-hoping to see him leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, that trademark smirk on his lips. But the space is empty.

You walk into the living room, the tension from the previous day still hanging in the air. You’re about to pour yourself a glass of water when a knock on the door startles you. You freeze, heartbeat quickening as you glance at the clock. It’s late, too late for anyone else to drop by.

You approach the door cautiously and open it, your breath catching in your throat as you see Logan standing there, his presence filling the doorway. He looks as imposing as ever, dressed in a black t-shirt that hugs his torso, the leather jacket thrown over one shoulder. His hair is tousled, and there’s a shadow of stubble on his jaw that somehow makes him look even more rugged.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and a touch uncertain.

“Hey,” you manage, heart racing. The tension between you two feels palpable, and you can’t ignore the rush of warmth spreading through your body at the sight of him.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his expression serious, but there’s an underlying urgency that makes your stomach flip.

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside to let him in. He walks past you, the warmth of his body brushing against yours, sending a rush of heat through your veins.

Logan turns to face you, his expression shifting, revealing the storm brewing behind his eyes. “I wanted to talk. About yesterday.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling suddenly shy under his intense gaze. “I mean…you didn’t have to come over.”

“I wanted to,” he says, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “I’ve been thinking about you, and I… I didn’t like how we left things.”

The way he looks at you makes your heart race. There’s a vulnerability in his expression, a longing that mirrors the tumult inside you. But there’s something else too—something electric.

“I was scared, Logan,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “Everything just happened so fast. I didn’t know—”

“I know.” He steps closer, closing the distance between you, the heat radiating off him wrapping around you like a thick blanket. “But I’m still me. I’d never hurt you.”

You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception, but all you see is sincerity mixed with an undeniable hunger.

“I just… I don’t know what to do with all of this.” You gesture between the two of you, feeling the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings hanging heavy in the air.

Logan takes another step closer, his voice a rough murmur. “What do you want?”

Your breath hitches. The question hangs in the air, charged and raw, and for the first time, you allow yourself to confront the truth of your feelings. “I want—”

Before you can finish, he closes the distance between you, capturing your lips with his in a kiss that ignites the fire simmering beneath your skin. It’s not the same as before; it’s deeper, more urgent, filled with the need to reclaim what was almost lost.

You melt against him, your hands finding their way to his hair, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss. Logan’s hands roam your sides, fingers skimming over your hips, drawing you nearer as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of you.

When he pulls back, his breath mingles with yours, and the intensity of his gaze makes your heart race. “You want this,” he says, voice low and rough, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “You want me.”

“I do,” you admit, your cheeks flushing as the words spill out. “But it’s complicated, Logan. We shouldn’t—”

“Who cares?” His fingers slide down your arms, sending shivers down your spine. “You’re not just some celebrity to me. You’re not just a job.”

“What do you mean?” Your voice is a whisper, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive.

“I mean you’re you. I don’t care what the tabloids say. I don’t care about the age difference or the rumors. I want you.”

His words send a thrill through you, igniting a spark of something wild and reckless. You’ve never felt this way before, not like this. It’s heady, intoxicating.

“Logan, what if—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, more demanding this time, as if he’s trying to erase every doubt from your mind. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel every muscle in his body, the heat radiating off him in waves.

And then it happens again—the sharp, undeniable rush of want overwhelms you. The world outside fades away, and all that matters is this moment, this connection, this man standing before you.

When you finally pull away, both of you are breathless. “This is crazy,” you say, your mind racing, but the way Logan looks at you silences your doubts.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice low and gravelly. “But I’d rather be crazy with you than without you.”

Your heart flips, and suddenly the space between you feels impossibly small. You’ve never wanted someone like this before, and the thought sends a thrill of excitement through you.

“Then what do we do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, heart racing at the thought of what lies ahead.

Logan smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I think we start by not overthinking this.” He leans in, brushing his lips against your cheek, igniting a fire in your core. “And maybe just…enjoying each other.”

His lips trail down to your neck, kissing a path that makes your head spin. You lean into him, surrendering to the moment as his warm breath sends shivers down your spine. The world outside is forgotten, and it feels like you’ve stepped into a realm that’s just yours and his.

“Logan…” you breathe, fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, desire flooding your senses.

His lips brush against yours again, teasing, playful, igniting the tension that’s been building between you two. “Just trust me,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. “I promise I won’t bite…unless you want me to.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, and the air crackles with undeniable tension. Maybe this is crazy, but right now, with Logan’s warmth enveloping you and the world outside forgotten, it feels more than right. It feels like fate.

Days turn into weeks, and you and Logan become a fixture in each other's lives. What began as a chaotic bodyguard relationship slowly evolves into something far more intimate—something neither of you anticipated but both desperately needed.

You find yourself falling into a routine, one that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. Every morning, he’s there, often making breakfast—his way of saying he cares, even if he does burn the toast. Every night, you curl up on the couch with him, sharing popcorn and movies, laughter filling the spaces where tension once resided. But it’s the moments outside those walls that change everything.

You don’t keep your relationship a secret, not intentionally, anyway. You both know the world you live in—the public scrutiny, the flashing cameras, the endless rumors. But Logan doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it emboldens him, a rebellious spark igniting in his eyes whenever you’re out together.

One sunny Saturday afternoon, you find yourselves strolling through a park in downtown Los Angeles, the kind of place where everyone is too busy with their own lives to pay attention to two people in love. But as you walk hand in hand, you can’t help but notice a few heads turning.

“Logan, I think we’re being watched,” you murmur, glancing around at the passersby. The mix of curiosity and surprise is palpable, but you also feel the warmth of Logan’s hand gripping yours, reassuring and steady.

“They can look all they want,” he grins, leaning down to press a quick kiss against your temple, his stubble grazing your skin. The contact sends a thrill through you.

“You’re not worried about the tabloids?” you ask, a teasing smile on your lips.

“Let them say what they want. At least they’ll get my age wrong,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Besides, you think I care about some headlines? I’m more concerned about you.”

A warmth blooms in your chest, and you can’t help but lean into him, your heart swelling with affection.

But the cameras don’t stop. That evening, as you both enjoy dinner at a trendy rooftop restaurant, the whispers and glances become more pronounced. The waitress seems to be holding back a grin as she serves you drinks, clearly recognizing Logan and you. You glance around, feeling a little exposed but also exhilarated.

“This could be the new gossip for the tabloids,” you say, rolling your eyes playfully. “‘Famous singer falls for mysterious bodyguard.’”

“Or maybe ‘Local badass finally finds a reason to smile,’” he counters, winking at you. You laugh, the sound bright and airy, and it feels good.

You both savor the evening, leaning into the playful banter and the stolen glances that carry an undeniable spark. But when the two of you leave the restaurant, a group of paparazzi suddenly swarms you, their cameras flashing like fireworks in the night.

“Y/N! Is it true you’re dating Logan Howlett?” one of them shouts, voice cutting through the air like a knife.

“Logan, how long have you two been seeing each other?” another calls, pushing closer, their cameras nearly colliding with your faces.

Logan’s grip tightens around your waist, and you can feel his tension rising. You glance at him, but he simply raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk on his lips. “Guess they’re interested, huh?”

“Yeah, interested in our personal lives,” you whisper, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“Let them watch,” Logan says, stepping closer to you, almost as if to shield you from the chaos. “Just remember—they don’t know the half of it.”

You share a glance, and there’s a spark of understanding in his eyes. With a deep breath, you face the throng of reporters. “We’re happy together,” you say, your voice steady despite the cameras flashing around you. “That’s all that matters.”

The crowd quiets for a moment, the buzz of excitement hanging in the air. Then Logan leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your lips, and the cameras go wild. The moment feels electric, and as you pull away, you can’t help but grin.

“Wow, you’ve really got it bad, don’t you?” he teases, the playful glint in his eye returning.

“Can you blame me?” you shoot back, your heart soaring.

The reporters seem to be taken aback by the chemistry between you, the dynamic clearly more than just a simple bodyguard-client relationship. You can hear the murmurs among the crowd as you both walk past, the air buzzing with a mix of curiosity and approval.

“Do you think it’s serious?” one of them asks.

“I heard she’s been seen with him a lot,” another replies, voice laced with intrigue. “What a power couple!”

“Wonder how long they’ll last,” a third one scoffs, but you’re too high on adrenaline to let their words get to you.

As you reach your car, Logan turns to you, his face softening. “You okay?”

You nod, a burst of happiness washing over you. “More than okay.”

“Good,” he replies, smirking. “Because now you’re stuck with me. The tabloids might as well start preparing for a long-term feature.”

“Is that a challenge?” you tease, nudging him with your shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says, pulling you closer as you both settle into the car. “Just remember, if they start digging into our lives, I’m the one with the claws.”

You burst out laughing, and as he revs the engine, the world feels like it’s finally aligning. The chaos of the paparazzi, the gossip, the rumors—they all fade away. Because in this moment, it’s just you and Logan, ready to take on whatever the world throws your way, together.

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I finally watched Good Omens season 2 and have tons of thoughts about it, especially how the minisodes and side-plots do so much work, thematically.

*slaps flashback segment on the roof* this bad boy contains so much subtext!!

And here’s my analysis about some of it:

The side plots are about at least three main themes that I can spot.

1. They are all, in some way, about resurrection. The children of Job. The Nazi Zombies. The resurrectionist. Miracles being rated on a scale of how many people they can bring back from the dead. Even Gabriel, in some way, arriving naked and without his memories and innocent as a babe, then finding himself again was a form of resurrection.

This, of course, has to do with foreshadowing season two, the one where the main plot point is going to be the second coming.

2. They were all about how much it’s a bad idea to mess with humans. All flashback minisodes either had someone die directly because Aziraphale and Crowley were around (Wee Morag, the guy at the magic shop), or almost die because Heaven and Hell said so (Job’s childrens). In present-day time, Aziraphale’s messing about with people during the ball is explicitely called out as creepy and wrong and Nina & Maggie have a talk with Crowley about it.

This leads to my theory that this is also going to be a major theme in the third season. We know that in the book, Adam explicitly tells heaven and hell to stop interfering. We also know that in the show, Aziraphale and to a smaller extend Crowley need to learn this lesson.

I also think that the resolution of the next season is probably going to involve Earth being marked definitely off limits to angels/demons, possibly via the same mechanism that makes the shop into a safe heaven you need to be invited in (and the same thing became true of the Bentley once Aziraphale claimed it! As pointed out here , Shax had to hitchhike to get in, instead of appearing inside as she did before). Earth needs to be claimed. I think that this will happen either by a combined miracle of incredible proportions from both Crowley and Aziraphale after they reunite, or (and this is my pet theory) by a combined miracle of incredible proportions by Adam and whoever is the new Jesus (I am a greasy Johnson truther lol). This would make Earth a place that you need to be invited in order to go there, and therefore safe haven for angels and demons who promise not to cause trouble.

3. All of the side plots and minisodes are about misdirection. Sleight of hand. Smoke and mirrors. Magic tricks. Showing one thing while something else is true.

This is shown obviously in the Job part and also in London 1941, with the party who is getting tricked being heaven and hell, respectively. Meanwhile, Gabriel and Beelzebub are trying to trick everyone. But who is tricked by the plot lines of Nina/Maggie, and Elspeth/Wee Morag?

We are. The audience is.

It has been pointed out here and here that Nina is meant to make us think she’s a parallel to Crowley when she is actually more of an Aziraphale thematically, and vice-versa.

But what about Elspeth and Wee Morag? We have one that robs graveyards, and one who tells her that is wrong and is worried about her eternal soul. That seems straightforward enough as a mirror to Crowley and Aziraphale, no? Well, let’s just look at what they’re doing and saying to each other, shall we?

“Don’t do this incredibly wrong and dangerous thing. It will have repercussions that you can’t even begin to understand right now.”

“I’m doing this for you! You deserve better than this life!”

“I don’t want the better life you’re offering. I would rather huddle with you here, homeless and poor but knowing you’re safe and that we’re together, than to know you alone out there doing horrible things you’ve convinced yourself you need to do.”

“I do need to do it. Trust me! This is going to fix everything! And if you don’t want me to be alone, then come with me. There! Problem solved!”

(Problem very much not solved.)

Doesn’t this sound, a tiny little bit, like a certain season finale to you guys? Elspeth was, in fact, Aziraphale all along. She thought she knew what was best, and she barrelled along without listening to anyone else, and then it went horribly wrong.

There is a reason why both times this season that we see Aziraphale fucking up someone else’s plan (the corpse to sell, Crowley’s contraband whiskey) because he initially reads it as a bad thing and thinks he’s doing good by destroying it, without having the full context, it backfires on him and then the situation has to be fixed. He needs to stop and understand things properly before taking actions. He needs, in short, to ask questions.

We see that the one time he did ask questions before acting was during the whole Job thing, and it worked out the best out of all the sub plots this season, right? … except that Aziraphale was convinced that he would Fall for his actions there. The way Crowley had fallen for asking questions.

And if the only person whose assessment of the situation matches Aziraphale’s is a demon, if the only one who is doing what he personally thinks is the Right Thing is a demon, then gosh… either that means that Aziraphale himself should therefore also be a demon, OR it means that Crowley shouldn’t be one, and this was all just one big misunderstanding, and maybe if I just speak to the manager…?

[reesespeanutbutterfuck]

love marks & battle scars

[rival! enemy! ken sato x baseball teammate! undercover KDF agent! reader]

part 1

drabble | part 2

pairing: kenji sato x reader

cw: sfw for now, rivals to lovers, enemies to lovers, hardcore!intimidating!reader, matsui’s daughter!reader, cursing, minimal details are changed to fit into the storyline, ken and reader will get kinda freaky eventually, spicy themes, allusions to sex, mdni u have been warned !!! don make me come for u D:< !!!, girldad!kenji, reader becomes emi’s mother figure, goofy ahhhh writing as usual

a/n: ch one takes place in ken's first game in the beginning btw

ken sato, your egotistical new teammate has been ticking you off and thinning your patience, being a threat to your place in yomiuri giants. 

ultraman, your nemesis who always gets in the way of your job in the kdf, that you only joined in hopes of finding leads and getting clues to track your parents.

and somehow you even ended up being a co-parenting his… kaiju daughter. something you never signed up for.

What beautiful, festive night with clear skies it is tonight. 

After lazily strolling through the back of the arena, Ken finally found his way to the open door leading to the bleachers, where he can already see the bright lights inside the dome and hear the cheers of the lively crowd. He elatedly took a deep breath before he entered the arena through the entrance that led him to his designated team, all in the middle of having an adrenaline rush. 

It was his first time playing as a member of the Yomiuri Giants. Very exciting. There really is nothing that gives his system a fulfilling rush than baseball.

Ah, what a nice night to–

“Oi, Sato!” 

Be nagged. Great way to prepare for a game.

“He-hey! Shimura!” with a smug smile, he merrily raised to greet Shimura like how an old friend would to another. “Nice team. Is the place for Captain open? Because I’d love to take you up on that.”

Shimura annoyedly narrowed his eyes at him. “Lucky you, it’s open, and also unlucky you, because that spot is good as reserved this season.”

Ken slightly tilted his head, “What’cha mean by reserved?”

“Technically, the Captain of last season would still be the unofficial Captain of this season until a new one gets decided. And I don’t plan to replace my current Captain anytime. Unless someone in the team can surpass them. Only the best players in my team are chosen as the Captain.”

He registered the information he heard. Just like an heir to a throne. A King. That sure sounds nice.

“So, this former Captain-current unofficial Captain of yours has been the team Captain for consecutive seasons? Then, that must’ve only meant he’s unbeatable. He better watch his back if he wants to maintain his streak.” now that he’s here, surely not.

Shimura failed to contain the slight smirk that plastered itself on one side of his lips. In the side of his face that is out of Ken’s line of vision, so Ken doesn’t see. He thinks, clearly he doesn’t know what he’s saying nor who he's dealing with. 

“I’ll introduce you to the acting Captain of this team as a formality.” he chose to play it cool and not push it further, it’d be better if he observes you himself.

“Where’s [L/N]?” Shimura asked the busy team, getting their attention to him and Ken because of the mention of the last name. He scanned the team, seemingly looking for someone yet guessing from his furrowed brows and craning of his neck, it seems that the acting Captain that he’s looking for isn’t here.

“Arrived not a while ago. Still at the back, Coach.” one of his teammates in the middle of tying their shoelaces answered and jerked their thumb towards the door trailing to the locker room.

“It'll have to wait later, then.” Shimura acknowledged, “By the way, about your little imaginary advertisement title during the PressCon. Just to remind you again, no place for your so-called Ken Sato Show in my team. So don't try me.” Shimura warned him while pointing his index finger on his chest.

Ken raises both of his hands defensively forcing laughter. “Okay, okay. Got it.”

Ken’s attention drifted to someone emerging straight to the team out of nowhere, wearing a dark tinted helmet and a motorcycle jacket.

“[L/N], about time.” Shimura turned his head to you in relief. In Ken’s point of view, it’s like your arrival meant the team was saved. Looks like even Shimura has his favorites. Too bad you’re going to be dethroned soon. “Did you forget your batting helmet so you wore a motorcycle helmet instead?” Shimura pointed out your outlandish attire.

You let out a muffled snicker under your helmet. You held the helmet with your hands to take it off. Ken waited to see the face of his newfound rival under the helmet, fully expecting a man, preparing to say something to assert dominance over you. His expectant smile dropped when after you removed your helmet and shook your head to free your hair, the moment your hair flowed and his eyes lay on your face, was also the moment he realized...

You were not a man.

The Captain of the Giants… is a woman?

What the f–

Well, he wasn’t trying to be sexist or anything. No, no, not at all. He knows a lot of strong women in his life and his mother would be just one of many. He acknowledges women are just as capable as men. It’s just, it’s been so long since he was last updated with the Giants even before he got in. First reason is because he really doesn’t care about the identities of his future teammates. And second, because he, what’s the term? Lost interest in them when he cut off everything associated with Japan, because it reminded him of his dad who traded him and his mother to the Ultraman gig. Gosh, how long has it been? 

“Where did you come from?” 

“Audience’s entrance. Your interviewers are camped in the corridor on the way to the locker rooms.” You tossed your helmet to the nearby bench. 

My god, not even your height or the way your physique looked under your baggy jacket gave away the fact that you were a woman.

Ken, after a moment of being taken aback by your appearance, straightened himself subtly when you glanced at him for a few seconds. He’s not nervous, is he? Of course not. No one ever makes him, the Ken Sato nervous. He fought the urge to hit his own head with his palm. For god’s sake, Kenji, snap out of it.

“Who’s this?” Your tired eyes shift from him to Shimura. You don't know him? Once again, you did it. The fact that you didn’t know him added to the damage you did to his ego.

He observed you closely. You had a stern expression, sharp eyes, a prim, somewhat almost restrained appearing composure and a low, sultry voice. He does admit, your intimidating aura really does reflect that of a leader. Oddly attractive.

Yet not enough to distract him from his goal.

“Your new teammate, Ken Sato.” Shimura answered with his hand gesturing toward Ken. “Sato, this is our consecutive Captain, [Y/N L/N].” Shimura introduces you to him. 

Shimura’s words echoed in Ken’s ear. “only the best players are chosen as the Captain”, You’re the best player of this team. You, in front of him, right now. 

“Nice to meet you, Captain.” Ken forced a smile, trying to pull himself together.

Your eyes went back to him after, he can tell you’re sizing him up. It didn't take long before Ken got lost in his thoughts again. You had a sharp gaze, one that if it were possible to kill, he would be down lying on the floor. Your gaze almost even looks like a glare already. 

He was snapped out of his thoughts when after moments of not moving, you walked towards his direction. He expectantly prepared himself mentally to converse with you, but he was beyond shocked when you walked past him.

What… 

What?

Did that really just happen? It did. The proof was the trail of your scent you left walking past him. Your perfume smelled musky, yet also sweet. Not painful to the nose. 

He’d lie if he said he wasn’t expecting you to interact with him, welcome him in your team or initiate anything, anything at all. But you just… didn’t care? Shouldn’t Team Captains, even acting ones greet new teammates? If he were the Captain he’d do it. Is this how they welcome teammates in Tokyo? He had never been this humbled in his whole life.

Shimura didn’t have any reaction, as if it was just what he had already expected from you. You sat at your team’s side of the bleachers to change your shoes and wear your face guard, not even looking back in their direction to even lay your eyes on him again. Ken still cannot believe what had just happened. He’s stupid for expecting, and you’re clearly not friendly, and it’s fine. He can take that. 

On the bench, you stifled a yawn. If you yawn freely, Shimura would notice it with his hawk eyes and nag you asking why’d you tire yourself out before a game and of course you cannot disclose why. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed today because of the aftermath of your discreet job outside baseball. Neronga was a resistant one, you’d say. If Ultraman hadn’t meddled with your mission, you would’ve finished the job sooner and you would’ve had enough rest.

“Yo, Captain.” one of your teammates, Otomo, approached you.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Why? You were the Captain last season, and surely you’ll still be in this one.”

You glared at him and diverted your attention to your shoelaces without replying.

“What’d you think about our new teammate?” Nothing but a show-off. “Heard a while ago Sato over there was also aiming for the same title.” Otomo gestured his head to Sato.

Your hands continued tying your laces. You’d like a healthy competition. Whatever he wants. You don’t care about the Captain title on its own, anyway. You only care about being Captain because it meant you were the best out of everyone in the team. While Sato was changing in the locker room, you stood up after you finished wearing and fixing your baseball gear.

You were fixing the soles of your shoes when your vision caught some of your teammates piling up while watching something on their mobile phones. Some of them seemed to be genuinely fanboying on Sato and some of them didn't like him. You? You're part of the latter, like these guys.

“[L/N], it’s Sato’s PressCon last night. Come watch with us. He claimed himself the greatest active player.” you overheard as they kept replaying that one part over and over and laughing. You were right. That Sato is conceited. And he’s not even subtle about it.

Greatest active player, huh. You’d like to see if he can walk his talk.

Before the game started, Shimura called you all to discuss the sequence. And you and Sato were accidentally placed beside each other.

“You lead.” Shimura points at your direction. You weren't sure who, because Sato was placed little more in front of you.

“Coach, do you mean, me?” You clarified.

“No, Sato.” he pointed at the new guy, Sato. “You’re first one up. Bat.”

Your narrow eyes focused on this Sato guy. You sized him up once again. Usual pretty boy, pretty face, but petty attitude. What’s special about him? First impressions, off. But, you do have to see how he plays first to judge him.

“He’s the best player in his former team. Let him lead.”

You wordlessly retreated and stepped back to give way to the players. You stared at his back containing his jersey number, Sato, number seven.

Meanwhile in front, Ken fights the urge to look at you. “Don’t worry guys, I’m about to change this team’s trajectory just tonight.” he confidently walked off with the same cocky smile.

Although it’s a bummer he won’t get the chance to watch you play first, he took the opportunity and stepped inside the court. He took his mind off of everything not inside the court. He has to focus. This is his time to prove himself. 

You do want to be the best, but you don’t always expect to be the best. There’s a fine line that differs between those two. Although, yes, your father would be displeased if he finds out you’re anything but the best. But if he's always a show-off, then you already have that advantage over him. He isn’t a formidable competition at all.

The crowd screeched when his face went all over the jumbotron's LED screen. While in the point of view of the audience, it’s very noticeable how he seemed uncomfortable with his left shoulder. Looks like it isn’t just you who has a skill issue today. He still had the strength to bicker with the catcher from the other team, though. He’ll be fine.

The game began, the pitcher pitched. He missed. The second pitch, he missed again.

Your face crumpled. You made a point once again. He, in fact, can’t walk his talk. You crossed your arms and sank your back against the backrest of the bench. You’ve lost interest in the game.

Disappointing.

For the third time, the pitcher pitches, and for the last chance that he had, he hit the ball. Oh, lucky is he. The crowd goes wild, the commentator announces the successful bat and the giant screen shows his face. Even if he batted successfully on the third, it didn’t reverse the disappointment you felt now that you can judge him. He then came running the bases.

You looked away and rested your chin against your palm with crossed legs, not paying attention to the game, but all of a sudden, your eyes caught something familiarly strange flying outside the dome. 

Is that…

You squinted to see clearly, and when you saw it again, your eyes widened. It vanished again for a while, but your sighting of KDF jets told you everything you needed to know to confirm what it was. You flinched in your seat when one of the KDF jets crashed and exploded near the dome, interrupting the game, also startling the people inside the dome who were now instinctively starting to evacuate the area. In the middle of the flames of the explosion, the creature emerged and showed itself clearly, just exactly as the one you suspected.

“Gigantron.” You and Ken mouthed at the same time, from different spots inside the dome.

The creature roars, frightening people even more. Everything was chaos, like that of a dystopia. People were pushing each other in the exits to get out of the dome as soon as possible. You stood up from your seat, picked your helmet up from the bottom bench, not turning your back on Gigantron, you pushed the door with your palm to the nearest exit. You pushed your way through the waves of people until you reached your motorcycle outside.

You revved the engine and sped up en route to the KDF headquarters. You need to get there before the last jet takes off.

—

In the dim-lit interior of the KDF Headquarters, Chief Officer Dr. Onda silently watches the monitor screen.

Aoshima, the KDF Captain hurriedly went to him after the difficult situation unfolded. “Sir, we have an emergency. Gigantron has ambushed our jets and taken it down. The package cannot be tracked, as of now.”

“Is Saturnine inside the headquarters right now?”

“Uh, Agent Saturnine is currently off-duty tonight, Sir.” Aoshima responded, wondering why out of everyone, he specifically asked about Saturnine.

Dr. Onda exhales and doesn't reply further. He maintained his stoned expression under his aviators. Once again, he focused on the monitor cameras showing the chaos the Gigantron made.

His forehead creases in distress. “Scramble all jets. Kill Gigantron. Do what you can to retrieve the package.” he orders his personnel.

“Yes, sir.”

***

© reesespeanutbutterfuck 2024, don forget to support your creators by reblogging !!!

incomp taglist (do comment if u wanna be added): @moonjellyfishie @aise-30 @lovingyeet @ririkacchi

[skiller0dani]

Touch | Kaz Brekker

M A S T E R L I S T Other Masterlist Shadow and Bone Masterlist

smut | mutual masturbation requests info w.c | 4.4k summary | Kaz is convinced you're angry with him, angry enough to leave him. Despite Jesper's reassurance, Kaz is utterly convinced you're about to leave him. He sends Inej to spy on you, he needs to understand what he did wrong...so he can win you back.

I've only read half of Six of Crows and have seen Season 1 of the show (rewatching it before I watch Season 2). So I apologize if I get things wrong Lore-wise. If I do get something wrong, please feel free to help correct me so I don't get it wrong again. I don't know much about Ketterdam or about the correct terminology about how to describe Ketterdam, please be patient and bear with me while I'm learning.

Possible part 2? ;)

Song

You were angry with him, Kaz was sure of it.

He didn't know what he said or what he did, but he knew he did something. You had been avoiding him, tucking yourself away in the back corners of the Crow Club, or running off with Jesper. You usually spent most of the day wherever Kaz was, in his office, or lounging in your shared bedroom until Kaz needed you. The two of you had been together for about a year now, and he knew you better than you knew yourself. That's how he knew you were angry with him, and by the lack of attention you were giving him you must be really angry with him. It made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

Jesper, who happened to be your closest friend, tried to reassure Kaz that you weren't upset with him but Kaz didn't believe him. Surely if you weren't angry, you'd tell him that yourself. Yet you sent Jesper to talk to Kaz on your behalf, had he really screwed up to the point of receiving the silent treatment? What on Earth had he done? Was he spending too much time away from you? There was a rather complex job he had been swept up in recently, along with someone with sticky fingers skimming from the pot. Or worse, were you finally becoming impatient with his touch aversion? Despite being together for as long as you two have been, he has yet to touch you at all. Not even a light kiss, nothing.

Kaz has briefly opened up to you about Jordie, about the firepox, and of course about Pekka Rollins. You knew why Kaz couldn't bear the feel of skin, but maybe you finally had enough. He knew you had sexual needs not being met, knew you were quite promiscuous before you had begun dating him. He felt insecure about that sometimes, about how it felt like you were sacrificing something to be with him. What if the sacrifice wasn't worth it anymore? Were you cheating on him? No, you wouldn't do that. You were many things but cruel wasn't one of them, Kaz has never known you to do a single cruel thing to anybody.

Still the fear kept clawing at the inside of his head, is that why you were spending so much time away from him? Why you kept sneaking off with Jesper? Did Jesper know about this? Was he covering for you? Kaz knows that Jesper is quite promiscuous himself, in fact that's how you met Jesper. A exciting night on the town before you had joined the Crows, which led you to Jesper's bed. Of course, the two of you realized you had no romantic or sexual chemistry and opted instead to see what trouble you could get up to in Ketterdam. That's how you ended up meeting Kaz, Jesper had brought you to him when you were in need of work. You joined the Crows, and the rest is history.

Despite how hard he tried not to, Kaz fell in love with you. He didn't show it, or say it really other than the one time he did say it. But he thought you knew, that's how you two worked. Neither of you required words or actions to know how you felt, but maybe Kaz had been wrong. Was he neglecting your needs? Did you feel satisfied and loved by Kaz? Were you seeking companionship and affection elsewhere? He couldn't stop his mind from spiraling, it was beginning to impact his ability to run the Crow Club. He often found himself distracted when his eyes landed on the empty spot you usually occupied next to him. It's what led him to seek out Inej, and ask her to do something he wasn't particularly proud of.

"You want me to what?" Her voice was incredulous, you were also a close friend of Inej's. She didn't feel right spying on you, and the seriousness in Kaz's gaze unnerved her.

"I need to know if...if she's seeing somebody else." Kaz explained, his head hung low and his gloved palms pressed flat against his desk.

"She isn't." Inej states firmly, she knows you're head over heels for Kaz. You've been utterly enamored by Kaz since you first laid eyes on him.

"She's been distant. Is asleep before I come to bed and is gone before I wake up. Spends more time with Jesper than she used to, hardly looks me in the eye. Something is wrong. I've done something. I've driven her away somehow, I need you to tell me who she's been seeing." Kaz says, his teeth gritting at the thought of someone else touching you, seeing your bare skin. Kaz needs to know who he is... so they can talk. Inej can't help but admit that your behavior has been odd lately, though she still doesn't think you're cheating on Kaz.

"Kaz-"

"She's going to leave me. It's a matter of time. Can I count on you to do this for me?" Kaz interrupts, this isn't a discussion. It's not something he's keen on discussing in depth either. He just needs to know. Kaz knows he's being unfair, he can see the way Inej has always looked at him. He feels guilty for taking advantage of her affections for him to ensure she spies on you, but he can't last another second without knowing.

"Yes, of course. I'll report back to you once I've learned who he is." She's out the window before Kaz even hears her move. He sucks in a shaky breath, he loves you. More than he's comfortable with if he's being honest, and the thought of you leaving him for someone who's comfortable touching you makes him angry enough to kill whomever the man is on sight. Angry enough to beat him until he's bloody and damn near unrecognizable. Kaz is a bastard of the barrel after all, they don't call him Dirtyhands for no reason.

Inej has been shadowing you for most of the day. You spent most of the day with Jesper, gambling, having drinks, searching for trouble. You had spent a bit of time quietly talking with Jesper, but the two of you know better than to talk loudly. You know spies like Inej exist, Kaz made sure to teach you how to keep your voice hushed. There was a pained look on your face as you sat with Jesper outside a pub. He had one of his classic warm expressions on his face, the one he uses to coax the truth out of you. He'd been victim to Kaz's anxious pestering and had decided to confront you about it. Inej hugged one of the nearby roofs, and tried to get close enough to listen.

"You can't tell anybody this Jes, I'm not joking." You say seriously and he nods instantly, scooting closer to you as your voice drops. You'd been having a problem lately, one you desperately wanted Kaz to fix but knew he couldn't.

"C'mon you know I wouldn't blab your secrets." He says with a playful smile, doing his best to ease your nerves. Jesper has also noticed you were spending more time with him than usual, but never questioned it because you were practically his sister. He loved spending time with you, but had begun to wonder if your relationship with Kaz was struggling. His concerns only heightened once he noticed how wound up Kaz seems to be about it.

"Is...everything okay with Kaz?" Jesper asks carefully, watching the look of disdain cross onto your face. Inej strains her ears, only catching Kaz's name.

"Yes. No. I don't know. It's all my fault." You push your head into your hands, feeling your entire body flush. The reason you'd been spending so much time with Jesper wasn't because you're angry with Kaz, it's because you feel no sexual attraction to Jesper. You could finally relax around him, being with Kaz all day has slowly gotten more and more difficult. You find yourself following the lines of his body with your eyes, the space between your legs dampening when you see Kaz's jaw tense or his fingers curl around his cane. He was driving you mad, you needed him so badly it was hard to think about anything else. You craved Kaz but you know you can't ask him to help with this particular problem...he isn't ready yet. That's fine, you'll wait forever if that's what it takes, but you don't want him to feel like he's neglecting you. Which is why you'd been avoiding him.

"Talk. What's bugging you? You're really starting to freak Kaz out." Jesper says softly, tilting his bottle back to swallow the alcohol inside it. Your heart sinks.

"I am? Shit." You didn't think he noticed with how busy he's been lately. Clearly he paid more attention to you than you originally thought. "Nothing is wrong, really. I'm just...frustrated."

"Why? What has he done?"

"No Jes, I'm frusrtated." You say, cheeks heating once the look of realization crosses onto his face. He chuckles.

"Oh. A year of unexpected celibacy hasn't done you any good has it?" Jesper teases, and you reach over to shove him. Inej is only catching pieces of the conversation, but the word 'celibacy' stands out like it's been outlined in neon lights. Okay, so if Jesper is teasing you about being celibate, you're clearly not cheating on Kaz.

"The first thing you need to do is be honest with Kaz. He's starting to spiral, I think." Jesper says and you feel guilt surge through you like you'd been dumped in cold water. You didn't want to worry Kaz, you just didn't want him to feel guilty for something that isn't his fault.

"Second thing you need to do is figure out a way Kaz can help you get off without having to touch you." Jesper says, as if that's the easiest thing in the world. Your cheeks color red, and you take the bottle out of Jesper's hand to take a drink. Inej definitely heard that, the more drunk you two get the less careful you are. She slinks back over the roof, knowing that she no longer needs to follow you.

"How on Earth can Kaz make me cum without touching me?" You know you should probably feel more bashful talking to Jesper about this than you do, but the first time you met him you nearly had sex with him. He's seen your entire body bare and it was halfway through the evening that the two of you came to the conclusion that it just wasn't working for either of you. Thus is the reason why you're probably more comfortable with Jesper than you should be.

"Two words my naïve friend, mutual masturbation. That way both of you can get your rocks on without having to touch each other." Jesper says, sly smile making its way onto his face once he sees the gears turning in your head.

"I am not naïve." You complain, drawing a laugh from Jesper.

"You know if Kaz ever finds out we spoke about this, he'll kill you." You mention and Jesper rolls his eyes.

"I'd like to see him try, gonna go talk to him now?" Jesper asks and you stand with a sigh.

"Yeah, I can't make him worry any longer."

Kaz was pacing back and forth in his office the entire time Inej was gone. He barely heard her re-enter through the open window, and when he laid eyes on her the first thing he noticed was her flushed complexion.

"Well? Who is he?" He asked expectantly, his heart already sinking in his stomach. She caught you sleeping with another man, that's why she looks so bashful. Why she has a hard time meeting his eye. She caught you cheating on him.

"Kaz...she isn't cheating on you." Inej says finally, and Kaz feels his eyebrows pull together.

"No, that's the only logical explanation. She has to be. What did she do today?" He demands, not at all believing Inej.

"Went drinking with Jesper, and I overheard their conversation." She begins, and Kaz stays silent, urging her to continue. There's tension in his shoulders and on his face, though Inej doesn't really know how to explain what she heard.

"I think it would be better to let Y/N explain. Trust me when I say she isn't cheating, and she should be on her way here now." Inej says and as if on cue there's a knock on his office door. He turns to face Inej again, but she's already gone. Kaz turns to open the door, and is unsurprised when he sees you standing in the hallway with a guilty look on your face. He opens the door wider to let you in, and you enter his office quickly pacing in front of his desk. Kaz closes the door behind you, watching you with nervous eyes.

"My love, please talk to me." He hates pleading, hates how weak he sounds but he can't help it. He can see the distress on your face, can see the tension being held in your body. He wants to fix it, and for a second he goes to pull you against his chest. He wants to hold you, but he feels panic crawling up his neck at the thought of touching you. Curse Pekka Rollins for damaging him the way he has, for causing this rift in his relationship.

"Kaz I promise I didn't mean to make you worry. I still love you." You rush out, needing him to know that first. Some of the worry eases then, but the concern is still there.

"I love you too darling, what's wrong? Talk to me." Kaz pushes again, taking a step closer to you. His eyes study your face, your cheeks are flushed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you nibble anxiously.

"I'm well...I just feel uh frustrated." You say, putting it the same way you described it to Jesper hoping that Kaz catches on as Jesper did.

"Are you angry with me, love?" Kaz asks and you want to kiss him all over his face when you notice the adorably confused look on his face.

"No, not that kind of frustrated." You try again, and Kaz's eyebrows pinch together. Finally you see a look of understanding dawn his features and your cheeks turn even darker. So he was partially right, your sexual needs are not being met and you've finally begun to feel wound up. Kaz knew this would happen eventually, he's been hoping you don't leave him because of it.

"B-But I have an idea... if you're up for it." You start carefully, and Kaz swallows thickly. He's not sure he's ready to touch you, he wants to, can feel the urge bubbling beneath his skin. But he isn't there yet.

"Sweetheart I'm not sure I can touch you just yet," Kaz begins gently, guilt on his face as his eyes soften.

"You don't have to, just hear me out...please?" You beg, and the needy look in your eyes nearly makes his knees buckle. You feel like you could combust at any moment, the heat coursing through you is suffocating. Kaz has seen you naked by now, but neither of you have ever done anything like this.

"You could make me feel good, b-but I'll be your hands. Your voice alone could make me cum Kaz." You say shyly, watching his eyebrows shoot up at your words.

"You could make yourself feel good too, w-we could do it together." You explain, watching warmth crawl up Kaz's neck. A look you don't recognize crosses onto Kaz's face, it makes your entire body feel boneless at the intensity in his eyes.

"My pretty girl wants me to help her masturbate? Is that it?" His voice is low, a near purr and it sends heat straight between your thighs. Kaz knows you need more from him, and if his voice is how he can help meet your sexual needs then he'll do it. He'll do damn near anything if you ask him to. You nod instantly, already feeling tingles going south.

"Sit on the couch." He says, his voice rough as he pulls his office chair out to sit down in front of his desk. Before he sits, he turns for his office door.

"Undress." His voice is commanding, as is his presence in the room. You feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as your shaky palms shed your clothing layer by layer. Kaz also closes and locks the window before he sits back in his office chair. His eyes drink up every inch of bare skin that is slowly being revealed to him. You sit back against the couch once your undergarments fall to the floor and you're naked before him. You feel nervous, but the heat in his gaze is enough to make arousal pool between your legs.

"Spread your legs for me my love, I want to see you." He says, his voice still holding its commanding tone. It was obvious that despite the fact that he isn't touching you he's still very much in charge here- totally in control of your pleasure. You do as he asks, shyly spreading your legs and revealing your glistening folds to him. Kaz feels his pants tighten at the sight of you, you're practically dripping onto his couch.

"My poor girl, look at you. Must have been in desperate need of release for days. You should have came to me sooner, love." Kaz says softly, his voice making your body heat up. You nod fervently, your skin buzzing and you haven't even begun touching yourself yet. Subconsciously you seem to have submit to him already, accepting that he's the one in control. That you can't do anything without his say so, you should have known that he would be domineering in bed.

"Show me how you touch yourself when I'm not around." Kaz instructs and you send him a bashful look. You've never had such a direct audience to such an intimate moment before, but there's nobody else you could imagine doing this for. You lean back comfortably against the couch, your eyes landing on Kaz and you seriously have to bite your lip to keep from moaning at the sight of him. He's lounging back in his office chair like a King sat upon his throne. His legs are spread, and there's an obvious bulge in his pants. His eyes are dark and lust blown, his gaze glued between your legs.

You snake a palm down your stomach, your fingers lightly teasing your clit causing you to throw your head back.

"Keep your eyes on me." Kaz demands and you can't help but obey. You lift your head to keep your eyes on him as your fingers swirl circles on your clit.

"Tell me what to do Kaz, please." You whine, and the desperation in your voice makes his dick twitch. You see him subtly adjust himself as your fingers continue to play with your clit and run down along your slit. Kaz swallows harshly, his mind feeling unfocused and all he can do is watch the way you play with yourself.

"Push one finger inside yourself love, just one." He says breathlessly, and you obey and push one lithe finger in. You moan softly, pumping your finger but it's not enough. Your hips wriggle against the couch and Kaz can see that you need more.

"Play with your clit darling, and keep pumping that finger." Kaz instructs and the smooth undertone of his voice is making shivers run down your spine. Your other hand rubs harsh circles on your clit, and you feel like the temperature in the room has risen at least 10 degrees.

"You are breathtaking my love, an absolute vision." Kaz praises softly, he can't take his eyes away from your beautiful cunt. Your finger is wet with your slick every time it leaves your heat, and your lips are parted as soft moans escape you. He learned a long time ago that you like to be praised, that you crave those words of affection. He isn't big on being affectionate in public, but he usually compliments you every so often. If only to watch your cheeks darken and the goosebumps raise along your skin. He watches a shiver run down your spine at his words.

"You're doing so good my love, add another finger for me." Kaz says, and you push 2 fingers into your soaked cunt. Kaz palms himself through his pants, he's beginning to strain painfully against his pants.

"Kaz touch yourself, please I want to watch." You beg and Kaz swears in that moment he's died and gone to heaven. How could someone as beautiful and perfect as you be spread out naked on his couch? And yet he's still too afraid to touch you. He swallows thickly as he continues to watch you thrust your fingers into your cunt, and he's scrambling to open his pants enough to pull himself free. As soon as his cock is freed he's releasing a sigh of relief.

"Go faster my love, I want to watch you ruin that tiny little cunt." Kaz nearly pleads and you instantly pick up the pace, slamming your fingers into yourself. You moan again once you feel that coil winding in your stomach and heat sears through your entire body when you watch Kaz wrap a gloved hand around himself. You watch with lidded eyes as he begins to pump his shaft slowly, a soft groan escaping his lips. This is by far the most erotic thing you've ever done, and you've had your fair share of lovers before you begun dating Kaz.

"I'm- I'm gonna cum Kaz, can I? Please?" You ask, needing his permission before you let yourself release. Kaz growls softly, his own hand speeding up and jerking himself faster. He can see how fucked out you looked, he could hardly fathom how you'd look once he actually works up the courage to touch you.

"Yes sweetheart, cum for me. Look me in the eyes darling." Kaz says, and your eyes lock onto his as you feel your orgasm wash over you. You cry out softly, your body convulsing as you gush all over your fingers. Kaz feels his own orgasm creeping up on him as he watches you cum, you've never looked more beautiful. You suddenly get an idea and pull yourself onto your knees before him, making sure to keep your hands to yourself. You sit between his spread legs and look up into his eyes, blinking your doe eyes up at him makes him groan softly.

"Cum on my face." You say it so casually Kaz almost doesn't hear you. He feels heat sear through him once he registers what you've said, and he keeps quickly pumping himself. His head tosses back as the pleasure builds, but he can't help but pull his gaze back to you. You're waiting with your mouth open, eyes fixed on his.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful on your knees before me. Don't move my love, let me cum on your face." Kaz gasps, feeling his orgasm hit him suddenly. His chest heaves as white ropes of cum land on your face, mostly in your mouth. You hum happily as you swallow it down, wiping it off your cheeks and licking it off your fingers. Kaz watches with hooded eyes as you smile up at him, and then he does something you don't expect.

He leans forward and briefly presses his lips against yours to give you a quick kiss. It's quick, but its the first skin to skin contact with Kaz you've ever had. You beam up at him, and he's never seen you look happier than you did in that moment. He feels guilt seeping into his mind, has he really deprived you so much that a simple kiss brings you so much joy? Do you feel satisfied with him or is he damning you to a lifetime of longing for more? Kaz feels his skin prickling uncomfortably, but he leans down and presses a more firm kiss to your lips. He wants you to feel fulfilled. His lips move softly against yours until he feels nausea turn in his stomach and he pulls away. His heart is racing and he has to repeat to himself that it's just you, just you sitting naked in his office. He's safe, everything is fine. He has to repeat this to himself to keep the oncoming panic attack away.

All because of a simple kiss.

"Don't push yourself my love." You remind him softly as you lift yourself from the floor. He wants to reach out and take you in his arms, wants to press his face against the soft skin of your tummy. But he can't and he hates himself for it. Hates that you have to baby him and deprive yourself of the intimacy he knows you crave.

"Was this good my love, was it enough?" Kaz asks softly, hating how vulnerable he sounds. You turn, surprise on your face as you look at him.

"It was perfect Kaz, what's wrong?" You ask softly, reaching down to start pulling your clothes on.

"Are you happy with me? Am I fulfilling your needs?" Kaz tucks himself back into his pants and watches as you put your clothes back on. You look like a Goddess as you do.

"Kaz being with you has made me the happiest I've ever been in my life. You always make sure I want for nothing, where is this coming from?" You ask sadly, and your heart is breaking. How could he ever think he isn't enough for you as he is?

"You were sexually frustrated but didn't feel comfortable telling me because...because I can't touch you. Doesn't that bother you?" Kaz asks, hesitantly meeting your eye when you move to stand in front of him.

"Kaz...I just didn't want to make you feel bad. I don't mind that you can't touch me, I love you as you are." You reassure him but he still holds so much tension in his shoulders.

"You say that now. But can you handle not being touched...forever? I don't think you'll feel the same way 10 years from now." Kaz says, already having made his mind up on the matter.

"Kaz-"

"I want to take that step with you Y/N, I will overcome my...aversion...to ensure I meet all of your needs. Especially your sexual needs. Just be patient with me, please." Kaz says softly and you feel your heart swell at his promise. You nod with a soft smile, wishing you could wrap your arms around him and inhale his scent.

"I love you Kaz, always." You promise and you finally see the tension ebbing away from his shoulders.

"I love you darling."

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

sympathy for the devil | ruben dias

🩸 synopsis: You've been working at your childhood dream club, Manchester United, for a few years, but the reality of chaos, mess, and constant changes is taking its toll. Lately, you’ve been finding comfort in an unexpected place – Rúben Dias, a player from your club's biggest rival. tags: established situationship, rivals-to-lovers, mention of smoking, sports drama, arguing, mutual pining. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 3.3k words)

part 1

You slip out of the locker room the moment you can, making a shitty excuse. No one questions you – they’re all too wrapped up in the post-match high, riding the wave of a rare, dominant performance. You should be celebrating, but instead, there’s this sense of dread clawing at your gut.

You’ve been here a few years, but it feels like you’ve lived a lifetime of disappointment, false promises, and crushed hopes.

How many times can you start over before it breaks you?

You step outside, the heavy stadium door swinging shut behind you with a dull thud. It’s cold – November in Manchester always is – but you barely feel the chill as you fish a crumpled pack of cigarettes from your coat pocket. Your hands are shaking a little, either from the leftover adrenaline of the match or the exhaustion that’s been creeping in at the edges of your thoughts for months.

Your lighter flares, a small circle of warmth in the dark, and you inhale deeply, the nicotine sharp and bitter on your tongue. It doesn’t really calm you, but it’s something to do. A familiar habit, a routine that hasn’t changed even when everything else has. You lean back against the rough brick wall, your shoulders sagging, and close your eyes.

They’re all talking about him – the new guy. The Portuguese manager who’s exactly what the board thinks they need to clean up the mess. You’ve seen this cycle before. Another savior, another man with a plan. You’ve learned not to get too attached, not to trust the optimism that comes with each “new era.” You’re tired of being yanked along, like a hamster on a wheel, running in circles while everything around you stays the same.

You take another drag, feeling the smoke burn in your throat. It’s all physiological, you tell yourself. The anxiety, the repetition. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. But it doesn’t change the fact that this new manager freaks you out. You’re not even sure why, maybe it’s because you know how these things go, or maybe it’s because there’s a chance you won’t even make it to the end of the season with your job intact.

High chances you won’t, if he decides to only work with his own people. Your role’s not exactly critical, and even if you’ve been here for years, that doesn’t make you untouchable. You’ve worked hard, you’ve kept your head down, you’ve given everything you had to this club, but it might not be enough. It never seems to be enough.

You flick ash off the cigarette, eyes unfocused as you stare out over the parking lot, empty except for a few scattered cars. Somewhere deep inside, there’s a tiny bit of relief at the win, but it’s buried under layers of exhaustion and anxiety.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it. It’s probably Ruben, your Ruben, the one you should have nothing to do with. You’ll deal with that later. Right now, all you want is five more minutes of peace before you have to go back in, put on a smile, and pretend like you’re ready for whatever comes next.

Because Monday’s coming fast, and you know what that means – another fresh start. Another clean slate. Another spin on the wheel.

You stub out your cigarette on the concrete and crush the butt beneath your heel, exhaling one last cloud of smoke.

part 2

You show up at his place later than planned, you told yourself you wouldn’t let work bleed into this, but it’s impossible not to carry it with you. You know you’re dragging that weight into Ruben’s apartment the moment you cross the threshold.

You toss your bag next to the door and kick off your shoes, feeling the tension in your muscles. The sight of him, the comfort of his place – it should feel like a break from the chaos, but tonight it doesn’t.

You exchange a quick greeting, the kind that’s little more than habit by now, and settle next to him on the couch. It’s not awkward exactly, but there’s a distance between you tonight. He looks tired – more tired than you’ve seen him in a long time. 

“Hey,” you say, nudging his knee with yours, trying to draw out something, anything. “How’s the leg?”

He shrugs, not taking his eyes off his phone. “Better,” he says. “Physio says I’ll be fine in a couple weeks.”

That’s all you get. No sarcastic comment, no playful complaint about how much he hates sitting out. He just goes back to scrolling, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You were expecting him to be in a mood – City’s been struggling lately, and the timing of his injury couldn’t be worse. But still, it’s strange, the way he’s shut down. You fall back into the cushions and pull out your own phone, scrolling through Instagram.

When this started a year ago, it was never like this – there was no room for awkward silence or distractions. It was just heat and hands, tearing at each other like you couldn’t get enough. Now, there’s a lot more of this – just spending time together, filling the quiet with the small, mundane things.

Most of the time, you don’t mind. Most of the time, it’s kind of nice, this understanding you’ve built. But tonight, you feel like the air’s too thick, and it’s bothering you. You scroll aimlessly, barely paying attention to what you’re seeing, and it’s only when you hear the soft thud of his phone dropping onto the couch that you look up.

He’s staring at you, his brows drawn together in frustration, like he’s been holding back for as long as he can. “Have you been smoking again?” he asks suddenly, and the question catches you off guard.

Your stomach twists, but you keep your expression blank, fingers still moving on the screen as if you didn’t hear him. “And what does that have to do with you?” you ask, voice flat and dismissive, not even bothering to look up.

It’s a low blow, and you know it. But you’re not in the mood to be called out, not by him, not tonight. He’s watching you from the other side of the couch, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed in that way that tells you he’s annoyed but trying to keep a lid on it. You don’t bite. Instead, you scroll past another filtered photo of someone’s perfect life.

“What does it have to do with me?” he echoes, his voice low and tense. “Maybe because you said you were done with that. Maybe because it’s not good for you.”

You still don’t look up. It’s not that you don’t care; part of you does. He just doesn’t get it. Nobody does. The exhaustion, the stress of working at a club that feels like it’s constantly collapsing in on itself. It’s just a cigarette. It’s not like it’s going to fix anything, but it’s something. One small moment of control when everything else is spiraling.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, tapping aimlessly through stories you don’t even care about, “things change.”

He sighs, and you hear the frustration in that exhale with the way it rushes out of him. He shifts on the couch, one knee pressing into the cushion, body leaning closer. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

You finally look up, locking eyes with him, and it’s like you’re seeing him clearly for the first time all night. There’s a heat behind his eyes that you’ve seen a hundred times before, but this time a bit different. Angrier. More desperate. You almost want to ask him why he cares so much, but you know the answer would be another fight.

He’s never been good at hiding his feelings, not when he’s like this, wounded in ways he doesn’t want to show. It’s not just his injury, or the losses, or the fact that he’s benched while everyone else heads off for international break. It’s all of it, pressing down on him like the weight of a season that’s already going wrong, even though it’s barely November.

“What’s going on with you?” you ask, more to break the silence than because you really want to know. It comes out sharper than you mean it to, and you see the way his expression shutters, defenses slamming back into place.

“What’s going on with me?” He lets out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. “What’s going on with you? It’s like you’re not even here anymore. We barely talk unless it’s about–” He stops himself, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

“Unless it’s about what?” you snap, putting your phone down. It’s an instinct, this need to go on the offensive before he can twist the knife any deeper. “About football? About how fucked up everything is at my job? Or about how you get to sit around feeling sorry for yourself because your team is losing for once?”

The second the words are out, you regret them. You can see the hurt flash in his eyes, quick as a blink but unmistakable. You’ve seen him pissed off before, plenty of times, but not like this.

He nods slowly, like he’s forcing himself to accept what you’ve just thrown at him. “Wow,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, “I didn’t realize we were keeping score.”

“It’s not about that,” you say quickly, too quickly, the words tripping over themselves as you try to reel them back. “I’m just–fuck, I don’t know. I’m tired, Ruben. I’m so tired of everything.”

He looks at you for a long time, his eyes searching, trying to figure out if you’re lying or if this is just another one of the walls you throw up when you don’t want to deal with the truth. You can almost see the moment he decides it’s not worth fighting. He leans back, sinking into the couch cushions, and picks up his phone without another word.

The silence stretches out between you, and this time it’s suffocating. You pick up your own phone, but the Instagram feed blurs in front of you. You can’t focus, can’t even remember what you were looking at before he interrupted. You’re both here, sitting less than two feet apart, but it’s like a wall has gone up between you, solid and impenetrable.

“I should leave,” you say, standing up and running a hand through your hair, trying to steady the tremble in your voice. “In fact, I shouldn’t come here when I’m in a bad mood.”

He doesn’t even look at you at first. Then, when he does, his eyes are full of –  it’s either anger or disappointment, maybe both. “That was never a problem before,” he says, each word adorned with a bitterness that catches you off guard. “But yeah, maybe you should leave.”

You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. You just grab your bag from the floor, fingers clenching the strap so tight it’s a wonder the leather doesn’t tear. There’s a part of you that wants to drop the bag, to sit back down, to tell him you didn’t mean it – that you’re sorry, that you’re just so fucking tired of pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not. But you can’t. 

“I’ll call you,” you say, even though you both know it’s a lie. You can hear the emptiness in your own voice, and the way he laughs without any humor just twists the knife deeper.

“You won’t,” he says, his tone harsh, too raw, and you see the hurt behind it, the way he’s holding himself together by a thread. “But that’s fine.”

You hesitate, just for a second, standing there in the doorway with one hand on the knob, caught in that familiar push-and-pull of wanting to fix this and wanting to run away before you make it worse. He’s watching you, eyes unblinking, like he’s daring you to stay, and you hate him a little for that – hate him for caring when you don’t know how to anymore.

But you don’t stay. You close the door softly behind you, the click of the latch sounding too final in the quiet apartment. The weight of your bag feels heavier than it should as you make your way out into the cool night air, and you tell yourself you’ll call him tomorrow. You’ll apologize, explain, make it right. But the truth is, you don’t even know if you have the energy to try.

You know, deep down, that he’s right. You probably won’t call.

part 3

It hits you the next morning, sharp and sudden, like a punch to the gut. You wake up too early, tangled in your sheets, and the first thought that drags itself out of the haze is him. It shouldn't feel this intense, shouldn't have you wide-eyed and shivering before the sun’s even up.

But it does. It does, and the weight of it scares you.

Your whole body feels wrong, you skip breakfast, try to force down a cup of coffee, but it doesn’t help. Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles with a strange, feverish heat. You’re cold, so damn cold, but the sweat gathers at your temples and slicks your palms.

Emptiness settles in your chest as you go about your day, an ache that tightens every time your thoughts drift back to the night before. To the way he looked at you. And you hate yourself for it, hate that you need him, that your body is betraying you, craving something you can't let yourself want.

It's ridiculous. It's unbearable. It’s like you’re going through some sort of withdrawal. Just the thought of him – of his hands on you, his voice in your ear – sends a shudder down your spine, and you can’t even focus on the emails piling up in your inbox. You’re not used to this, not used to feeling so raw and exposed, and it makes you feel weak.

Lunch comes and goes, but you barely touch the food, staring blankly at your salad until you push it aside. Your appetite is gone, stolen away by the need that tightens your chest and messes with your breathing. You try to distract yourself, but it's like he's burned into the back of your eyes. Every other thought circles back to him, to the echo of his laugh, the feel of his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

By mid-afternoon, you’re practically vibrating with it. The restlessness, the discomfort, the absence of him. You can feel it in your bones, this weird kind of panic that has your skin clammy and your hands shaking. It’s not normal, this kind of reaction, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about yourself.

What if you can’t stop feeling this way? What if this is just how it’s going to be now – this constant ache, this physical need that won’t let you breathe properly unless he’s there, grounding you?

You end up sneaking out early, your boss too busy with last-minute prep for the new manager to notice. You don’t know where you’re going, don’t have a plan. But your feet take you in the direction of his place anyway, like you’re on autopilot, the city blurring around you. Your phone buzzes with a message – something work-related, but you can’t even look at it.

All you can think is that you need him. You need him now.

part 4

You hesitate outside his door, you’re jittery, nerves buzzing under your skin, and your fingers hover over the wood, half-afraid to knock.

What if he doesn’t want to see you? What if he’s busy or worse – what if he’s not alone? You feel stupid for not calling ahead, for showing up unannounced like this. But it’s too late to turn back now. You take a deep breath and knock, your knuckles rapping against the door in a shaky rhythm.

Your heart is in your throat, the seconds ticking by in agonizing silence, and you wonder if this is how it all ends – him opening the door with a surprised look, gently telling you he’s got plans, and you slinking away like you never showed up in the first place. You’re ready to walk away, to put yourself out of this misery and pretend you never came, when you hear the deadbolt click.

The door swings open, and there he is, looking more surprised than annoyed. He’s wearing a loose t-shirt and joggers, barefoot, like he wasn’t expecting company. His hair’s a mess, and you realize with a weird sense of relief that he was alone.

“Hey,” he says, and you just stand there, because you don’t know what to say. Hey feels too casual for the way your heart’s racing, for the desperation that drove you here in the first place. He looks at you like he’s trying to read your mind, his eyebrows drawing together.

“I – I should have called,” you stutter, feeling heat rush to your face. 

“No, it’s... it’s fine,” he says, stepping aside to let you in. There’s a weird, careful distance in his voice, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like he can tell there’s something different about today. “Come in.”

You walk inside, brushing past him. You feel his eyes on you the whole time, tracking your every movement. It’s stupid how much you want him to close the door, to pull you close and tell you he’s missed you, that he’s felt the same aching emptiness since you left last night.

But he doesn’t. He lingers by the door, watching as you settle on the edge of the couch, your hands clasped tightly in your lap to keep them from shaking. He knows you’re holding back and is waiting for you to say why you’re really here.

You force yourself to look up, meeting his eyes.

“I needed to see you,” you blurt out. You see surprise flicker across his face, but he doesn’t move, just stands there waiting for you to go on. You swallow, your throat tight, and push the words out. “I just... I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s driving me crazy.”

His eyes widen. Then he’s crossing the room, sitting down beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your knee. It’s gentle, hesitant.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice soft, and it’s the concern in it that makes you want to cry. You nod, even though you’re not sure you are, not really. You’re still scared, still feeling that horrible emptiness clawing at your chest, but he’s here, and he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters right now.

You let out a shaky breath and lean into him, pressing your face against his shoulder, and his arms come up around you automatically, holding you close. The relief is instant, a flood of warmth spreading through you, and you realize how desperate you’ve been for this, for him. His hand moves up to your hair, fingers gentle as they brush through it, and you can feel the tension in your body start to unwind, little by little.

“Why didn’t you call?” he murmurs against your hair, and there’s something almost fragile in his voice, like he’s been waiting for you too, like maybe he needed you as much as you needed him.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I was afraid you wouldn’t want me here.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands cradling your face, and you can see the frustration and tenderness mingling in his eyes. “You’re an idiot,” he says softly, but there’s no bite to it, only a strange kind of relief. Then he kisses you, hard and urgent, trying to make up for all the things you didn’t say.

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Achievements (spoiler warning for link) -image files from Steam.

these are cool pieces of art, some with references to previous pieces of DA art. ^^ there are also black and white versions of these image files.

Post is under a cut due to length and spoilers.

This post is Part One of two.

[Part Two link]

Part 1: The Minrathous Job Technically, the plan worked.

Part 2: Ruin’s Reach Made unexpected acquaintances in the most unusual of places.

Part 3: Awakening Discovered a singing blade, and the awakening of ancient magic.

Part 4: Tevinter Nights Uncovered a darkness etched deep into the streets of Minrathous and beyond.

Part 5: Anvallenim Peeled back the shroud concealing a cult’s dark movements and gained some valuable insight.

Part 6: Old Blood, Older Oaths Faced a howling storm to discover a long-held secret, and found out what it means to be a leader.

Part 7: Fire, Feather, and Fade Searched high and low to bring together a team unlike any other.

Part 8: No Sacrifice Greater Practiced vigilance, found peace wanting, and witnessed the meaning of sacrifice.

Part 9: Bonds and Blackened Wings Forged bonds with a family found amidst an unravelling world.

Part 10: The Blood of Arlathan Followed a crimson trail weaving through the heartland of an ancient empire.

Part 11: As Shadows Fall Tracked evil through the heart of Antiva, and found that light casts the longest shadows.

Part 12: The Best Tales Ascended to the throne of would-be gods under the shadow of their legacy.

Part 13: The Last Gambit The only thing left to lose is everything.

Part 14: The Dread Wolf Rises Faced down demons, dragons, darkspawn, and even the Dread Wolf.

The Ones That Last Beat the odds and walked into the sunset.

The Storm Quelled The poisoned fruit ripens.

In Peace Found hope in the aftermath.

No Real Gods Drew out the latent magic in every Altar of the Evanuris.

Reflections Helped an eluvian tinkerer find herself in a shattered world.

A New Calling Helped a fearless Warden find his new calling.

Death Becomes Him Helped an old necromancer define his legacy.

A Song from the Stone Helped an expert scout forge a new path.

Blood Ties Helped a master assassin slay his demons.

City of Shadows Helped a seasoned detective uncover what lies in the shadows of her past.

Little Dragon Helped a dragon hunter find the meaning of what burns inside them.

A Memory of False Gods Witnessed the first memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Our Mistake Witnessed the second memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Blackened Hearts Witnessed the third memory of Fen'Harel.

A Memory of Manifestation Witnessed the fourth memory of Fen'Harel

A Memory of Tranquility Witnessed the fifth memory of Fen'Harel.

[source: Steam]

[octoberautumnbox]

Happy Anni-box-sary!! :DDDD

Whew! It's been a year since I've started writing on this platform (and in general fsgsdjkfghjadskfh), and what a wild ride it has been. Ups and downs scattered throughout the year, but I really wouldn't have it any other way :uwuge:

All that said, let's move onto the box 2024 recap!

Yuri fics I've written: 8

Fly in the Night Trip

Love in the Night Train

Juicy Juicy

Friday

Adrenaline

Enjoy

I Got All I Need

Like It Like I Love It

buncha drabbles I didnt count, some of them fluff, some of them angst, all of them box 📦‼

Yuri fics other people have written: 6

@fillinforlater's Friends that can Keep a Secret

@birchleavesdawn's Bitter Taste

@xshadowdelta's Former Manager pt. 1: Back in Town

@usedpidemo's Cruel Flower

@prael's Reality

@leafostuff's Operant Conditioning

Non-Yuri fics I've written: 11

in my best attempt not to double count when there was more than one idol in the fic (lmao),

1 for soloist Chaeyeon

1 for Kiss of Life

2 for woo!ah!

2 for tripleS

2 for Kep1er

3 for fromis_9

Funnest fics to write:

Hell Week: despite not doing sins's prompt justice, I really did enjoy how I built Yubin and OC's character, even as the writer i fell in love with how sweet Yubin came to be, and while I do think the sex could have been fluffier, i do like how i wrote the ending :DDD

Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424: i think deep down inside i knew the apartment thing was gonna come back, even at the time, though i had to promise myself it wouldn't be a series. Yujin and Xiaoting are still a killer duo i'd love to write but it wouldn't fit that well with what i've decided on what the apartment fics will be, instead i'm going with the direction that The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307 went and go from there

Like It Like I Love It: EASILY my top 1 from this year. it was everything reader box would have wanted in a yuri fic: a casual relationship, a possibility that there's something more in it, hot sex (literally), and just the right amount (maybe a bit too little) of showing off babygirl yul. i really hope this isn't peak box but going back to why i started writing in the first place, which is that i wanted to see more quality yuri fics, this was something that if i were still a reader would have sated me for at least another year. good job box!

Idols/Groups I've come to know:

Kiss of Life: I think they debuted before me? I noticed Natty first bc ofc I did 😭 but quickly fell in love with how Bobsky just vibes so well with them aaaaaaa

tripleS: I started paying attention around Girl's Capitalism but I knew of them since Generation. I still know only like ten of them and still need to look up whether they're of age or what number S they are but I've written the group thrice now so worth :DDDD

Kep1er: zozi was tough for wizones and I'm not exception, so there was a lot of animosity to this group starting out. I only really started loving this group because of choiyuj, and it was me falling in love with that tiktok that cookies n seggs noona was ever made and it's been upwards ever since

Collabs:

One Heck of a Joyride with @leafostuff: simultaneously this took way too long and not long enough LMAO we started in Feb and released in May, if u can remember Best Job Ever and Like It Like I Love It came out in May too so that was hectic for me. but it's my first and to date only long fic and I hope someday to surpass it in terms of word count and idol nuguness :sitt:

Prompts:

@i-am-lifeform24's Curated Companions: this first major prompt I took part in, where I wrote Dito Muna Tayo :nolookk: it got me attention I didnt know how to feel abt (I still don't tbh) but it was a major step in the right direction to temper my expectations of myself: it reminded me to write for me

@msafterhours's Seasons: this was a major L for me jfkgjslahhf I wrote A Little Goes a Long Way, misunderstanding the prompt "Seasons" for "Seasoning" and making a cooking fic instead. it was a great laugh with him tho, and a memory I come back to fondly

@mintwithchoco's Favorite Song: I wrote Orange-Tinted Sunset with Sticky in mind but promising mint I'd break Belle's heart lmao, at the time my current favorite song switched from that to Nothing and it all just fell in place. I had the idea a long time ago for Haneul but this was the perfect chance to broaden my horizons yet again, and to my dismay it proved @0cta9on right that I kinda was okay at all three genres of fics that touched on after all :bearlazy:

Growth:

can't remember if I said it out loud on the tl but im not a serious writer! that just means that I dont consciously aim to improve how I write and I'm totally fine with the skills and style I have now, and any exp gained or skills learned is has been passively achieved

that said, I'm really so so happy with Fly in the Night Trip and Love in the Night Train. In my first ever fic i said i wanted my next work to be a smut, and that i would be able to write more of what i wanted on my blog soon. Enjoy was both of those, and i even got to write so much more of my ult bias throughout the year and then some. you could call it self-serving, or as @capslocked so eloquently put it, unconsidered readers, all of you. :sitt:

thats why im really happy to be able to come full circle with another fluff in Love in the Night Train, because i feel like it concludes such an awesome year in such an awesome way. id tell 2023 box that just keeping at it wouldve worked out so well, but the extra effort to write just a tiny bit better, to listen to @midnightdancingsol's advice, to stick with it even though work fucked us up (and still does) is going to be well worth it

Hiatuses: 2

ok obviously im not as proud of this one. but each time i did, it was me reevaluating how I run the blog and what sort of stuff I'm getting myself into. it was well worth taking a step back from writing and just figuring out what exactly I wanted to do, and the breaks did wonders for how I paced myself.

these were me asking myself questions that struck the very core of how I conduct this cacophony of a kpop smut blog. it made me aware of arbitrary rules I was holding myself to, and gave me a chance to do away with them. everyone has to clear out their inventory every once in a while, and these were mine :DDDD

Everything else:

ive stopped tracking notes bc I learned since I occasionally write nugu and non-smut to never expect 100+ and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get there slfjglah but yeah, there's better things to keep track of like what I did above

these are what really matter to me: yuri, writing, and the community i've become part of. while I do think the 1022 club is a fun milestone to celebrate, anything else is a bit more work than i care to make a separate post about (except maybe on bluesky lmao)

at my core, im a glassy, a true fan of the little ball of sunshine that is jo yuri. i keep saying that as long as im able to make one of you lovely readers a fan of her too, i'll know i'm doing good! so to all you box followers, all you honorary glassys, please tune in to yuri! she just released her tenth(!!!) OST entitled Spring Days Pass, will appear in Squid Game season 2 which premieres on Dec. 26 on Netflix, and is bound to have a comeback lined up soon :cuteplead: please join me in supporting her! :DDDD

Aaaaand that's it I think? A wild ride for sure, and I'm happy to have spent it here doing what I love. Hopefully all you readers also show greater support to my fellow writers and friends on here, and as always, stay tuned for more box fics in the future!

Thanks for reading, and see you all in October Autumn Box season 2!!