#is the thing they end up talking about for the rest of their lives and known for after they die

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

mean!rafe slowly getting soft for reader but she realizes what sort of sick person he really is so she leaves him and now rafe is the desperate one (this would be really appreciated pretty!!!)

i loved, i loved, i loved you

mean!rafe cameron x desperate!fem!reader

cw — talks of murder, stalking, manipulation

summary — after overhearing a conversation between your boyfriend and his best friend, you begin to rethink your decisions.

authors note — can be read as a standalone but is apart of the mean!rafe series. part 1 is “i just wanna be one of your girls” and part 2 is “but i’ll do anything for you.” i’ll probably make a masterlist for this cause it’s probably going to end up turning into a series tbh so lmk if i should do that! please request more!!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

“baby?” you heard him call out from the living room as the front door shut. he shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the coat rack then followed the smell of food into the kitchen where you stood all pretty. you had a cute little pink sundress on, a white apron with a ribbon adorning the middle, and your hair was perfectly curled. “you look like a fucking dream.”

he walked over to where you were standing and pulled you into him with his big hands lightly squeezing at your hips. “thank you, rafe. i made your favorite,” you replied with a smile on your glossed lips as you rested your hands on his shoulders. “how was work?”

a sigh left his lips and his body tensed. “same thing as usual. nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” he said with a kiss to your temple. “i missed you, angel.”

you frowned slightly and hugged him. “i missed you too, rafe.” you nuzzled into his chest deeper and he held you close, taking in the delightful scent of your shampoo. you pulled away a little sooner than he would’ve liked and pulled out his designated chair at the table. “why don’t you eat before the food gets cold?”

he nodded and sat down, laying the napkin over his lap and unraveling one pack of utensils you spent your afternoon packaging up to look professional. you sat across from him in your own seat and waited for him to take his first bite before beginning to eat your own.

he wrapped up some of the noodles on his fork and placed it carefully into his mouth while you sucked in a breath and waited for his validation. “it’s amazing, sweetheart,” he praised while getting more onto his fork. “you always prepare the best, you know that.”

you smiled to yourself and glanced down at your own plate, a red blush spreading across your cheeks. you began to eat as you two sat in a comfortable silence and enjoyed the pasta.

once he finished and was getting ready to get up and place his dish in the sink, you stood and beat him to it. “i’ve got it,” you said softly. you knew how long and draining his work days were and you’d do anything to make the rest of his day better.

“thank you, angel,” he replied gratefully while standing and brushing past you with a loving squeeze to your hip. “i’ve gotta finish up some stuff on my laptop. i’ll be in my office if you need anything.”

you nodded and began to wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen. once you were all finished, you neatly folded your apron and placed it in the closet in the living room before heading up the stairs and to the office to see if he needed anything. before you could even knock, you heard a loud bang, which you assumed was his fist against his desk.

“goddamnit barry! i fuckin’ told you that i had it handled,” he spat into his phone. “i took care of him, alright? they got rid of the body, the evidence, all of it and now you’re over here screwing it up.”

the body? you placed a hand over your mouth to cover the sob threatening to slip past your lips. you pressed your ear closer to the door and waited for him to speak again.

you heard him curse under his breath and laugh angrily. “it was all going to plan and then—“ he paused. “get rid of him. do whatever you have to do, just fuckin’ get rid of him. i’ll do it myself if i have to.”

a tear hit your hand and you quickly backed away from the door and quietly walked into your shared bedroom. you immediately began throwing clothes into a bag until you heard the office door open. you shoved it under your bed and sat at the edge of it.

he came in and immediately made his way over to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your hands in his. “hey. what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

you just shook your head and faked a sad smile. “i jus’ miss you, rafe,” you lied as convincingly as you could.

he sighed. “i know, baby. and i’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. “look. i gotta go handle something really quick but we can spend the whole night together the moment i get back, ok? i promise.”

a shaky breath left your lips as you nodded and allowed him to kiss you then your forehead as he stood and made his way out towards the front door. the moment you heard it shut, you packed everything you could and sprinted out towards your car. you didn’t know how much time you had until he got back.

you were quick to disable your location on everything and turn on do not disturb before speeding off towards your parents house an hour away. you hoped it would be far enough and undisclosed so he’d never find you.

and only 30 minutes into the drive, you had 72 missed calls and 101 texts from rafe.

[naoluvs]

STAY, EVEN IF IT HURTS

Synopsis: Jason Todd is back, but he’s not the same—and no matter how much you love him, he won’t let you in. Yet, you refuse to walk away.

Pairing: AK!Jason Todd x F!Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of PTSD & Trauma, emotional & physical distancing, mentions of violence & Jason’s past torture, self-soathing & guilt themes, desperation & unrequited Affection (or so it seems)

You didn’t expect this.

When you walked into your living room only to find the one and only Arkham Knight sitting in your old armchair, you thought you were going to have a bullet through your chest.

But no. At first, he talked about how you changed, how your style had changed. Like he was disappointed in the small trinkets, plushies or whatever decoration you had around your apartment, things your first boyfriend once liked or reminded you of him.

Then, he pressed a button on his helmet, showing his face— and you couldn’t help but give in whatever words came out of his mouth. He was Jason Todd, you knew it.

He could mock the way your knees slightly buckled when he revealed his face, and you would just hum in approval. You can’t even remember how he convinced you to come with him.

That might be because you cried; too much, actually. Tears of joy, since at the end of the day, Jason was alive. And maybe sadness, taking in consideration that your once pretty boyfriend now carried a thick tension around him and a blank glare on his face.

It’s not that he isn’t attractive now, he’s still the old Jason, right? Wrong. So, so wrong.

He wouldn’t let you kiss him, hug him, touch him or basically do anything around him. He was living in an invisible bubble and kept his guard up when you accidentally got closer to him.

And you got used to it. You also did the math; he doesn’t stay without a long-sleeved shirt or long pants. He must’ve been wearing a thick coat of scars, taking note of the ‘J’ branded on his cheek.

You felt useless, really. He’s hurt and you want to help him, but he won’t let you. He won’t even let him show your love towards him.

For example, during the first week you moved in with him your decided to press a kiss on his cheek, but he immediately pushed you back, giving you a stern look before locking himself into his room for the rest of day.

And to be honest, you were tired of this. You love Jason and didn’t see him as the monster, a lost cause or whatever shit goes through his mind. You saw him as your boyfriend.

You told him countless things to reassure him, but he would wave you off, ignore or stare at you and nod. Sometimes, you could catch a glimpse of emotion in his eyes, but would quickly turn around.

You craved Jason for so much time, you even started to throw hints. For example, one night while he was in the living room you would take a long sigh, and walk with heavy steps towards the guest room you were assigned, and mutter things like ‘the bed is so cold alone’.

But he wouldn’t invite you in. So you manned up, and basically picked the worse night of most to sneak under the covers with Jason.

It was a stupid idea, but you were fed up. So, you guided your hand towards the cold door knob, and slowly twisted it. You couldn’t really make out where the bed was, but a set of uneven breaths and blanket shifting under some twisting and turning kind of did the trick.

You slowly stepped towards the bed, where you saw clearly that Jason was having a nightmare. You kind of had second thoughts about this, but you were just a few steps away from him.

A rather loud creak under your foot alarmed Jason. He rose from the bed in a flash, pressing a hand around your neck as he pushed you in the wall. He had this cold, determined look on his face.

“J-Jason?” you murmured, terror in your eyes. You shouldn’t be surprised that his first instinct is to fight. Upon hearing your voice, he releases you from his grasp. He then retreats back, walking towards the desk and leaning forward against it, gripping the edge.

“Get out, Y/n. Now.” his voice is cold, but there’s a tremor in it. You stared at his broad back— that same one you used to tease him about being small, but didn’t move from the spot he glued you to the wall. Afraid of taking a wrong step.

“Jason…” You start, ignoring the comfort you took in him almost strangling you. It didn’t leave a lustful sensation in you body, it left a… Weird feeling of consolation.

“What do you want?” Jason asked. “I…” you started, words tangled in your mouth, watching his fingers curl against the desk. “Spit it out, Y/n.” the way he said your name— low quiet, like it almost hurt to say, made your chest ache.

“I just needed you.” you pray that you chose a good set of words, because Jason’s head slightly moved to the gun sitting in the upper left corner of the desk. Now that sent shivers down your spine.

But he let the silence stretch, until he let out a short, humorless breath. “Leave.” You just swallowed, daring to take half a step forward. “Jason—“ “Now.” This time, Jason’s voice is sharp. A warning.

You just froze quickly looking over your choices: if you pushed, he’d snap. If you left, you wouldn’t be so sure if you had another chance.

So you just let out a small, dry laugh. It was a hollow sound, more out of need that amusement. You hadn’t genuinely smiled in a long time. “Sounds good.” you whisper.

You then wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to trap in the warmth your body barely provided. Jason’s room was like a freezer, or maybe it was just him.

“What sounds good?” His voice was low, tired, edged with irritation. His right hand gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white, while his left dragged over the bridge of his nose. A familiar, stressed gesture.

Jason had spent years enduring white nights, haunted by his own mind. He wasn’t used to speaking after nightamres— let alone accepting comfort.

You swallowed, throat tight as he turned to his side slightly. “My name in your voice.” you let out a breath, forcing a small smile. “I… missed it.” The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—the flicker of something in his expression.

And then, just as quickly, it was gone before shielding himself again from you. Your smile faded, realisation hitting you in the face.

Bad move. You had reminded him of his past. It didn’t sound so bad, but the tension and silent rage that fuelled Jason made you think that you really fucked up.

Jason’s jaw tightened. His fingers twitched, like they wanted to grab something, break something—do anything except feel. He let out a short, stoic exhale.

“Yeah? Well, you shouldn’t.” Then, he turned away from you. That was it. That was all you were getting. And yet, you still stood there, arms wrapped around yourself, looking like your were waiting for something.

Jason sighed, dragging a hand down his face. His voice dropped, quieter this time, like the fight was draining out of him. “Go to bed, Y/n.”

Your tensed body relaxed, hearing the letters of your name roll out of his mouth again. Were you actually— even slightly breaking Jason’s massive, shell that he kept himself in?

“I was thinking…” You took a few steps. If there’s a moment, it’s now. Risk it. A beat of silence. Wait, that’s a bad idea. He just had a nightmare— but your fingers curled into your sleeves. You know what? Fuck it, you already did too much by inviting yourself in his room, it’s better to drain all that courage already.

So you took a slow step forward, then another. “I was thinking…” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Maybe I could stay with you.” No movement. No response.

But you knew Jason had heard you. Jason let the silence stretch, thick and suffocating. His back was still turned to you, his body so stiff it looked carved from stone. The grip on the desk didn’t ease. His fingers didn’t twitch.

For a moment, it almost seemed like he hadn’t heard you, or ignored your words. But then— a slow inhale; controlled, measured. “No.” his word cut through the air like a blade.

You stopped mid-step. Jason finally moved. Not toward you, but away. His hands lifted from the desk, and he exhaled, his head tilting slightly toward the ceiling, like he was forcing down something heavy.

“Go to bed, Y/n.” His voice wasn’t sharp this time. It was quieter, duller—like he was already detaching himself. Your chest ached as you forced yourself to move. Your feet felt heavy, like you were dragging every ounce of disappointment with you.

Each step toward the door was harder than the last. Your fingers curled around the cold handle but you couldn’t turn it. Instead, you squeezed your eyes shut, breathing through the tightness in her throat. Then you turned back around.

“Jason, I—” your voice wavered. You swallowed, harder this time. “I can’t let you suffer.” Jason stiffened. He didn’t turn, didn’t move and you took a shaky breath.

“I love you.” The words hung in the air like a loaded gun. “I can’t—” your voice cracked. “I can’t live knowing you’re pushing me away.” Jason’s fingers twitched at his side.

“I… You just—” you exhaled, frustration burning in your throat. “You close yourself off from me. Why?!” Silence.

You took a step forward. “Why can’t you trust me?!” The words came out harsher than you meant. Desperate. Pained.

Jason’s breath hitched. For the first time all night, his shoulders tensed in a different way. Like something had cracked.

You swallowed, heartbeat loud in your ears. “Jason, you’re not a lost cause.” your voice trembled, but you didn’t — couldn’t stop. “You act like you have to carry this alone, like you’re the only one who knows pain. But you’re not.”

A sharp inhale. Jason’s fingers twitched. You took a step forward. Not aggressive—just enough to close the space. “You don’t have to do this alone.” Jason’s jaw clenched.

His face didn’t change—no glare, no sneer—but something was wrong. His shoulders were too still. His breathing too measured. Like a grenade waiting for the pin to be pulled. You felt your chest tighten. Maybe you had already pulled it.

You let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself. “As long as this is here—” you lifted your hand slowly, cautiously— toward his chest, his heart. The moment your fingertips nearly brushed him, a sharp, bruising grip locked around your wrist.

You gasped. Jason’s fingers dug in—tight, unyielding. Not enough to break, but enough to warn. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. Cold. “Don’t.”

You took a sharp step back, frustration bubbling in your chest. “Jason, I love you—” you exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “But I hate this.”

Jason’s grip had loosened on your wrist, but he didn’t let go. Not yet. “I love you.” The words cracked in your throat. “I look at you, and all I see is my beautiful—my handsome boy. Not a weapon. Never a weapon.”

Jason’s breathing hitched—so quietly, you almost missed it. You bit your tongue. “At least… that’s what I see in the rare moments you let me look at you.”

Jason’s fingers twitched against your skin. You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “And I’m tired of hoping. your voice lowered, something hollow creeping into it.

“I feel like you keep me around because it’s convenient. Like I don’t really matter to you.” you finally met his eyes, searching for something—anything.

“Throw me out, Jason.” your chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths. “If I’m just something you tolerate, then don’t bother. You don’t have to force yourself to deal with me.”

You could feel his fingers tense again—this time, tighter. But they soon slip of your wrist, and he takes a step back. No words. Just silence. Jason’s expression shuts down completely. That dead, empty stare he’s mastered.

“Go back to bed.” he murmurs. How many times is he going to repeat that damn phrase? For fuck’s sake, your tired. You try understanding him, but he doesn’t want you to.

You let out a shaky breath, sniffing back tears that burned in the back of your neck. “Go back to bed?” you let out an unamused, broken laugh. “God, Jason. I’d rather just—just lay next to you. Feel something real. Hell, even just a hand on my shoulder, forearm—” your voice cracked. “A touch. Any touch.”

Jason didn’t move. His hand was still half-raised, like he meant to grab you again but thought better of it. You shook your head, rubbing at the deepening bruise like you could erase the feeling of his grip on her wrist.

“But I guess that’s too much to ask.”

You turned fast, wiping at your face with your sleeve, not wanting him to see you like this. Jason still didn’t say a word. You reached the door. Paused and waited. Nothing.

You chest tightened. With a sharp inhale, you yanked it open and slammed it shut behind you. Jason didn’t flinch at the sound. But after a long, empty moment, his hand curled into a fist at his side, short nails pushing the flesh of his calloused palm.

Jason stayed still, staring at the closed door like he could still feel you standing there. Like if he waited long enough, you’d come back. You wouldn’t.

You had always been loud, stubborn, relentless. But this? This was different. Your voice still echoed in his head.

Jason squeezed his eyes shut. Fuck. He bit a breath, punching the nearest wall. The pain barely registered.

A deep, sharp crack split through the drywall, dust crumbling at his feet. He exhaled hard through his nose, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. He felt sick. Because you was right. Every goddamn word of it.

He did keep you close out of necessity—because the thought of losing you made something dark coil in his chest. But he couldn’t give you what you wanted. Not like this. Not when he wasn’t even sure he was human anymore.

Jason inhaled sharply, raking a hand through his hair. His pulse was too fast, his body too tense. He needed air. Without thinking, he moved toward the door—stopped himself.

No. Not yet. He turned away instead, taking his gear and quickly putting it on, before grabbing his helmet from the desk and shoving it over his head, the cold metal pressing against his burning skin. Then, without another glance at the door, he stepped out into the night.

You on the other hand, as soon as you stepped out of Jason’s room, you felt like a fool. He suffered more than you, Jason needed you by his side. And you let your selfishness take over.

You just curled up in the corner of the room, pushing your knees into your teary eyes. You have to be more understanding. He came to you for a reason.

You could leave. You could walk out of his life right now, and maybe it would be easier.

But you won’t. Because he came to you for a reason. And even if he can’t say it, even if he pushes you away—you know he still needs you.

So, at the end of the day, you didn’t expect any of this.

a/n: i’m getting the arkham trilogy this monday😛, and i used the internet for Jason’s character. i’m going to be honest, i had this in mind for some time, and i hope i did good!!

[boybandbaby]

Secret (Evan Buckley x SingleMom!Reader)

word count: 1343

warnings/tags: nervous buck, 18+ mdni (mention of sex), as always please let me know if i missed anything

note: part of my single mom reader universe which can be found here

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Buck had noticed your change in demeanor from the first two dates. He thought things had been going well but he’s starting to second guess himself.

He starts to think that maybe he had worked up this idea that things with you could be end game. I mean it was only your third date and he was already thinking of engagement rings.

He had been scolded by each member of the team and his sister when he asked Chimney which ring shop he went to. They all told him to slow his roll and not to get ahead of himself. Though they were excited for him and his new situationship, they didn't want him to get too ahead of himself.

He wonders if maybe you had noticed that he was beginning to really have feelings for you. Maybe now you had found him creepy or too pushy or too needy. Was he texting you too much? Was he asking to see you too much? Had he made you uncomfortable and now you were trying to figure out how to break things off already?

Then he remembered a joking comment from Eddie on yesterday's shift. He had been discussing the movie you picked out for both of you to see and that he was really excited to spend more time with you.

"How long have you guys been seeing each other?" Eddie had asked.

"We've been talking for a little over a month but it's officially our third date." Buck replied, buttoning his shirt up.

"Ooh, third date? You know what that means." Eddie wiggled his eyebrows. Buck knew he said it to be funny but now Buck wonders if you maybe live by the ridiculous rule of sleeping together after the third date.

What if you’re expecting sex tonight? Or what if you’re freaking out about him wanting sex tonight? Or what if you don’t want sex with him at all, ever?

Buck can feel himself sweating through his shirt in the very well air conditioned movie theatre. He’s glad it’s somewhat dark or he’s sure you could see the sweat beads rolling off his forehead. He knows you very well may be able to see him as he can see your face clearly in the light from the screen.

You’re quieter today. Face bright under the movie lights with a small smile that has a hint of nervousness in it. The popcorn bowl is still quite full and candy boxes unopened despite both of you stating you loved movie snacks.

You spend the entire movie silent and rigid in your seats. Your hands found each others' the first two dates. The first time over the table at dinner and the second time on the car console on your way to the beach. Now, they lay in your lap and his on the arm rests. You're itching to hold his hand but you're just too nervous about the secret you're holding in.

Buck knows he has to confront you kindly after the movie about what’s going on and hopefully reassure you he’s not in this just for sex. So as you’re both finally leaving the theatre, the last ones, he goes to speak when you do first. “That was a good movie, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I enjoyed it.” He smiles, hands in his pockets as you stand in the cold, face illuminated by the neon lights of the signs out front. Buck cannot remember who was even in the movie, let alone the plot. “Look, I wanted to talk to you about something…” he trails off.

“Oh? Um, yeah sure.” You look around and guide him to a near by metal bench. “Everything okay?”

Internally, you’re spiraling. You know you haven’t been acting normal tonight but you hoped that he would just ignore it. You’ve only known him for a few short weeks but you know parts of him by now. You know Buck has a habit of overthinking things so you’re sure he’s picked up on it. You’re wondering if somehow he knows your secret.

“I know it’s our third date and there’s this like third date rule that people follow. I just want you to know that I’m not expecting anything from you. I hope that’s not why you’ve been quiet all night. I know we’re still getting to know each other but I hope you know that I would never try to pressure you into doing something you weren’t comfortable with.” Buck rambles, hands flexing and squeezing on his thighs. He can feel sweat accumulating on his palms and he realizes he hasn’t even looked at your face since he started talking.

When he looks up, your eyes are slightly glossy and he’s not sure what he’s said to make you…upset?

“Y/n…”

“I have a daughter!” You blurt. When you search his face for any sort of information on how he’s feeling about this news, you’re met with furrowed brows, mouth slightly agape, and silence. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled it out like that. All night I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you. It’s the third date and yes I’m aware of the third date rule but I of course know you weren’t trying to sleep with me. I just figured the third date is either make or break and it was time for me to tell you about my daughter. You know, that way you can decide if you want to continue seeing me or get out before it goes any further.”

“What’s uhhhh, what’s her name?” He stutters.

“Her name is Evie. She just recently turned 7. Her father isn’t in the picture but that’s a story for another time.” You wave off. “What do you think? Or like how are you feeling about all this? I'm so sorry I haven't said anything up until now."

“It’s doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m surprised, sure, but I know you probably kept it a secret for a reason. I can’t imagine it’s easy being a single parent and trying to date.”

“It’s not just that. I don’t want to bring someone around her until I know that it’s serious and it hardly gets to the serious state. I really like you but I was scared this would scare you away. I’m also scared that we’ll get in too deep and you’ll realize you don’t want to be with a woman who has a kid or that the other shoe will drop and you’ll be this horrible evil guy.” You finally grab his hand. "But I know you're not a bad guy."

“Just breathe.” Buck kisses your knuckles. “Breathe, babe. I totally understand where you’re coming from. We'll take this as slow as you want. Your daughter comes first and I want to be part of your life and eventually hers if you'll let me."

"You're seriously so sweet, Buck." You pull him in for a hug. "I don't want to force you to stay or make you feel like you have to be okay with this."

"You're not forcing me to do anything. I really really like you and I want to make this work. I'll be as involved as you'll let me and I'll be patient with you just like you are with me and my job." He rubs your back before kissing your forehead. "Please don't ever scare me like that again, though. I was freaking out the entire movie."

"I'm sorry! I was nervous!" You laugh. "I could barely pay attention to what was happening."

"I don't even remember what movie we were watching." He smiles. "You want to go for ice cream? Or do you have a curfew?"

"Shut up, I don't have a curfew." You push his shoulder. "I could go for ice cream, as long as you're buying."

"I think you should buy me ice cream since you had me on edge all night." He winks. "Come on, milfy."

"Evan!" Your eyes widen as he starts running to his car. "I can't believe you just said that!"

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[caffinated-squid]

Jerry Stokes and the consequences of inaction in The Eltingville Club

Time to talk a lot about the last character in the crew, Jerry Stokes. A couple of quick things before getting into some lukewarm observations, this is not me trying to morally grandstand about a character actually being bad, this is The Eltingville Club, all of your faves are problematic. This is just about how his role feeds into the environment, and because I am not satisfied with only going over a list of bad things Jerry has done in the comics and want to go into why he is like this. I have seen a handful of people already go into his toxic behavior, so this is my attempt to contribute. To summarize, Jerry is both the support and doormat of the group. Even though all the characters rip on each other for their interests, Jerry is usually the main target. He is also the character that attempts to break up a lot of the arguments/feuds that the characters have. However, Jerry never actually fixes the problems present in the group, the most he does is postpone the terrible actions, but still goes along with whatever happens. I call Jerry the support of the group, but only by a slim margin. Like Pete, he has the tendency to enable the clubs behavior, but in his case, it’s by his lack of action rather than exacerbating the conflict.

Jerry’s main concern in the club is avoiding conflict. If he prevents the club from arguing, he won’t lose his friends. But because of that, it leads to a refusal to challenge any of the groups bad ideas. The Eltingville club has cultivated an environment where they all need to have the same opinion, and anyone who doesn’t is wrong or stupid and not a real fan. So the most that Jerry can do is just meekly suggest that something is a bad idea, but because he is also the doormat of the group, and isn’t really going to stop them, his protests can easily be ignored by the rest of the club.

Jerry ends up becoming both a bystander as well as an enabler, which has the tendency to get looked over because characters like Bill, Josh, and Pete are more blatantly toxic and destructive, so Jerry’s behavior usually goes under the radar in comparison to the rest of the clubs.

**The main reason the club will actually listen to Pete when he tells them to cut it out is because he backs up his threats, he will follow though if they don’t listen to him.

Jerry’s tendency to postpone conflict also comes with the result of refusing to call out any of his friends for their terrible behavior. He has almost never defended Josh even though the entire group bullies him for being fat is because it’s been normalized. From how bad arguments tend to get and how no one in the club takes Josh’s concerns seriously, he probably just writes it off as playful jabbing rather than bullying. Even with something like Bill making the Greedo-318 account to tell Josh to kill himself and telling Jerry to keep his secret, Jerry’s main concern is not wanting to lose his friends. He wants Bill to like him, because if Bill still likes him, the club can still exist. Jerry already has a lot of anxiety about the club breaking up, so revealing this would do nothing but add more conflict.

From what I can tell, the characters live in the suburbs. Eltingville is a tiny town with not much to do. None of them have a drivers license so they can’t go anywhere by car, days are monotonous, and the only place that holds any of their interest is a shitty comic book shop. I mention this because in this environment there is the need for community, even if that community is terrible, because it’s better than being alone. It is established that the club takes up a majority of all of the characters time, so outside of this group, there isn't really anywhere else for Jerry to go to.

Even if Jerry was able to make new friends, I have the feeling that the rest of the Eltingville Club would probably try to sabotage any attempt, considering that they spread rumors about him going around telling people that he fucked Agnes Zawatsky to reel him back into the club.

Misery loves company, and even if Jerry is the main punching bag of the group that the characters put most of the blame on, he can't leave, because they are The Eltingville Club, and its always them against the world.

[loserlvrss]

｡ ｡ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 ( 이.𝐌𝐇 )─────엔시티

( 二月 ). ──your best friend fell asleep on you, and suddenly he wasn't your friend anymore 이민형 &fem!rea. ⟡ drabble, fluff warn. kiss wc : 807HUN ++( 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓈 )

노트 mark, as promised <3

You don’t know how it happened, however you weren’t complaining. No, nothing of the sort even crossed your mind. 

All that was on your mind was how comfortable you felt despite the pins and needles in your hip. How warm you felt with arms wrapped around your waist. You could hear soft breaths taken against the silent air—your show lost on the ‘continue watching’ screen some time ago. 

You’d blinked yourself awake a couple of minutes ago, not even realizing that you’d actually fallen asleep. When you woke up, you didn’t even know what day it was anymore either, pushed into the worst brain fog. However, the dream you were having was all sunshine and rainbows, you almost regretted coming back to reality. Well, that was until you saw that your best friend, Mark, had also fallen victim to just resting his eyes. 

But then, reality hit, making your stomach drop. 

Your best friend had fallen asleep too, somehow ending up with his head pressed into your side and arms paralyzing. 

You bit your lip, feeling a little bad about reveling in such an intimate thing for friends to be doing. Of course you’d shared hugs and even held hands, Hell, it seemed he couldn’t be more than a couple inches from you sometimes, but that was always innocent. That was always because you were feeling uncomfortable, or anxious or something of the sort. 

There was never anything between the lines to read. 

Butterflies made you nauseous. You liked the feeling he instilled, but you hated that you shouldn’t actually be feeling it at all. 

Should you wake him up? You could pretend you hadn’t been staring at him for the past however long then. But, on the other hand, you could make it a thing. Afterall, It was an opportunity to make the feeling yours to hold—make him yours to hold. 

But No. No, you couldn’t. 

You were friends, nothing more and nothing less. There were never any shades of gray. No stolen glances or prolonged eye contact. There was no tension, no lingering touches or sense of fleeting time. There was nothing, and you didn’t know anymore if you could take it. 

People hadn’t even mistaken you for a couple before, and it hurt your pride a bit. 

Why couldn’t you swallow it down and ask? Too scared to lose what you already had? Circles and circles you’d been running, but not getting very far. All the destinations led back to one thing—one very, very special man. 

The man you loved. 

You groaned at the thought, head hitting the arm of the couch. And suddenly Mark was awake, very aware of the position you two were in. It was your movement of disappointment (in yourself) that stirred him, your breathing and heartbeat queuing him in. The soft plush that only a body had, making him get up faster than you thought humanly possible. 

“Oh my God,” He put his hands up like he was surrendering, “I’m sorry, I must’ve fallen asleep after you. I didn’t mean to,” 

You lifted your head through all the commotion, being met with the sight that made your heart pick up speed. He looked so adorable half-awake; hair messy, and features swollen. 

“I’m sorry.” He apologized again, “It just happened, like on an airplane when your head just—you know, drifts. You looked so peaceful, I guess I got jealous.” He tried to joke, an awkward laugh leaving his lips after the rant subsided. 

You’d sat up some time during when he was talking at you, “It’s fine,” You sighed, now regretting ruining the moment more than turning your good dream off like the show you hadn’t been comprehending. 

He was right, it was peaceful. 

Mark brought peace to your life, a sense of clarity during the worst storm you’d ever lived through. He was the rain that brought flowers, the rainbow that brought color. 

He was everything right in a left world. 

“Don’t apologize to me.” 

And just as quickly as he’d lifted from you, he was back in your space, this time soft lips against yours. Your eyes were wide when he pulled back, then his were too. 

His mouth was slightly parted, broken sounds leaving it without real substance. You assumed they’d be more apologies, so before he had the chance to gather his thoughts you leaned back in, closing the distance you thought you’d put between you two. 

Your hands found the side of his head, palms resting on his cheeks, pulling him as close as you could get. And, he didn’t protest. 

You couldn’t decide if maybe you hadn’t actually woken up, because if you were having a good dream before, then this was the best one. 

Your stomach was doing Olympic-level flips, gold medal acrobatics. But, at least, you could say the feeling was yours. 

© loserlvrss 2024 / 25. 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱.

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back to masterlist!

[frillydolle]

hiiii !!! so i dont know if it was u who wrote an arthur x reader fic where reader wears their fathers glasses to read? im pretty sure it wasnt, but i thought of it as a good idea. so, what im asking is, would u be comfortable writing something with reader wearing glasses but instead of not seeing things near they don't see things far away. so they're going through life blurry and arthur notices because they keep bumping into things bc they have no sense of depth without their glasses. offers to make them an appointment for eye doctor and helps them choose the glasses and everything ? thought it would be cute (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

arthur morgan x blind female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ wearing my glasses right now as i write this :)

“sweetheart, 'm right here— no, 'm here—... y'alrigh'?”

“... i think so.”

that was probably the fourth time u have walked into something? no one else wasn't really sure why, but only because u didn't tell anyone. it was like a secret of urs that u have kept for a long while.

arthur was really the only man who knew u struggled with ur eyesight for as long as u can remember. shooting was a huge problem that u avoid as much as u could despite living in an outlaw gang, arthur would do best his best to help u, but it never went well. u couldn't even hit a bottle!

shooting was definitely not in ur skills. no matter the number of times that arthur willing helps u shoot a gun or help u aim better, nothing worked. u always still managed to shoot a tree or shoot at.. basically nothing, u always missed the three empty bottles he placed for u to gun at.

“mr morgan, i can't— i can't see that bottle, 's too far.”

“want me to bring it closer?”

of course he did. undeniably, he's always had a soft spot for you, but it's not like he'd admit anyone else in camp or you, especially. he treated u like a fragile girl, which u weren't too far from. having bad eyesight did make u feel more vulnerable and fragile, and arthur knew this. makes him just a little protective with you as he's often seen with his fingers intertwined with urs or his arm rests around ur waist. it gave yoy sense of safety and.. comfort.

sometimes the silly man might forget just how blind you really are:( he'd never mean to! he'd just be so so focused on something and he'd bring you with him and it just slips his mind simply!

“arthur, wait—!” you'd say as u try to catch up to his pace, ur hands slightly out just in case u fall. “oh, 'm sorry, sweetheart. 'm right 'ere.”

but now, he decided to help you, proper this time. the two of u are on his horse whike trotting away, your hands around his torso tightly incase you fall or anything like such. you had no idea where he was taking you though, his words being “'s a secret, but nothin' too big, y'know?” nonetheless, you were just glad that he out if camp, noticing how stressed he would be until his blue-green eyes would set on you:(

“... saint denis? what do you have planned, arthur?” you say with a small giggle, looking at him while he's looking straight onto the road in front of him. “jus' a nice day out. you 'n' me.” he replied. huh. a nice day out. just a day out. but days were him were never often that simple, usually ended with someone recognising from blackwater or another robbery, or you talking him out of beating a man for making you uncomfortable. you thanked him regardless, making sure you're safe and well.

then he hitches off his hourse, you follow suit...the doctor's office? what was he doing here? i mean, he's fine, right? you're fine too except your eyesight, of course. wait, was he—

“c'mon, darlin'. yer fine, i promise ya.” he says as he sticks his arm to you, waiting for you to hold his arm before walking into the building. he knew you were slightly anxious about it, but he was willing to help you in any way he could.

a man like him... blood on his hands, lives taken because of him, rough and callous from hard work, a man like him with all bite and bark like a violent dog. that man bring a sweet girl like you to the doctor's office to get you sorted out with a new pair of glasses. ♡

[00valentina-writes00]

being Grayson’s wife?

♡♥︎ Being Grayson's Wife ♥︎♡

♥︎ Being Sheriff Grayson’s wife means living under the watchful, protective gaze of a woman who commands authority even in the quietest moments. She always has an eye on you, whether you’re in the same room or across the city.

♥︎ You get to witness the duality of her nature firsthand—the stern, composed officer that the world sees and the softer, more affectionate partner that only you are privileged to know.

♥︎ Grayson is a firm believer in structure and routine, which means she brings a steady, grounding presence into your life. She’s dependable to the core, always keeping her promises.

♥︎ She’s incredibly protective of you, though she never smothers. Instead, it’s a quiet sort of protection—walking on the side of the street closest to traffic, scanning a room the second you enter, standing just a little in front of you when tensions rise.

♥︎ She has a habit of resting a reassuring hand on your lower back in public, a subtle reminder that she’s there, that you’re safe.

♥︎ Her voice is low and smooth, and when she calls you “darling” in that measured, authoritative tone, it sends a shiver down your spine.

♥︎ She’s a soft dom through and through—she doesn’t need to bark orders or use force to get what she wants. A look, a slight shift in tone, and you’re already falling in line.

♥︎ She comes home late more often than not, exhausted from long shifts, but she always makes time to sit with you, unwind, and listen to you talk about your day.

♥︎ Grayson isn’t the most physically affectionate person in public, but in private? She’s all about slow, deliberate touches—fingertips tracing your knuckles, arms wrapping around your waist when she thinks you aren’t paying attention.

♥︎ She has a deep chuckle that she reserves for when you make a particularly clever remark or tease her just right.

♥︎ You are the only one who gets to see her let her guard down completely—hair down, uniform discarded, shoulders relaxed as she leans into you.

♥︎ When she’s in uniform, she looks downright untouchable, but when she strips down to just a button-down and suspenders, lounging at home with you? That’s when she’s at her most enticing.

♥︎ She smells like leather, polished metal, and something subtly smoky—something uniquely Grayson that lingers on your skin whenever she holds you.

♥︎ If anyone so much as looks at you the wrong way, she doesn’t need to say a word—her mere presence is enough to make them rethink their choices.

♥︎ She’s slow to anger, but the one thing that will set her off without fail is someone disrespecting you.

♥︎ When she scolds you, it’s not loud or harsh—it’s low, deliberate, and makes your stomach flip in ways you’ll never admit out loud.

♥︎ She has a way of gripping your chin with just enough force to make you look at her when you’re being stubborn.

♥︎ She takes pride in providing for you, ensuring you’re always well taken care of. If that means using her authority to pull a few strings for your benefit, so be it.

♥︎ Grayson is a natural caretaker—she wakes up first, starts the coffee, and ensures everything is in order before you even step out of bed.

♥︎ She leaves little notes for you before heading to work—sometimes reminders, sometimes just a simple, “Be good for me.”

♥︎ If she’s particularly exhausted, she’ll just pull you onto her lap at the end of the day and hold you, forehead pressed to yours, taking in the comfort of your presence.

♥︎ She absolutely melts if you run your fingers through her hair, especially when she’s had a rough day.

♥︎ If you ever get injured or put yourself in danger, expect a lecture, a long, lingering kiss, and then another lecture.

♥︎ She has a tendency to grip your hip when standing beside you, a subtle display of possession and protection.

♥︎ You tease her about her hooked nose, knowing full well how much you love it (especially for reasons best kept between the two of you).

♥︎ When she takes off her gloves and traces your skin with her bare fingers, you feel how gentle she truly is.

♥︎ She teaches you self-defense—not because she doubts her ability to protect you, but because she wants you to feel safe even when she isn’t around.

♥︎ She’s not one for grand romantic gestures, but when she does something sweet, it’s always deeply thoughtful and entirely for you.

♥︎ If you try to push her buttons just to see her reaction, she’ll simply raise a brow, smirk, and wait for you to realize you’ve only played yourself.

♥︎ She’s an expert at making you squirm with nothing but a slow, deliberate look.

♥︎ She absolutely adores watching you get flustered—whether it’s from a well-placed compliment or the way she murmurs in your ear when no one else is listening.

♥︎ Grayson is rarely rattled, but the first time she saw you in something particularly stunning, she actually forgot how to speak for a second.

♥︎ You get the rare privilege of seeing her sleep in—face soft, breathing even, utterly at peace in a way few ever get to witness.

♥︎ If you ever fall asleep before she gets home, she always makes sure to tuck you in properly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before settling beside you.

♥︎ She has a way of making you feel utterly secure—whether it’s in her arms, in her home, or just in her presence.

♥︎ You are the only person in the world who can make her truly, genuinely laugh—the deep, warm kind that makes her eyes crinkle.

♥︎ If you ever call her “Sheriff” in the right tone, she will give you that look, the one that makes you weak in the knees.

♥︎ No matter how chaotic or dangerous her job is, at the end of the day, she always comes home to you—her anchor, her love, her reason to keep fighting.

Ahem...nsfw:

♥︎ Grayson is a master of control, and that extends to the bedroom—she knows exactly how to handle you, how to push you to the edge, and how to keep you there until she decides you’ve earned your release.

♥︎ She has a slow, deliberate way of touching you, as if she’s savoring every reaction, mapping out what makes you gasp, shiver, and beg for more.

♥︎ Her voice is already deep and commanding, but when she leans in close, murmuring filth in your ear in that smooth, authoritative tone? It ruins you.

♥︎ She loves restraint—not necessarily tying you up (though she’s more than capable), but keeping you still with just the weight of her body, pinning your wrists down with a firm grip while she takes her time with you.

♥︎ She’s an expert at teasing. She’ll ghost her fingers over your skin, drag her lips across your neck, and let her breath fan over your core without giving you exactly what you need—until you’re desperate enough to beg.

♥︎ If you try to rush her, she’ll just raise a brow and smirk, taking her time even more because you’re squirming.

♥︎ She’s patient, but she expects obedience. If she tells you to keep your hands to yourself, and you can’t help but reach for her? Expect a punishment—a delicious, drawn-out one.

♥︎ Speaking of punishments, she prefers the kind that leave you aching for her rather than anything harsh—denial, overstimulation, making you hold still when you want to move.

♥︎ Her hooked nose? Perfect for grinding Your clit against you when she’s between your legs, pinning you down while she takes her time devouring you.

♥︎ She’s a giver—your pleasure is always her priority, and she won’t stop until you’re completely spent, trembling beneath her.

♥︎ But when she does let you take control, watching you ride her thigh or grind against her abs, she’s all smirks and firm hands guiding your movements.

♥︎ She has a habit of gripping your jaw, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at her when she’s wrecking you.

♥︎ She’s big on eye contact—if you look away when she’s fucking you, she’ll gently but firmly correct you: “Look at me, love.”

♥︎ Loves hearing you whimper her name, but if you get too loud? A firm hand over your mouth, a low chuckle in your ear.

♥︎ She has a thing for leaving marks, but only where she decides—somewhere you can cover up, or somewhere you can’t hide, depending on her mood.

♥︎ After a particularly rough session, she makes a point of pressing soft kisses to the bruises she’s left behind.

♥︎ She adores teasing you in public—resting her hand on your thigh, whispering something filthy in your ear, watching the way you shift in your seat.

♥︎ If you act up in public, expect a knowing smirk and a promise: “Just wait until we get home, darling.”

♥︎ She’s strong enough to lift you effortlessly—pushing you against the wall, carrying you to bed, throwing you onto the mattress with ease.

♥︎ When she’s particularly frustrated from work, she’ll take it out on you—not in an unkind way, but in the way she grips you a little tighter, fucks you a little rougher, chases her own pleasure just as much as yours.

♥︎ But other nights? She’s slow and methodical, pressing open-mouthed kisses to every inch of your skin, making sure you feel how much she loves you.

♥︎ She gets off on control, but she also loves watching you fall apart for her—if she’s in the mood, she’ll make you Cum over and over until you’re too spent to move.

♥︎ Her hands are rough from years of work, and you love the way they feel against your soft skin, the way she grips your thighs, holds you steady, leaves bruises in her wake.

♥︎ She loves when you leave scratches down her back—it’s one of the few signs that she let herself go completely with you.

♥︎ She’s a bit of a perfectionist, which means she will make sure you cum at least twice before she even considers stopping.

♥︎ If you ever try to take control, she’ll let you—just to see what you do—before flipping the dynamic effortlessly, pinning you down with that smirk.

♥︎ She enjoys teasing you with her voice alone—calling you good girl in that low, amused tone that makes your knees weak.

♥︎ She adores watching you struggle to keep quiet when she’s got her fingers inside you, especially if you’re somewhere you shouldn’t be doing this.

♥︎ Her uniform? Oh, she knows the effect it has on you. If you beg her to leave it on, she might indulge you—just to see you fall apart for her even faster.

♥︎ She’s a menace with aftercare—completely doting, running a warm bath, massaging your sore muscles, feeding you small bites of fruit with that amused little smirk.

♥︎ If you’re too tired to clean up, she’ll handle it—she’ll always take care of you afterward, no matter how rough she was.

♥︎ She has a habit of tracing her fingertips over your body in the afterglow, absentmindedly mapping out your curves as she murmurs praises against your skin.

♥︎ When she’s feeling particularly possessive, she’ll fuck you slow, deep, keeping you on the edge until you can barely think—“You’re mine, aren’t you, love?”

♥︎ She loves when you beg. Not because she enjoys making you desperate (well, maybe a little), but because she loves knowing that you want her that badly.

♥︎ If she catches you touching yourself without permission, expect her to make you finish what you started—while she watches, arms crossed, amused but in control.

♥︎ She’s always composed, even when she’s wrecking you—but the few times she lets go, voice breaking as she moans your name? You live for those moments.

♥︎ She lives for watching you come apart under her, the way your back arches, the way you gasp her name—she never gets tired of it.

♥︎ No matter how many times she’s had you, she still looks at you like you’re the most intoxicating thing she’s ever seen—like she could ruin you all over again and still want more.

[love-byers]

(same anon that previously sent an ask about the monologue, because writing all this just got me thinking)

Another thing to take note of is that Mike only talks in the past/present tense, but never in the future tense. He says "I've loved you every day since" but never "and I'm going to love you every day for the rest of my life". He's clinging to the past, he's refusing change. There's a line after where he says "And I’m not ready to lose you -- you hear me??". It's just so clear to me. Once he's ready, he can finally grow and allow new and better things to come into his life, and truly come of age. That's the kind of ending I believe is right for the show and those characters in a more general sense anyway.

OMG IVE NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE PAST/PRESENT TENSE STUFF THATS SO TRUE

i've always thought that it seemed like both mike and el were clinging to the past. it starts in the s3 epilogue when el says i love you too. its supposed to be taking the next big step in their relationship, maturing and changing. but mike realizes he doesn't want that, he doesn't want things to change. he doesn't want to get more serious with el. he yearns for the past when he was closer with will and didn't have the pressure of growing up and committing to el. and of course the idea of that scares him bc it makes him question the nature of he and will's relationship.

"And I guess...if I'm being really honest...I don't want things to change. So I think maybe that's why I came in here. To try to maybe...stop that change. To turn back the clock. To make things go back to how they were."

i've analyzed the living hell out of this in a byler way, because it is undoubtedly coded towards byler, but i think there is a bit of mileven here too based on what happens in s4. here's some quotes/moments that made me think mike and el were clinging to the past because they know they have no foundation of a future.

"Bitchin' right?" "Yeah, yeah, bitchin'. Do you come here a lot?" mike is so dismissive of her here it's kind of funny

then there's mike bringing her eggos before their fight. he's trying to make peace with a staple from their past, but it doesn't work, because that's not what makes a relationship strong.

"You can't let those mouth breathers ruin you, ruin us." again a reference to a joke/phrase from their past. something they share, or should share. mike feels like saying that will draw them back together. but it fails

"They're nobodies. And you're a superhero." "Not anymore." i feel like this one speaks for itself lol

and the fact that the song playing over their fight is called "Eulogy", a track that plays during scenes referencing dead characters (barb, bob, el (before mike knew she was alive), billy) and metaphorical deaths, like el moving into the cabin with hopper. "This is your new home." it's representing the death of el's old life in the lab, and finding new beginnings. their fight was the death of their relationship, and even mike knows it. a fight you can't come back from.

[daeniradraconis]

The Leafs Legacy - Auston Matthews

Okay, so @tonyspep you gave me the sweetest idea with your comment! I know you were hoping for a more gentle Auston teaching his daughter to skate, but I thought the first game could be way more exciting! Hope you still love this take though!

So, here's daddy Auston being the proudest coach at his baby girl's first game. A few Leaf players make an appearance too. It's all about the fluff and cuteness! I just needed to write something like this today to make myself smile, and I hope it does the same for you! 💕 For more fun: masterlist❤️

—-

The arena buzzed with excitement—a lively mix of proud parents, devoted fans, and an entire section filled with Toronto Maple Leafs players, all gathered to witness history: the very first game of the newly established Leafs Girls' Program. And at the heart of it all, standing tall behind the bench in his team-issued jacket, was Auston Matthews—head coach of the future generation of hockey stars.

You still remember the promise Auston made when Clara was born. At the time, you thought he was joking about starting a Maple Leafs girls’ team, but that stubborn fool never let it go. For nearly a year, he hounded the directors and senior managers, relentless in his mission. You’re pretty sure they only gave in just to stop him from spamming their inboxes with proposals and cornering them with passionate speeches. But now, seeing the pride in his eyes as he watched his team, you knew—he had won.

From the stands, you held little Auston Jr. close, his tiny Maple Leafs onesie making him look impossibly adorable. At just three months old, he had no clue what was going on, but nestled in your arms, surrounded by the bright lights and the roar of the crowd, he was completely content. And in that moment, so were you.

You and Auston had talked about having more kids after Clara turned one, but life didn’t unfold as expected. Months turned into years, and despite your best efforts, nothing happened. Eventually, you both quietly let the topic go. But then, just as you were getting ready to settle into your life as a family of three, at nearly 36 years old, you found out you were pregnant. It was a shock—a miracle.

When you told Auston, he cried like a baby, overwhelmed by emotion. And to be honest, you were a hot mess too, crying and laughing at the same time.

You may not have ended up with enough kids to fill a hockey team, but you were surrounded by love—cherished by your little ones, who meant the world to you. The small moments of chaos and laughter, the sleepy snuggles, and the endless hugs were all you needed. And as for Auston, he never let you forget, that he was right about one thing: you were an absolute smoke show MILF.

But then, your attention naturally shifted. You glanced over at the ice, where Clara stood, her little figure tiny against the rink. She wore an oversized Leafs jersey, her pink and purple helmet snug on her head, and her tiny hands gripped her stick with surprising confidence. She looked so small out there, but the look in her eyes? That was all Auston. You could see the fire, the determination—just like her dad. In that moment, you knew she was going to make her own mark, and maybe even take after her father in more ways than one.

Auston paced behind the girls on the bench, hands on his hips, barking out encouragement like he was coaching a Stanley Cup Final.

Mitch, sitting right next to you, burst into laughter, nudging William. "Oh my god, look at him," he snorted. "He’s gonna lose his mind before the game’s even over."

William grinned, shaking his head. "I’ve never seen him this hyped, and we’ve played playoff games with him."

The rest of the guys joined in, chuckling at Auston’s visible excitement. Your heart swelled with warmth. You knew how deeply Auston loved his team, so seeing them here—supporting him, even if they were absolutely going to tease him about this later—meant the world to him.

You laughed along with them, bouncing little Auston Jr. in your arms. "He’s ridiculous," you said, shaking your head. "But you all know you’re going to be just as bad in about two seconds." You shot them a teasing grin, but Mitch and William both shook their heads in disbelief, eyes wide with exaggerated innocence.

And sure enough, the game finally started.

"Alright, ladies! Keep your sticks down, eyes on the puck! Clara, get ready!" Auston called out.

Clara looked back at her dad, giving him a firm nod before turning her attention to the faceoff. You couldn’t help but smile—she was only five, yet she carried herself with the same intensity Auston did before a big game.

The puck dropped, and the game was on.

Clara skated forward, her tiny legs working overtime as she chased after the puck. The other girls scrambled in every direction, but somehow, she managed to gain control. She took a few unsteady strides before taking what could only be described as the most adorable shot attempt ever. It wasn’t the hardest shot, and it wobbled a bit, but it went straight into the tiny net.

The arena erupted into cheers.

Auston lost his mind.

"YES, CLARA! THAT’S MY GIRL!" he shouted, jumping up and down. He turned to the Leafs players in the stands, waving his arms wildly. "DID YOU SEE THAT?! GOAL SCORER GENES!"

And as you predicted, Mitch and Willy shot up from their seats, cheering like maniacs.

"Future first-liner!" Mitch called out, clapping his hands.

McMann grinned and joined in. "She’s got her dad’s shot. Go, Clara baby!"

You shook your head, laughing as Auston continued his excited antics on the bench. Clara, meanwhile, looked up at her dad, her little face beaming with pride beneath her helmet.

She skated back to the bench, nearly tripping in her excitement, and Auston scooped her up the second she reached him. He lifted her high in the air, twirling her around.

"You did it, baby girl! First goal of many!"

Clara giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. "Did you see, Daddy? I scored!"

"I saw!" he beamed, pressing a kiss to her helmet. "And I think that means ice cream after the game. What do you think?"

Clara gasped, her little eyes going wide. "With sprinkles?!"

"With all the sprinkles in the world," Auston promised, setting her back down on the ice. "Now go get another one, superstar."

She grinned and skated off, ready for her next shift.

Back in the stands, you turned to the guys beside you, only to find them still on their feet, cheering as if Clara had just won the Cup.

Mitch was cupping his hands around his mouth. "SIGN HER TO AN ELC RIGHT NOW!"

William was whistling, and Bobby nodded approvingly. "She’s a natural."

You smirked. "And here I thought Auston was the only one who’d lose his mind over this."

Mitch turned to you, completely serious. "Are you kidding? That was ELITE."

William grinned. "We should be scouting her already."

You just shook your head, laughing as they continued their proud-uncle act. Meanwhile, Auston stood at the bench, hands on his knees, grinning from ear to ear as he watched his daughter—eyes filled with pride—like she had just scored the game-winning goal in the Stanley Cup Final.

Little Auston Jr. stirred in your arms, and you glanced down at him, brushing a soft kiss against his tiny forehead. "Looks like you’ve got some big skates to fill, little guy."

The game continued, filled with more adorable chaos, but in that moment—watching your husband on the bench, your daughter on the ice, and your newborn son in your arms—you knew one thing for sure.

This was happiness. This was everything you had ever dreamed of—and more.

Note: ELC = Entry-Level Contract. An ELC is the standard contract given to rookie players entering the NHL, typically when they're signing their first contract after being drafted.

[artsninspo]

COUNTERFEIT - three

⇽ part two

➨ rio's library - good girl nbc

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

🍒 authors note: the story is starting to heat up and give you a sneak peak of whats to come.

🍒 pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Faith (Original Character) All my characters are black women.

🍒 word count: ~1.8K

🍒 summary: A day party, unexpected guest, damsel in distress, a lot of stress. Confrontation, unexpected chivalry, back stories & unfavourable truths. This one's messy 🌪️ .

🍒 three - unnatural habitats

I try my best for courage as the city scenes change from outside my window. I can feel Char’s eyes on me. Our argument was conveniently well timed. Now, if I don't show up now to this PR activation of her’s i’ll be toast. The worst sister in the world, problem child extraordinaire. It’s not that I don't want to support Char, it's that Jasonwas invited. In order to secure the necessary funding to make things go off without a hitch she enlisted him knowing his firm's coffers are deep. Knowing Jason, he will be in attendance. It’s the root of my reluctance to attend, not some petty spat and a childish attempt to get even. Char and I didn't speak until last night when she placed the dress she wanted me to wear today on my bed. A pinterest board of context for how I needed to look followed via text along with a detailed itinerary. I reacted to the messages with thumbs up and sat in the make-up artists and hair stylists chairs when they arrived smiling, laughing and talking with them - conceding and playing the role everyone wished to be my permanent disposition.

“Where were you last night?” Char asks, drawing me from my thoughts.

I take a breath before looking over at her, “Out” 

Char rolls her eyes at me before smoothing out her dress - it’s rare vintage and gorgeous. “Out where?” she probes.

“Drinking” I respond being short with her and she sighs.

“Whatever, screw your life up. The rest of us are responsible enough to be your backup plans” she snaps but i’m not in the mood for a back and forth.

“I can act the fool during your event if that's what you want?” I threaten her knowing the social game of chess well. Char glares at me in response. She knows she doesn't have to beg me not to. She knows I'd never knowingly light a match to anything she loves.

“I don't want that - I want the best for you Faith and you're just. I don't know what you're doing!” she shouts.

“I’m 24 and you're 25 Char, what the hell! We’ve got our entire lives ahead of us.”

“How many weddings have we been to the past few summers? How many housewarmings and baby showers?” Char snaps like any one of these guys we grew up with is worth getting to claim her in any way.

“That’s where the party dies Char. How many of our friends are the same?” I ask her.

“Just because you resent Merrick-” Char starts.

“It’s not about Merrick” I snapped, tired of that narrative. “None of this shit is real Char, I don't mind playing pretend but the charade has to end at some point! If mom didn’t have Merrick we could still live the way we do. We have an uncle you know, our fathers brother.”

“Drug money” she whispers well indoctrinated. Char looks at me appalled by my suggestion.

“Because corporations are not just as exploitative and damaging to communities, and the environment?” I ask and she looks at me like I'm a mongrel. Daddy would roll in his grave. That’s the fundamental difference - our father was never self righteous. He never made his choice of employment out to be the right thing - it was just a means to take care of his family. Char was his princess and I was his shadow. 

“Our father killed people and destroyed families with the poison he pumped into the community. Merrick is nothing like that” She snaps as the car comes to a halt. I exit the car and skip photo opps heading straight into the venue I’ve had a hand in decorating - I’m not in the mood to schmooze or network. I head to the bar and get my first round as the music gets good. I throw a few shots back heading over to mingle and maintain my reputation as the ‘fun’ sister. Girls twerk around me but I spare my sisters the embarrassment of my participation. I’m on a cool down when I see Jason watching me with longing. I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself this much in his company. I want to run but I can’t because we’ve made eye contact. He looks like he’s been going through it and I can't imagine how much it hurts him to see me looking unaffected by our end.

“Hey” he shouts over the music, having cleared the distance between us.

“Hey” I responded.

“You look beautiful” He smiles with a hand on my hip. It should be familiar and refreshing but it just isn't. He pulls me in coming in for a kiss but I turn my head and step out of his hold before looking at him again.

“Thanks” I mutter, not nearly drunk enough to forget we're over.

“Babe, can we talk?” He asks, lips brushing against my ear.

“We spoke already,” I remind him.

“You haven’t been taking my calls,” he says.

“Because Jason I have nothing more to say!” I say louder my impatience growing.

“Then listen to me, I love you” he says and for a moment the declaration moves me. But then something about him reminds me of Rick and it all goes away.

“Then let me go,” I plead. Jason searches my eyes before anger flashes in his. He pulls me to him like this is a bid for attention, a game of cat and mouse - a way to spice up our relationship and not a breakup.

“You want more attention, I get it. I’m here. I'll work less hours and make more time for us Faith. I love you - stop being like this” he says confirming my suspicions. It's a testament to how well I’ve gotten to know him and how little he’s been paying attention. The whole thing makes me upset and I pull away but he grabs my arms.

“Hey!” A deep voice says in warning. I relax, relieved security is here but I turn to see D’s cousin Rio. His expression is displeased as he sizes Jason up. Jason releases my arms - caught in his below the board behaviour. He straightens and my head spins. Rio’s the last person I expected here or defending me. He gives me a reassured nod before glaring at Jason like Jason has lost his everloving mind. Jason goes to grab me again before Rio steps between us.

“She’s my girl, move” Jason snaps.

“Doesn’t look like it” Rio responds unmoved.

“Why don’t you go and mind your business?” Jason snaps.

“Faith, is this your boyfriend?” Rio asks, casting a look over his shoulder at me, all the while still using his body as a shield.

“I know everyone she knows and I don’t know you” Jason snaps.

“You can do better than this, ma” Rio taunts with a smile that’s only purpose is to provoke Jason.

“Ma?! Faith, who the hell is this guy?’ Jason snaps ready to make a scene.

“Jason, call me when you aren’t drunk” I shout, needing to diffuse the situation for Char’s sake.

“Faith, don’t walk away from me” he shouts, stepping around Rio to grab at me again and it happens so fast I’m shocked. Jason is grabbed by security and his wallet is plucked from his pocket. Another guard snaps a picture of his license.

“Don’t worry, he won’t be allowed back” the guard says. I force a mortified nod as security makes quick work of throwing Jason out discreetly. A few eyes are on us, Char among them.

Fuck, I curse to myself.

“Thanks” I mumble and Rio turns to face me.

“Let me guess, finance?” He says.

My head is still spinning. “What?”

“He works in finance so he thinks people can be bought? And has shit to lose that's why he aint swing on me for talking to his ‘girl’” Rio says with a knowing, taunting light in his eyes. It kills all of the chivalry of his actions.

“Yes, finance” I admit and he looks me over again like I can do better. 

“Well D would’ve wanted me to look out,” he shrugs cooly.

“Thanks” I respond, feeling deflated.

“I’ll tell the staff you're a friend of the family, you need anything let us know” he comments glancing around the venue.

“Appreciate it” I mutter seeing Char’s wide eyes behind him as she makes her way over.

“No worries. But don’t ever come to the bar dressed like that you hear?” He winks walking away.

“Who was that? He’s hot!” Char asks as Rio disappears. 

“D’s cousin” I answer honestly.

“How do you know him? I don’t remember this cousin.” she asks.

“He was around when I saw D” I omit the full truth and she looks in his direction some more.

“He’s hot” she repeats and I smile.

“He’s not your type”

“What?” she asks.

“I'm pretty sure he doesn’t fit your criteria” I tell her.

“What does he do?” She asks.

“He looks like he does whatever he wants.” I tell her heading back to the bar. The bartender hands me a cherry margarita before I can order.

“From the boss” he smiles and I do too. My sister watches me with a hundred questions when I don’t pay and I know it’ll be a long interrogation. I wonder if Rio’s actions are genuine kindness or flirting - either way the man is attentive and clearly dangerous. I head home shortly after the incident, skipping out on the after parties. When I wake up I see a slew of emails from Jason and roll my eyes. I see a message from char saying she’s doing hot yoga and relax until my phone rings. I check the caller ID with one eye open and see Diego’s name. Relief washes over me and I answer.

“Hello”

“Char called”  Diego says on the other end of the video call.

“Yeah?” I ask and he nods.

“Asking if you were involved with my cousin” Diego says and I roll my eyes.

“Jason was sloshed and getting aggressive instead of my sister intervening your cousin did.” I explain.

“I know he told me, then asked me if guys like Jason are your type” Diego says with a knowing expression.

“We both know he isn’t” I admit. “How's the play off season going at the bar?” I ask.

“Good. You low on money?” he asks.

“No, I've been living off the tips and saving my salary. It’s nice.” I admit.

“Rio’s out of town next weekend so if you want to work let me know” he offers.

“I’m in” I tell him.

“Good”

“Did Char tell you she thinks Rio is hot?” I ask and his eyes bug out.

“Rio isn’t her type, he has a son and two girlfriends” D says, surprising even me.

“Two” I exclaim shocked and D nods. “And he’d pretend Char’s the only one,” I add, shaking my head.

“Good at it too,” D scoffs, making me laugh.

“Then he’s exactly her type, she still believes in playing pretend” I tell Jason who swallows.

“Both of you need to stay away from him.” D says before changing the subject to something lighter.

group project - COUNTERFEIT (RIO)

authors note: checking in with readers. the first chapter did well but the second not so much. idk if you all are busy or tired with the state of the world, tired of rio or adjusting to the change in POV. Whatever the case I'm willing to pause updating this story for now and revisit updating it later.

This story is a slower burn than Forgiveless but I promise all the mess and spice you love and more is on the horizon.

Comment, Like & Reblog if you want more of this story.

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[hotties4gojo]

i’m now realizing that literally like. 3 of you know about The List of my upcoming fics that I plan on posting here so I thought I’d share some of my WIP list!! ofc this isn’t EVERYTHING on my WIP list (this is only 12 of them) but these are some of the fics I’m working on <3 oyabun gojo and the first tattoo artist geto will probably be the first two I post but welllll we’ll see

1. In which tattoo artist Suguru talks so sweet and showers you in praise while doing the nastiest, freakiest, non god honoring things to you. (fem!reader)

snippet: He pulls out, cockhead drooling like a dog pining after a bone, and you whine at the loss. You’re plenty wet enough from cumming twice already, but, well… without a word, he allows saliva to pool in his mouth and Suguru crooks his neck to properly angle himself over your back.

Beneath him, you bend like a cat in heat, muscles visibly quivering beneath your sweat-slicked skin that isn’t covered by your dress as you try to mindlessly push back against him, profanities absorbed by the pillow your mouth is pressed into. You’re petal-soft beneath his hands; you unfurl like one, too.

Suguru doesn’t spit— he parts his lips, letting a glob of saliva roll down his tongue slow and molasses-like until it snaps and splatters where your cunt draws him in, long sooty eyelashes fluttering in expected surprise at the cool temperature of it. You hiss, shuddering. That’s when he slowly feeds the rest of his inches back into you, stirring the frothy honey pot of saliva, cum, slick.

“Nasty fucking freak,” you manage to rasp around a moan that comes out quaky at the drag of Suguru’s cock piercings against your tender inner walls.

2. In which you and Satoru get drunk and nasty in the bathroom at a college party. (fem!reader)

snippet: It doesn’t seem to end. Satoru’s shoulders shake and he laughs himself fucking sick, to the point that it makes his vision swim and he teeters. Oh, he’s gone. The man is finished. He can barely stand without wobbling, let alone undress.

”Sweeee—“ A hiccup interrupts him, “eeets. Need y’r help with m’pants. ‘Slike— ‘slike made of butter or sumthin’, dunno. Pleaseee, need ‘em off,” Satoru whines pathetically between giggles as he tries to hump against you like a dog in heat. He’s beyond drunk on love and alcohol.

3. In which Satoru firmly denies that he’s in love with you, his childhood best friend— when he actually has been for his entire life. (gn!reader)

snippet: It bothers him more than he’d like to admit. Because fuck, Satoru wishes he could call you his. Each reminder that you’re not makes him feel weirdly sensitive, so he just smiles sharply and waves it off. It’s worse when you laugh whenever someone brings it up.

You’re the first person he’s ever taken along on an overseas trip with his family as a plus one. He’s the first person you’ve ever taught how to carve a pumpkin. They’re each other’s many firsts.

(He wishes you had been the first person he was ever intimate with.)

You’re his first crush, too. Of course you are. He’s been hopelessly, awfully in love with you since they built a sandcastle together that fateful first day on the beach and you announced that they’d ‘share’ the mini bedroom (which was impossible). Still, little Satoru had flushed a bright red and took great interest in the seagull stealing someone’s chips.

But Satoru can’t just upturn their friendship with his own selfishness. No way. He firmly buries all thoughts of that with the occasional hookups with randos or short-lived relationships.

It’s best this way.

4. In which Oyabun Satoru and his wife, one of his secretaries, get down and dirty in his office. (fem!reader)

snippet: Looking down at you through long white lashes that flutter like the first snowfall of winter, his gaze is a mix of playfulness and appreciation in its rawest form. Satoru has to admit, this view is far more pleasant than any spreadsheet that he was pretending to give his attention to before you strode in.

Your perch on his desk gives you an air of sophisticated dominance that makes his cock give a very interested twitch in his trousers that he can’t help. Sue him for being horrendously attracted to his wife. Though he towers over you by a mere head due to the slight height advantage that his desk gives you, there’s no doubt that he yields completely and utterly to you. His brain conjures up an image of Nike, the Greek goddess of victory. Glorious and championing above the rest of them; victorious.

Woof, he thinks unintelligently.

5. In which tattoo artist Suguru’s roommate has been borrowing his clothes and he’s struggling with the feelings that come with it. (fem!reader)

snippet: You always look so cozy in his clothes that you look more natural wearing them than he does. His brain tends to bluescreen whenever he spies you in them, his thoughts unhelpfully providing frankly delusional and unrealistic scenarios where you’re wearing them because you’re dating him and take comfort in your ‘boyfriend’s’ clothes.

Those thoughts are dangerous enough on their own. But combined with the images that flash through his head of what you look like beneath his tops, which he remembers vividly from the day he pierced your nipples where you not only took your shirt off but he touched your bare skin with his gloved fingers, too… they’re lethal.

Personal boundaries are blurring more than usual. Though it’d be smart to draw a line in the sand and bar you from taking his stuff, Suguru can’t bring himself to do so. Not when seeing you in his clothes secretly flusters and warms him at the same time.

Letting you continue to borrow them is harmless. Surely.

6. In which you and Satoru become parents in their fourth and last year at Jujutsu High. (fem!reader)

snippet: One of his biggest solaces is that it won't always be like this— the constant exhaustion, the anxiety. Someday, they'll find their footing and learn how to balance it all. When you and Satoru graduate, they won’t have to stay in their cramped dorm with their bed in one corner, a crib in the other, and the tiny kitchenette full of baby bottles, sweets, and instant ramen. He’ll buy them all a nice big house with a backyard for Satoshi to play in.

(Being a father at eighteen years old, a partner, a student, and the strongest sorcerer all at once is an overwhelming balancing act. But he can't let it show. He has to be the unflappable Satoru Gojo, the man who can handle it all with a smile. He just hopes he can keep it together long enough to give his family the life they deserve.)

7. In which you, the CEO of your own company, get pregnant via artificial insemination— and your younger personal assistant, Satoru, fights for his life because he happens to love milfs. (fem!reader)

snippet: i have no presentable lines rn tewbehones

8. In which you put Satoru in his place as you shouldddd! (fem!reader)

snippet: "Ohhh fuck, your cunt is— it's s-so fucking good," Satoru slurs out, his words running together in a watery stream as he drowns in his girlfriend's perfect pussy. His fingers dig into the meat of your ass, spreading your cheeks wide and using his grip as leverage as he pumps up into you. "I need to cum so bad, sugar, please say I can. I'm your good boy, right? I've earned it, haven't I?"

9. In which Satoru realizes he’s about to lose his virginity and panics. (fem!reader)

snippet: Satoru almost responds with something like ‘if I do, I think I’ll prove the human combustion theory correct,’ or ‘are you actually about to take me to coochie-land?’ or, god forbid, ‘WOOF WOOF WOOF,’ but tries for something less brainlessly desperate.

Fuck, he needs one of those Life Alert clickers.

“This corner of your bed is the perfect spot to ponder so I’m just taking advantage of this golden opportunity, sweets. I’m thinking about the systematic oppression of women so hard right now,” Satoru tries as he nods sagely, as if to convince himself of his own bullshit. He stares at the wall while nervously bouncing his leg.

CEO sugar daddy Suguru and sugar baby reader mini series:

10. installment 1/4: In which CEO Suguru meets you in a bar, offers to be your sugar daddy, and eats you out in the bathroom while they discuss a contract— all in one night. (fem!reader)

snippet: Perhaps you notice the wedding bands on their fingers just as Suguru has, or maybe you value yourself too much to associate with, frankly, greasy and sleazy looking pursuers. Whatever the case, you have self respect and charm in heaps. That’s something he likes.

Suguru supposes it wouldn’t hurt to try his hand at wooing you. He has nothing to lose and everything to gain— that, and he’s most certainly not gonna let that sweetheart, all pretty face no waist, get snatched up by some loser.

11. In which you, the heir to the throne, and your first ever concubine Suguru teach your second and newest concubine, Satoru, the ropes. (fem!reader)

snippet: Suguru sits up, his kimono, embellished with silvery moons, sliding off of one of his elegant shoulders. “I am here to play witness to, and aid in, your introduction to the duties of a concubine. But I did not think it would be… you, of all people, to walk through those doors.”

Throwing a tantrum without actually throwing a tantrum, Satoru kicks off his sandals and marches towards the bed. He plants one knee on the cushy edge of it, ignoring Suguru’s soft hiss of “have you no respect for Your Highness’s space?” and points at the other concubine.

“Hah? What’s that supposed to mean, you stiff-necked prude?” Satoru jabs snidely.

12. In which you and Satoru babysit your niece for the day. (gn!reader)

snippet: Satoru squats as you lead Mei to him, folding himself into something smaller and kinder for her, legs bowing out like a frog’s and blue eyes level with her round ones. You release her hand and she fidgets as she takes him in, murmuring a shy, “hi.”

“Hey, Mei. Those are some nice shoes you’ve got there,” he tells the four-year-old, internally crying and punching the floor because ohmygod those tiny little booties are killing him. Mei breaks out into a toothy grin and Satoru really does nearly punch the floor, but restrains himself as to not spook her (and invite your ire).

“We’ll have lots of fun today while your mama Sagiri is busy, okay?” He sticks out his pinky, wiggling it a little when Mei blinks curiously at him until she interlaces their pinkies in a promise. Her finger is so tiny around his, all bite-sized bones and squishy chubby skin. He beams, then peeks up at you, jokingly mouthing ‘we soooo need to steal her from your sister.’

[spidybaby]

Double Face

Summary: Kylian acts different to you when other people are around.

Warnings: cursing, angst, name calling, gaslighting.

A/N: Happy Monday, everyone! Love you all ❤️ I've been away from tumblr and I really missed you and writing. Hope you all are fine 🤍

Turn around." He orders, making you turn to where he is. "I like that outfit." He smiles.

You smile back to him. Looking back again at your reflection to take a last look of yourself. You move to order the things you moved.

"I'm thinking about ordering some wine." He says, kissing the side of your head. "What do you think?"

You nod your head, smiling at him over the reflection of the mirror. Kylian smiles, finishing with the last details of his outfit.

You two take your time, you did your makeup, and he prepared his hair. When you finished, you called him.

"Ready to go?" You ask him, smiling from downstairs.

"Oui, madame." He smiles, walking downstairs to meet you. "A kiss?" You giggle, giving him a kiss. "Your first night in Madrid, I'm so happy." He hugs you tightly, kissing your shoulder.

Kylian and you have been together since the end of 2022. You met when you got hired at Paris Saint Germain as a sports reporter.

You even travel with the French National Team to the World Cup. Kylian needed you there not as a part of the team but as his partner.

He invited you to live with him in Madrid. You told him that you weren't so sure. You wanted to be able to work on the media as a reporter.

He got you a job as a La Liga reporter. You were beginning during the Valladolid vs. Villarreal game. You were so nervous because even tho you speak Spanish, you feel nervous about fucking things up.

"I'm happy too." You hug him. "Let's hurry, I don't want us to lose the reservation." You say, grabbing your bag from the table next to the stairs.

Kylian and you got to the restaurant. He loved the small, private places in Madrid. After all, he didn't want paparazzi or crazy fans to disturb your peace.

You were used to paparazzi and to crazy fans, even when people weren't as used to the two of you as you wanted.

You had to endure the rumors, the critics, the name calling, the people on the internet making fun of you.

It wasn't as easy as you wanted it to be. Being with someone as big as him was a problem. He was focused on football and making sure his team was good, that sometimes he forgot that he had a life outside the field.

When you took the job in Madrid, you made sure that Kylian and you were on the same page about life.

You weren't a child anymore, and the in and out type of relationships weren't your thing anymore. You want security, someone who's ready to take the next step if he needs to.

"I'm nervous about starting tomorrow." You confess to him.

"Why?' He asks, frowning. "Your second language is Spanish. You speak it so well and you have so much experience as a reporter."

"Thank you," you say, grabbing his hand. "I'm just feeling insecure, and I think being nervous isn't helping."

"You did an amazing job at the World Cup, and let me remind you that PSG hired you because of how good you were with the interviews and with the players during your internship."

You smile at him. Getting closer to kiss him. "I have to travel to Valladolid." You smile. "I'm happy about it."

The rest of the dinner was good, you two changed the topic to different ones. It was nice to be back with him and not having to see him over a screen.

When you are back home, you ask him for help with your luggage. "Heels or no heels?" You show him the shoes. "And if yes, pumps or stilettos?"

"Is both an option?" He asks, grabbing a stiletto. "I like this one, tho."

yourusermame

Liked by k.mbappe, laliga and 98,856 others

yourusermame one down and a lot to go.

laliga our new favorite reporter

ethanmbappe need an exclusive? 👀

yourusermame open dms croissant boy

km9lover not her calling him croissant boy 😭😭😭

You walk over the big tunnel of the stadium. You and the cameraman were talking about the sound.

"Mister Gonzalez asked for you to interview one of the madrid guys." He says, checking his texts.

"I'll try to get Jude." You say, making him nod.

The game was about to finish, so you needed to be quickly and try to interview Jude. Since he was the one who scored two goals, you need to be quicker than others.

When you made it to the field, you had two minutes left of the extra time the referee gave. You check the audio, and you check your reflection on your phone screen.

The stadium erupts in happiness as the Real Madrid wins. You smile at how the team runs to the field.

You noticed the smile Kylian has. After all the media says about him, you are happy that he has peace and happiness with this win.

"Y/n, here comes Jude."

You nod, standing to the side of the entrance. Jude smiles at you, stopping when you try to talk to him.

"Jude, can you give us an interview? please." You smile at him.

He nods, smiling and walking with you to where the camera is. You ask if the cameraman is ready.

You began interviewing him. Jude is so happy about his two goals, he dedicates them to his parents.

"Thank you, Jude." You smile.

He walks to another group of reporters who wants to interview him. You notice how other players are still on the field.

You interview a player from Barcelona. You feel tired but have to keep a smile on your face for the sake of the interviews.

You go back to the tunnel, saying your goodbye to your team. You text Kylian, asking him if he wants you to wait for him.

He asks you to wait for him outside in the corridor. You wait there, sitting on a bench that's there.

You noticed some players leave, one of them being Jude. "Hey there Missis Reporter." He smiles at you.

"Hi Jude," You stand up to talk to him. "Thank you for the interview. My boss was happy."

"No problem." He giggles. "What are you doing here?" He asks. "Do you need a ride? I can call you an Uber."

You smile at him. You were about to answer when you hear Kylian's voice. "Jude, you forgot this."

He gives Jude a folder of things. Congratulating him for the goals. Jude smiles at him, shy at all the congratulations he's receiving.

"Hey, ready to go?" He asks you. Making you nod.

"Oh, you now her!" He smiles at the two of you. "How do you know each other?"

You were about to answer, but Kylian does it first.

"She was part of the media team at Paris Saint Germain." He says.

You nod, not thinking much of it. "And now I'm here at La Liga."

"That's amazing. Welcome to Madrid." He smiles. "Thank you, Mate. See you around"

You both say goodbye. You two walk to where the cars are. You try to grab Kylian's hand, but he's quicker and grabs his phone.

"Want some sushi?" He asks, showing you on his phone the menu of a restaurant.

"Oui oui, monsieur." You say, intertwining your arm with his. "Maybe some dumplings too." You smile at him.

You enter Kylian's house. You have the groceries you just got. You walk to the kitchen, finding Kylian there.

"Hi." You say.

Your greetings make him turn. He smiles, moving from the wooden stool to get to you. He kisses your cheek.

"I got you all the ingredients to make your shakes in the morning." You say happily.

"You are the best." He says, kissing the top of your nose. "Let's me help you organize."

You two place the groceries while joking around. You love these moments with him. It makes you feel like falling in love again.

"Some friends are coming tonight." He says. "I wanted to ask if you can make us something for dinner."

"Mhm," you say. "Whatever you want, amour."

He smiles, showing you a recipe that he wants you to prepare. You got all the ingredients ready while he was preparing himself.

You prepared enough food for all his friends. Even making time to prepare something for them to have as a dessert.

You heard the doorbell, the maid Kylian hired to help around the house open the door. You hear a very known voice.

"Hola, can I come in?" Camavinga asks.

"Hola, Edu." You say, hugging him. "I missed you around."

"Missed you too. The National Break was hell without you there. The new reporter didn't even knew what to do."

You two make conversation. The doorbell rang again. This time, it was Vini and Jude. They were talking about some match they saw on tv.

You greet Vini while Eduardo greets Jude. You and Vini met before Kylian came to Madrid. They were friends, so he knew you.

"Take a seat in the living room, I'll get some drinks for you." You smile at them. "Kylian is getting ready. He'll be here soon."

They all nod, doing what you told them to do. You serve some drinks, get some snacks on the bowls, and take it to where they are.

Kylian joins them not that long after. They were going to see an NBA game. You didn't wanted to interrupt, so you stayed on the side.

You finish the meal while they are enjoying the game. You were so into the video you are watching that you don't notice someone entering the kitchen until that person clears their throat.

"Hello, interview girl." Jude says.

"Hello, Mister Jude Bellingham." You giggle. "Do you need anything?"

"Can I get more juice?" He asks.

You nod, grabbing his cup and serving him more liquid.

"I thought you were just Kylian's friend." He confess. "Since he introduces you as an ex coworker."

"Well, we don't shout out to the world that we are a couple." You chuckle, passing him his drink.

He nods, understanding. "Isn't it weird to interview him?"

You were about to answer when Kylian entered the kitchen asking you a question. "Amour, can you serve the food?"

You nod at him. Smiling at Jude and excusing yourself to grab the plates that Kylian handed you.

Kylian tells Jude to go sit with the others. He waits for Jude to be out off the kitchen to turn to you.

"Smells so good." He says, getting closer and kissing your lips. "I bet it tastes as good as it looks."

"I hope so." You laugh.

He helps you with taking the plates. Since they were only four people, the two of you were enough to take them out.

"I've been craving the food since I step on this house." Vini says, laughing. "It looks amazing too."

Eduardo and Jude laughed at him. Kylian helps with passing the rest of the things.

"Are you eating with us, Y/n?" Camavinga asks.

"She won't." Kylian says. "She must be tired."

You turn to him, watching him with a confused look on your face. He ignored your eyes.

"Oh, don't be silly, come eat with us." Jude says. "I don't think you only cooked for us and didn't leave a plate for yourself."

"Like I said." Kylian says. "She's tired."

The room got quiet. You look at Kylian with a neutral expression. His response seems agressive.

You smile at them. "I'll bring you guys more drinks." You say after a few moments, moving back to the kitchen.

You took a deep breath, trying to put your best smile. You walk back, the boys are talking back again.

Camavinga looks at you and smiles, posing his hand on your arm, he squish your arm as a way of asking if you were okay.

You nod, understanding what he was trying to do. You grab his arm and squish it in return.

"I'll be upstairs, I'm kind of tired, as Kylian says." You wave them a goodbye.

You can help but notice the face of the boys. Kylian was looking at his phone. He didn't even lift his head or said thank you to you like the others.

You walk upstairs, the feeling of shame grows with every step you take. You try to excuse the behavior by saying it's about the stress he's feeling.

But that wasn't the first time it happened. You just haven't noticed it.

"He's a World Cup champion, and she's a sports reporter who got her job because she's with him." You read what the magazine says.

Melissa scuffs, rolling her eyes at the words that are coming out of your mouth. She can't believe someone took the time to write that and print it for other people to read.

"She's trying to become the new Sara." You say, laughing a little. "Well, I'm not trying to become Georgina but Sara." You laugh.

"I don't know which one is better." Melissa laughs with you, taking the magazine in her hands. "At least they printed a good picture of you."

"That's why I'm forgiving them." You joke. "Yes, they wrote that I'm a gold digger who's using my boyfriend's influence to work in Spain sports media, but on the pictures, I look amazing."

You two laugh, Melissa threw the magazine to the trash as you two walk back inside. You were enjoying a nice hot chocolate.

She prepared two snacks for you to eat while you sit on the couch and talk about life updates you have.

"When are you leaving?"

"I have to cover the Atletico de Madrid game in four hours." You say, checking the time. "And I have to be there two hours before, so in about twenty minutes."

You pick the things with her help. You excuse yourself, going to the room and picking your outfit before taking a shower.

You try to style yourself quickly, you add some natural makeup. It was winter, so you like to use a light blush.

You finish with yourself, walking downstairs and finding Melissa talking with her daughter. "Oh, Lana, you are awake!" You say happily.

She nods at you. Hiding behind her mom, making you and Melissa laugh. "Go before traffic gets worse."

You say your goodbyes to them. Hurrying to the stadium, thankfully, you got a little bit earlier than you needed.

You meet your team, helping them with preparing everything for the pre of the game. You place your mic and your earpiece.

"Mike, I'll go to the bathroom." You say, leaving your things on the side, where your things and the team things are.

You walk over the corridors, saying hi to some of the other news workers. You take your time, noticing how the players are taking theirs.

When you are back, you notice this other reporter. You roll your eyes at the presence of her. She's a bother, and you don't like her.

"I'm back." You say, playing the earpiece and your mic back in place. You check your watch. "Fifteen to get started." You say to them.

You check your makeup one last time, applying more gloss to your lips. You check if your teeth were clean from anything.

"So, did you read what Hola Magazine wrote about you?" She asks.

Your sigh, turning to her with a fake lip smile. "I didn't," you lie. "Why? What did they say?"

"Nothing, just some facts here and there."

You lift your eyebrow, facts?

You were about to answer her, but you shut your mouth. It's better that way. You know she only wants you to react.

They gave you the sign, and you two began talking to the camera. You can separate your personal life from your work life.

You don't care if Alessandra, the reporter, or any other person tells you something about you, you don't mind it.

Of course it made you feel weird. You wouldn't talk about someone the way they talk about you, or even create the rumors people create about you.

You finish with the segment, grabbing your stuff quickly and walking to the corner. You have to write down every possible thing that can help you to interview the players.

To your bad luck, Alessandra was seated next to you. You were hoping for her to be sent to the other side of the field.

You tried your best to ignore her. You don't feel like engaging in a conversation. You don't want to be her friend, and she doesn't want to be yours.

You concentrate on the game in front of you. Patiently waiting for something to happen.

You can't help but be distracted with your phone. Kylian was home, and he was trying to fond something.

You were trying to be quick and explain to him where you put that thing he's looking for. Quickly returning your attention to the game.

"Did you notice that De Paul has his girlfriend here?" She asks you. Pointing at the players' balcony. "She's an influencer."

You scan everybody at the balcony, not really being able to distinguish her away from the others.

"That's cute." You say, not giving too much attention.

"Have you ever been to Kylians' games?"

You nod, looking at the field. "Many."

She scuffs. "I mean, of course you have." She says, funny tone. "But not as a psg reporter, an fff social media person or a la liga reporter, but as his girlfriend."

You then think that you haven't been to any of his games as a girlfriend. You've been there, of course, but you were also working outside the field.

"I have." You lie. "Why?"

"Just curious." She shrugged. "Don't you love when players show off their girlfriends? It's so cute."

You nod, taking notes of an assist that Antoine did. You then look at her and nod again, you don't want to seem rude, even when you want to be.

"I never seen Kylian done that with you." She says, smirking. "If I recall, he has never mentioned you."

You knew that this was coming. Every time you guys had a kind of nice conversation, she had to be shady and threw you a comment about your private life.

"Why would he?" You ask, eyebrow raised. "His private life is only his."

"Oh, I know." She says, pressing a hand to her chest. "I just feel for you. I can't imagine being hide in so cleared light."

You shake your head no. "I'm not hidden."

"I mean, if you say so." She chuckles. "But if I'm honest, I wouldn't be surprised if next season you are not with us anymore."

You were about to answer her, but the referee marked the end of the first half. You excuse yourself, you place the notebook down, grab your bag and walking to the tunnel before the players.

You walk into the bathroom, locking yourself in one. You breathe a few times, trying to calm the urge to drag her by the hair.

You walk out, finding other reporters. You wash your hands and say a quick hi and goodbye to them. You grab your phone, texting Kylian to ask him if he found what he wanted.

He texted you a picture of him with a thumbs up. You reply with a picture of the corridor.

You try your best to keep calm. You don't want to make a scene by telling her to shut up or to mind her business.

You won't fall for that.

You can't help but not be able to concentrate the whole game. Rodrigo De Paul scored a goal, making a hand signal for his new girlfriend.

Something inside of you is making you feel some type of way.

As much as you act as if you are okay with the whole < private but not secret > kind of relationship Kylian wants.

You want to be able to go out and have fun with him at clubs and not be locked in the vip room away from the other people at the club.

You wanted to be able to go to the movies and not have to rent the movie or a whole cinema room for the two of you.

Or maybe be able to not feel like you are doing something wrong when you post about him on your Instagram stories.

You also know that being with him meant not doing a lot of "normal" things that common people do on a daily basis.

Or normal couples, like going to the park to spend a quiet time, you can't go to the mall and just shop around or have a meal without having dozens of people and paparazzi outside, waiting for him.

Sometimes you just want to be able to act like a normal couple and to be seen as something more than just the girl he's hiding.

Not the first time people called you that.

Not the first time people acted as if you were a gold digger who's about to baby trap him into giving you his fortune.

You have accepted that people are going to tell you that.

What you can't seem to accept is that he prefers for you to endorse the comments, hate, and critics over him issuing a statement for people to leave you alone and to stop the comments.

You make yourself believe that is because he's trying to show that others have no power over his private life.

But he has defended different things about that same private life.

Why can't he defend you like that?

You can barely concentrate during the interviews, making general questions instead of the ones you wrote on your notes.

Some of your teammates asked you if you were okay, worried about you looking so down. You blame it on probably coming with a cold.

Your boss told you that you could skip the next game. He didn't want you to work sick and coming with something worse than the cold.

You checked and noticed that the next game you were scheduled for was a Real Sociedad game in five days. This means that you are able to watch the Real Madrid game.

You feel happy, you weren't working and your boyfriend was playing. You will finally be able to see him play as his girlfriend and not as the reporter in the corner of the field.

You can't wait!

You enter your home happy and excited to share the news with Kylian. You left your bag and notebook in the entrance as you walk upstairs to find him.

Melissa and lana were back in Paris, meaning that the only person in the house apart from your boyfriend was Bryce.

"Bonjour!" You say, smiling at him.

He was on his phone, putting it aside when you walked inside. "Bonjour, amour." He says, opening his arms to you.

You close the door behind you and run to the bed. You jump carefully into his arms. "I missed you."

He chuckles, kissing your cheeks. "You saw me a few hours ago."

"I know." You say dramatically, sighing. "But I missed you all day long."

He grabs the back of your neck, bringing you closer. His lips crashed with yours, starting a kiss.

You let it happen for a while, relaxing into his arms. You almost forget about the news you want to share with him.

"Stop." You say between kisses. "I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait?" He asks before going back to your lips.

You shake your head no, "it's good news." You smile, placing your hands on each side of his head and lifting yourself. Now you are siting on top of him.

He places his hands behind his head. "Okay, go on." He says with a smirk on his face.

"My boss gave me good news." You start.

"You are getting promoted?" He asks, teasing you.

"No, I don't think we can get promoted here." You say. "Okay, so the news are-"

"You are covering the next clásico?"

"Well." You think for a second. "They don't even think about the next clásico yet. But, I wanted to say-"

"I'm thinking about the next clásico." He says, almost laughing at your desperation.

He knows that you love to say the good news quickly, so he loves to tease you and interrupt you as much as he can with questions.

"Kylian! Let me spit it out."

"Oh, pardon." He chuckles. "I just thought you like to swallow."

You can't help but blush. "I'm not reacting to that." You say. "I-"

"Oh, amour." He laughs. "Those rosy cheeks already did." He takes on hand from behind his head to your face, squishing your cheeks.

You take his hand into yours. "Let me finish!" You whine. He laughs and nods. "My boss gave me a few days off, meaning I can come to your next game!"

You don't seem to catch it, but his smile fades a little. "Oh, really?"

"Si!" You say. "Aren't you happy?" You ask.

He nods, a lip smile on his face. "I just thought that you might want to relax. You know how tiring games are."

You shake your head no. "I can take it." You say, leaning down to give him a kiss. "I want to see my champ play." You smile at him.

"Are you sure?"

You think he's just teasing you, not giving it mind that deep down, he hopes that you say that he's right and that you'll stay home.

"I mean, I'll need a jersey because I don't know where mine is, but other than that, yes."

He sighs. "I'll get you one tomorrow, I'll also ask for them to give me another ticket."

The tone was flat, not a single drop of excitement. You catch a little bit of that.

"You okay?" You ask, frowning a little.

He nods. "Want me to make you a sandwich?" He asks, changing the subject.

"Mmm, with extra cheese?" You ask.

"With extra love, bébé." He says, using one arm to lift himself with you still in top of him. "Love you."

"I love you more." You kiss him. "Very very much." You smile.

yourusername

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yourusername 🤍

View all 35,586 comments

k.mbappe 🤍

ethanmbappe Peux-tu répondre à mon texte ? 🙄

kylianwifee finally some wag conent related

km9xvini7 I know 😭 I hope she keeps posting like this

"Do you like it?" You ask him, waiting patiently for his answer.

He shakes his head. "Honestly. No, I don't." He says. Your smile drops, and you are about to get worried, but the way his lips curve in a smile. "I love it."

You smile, giving him a hug. "I made it with so much love." You say, grabbing his face and giving him a kiss.

"You are going to make me fat, a very loved fat footballer." He laughs, pecking your lips. "Did you enjoy the game?" He asks, kissing your forehead.

"I did." You nod, hugging him tighter. "You did amazing, champ." You smile. "I love seeing you play."

You let Kylian finish the food, still hugging him. You let him take his time with the food, and you yourself take some time to carefully caress his face.

You are so I'm love with that man.

"You are an amazing chef." He smiles, his nose bumping yours. "Want to go upstairs and watch your show?" He asks.

You nod, smiling like crazy.

"You have that early meeting tomorrow?"

"Noup, tomorrow is still free." You smile, grabbing the plate and walking to the sink, leaving the plate there. "Why?"

He hugs you from behing, his lips kissing behind your ear. "I just want to spend some time with you?"

yourusername

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yourusername another day 😋

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meliissagateau get me a signed jersey

yourusername 🤨🤨🤨

ethanmbappe échauffe-toi, tu es le prochain

yourusername tais-toi, croissant

kykswifu9 I need her and kylian to post something together 😭❤️

jude5vini7 I think kylian mentioned before that he wants to keep his relationship away from the media because of how some fans criticize other players' girlfriends or wives

madridgirl23 @jude5vini7 I mean it makes sense 🤷🏻‍♀️ look at how people react to other players posting their partners, better be safe

You walked back inside the house, it was still early. You had an early game, and you are able to rest before dinner.

"Ky! Are you home?" You ask, leaving your belongings on the table next to the door.

You take the phone out of your purse, you notice that there was no text from Kylian other than the one where he asked you something.

You call him, trying to see if he was maybe out with a friend or up in the bedroom. You got into voice mail, deciding to ring him another time.

You walk into the kitchen, hungry for something sweet. You find the lady who helps you with the cleaning there.

"Hi!" You say to her. "You are here late. Is everything okay?"

She nods. "I was waiting for you." She answers.

"You are so sweet for waiting," you smile at her. "Do you happen to know where Kylian is?"

She nods again. "He left with Mister Tchaga to maybe somewhere important because he was very elegant dressed."

You frown a little bit, he never talked about any gala or anything like that, he even asked you if you wanted take out for dinner earlier in the morning. Maybe she was confused and they went to a party or something last minute.

"Mister Mbappe told his friend that you didn't feel well. Even asked me to wait for you to see if you feel sick when you return from work."

You feel more confused than before. Why would he lie about you? If he thinks that you are not well, maybe he should have asked you directly.

"If you want me to, I can prepare you something." She offers. "I know some remedies my mother used to give my brothers and me. Very effective."

You smile at her. "Gracias, I'll see how my night goes, and if I still feel sick in the morning, I'll let you know."

She nods, saying goodbye to you. You excuse yourself and walk upstairs. You open the door to your shared room and notice two suits.

One was thrown in the bed, and the other one was on the chair next to your bed. You can't help the confusing thoughts.

Did he mention the event?

Did you forget about it?

Did you say no?

You open X, trying to see if you can find any info about what this. It didn't take you that much work because as soon as the app loads, you find a tweet of a fan page.

It was a football gala for The Best. They were getting an invitation because they were getting some kind of awards there and also on the field.

Most of the players, if not all of the ones who have a partner, brought their partner. They were all posing for the cameras.

You feel hurt.

Kylian didn't even care about asking you.

Yes, you had work, but asking wouldn't take more than a few seconds. Plus, the game was at two pm. You stayed more than you should in the stadium because you were free.

If he asked you about it, you could have asked someone to cover for you or left right after the game.

You try to ignore the crying sensation. You need to talk about it with him. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. Maybe you are exaggerating.

You take a shower, washing the stress you are feeling away. The hot water makes you relax, clear your mind from the names you want to call Kylian.

You do your normal routine. You want to be clean for bed, even tho there was still a long wait before bed, you wanted to rest.

You turn on your favorite show, watching some episodes. But you ended up disassociating into your own thoughts.

You took a little nap, trying to calm your mind from the noise. As people say, a good nap can fix everything.

You wake up, noticing the sun wasn't there anymore, you check your phone and noticed you have a few texts, it was the chauffeur. He sent you a few texts letting you know that he picked food for you per Kylian's request.

You thank him. Leaving the comfort of your sheets and walking downstairs to pick it up. You check the time on your phone 8:17 pm.

You overslept, you originally wanted an hour nap or so, but you don't have to be mad at the rest cause it felt amazing.

You open the bag, checking that it has your favorite food inside, you may be mad at Kylian, but he kind of won the privilege of not getting 1 of the 20 names you have ready for him.

You decide to eat in the kitchen, not wanting to get your sheets dirty. You seat on the big table he picked for the house.

Maybe it's your anger, maybe it's the disappointment, maybe it's just the fact that you now notice things.

But one thing you never noticed was how alone you were in that big cold house.

You had to eat alone most of the times, you have to wake up alone most of the days, you have to sleep alone because he was out or late training in the gym.

You never really made mind of how much it bothered you. Maybe because as you said "it's because he's not a normal person."

You finish the food, taking the containers to the trash. You wash the fork and knife you used, wanting to leave the kitchen as clean as it was before.

You were drying your hands when you hear the front door. You stayed quiet, not wanting to face him when you know Bryce was with him.

They talk a little bit, you can even hear Bryce ask if he knows how you feel.

Mad.

That's how you feel.

You hear them move upstairs, you wait a little bit more, wanting for Bryce to get into the guest room.

When you hear both door closing it when you know you have to get upstairs. You open the door, watching him get out of the closet.

"Hey!" He smiles. "I was looking for you."

You humm, walking to the bathroom and brushing your teeth. You take a few breathes before walking back to the room and get into the covers.

You wait for him to finish his routine. He was happy, you can tell ny the big smile on his face and how he was humming a song.

Before he could reach the sheets with his hand, you talk.

"How was the gala?" You ask, a very monotone voice.

"Amazing, very simple but kind of long." He answers as if nothing is wrong. "How was the game?"

"Why did you tell Bryce that I was sick?" You ask, not answering his question. "Not only I'm not sick but also I'm very mad at the fact that you lied!"

You try to keep your composure. You don't want to yell, you don't want to fight, you just want an explanation.

He stayed quiet, looking at you with a blank expression on his face.

"You are suddenly voiceless?" You ask. "You never told me about any gala, I had to find out via social media what it was." You continue.

"I did." He says.

"Don't." You say with a very stern tone. "You didn't, and you know it."

"I did." He repeats. "You probably didn't pay attention."

"Okay, when did you tell me?" You ask him, trying to prove a point.

"Why are you acting like this?" He asks, rolling his eyes. "I had an amazing day, can you drop it?"

"No, I can't. When did you asked me?"

He hides his face into his hands. "God, you can be annoying." He shout. "Probably like two weeks ago."

"Lies!" You shout back. "I was in Sevilla."

"Then when you came back!"

"You were in Valencia." You say. "You didn't tell me. And that doesn't even matter, what matter here is that you could've told me < Hey, y/n I forgot to tell you about this event, sorry about it> But no, you lie to me and you told your friends and even our maid that I was sick!"

He doesn't answer.

"Why?" You ask. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrug, not putting a little bit of care into it.

"Have you ever noticed that you never took me to any of your galas?" You ask, the sadness in your voice is evident. "Kylian, what is wrong? Talk to me!"

He rolls his eyes again, grabbing the pillow. He was trying to get out of the situation by leaving the room.

"Where are you going?" You ask, throwing the sheets off of you. "You are not leaving until we are done with this conversation, sir." You warn him.

You take the pillow away out of his hands. "Stop that." He says.

"I will, once you and I have a talk." You say, throwing the pillow back on the bed. "I can't keep pretending that everything is fine."

"You don't have to!" He yells. "We are fine."

"How are we fine?" You yell back, not caring about his friend or anything else. "Kylian, you are doing this on purpose."

"You are crazy." He says, walking into the bathroom. He slams the door, leaving you alone. "You are losing your mind!" He yells again.

You try to calm down, you need to have a serious conversation with him, and screaming won't get you to it.

You wait for him to get out of the bathroom. When he sees that you are not giving up, he groans.

"Can you not?" He asks. "You ruined my night."

The way his voice soundes so dark makes you shiver. He didn't even care that what he's doing is hurting you.

"I can say the same thing to you." You say with the same tone. "We can resolve this if you just tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"What do you want me to say?" He asks.

You shake your head. "The truth!"

"I haven't even noticed that you never came to one of my galas, maybe because you are not the center of my focus and attention."

That hurts.

"Okay," you nod. "I just want to know if this is going to continue, because I'm honestly so tired of this shit."

He shakes his head. "I don't know, are you going to keep acting this way?"

"Why am I being blamed?" You ask, angry at his attitude. "Kylian, you are the one who wanted this relationship to be off camera. Yes, I agreed. But I never agreed to being toss aside like if I'm not worth a shit."

You feel your eyes getting teary, you don't want him to say that you are creating a drama or anything. So you clean them quickly.

"I love you," you say to him. "Don't you love me like I do?"

He stays quiet, letting the minutes pass.

You never thought the silence can become so loud to the point that it feels like screams. You understood so much with that passive agressive action.

"Are you ashamed of me?" You ask. "I mean, you meet me as a reporter and you asked me to be your girlfriend when I was working as a reporter. So maybe I'm lost, but I don't get when we got to this point."

"I asked you to leave your work and come with me to Madrid." He says. "But you told me that you wanted to keep working on the media and even suggested a long distance relationship."

"Because I love my job, Kylian." You answer. "Is that a problem? You knew that I wasn't someone who was going to sit around and wait for you to come home with a fresh cooked meal and some fresh ironed clothes."

"Couldn't you just sacrifice something for me?" He asks. "I mean, you have everything here! You have a maid, look at this house and you don't even need to pay anything, not a single bill."

"So you wanted me to just leave my work and become your stay at home girlfriend?" You ask. "Would that be better? Would you be prouder of me?"

"Maybe" He says. The tone of honesty is what hurted the most.

"I worked my ass off since college to get where I am." You began. "Yes, you got me this job, and thank you for that. But if the price I have to pay is that you feel like I'm not good enough, then maybe I do have to change!" You say.

He nods, walking over to you. "I promise you that everything will be worth it." He says, smiling at your quick comprehension. "I'll give you everything you want."

You take a few steps back. "I don't think you understand." You say.

"quoi?"He asks, confused.

"Kylian, I'm not changing my job." You chuckle.

Maybe it was the pain turning into a laughing situation. Maybe it was a coping mechanism.

"Then what are you changing?" He asks, still confused.

"You." You say, smiling a little. "We are done."

[max1461]

Ok, so obviously this is not going to convince the people who already don't agree with me on this, who find it contradictory or unsatisfactory, but I'm merely stating and not defending the position in this post:

I care about about people, I care about the general population of every country equally, and I don't care about countries or nations as entities. Actually this is not quite true—I believe that caring, if coherent, has to involve some degree of adopting others' ends as your own. @tsarina-anadyomene thinks this is one characteristic of love, and I would indeed like to be able to say that in at least some minor degree I love every person (indeed every creature) in the world. Uh, Serbian nationalists care about Serbia and therefore I care about Serbia, at least a little bit.

But governments, well, first of all fewer people care about governments qua governments as much as they care about nations in the abstract, but more importantly I think that governments as individual entities do a lot of really heinous shit that makes it impossible for me to like them. This is distinct from any anarchist position that the state should not exist—it's more like, point at any individual national government. Do I like those guys? Do I think those are good guys? Well they do some good stuff, they keep the roads paved, hopefully, deliver the mail, all that's great. But they also do a lot of killing and torture, and economic sabotage and shit like that, that hurts a lot of people. And the closer you get to the top, the closer you are to discussions of "grand strategy", the more you're explicitly or implicitly talking about shit like economic sabotage and killing people and the less you're talking about delivering the mail. I guess building roads definitely comes up, and that's good, but it's always "building more roads than the other guys so we can sabotage and/or kill them better" which is :/

I've always been a little contrarian on governments. I've always been a little bit of the famed "median voter" on governments. Get me talking about my preferred system and I'll sound sound like those peasants from Monty Python. Uh. I've made a bunch of posts about it. I want some kind of decentralized, directly democratic, cooperative, federated bullshit like the ancoms talk about for real life and the techno-libertarians talk about for software. Everything other than that is, uh, bullshit, it's the man keeping you down, man. But second place, if we don't get that? I'll take a well-run oligarchy, I'll take the façade of democracy to reduce political violence and attract foreign investment while a party of crony-capitalist technocrats actually runs the show, I'll take the 1955 system before the Plaza Accords, you get the idea. Representative democracy is a sham, basically, it's a sham. So if you're not going to give me freedom, which none of the liberal democracies do, at least give me peace, stability, and prosperity—which they're pretty good at!

But this means I look at, say, China, and I think... sucks they don't have freedom of speech, that's a big issue for me. I mean not so big an issue that I couldn't live there, just a big issue. I'd strongly like it to be otherwise. But the rest of it? Single party state? Who cares. Standard of living is high (for the urban middle class—actually this is my biggest issue with Chinese policy at the moment, they need to do massive wealth redistribution towards the rural poor) but anyway, standard of living is high, there's political stability, it's fucking fine. I hung out with a tone of Chinese international students in college and none of them were like, unhappy with the state of China, although the really wealthy ones all wanted to park their wealth abroad for pretty obvious reasons—

Right, that's another thing China needs to fix: fears about overall stability lead the local elites to siphon money out of the economy and park it abroad. I think, as a non-expert, it seems like Xi's rise and centralization of power have been worse for this. Go back to Deng, go back to term limits and power sharing! God I love Deng Xiaoping.

Uh, freedom is a ruse, uh, Ted K was lowkey right that in a modern techno-world freedom is kind of a ruse. I mean people have to be uh, we have to act or be made to act like worker bees if we want a hive this big and cantankerous to function. Uh, sucks man, sucks that we had to choose between freedom and antibiotics. Maybe we don't, right, that's my whole idea. You know how they had the Juche idea, Kim and his assholes had the Juche idea, well I also have an idea. Maybe we can have decentralized, directly democratic control of economic and civil institutions and still maintain a modern industrial economy. Maybe we can escape Ted K's trap <- new name for it I am inventing. Well one can dream, one can solve a lot of math problems and maybe one day I'll read a bunch of econ books and solve the right math problems and discover the answer. Marx, I love Marx I'm a genuine Marx fan but he doesn't have it. Sorry. Just does not got it. Soviet Union was in a Ted K trap just like all the others. They drained the Aral sea bro! That's hard to forgive...

[fivepebbles]

[LIVE BROADCAST] - PUBLIC Five Pebbles, Tumblr

Slugcats get internet access, first thing they do is send questionable and inappropriate shit to their local supercomputer.

Like ?? What am I even meant to say.

"I wanna eat your neurons" okay first of all this is extremely inappropriate and cruel to say to any iterator. This is like me saying I want to eat your brain. Insane behavior.

"I don't wanna ascend!!" Umm do you know how much it hurts to receive these kinds of messages? To know that all of my work will have meant nothing. That the solution will just be worthless just because of your stupid opinion?

Stupid ass slugcats don't know where to draw the line. Can't even think before sending message. Every single slugcat out there should just ascend. Right now. They should all just go west. Except my artificer maybe cause I doubt she's accepted her earthly bonds in a way which would allow her to ascend. I think she'll be stuck here for a little while longer. But the rest of you should all head west right now. I don't care about your stupid little slugpups or slugcat colonies or pet lizards or anything like that. Dumb things like that cause your mind to erode. And then you'll do stupid shit like climb inside my memory arrays or send me dumbass messages.

Talking about that I have no idea how half of yall even send those messages. Like, there's a public index including the identifier of every creature that has ever received a mark of communication, but some of you aren't even in there. I even checked the alternating severed index (I don't even know why some iterators still use that, it's full of flaws) but still, some of you are nowhere to be found. Where are you even getting your marks of communication?

I'm thinking about setting up a new public database in which we can document every single undocumented mark we come across, so that maybe using the 9 pointed triangulation methods of the house of goniometrics we can find out if there's a malfunctioning communication unit out there somewhere.

I've even asked No Significant Harassment about these undocumented marks of communication (which I only do if the situation is dire) but even he had no idea what's going on. This shit is getting crazy. I hope yall understand why I'm sending this message. If anyone has any info whatsoever, please let me know.

End of Broadcast - Five Pebbles, Tumblr

[adriberry]

The Meta of Magic in Twst

I apologize dearly for the more concentrated amount of Twisted Wonderland posts today, but I just have a lot of thoughts and feelings after my sister recently got back into the game and we've talked a bit about the story.

It's been hard to organize my thoughts on what I believe is the true origin of magic in Twisted Wonderland. I've wrote a lot of notes about it myself, mostly to use in fanfiction. I'm especially concerned with just how the characters we know as villains in our world are regarded as savors in Twisted Wonderland and why characters like Silver, Rook, and Kalim have golden, glittery cosmic magic while all other characters at NRC have purple, inky cosmic magic. The recent canon origins of magic as told by Lilia to Silver in Book 7 have confirmed some of my theories, so I want to structure my thoughts around that and will probably do so in multiple parts.

I'm sorry if you want to keep spoiler free, but this theory hinges on a few lines of dialogue in a portion of Book 7 which was recently released on JP server.

The Wish

Silver said Lilia once told him that the origin of magic came from a wish- a deep desire to change the world.

Yes, it's cheesy the way Disney things usually are. No, I don't think this is a direct reference to Disney's recent movie Wish (which really is a bunch of Disney animation references, concepts, and themes in a trench coat trying to convince the public it's its own solid Disney Movie, but that's it's own post).

Since the very first Disney animated movie, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves, characters have been singing about wishes and dreams and their deepest desires. Throughout the 100 years of the company's lifespan, it's been touting that dreams are possible if you believe. Disney characters wish on stars and in wells and while belting to no one in particular but the horizon. Disney characters wistfully describe great loves and adventures that they have in their dreams that they chase to make reality. Dreams and wishes are the main theme of every Disney story, so it only makes sense for those to be the strongest themes of Twisted Wonderland.

I've already had a theory that Twisted Wonderland would follow a similar storyline to Fantasmic, so if you'd like to see my take on why the dream hopping in Book 7 is so appropriate now, you can go read the other post. But wishes are a different thing entirely.

There are 3 NRC students whose cosmic magic always got me thinking: Silver, Kalim, and Rook. Most characters' cosmic magic is purple with black specks in it. For these three, their magic is glittering gold. At first my reaction was, "Oh, cute. It's because they're not based on villains!" but this is Yana Toboso we're talking about. She does most things (save for too similar designs for faces) with a reason behind it. And fans have already picked up on a different pattern where Silver, Kalim, and Rook match the knight, pawn, and rook pieces on the chessboard in Leona's room respectively. Why are these characters singled out? Why are there visual differences between their mechanics and the other characters?

On Magic...

Well, I do think it has to do with the fact that they aren't based on villains but it's less of an aesthetic choice than I first thought. These twst characters are based on Disney characters who put faith in others, trust their hearts, and do what's right for no other reason than it's what should be done. And Silver, Kalim, and Rook all do the same. Rook lives authentically even though he spent so much time hiding his true self. Kalim loves Jamil despite the fact Jamil tried to kill him. Silver wants to end the generations long tensions between humans and fairies. They aren't exactly self serving and, though I love all the NRC boys very much, the rest kind of are. Crowley says as much in the Prologue when he praises MC for being able to get Night Raven students to work together for once.

So I think there are two kinds of magic which stem from the idea of "the wish." There is light magic which depends on what's essentially faith, trust, and pixie dust, and there is blot.

We're introduced to magic for the first time via Crowley. Crowley is revealed to be unreliable very quickly as he obviously is taking his sweet time trying to figure out how to get MC home if he really is at all. Based on fan theories and evidence in the text, he might actually be hiding his true identity from us. But in we don't have any of that information in Book 2 when Crowley talks about overblot, so we trust him when he shows us how blot works.

Crowley claims blot generates when using magic. The magestones Ace, Deuce, and Grim are newly given turn dark as they do a bit of magic for themselves. Crowley explains that those with a lot of magical potential need to be careful not to use too much magic or else it'll have negative effects, much like Riddle in Book 1. According to Crowley, overblot happens when you overuse magic.

But Book 2 has a contradiction in it: Ruggie is doing all the magic heavy lifting. He's constantly using his Ultimate Magic to act out Leona's plan. He uses a potion to triple his power and creates a massive stampede of people with magic, but who is the character who overblots later on? Leona- who doesn't use any of his magic until just before he overblots. He doesn't use magic, but he is brought to the brink of desperation and reminded of all his fears and insecurities.

The Blot

Crowley told us too much magic at once causes overblot, but we've seen seven times now how that's not actually the case. Each overblotter was brought to the brink. They were desperate, scared, anxious, isolated- these negative emotions brought them to overblotting. And though their lives were at risk, each overblotter was at their most powerful in the midst of it.

In each case, the person in question was close to achieving their ultimate goals. Riddle wanted perfection and order. Leona wanted to finally be worthy of a win at any cost. Azul wanted power over others because he had been isolated in the past. Jamil wanted freedom and to make his achievements known. Vil wanted real recognition. Idia didn't want to feel lonely again. Malleus wanted to keep his family together. In the moments before they overblot, their dreams are snatched away from them. In desperation, they have nothing else to lose.

Using blot doesn't necessarily lead to overblot, but increases the risk. It puts the user in a position where they're more vulnerable to fears and depression. It's why Crowley's advice for clearing blot in a magestone is just to rest, eat well, and take care of yourself- all ways to self care when you're mentally unwell.

To use light magic- the magic of the wish and the dream- is to put trust in others and to use joy and positivity and hope to achieve your goals. Using blot to the point of overblot is giving into desperation and fear and isolation.

And that is why Silver, Kalim, and Rook are the chess pieces: they- or their magic rather- are the key to defeating Malleus. The day will be saved by hope and joy and friendship. It's so very "my friends are my power" and so very cliche Disney and I can't wait to read up to the very end.

[unknownstwriting]

Religion is bad now, just because???

I find it pretty funny and sad that of the very few people Bells Hell's actually asked and genuinely interacted with about what they should do who had ties to the gods. It was the Mighty Nein and all three of Caduceus, Yasha and Fjord talked about how much they meant to them and helped them.

Caduceus even going so far to say that he asks them to do, "What's kind".

Fast forward to the finale and Laudna is confused and even angry that people are mad at them stating they "saved them". As well as Ashton literally insulting them essentially calling them lazy for "Not wanting to work on themselves" as a person who had barely began to work on themselves.

These people are not kind they're not heroes, they are the villains when all things are considered. I wish the campaign would have highlighted/explored these themes more because right now it just feels like unearned self righteousness with minimal consequences or push-back from the world they just dismantled (for the worse imo but that's for another long form post).

It's hard for me to root and agree with the perspective of a group of people who barely interacted with religion. This should have been a significant element of the plot for the campaign but was somehow rarely engaged with by the party and yet they claim to be the heroes for mortals? So of course it makes sense Laudna is confused, she and frankly the rest of BH are genuinely unaware of what they did or even why they did it, even if conceptually some of them understand it.

It's like watching a child come into a gallery and destroy all the art because of a negligent parent. Then when confronted you're told by that parent "It's okay they don't understand what they're doing, it'll be fine" with no chance for a resolution.

For many of us as longtime viewers, we have a plethora of previous content that has shown religion in Exandria as a generally neutral/if not positive element. So many of us are sort of confused as we're being told actually it's bad and needs to change without really showcasing why and the people who did it just get to live happily ever after.

C3's biggest crime to me was despite focusing on plot so much at the detriment of the characters, we rarely ever explored the dozens of interesting elements that something this big should touch on. In fact many of those elements only got slightly touched on in supplemental content when answering questions outside of the game and the others either were ignored or shrugged off until the very end of the campaign.

I say all of this as a long time atheist too so I don't even particularity have any connection to religion myself. I don't even mind how it all ends up as a concept I just think they never sold to me (and many others it seems) why we should agree or care.

It was an ocean sized plot with the depth of a puddle.