#it's popping off with the author spotlights

[libraryspectre]

So far "101 Horror Books to Read Before You're Murdered" has been worth the read for me because I'm either going "oooo yes putting that one on my tbr" or enjoying the tidbits of horror theory or having my very good taste validated

[sometimesanalice]

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.  

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass.  A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission.  “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[mononijikayu]

love me anyway — fushiguro megumi.

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?” The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.” Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Idol AU!

WARNING/s: General Audience, SFW, Fluff, Romance, Mild Angst, Comfort, Care, Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Crying, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Confessions, Mutual Affection, Love, Hugging, Idol! Megumi, Idol! Reader, Someone Love Me Like Megumi Loves Reader;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: the kanji translates to 1st bubble - 'love me anyway' and 2nd bubble - 'i'll love you like that too'; i was also supposed to publish this last night, but i was exhausted from the nightmare of trying to get admitted for classes at our unprepared uni. but alas, it is what it is. also, i keep thinking - would people be interested to ask commission me for fiction work??? if so, tell me~ anyway, i love you all!!!

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kayu's playlist - side 900;

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IF ANYONE ASKS ABOUT YOU, MEGUMI SAYS NOTHING. When Megumi Fushiguro was asked about his personal life, especially concerning his relationship status, he always took a measured approach. His calm demeanor, coupled with his reluctance to divulge details, created a mystery that intrigued fans and media alike. 

Interviewers would frequently probe with questions about who he might be dating, their curiosity piqued by his silence. Yet Megumi, skilled at deflecting attention, would maintain an air of nonchalance. He would often sidestep the inquiries with practiced ease. "I prefer to keep my personal life private." he’d say with a polite smile, steering the conversation to his latest projects or upcoming performances.

When pressed further, his responses would be deliberately vague. "I’m not seeing anyone special at the moment." he’d offer, though his tone hinted at something more, leaving room for speculation. Occasionally, he’d indulge in playful ambiguity, saying, "That’s a bit of a secret." allowing the press and his fans to indulge in their wild theories.

In truth, his silence was not a mere avoidance of the topic but a carefully crafted shield. The reality was that he was deeply committed to you, his fellow pop singer. To the outside world, he remained an enigma, but those who knew him well understood that his reluctance to discuss his personal life was his way of protecting something precious. 

Away from the spotlight, Megumi cherished the moments he spent with you. In the quiet of your shared spaces, there were no prying eyes, no pressure to perform or maintain a facade. Here, he could be himself—a man deeply in love, unguarded and tender in ways the world never saw.

He would often steal glances at you when you weren’t looking, a soft smile playing on his lips as he marveled at how effortlessly you fit into his life. It was in the little things—the way you brewed his coffee just the way he liked it, the shared laughter over inside jokes, the warmth of your hand in his as you walked through the city late at night, hidden from the world. These were the moments that mattered to him, far more than any public adoration or recognition.

Megumi's commitment to keeping your relationship private wasn’t just about maintaining his image—it was about preserving the sanctity of what you both had built together. The love you shared was too precious, too delicate, to be exposed to the scrutiny and speculation that came with fame. He wanted to protect it, to keep it safe from the prying eyes and intrusive questions that would inevitably come if your relationship became public knowledge.

In those rare instances when the pressure of the media became overwhelming, and the rumors started to swirl, you both found solace in the understanding that this was your choice. The secrecy wasn’t a burden but a conscious decision to prioritize each other over the demands of the world outside.

Megumi knew that one day, when the time was right, he would be ready to share his happiness with the world. But until then, he was content with the quiet, intimate life you shared—one that was filled with love, trust, and the unspoken understanding that you were both in this together, no matter what.

Fushiguro Megumi thought of this bubble as something sacred, a secret he held close, not meant for the public but for himself alone. It was his way of preserving the tenderness and intimacy of what you shared, a private world far removed from the demands and expectations of his public life.

If anyone took a closer look, they might notice the subtle signs—the small but significant traces of you woven into his daily routine. The Polaroids tucked into the inner pocket of his coat when he traveled were a tangible connection to you, a reminder of moments that were too precious to be left behind. These photos, capturing the essence of your time together, were his silent companions on the road, offering comfort and a sense of closeness no matter how far away he was.

Then there was the worn edge of the photo he kept in his wallet, a picture he glimpsed every time he paid for his usual iced Americano. The photo, though small, held a world of memories within its faded colors—a candid shot of you laughing, the kind of smile that made his heart feel lighter even on the toughest days. This simple act of seeing your face, even in passing, grounded him, reminding him of the life you had together beyond the stage and the spotlight.

During his live broadcasts, there was yet another clue—another Polaroid placed on his nightstand, visible only to those who looked closely. To the casual observer, it might seem like just another photo, but to Megumi, it was a piece of home, a visual anchor to the life he cherished with you. This photo was a quiet declaration, a subtle hint at the love that defined his private world, even if he chose not to speak of it aloud.

Each of these small, deliberate choices was Megumi’s way of carrying you with him, of keeping you close even when you were apart. It was a way of acknowledging your presence in his life without exposing it to the world, preserving the purity of what you shared. In this carefully constructed bubble, you were safe, your love shielded from the chaos and noise of the outside world. And for Megumi, that was all that mattered.

To the world, he was enigmatic, but in the quiet moments away from the cameras, Megumi’s heart was unmistakably yours. And he absolutely loved it. He adored having to see these polaroids, the ones only for his eyes and be reminded that you took them for him. Each one had notes behind it — the date it was taken, the place it was taken and unique declarations of love from you. One after the other. Only for him to see. 

It’s not that Megumi wants to keep you a secret—far from it. He dreams of the day when he can hold your hand in public, fingers intertwined without a second thought, and kiss you on the street, feeling the world fade away as his lips meet yours. He imagines looking up during a performance and spotting you in the VIP box, your face beaming with pride as you cheer him on, your presence a source of strength.

But he knows you’re not ready for that step yet. And he gets it, truly he does. Being public together is a huge deal, something that would bring your relationship under the intense scrutiny of fans and the media. The thought of everyone speculating, commenting, dissecting every interaction between the two of you—it overwhelms you. And Megumi loves you too much, loves you too much to ever subject you to something that could hurt you.

So he waits, never pressuring, always patient. He works hard to ensure you know how much he loves you, showing it in the quiet moments, in the little things he does just for you. He’s there for you in ways that matter most, understanding your needs, your boundaries. And you know that, feel that love in every glance, every touch, every word he doesn’t need to say.

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SOMETIMES, YOU THINK THAT YOU AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR HIM. You know you really shouldn’t even be thinking that. But It was really hard not to think that. Even little things like this, being able to be together, he’ll make it possible. Just to be with you, he’ll move every schedule he has around. You watched him intently as he prepared for song rehearsals, the familiar rhythm of the venue buzzing around you.

Both of you had been invited to perform at the same song festival—two stars in your own right, each with a dedicated following and a unique presence on stage. Yet, despite the individual paths you had carved in the industry, there was an undeniable connection between you, something that always seemed to draw you closer, even in the vast world of music and fame.

The festival was a high-profile event, a convergence of talent and star power, where each performance was eagerly anticipated by fans and critics alike. You were no exception; your name alone was enough to generate buzz, your performance a highlight on the festival's lineup. But this time, there was something more personal, more intimate at stake.

His stage was scheduled right after yours, a coincidence that felt almost too perfect to be real. It provided you with the perfect opportunity to linger behind after your set, slipping into the shadows to watch him perform without drawing too much attention.

It wasn’t unusual for artists to stay and support their peers, but for you, it was more than just professional courtesy—it was a chance to savor the moments you had together, to see him in his element, knowing that soon, he would be gone, and the time you had now would be all you could hold on to for a while.

Megumi had only decided to attend the festival because he knew you would be there. The invitation had come at a time when his schedule was already packed with album promotions and interviews, and truthfully, he could have declined without anyone questioning his decision.

But the thought of spending even a few hours in the same space as you, of sharing the stage at the same event, was enough to make him rearrange his plans. It was rare for your paths to cross like this, and he wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip by.

The festival was not just a performance but a brief, precious reprieve from the hectic lives you both led. It was a chance to be together, to share a moment that was yours alone, even if it was in the midst of flashing lights and roaring crowds. The fact that you were both attending had turned what might have been just another event into something special, something you both looked forward to with a mix of excitement and bittersweet anticipation.

Because after the festival, there would be rehearsals, and then he would be off again, flying halfway across the world to promote his album. It was the nature of your lives, always moving, always in demand, but it didn’t make the goodbyes any easier. You knew that once he left, it would be weeks, maybe even months, before you could see each other again. The distance would stretch between you, filled with phone calls and texts, but it wasn’t the same as being together, as feeling his presence beside you.

Megumi was focused, his expression serious as he adjusted his in-ear monitor, the slight furrow in his brow showing his concentration. For a brief moment, his gaze shifted, landing on you. There was a quiet acknowledgment in his eyes, a connection that needed no words. You couldn’t help but smile, the simple act of being there for him filling you with warmth.

He caught the smile, and something softened in his features, though he quickly averted his gaze as the stage director’s voice echoed through the space, calling for attention. Megumi turned his focus back to the task at hand, but you knew that brief exchange had said everything it needed to.

In truth, it weighed on you—the thought that Megumi was always the one making adjustments, bending and reshaping his life around you. You couldn’t help but think it was unfair to him, that relationships were supposed to be a two-way street. Yet, here he was, always the one who seemed to be giving more, doing everything he could to be with you.

When you were upset and didn’t want to talk, he’d still reach out, calling you even in the middle of his hectic workday just to make sure you were okay. When you were sick, no matter how busy his schedule was, Megumi was always the first one by your side, taking care of you with a quiet devotion that left you both comforted and conflicted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t doing enough to reciprocate the love he so freely gave. It gnawed at you, a constant reminder that no matter how much you loved him, it felt like you were falling short. And that hurt—hurt because you loved him so much, and the thought of him always giving more than he received felt like a wound you couldn’t heal. You wanted to do better, to be better for him, because he deserved nothing less.

That feeling lingered, a quiet ache that settled deep in your chest every time you thought about how much Megumi gave and how little you felt you were able to return. He never complained, never once made you feel like you were a burden. If anything, he seemed happiest when he was with you, when he could be there for you. But that only made it harder to bear, because it felt like you were taking advantage of his kindness, his patience, his love.

You wanted to be the one to call him during a tough day, to show up unexpectedly and take care of him when he needed it most. You wanted to be the one making the sacrifices, the adjustments, to show him that your love for him was just as strong, just as unwavering. But every time you tried, it felt like your efforts fell short, like you couldn’t quite match the depth of his care.

The guilt was a constant shadow, always reminding you of how much he did for you. And no matter how many times he told you that it was enough just to be with you, that he didn’t need anything more than your presence, the doubt remained. Because deep down, you knew how much he meant to you, how deeply you loved him, and the thought of not being able to show that love in the way he deserved made your heart ache.

You resolved, quietly and firmly, to find a way to show him—to let him know just how much he meant to you. Because loving Megumi was the easiest thing in the world, but making sure he felt loved the way he made you feel was something you were determined to do, no matter how long it took. He deserved nothing less, and you would do everything in your power to make sure he knew it.

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IT WAS UNCOMFORTABLE TO SIT THERE AT THAT MOMENT. The ride home was quiet, the hum of the car engine the only sound filling the space between you and Megumi. The silence was thick, not with anger or resentment, but with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You sat beside him, staring out the window, lost in your thoughts. The city lights blurred as they passed by, each one a fleeting reminder of the moments that had slipped through your fingers—moments where you felt you hadn’t done enough, where you had fallen short as his partner.

The guilt gnawed at you, growing heavier with each passing mile. It was the little things that lingered in your mind, the times when you were too tired to ask about his day, when you were preoccupied with your own worries and missed the subtle signs of his struggles.

You replayed the conversations where you had said the right words but lacked the sincerity behind them, or the moments when you were present physically but your mind was elsewhere, distracted by the pressures of your own life.

You stole a glance at Megumi, hoping for some indication of what he was feeling, but his expression remained unreadable. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his focus seemingly on the road ahead, yet you knew his thoughts were likely miles away. You wondered if he, too, was wrestling with his own thoughts, if he was questioning your connection, or if he noticed the same cracks you did.

The guilt weighed on you like a leaden blanket, stifling the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find the courage to voice. You wanted to apologize, to explain that your distance wasn’t a reflection of your love for him, but rather your own struggles—struggles that had nothing to do with him but had somehow seeped into the space between you. But the words remained trapped in your throat, swallowed by the fear of making things worse.

As the car continued its journey, the silence grew more oppressive, filling the space where once there had been easy conversation and shared laughter. You could feel the distance between you, not just physical but emotional, a chasm that seemed to widen with every unspoken thought, every missed opportunity to connect.

Megumi, ever perceptive, noticed your silence. The way you stared out the window, lost in your thoughts, didn’t escape him. He knew you well enough to recognize when something was weighing on you, even if you didn’t voice it. The quiet between you wasn’t the comfortable silence you usually shared; it was heavy, filled with the unspoken tension that had settled in the car like a third passenger.

He glanced over at you, his eyes softening as he took in your expression—the slight furrow of your brow, the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He could sense the turmoil swirling inside you, even if he didn’t fully understand its cause. Megumi had always been good at reading between the lines, at noticing the subtle shifts in your mood, and this time was no different. He could tell that something was off, that you were shouldering a burden you hadn’t shared with him.

His voice was gentle as he broke the silence, careful not to startle you from your reverie. “Why don’t you stay the night at my place?” he suggested, his tone laced with a warmth that he hoped would ease some of the tension you were feeling. “I’ll cook for you.”

He offered you a small, reassuring smile, trying to coax you out of your thoughts, to remind you that you didn’t have to carry whatever it was alone. Megumi knew that sometimes, all it took was a simple gesture to bring you back to the present, to help you feel grounded again. And cooking for you, spending time together in the quiet comfort of his home, was something he hoped would do just that.

“And then we could watch a movie,” he added, his smile growing a little wider, a bit more playful as he tried to lighten the mood. “I know you wanted to see a film recently, and I finally bought the CD for it.”

His offer was more than just an invitation to spend the night; it was his way of showing you that he cared, that he was there for you, even when words failed. Megumi knew you well enough to understand that sometimes, the best way to show his support wasn’t through grand gestures or deep conversations, but through the simple act of being there, of sharing a meal, a movie, a quiet evening together.

He hoped that by offering this, he could help ease the guilt he sensed you were feeling. He didn’t want you to think you had fallen short as his partner because, in his eyes, you never had.

Fushiguro Megumi had always valued the quiet, unspoken moments between you—the shared silences, the comfort of your presence, the way you understood each other without needing to say much. And tonight, he wanted to remind you of that, to let you know that no matter what was weighing on your mind, you didn’t have to face it alone.

As he waited for your response, his hand reached out to gently touch yours, a silent promise that he was there for you, no matter what. The warmth of his fingers against your skin was a quiet reassurance, a reminder that in the midst of all your doubts and worries, you had someone who loved you, who would always be by your side, ready to lift the weight of the world off your shoulders, even if just for a little while.

You looked at him, the sincerity in his eyes making the guilt even harder to bear. “I’m sorry, Megumi.” you started, your voice wavering as you spoke.

He furrowed his brow, turning his full attention to you. “Why are you apologizing?” he asked, his tone full of concern. “You don’t need to–”

You hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “I… I’ve been an inadequate partner to you.” you confessed, your voice heavy with emotion. “It’s not fair to you, Megumi. You’ve done so much, and I feel like I haven’t done enough in return.”

Megumi let out a soft sigh, shaking his head as he reached over to take your hand in his. “Don’t think like that, hm?” he said gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles in a soothing gesture. “You’re always worthy of love, of my love. You’ve done well to love me too, you know?”

“But it’s true!” you insisted, your voice cracking as the weight of your feelings pressed down on you. “I feel like I’m always taking, and you’re always giving. It’s not fair to you.”

Megumi was quiet for a moment, his gaze steady and thoughtful. Then, he asked quietly, “Do you love me?”

The question took you by surprise, but you nodded without hesitation. “Of course, I do. I love you more than anything.”

Before you could say more, he cut you off, his voice firm yet tender. “Then love me anyway.” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll love you like that too. But in my way. Okay?”

The simplicity of his words hit you with unexpected force, the sincerity behind them bringing tears to your eyes. Your Megumi always knows what to do. He knows how to reach you, to calm you down. To love you back to life. He reached up, wiping away the tears that had begun to fall, his touch gentle and full of affection.

“Don’t worry so much about what you think you should be doing.” Megumi continued, his voice soft and reassuring. “Just love me, and let me love you. That’s all that matters.”

His words wrapped around your heart, easing the guilt and replacing it with a deep sense of peace. You leaned into his touch, nodding as you let his words sink in, knowing that with him, it was enough just to be.

You leaned into Megumi's touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your cheek as he gently wiped away your tears. His presence was soothing, a quiet strength that you could always rely on, and in that moment, the weight of your worries began to lift, even if just a little.

Megumi pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he held you against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a comforting anchor, grounding you in the moment. He didn’t say anything more, allowing the silence to fill with the unspoken understanding between you. 

As the car continued down the quiet streets, Megumi rested his chin on top of your head, his fingers tracing calming patterns on your arm. “You don’t have to be anything more than who you are, okay?” he murmured softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you for you—not for what you think you should be.”

His words, so simple yet so full of meaning, resonated deep within you. The guilt that had been weighing you down began to fade, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest. Megumi had always been like this—steady, unwavering in his love, never asking for more than you could give.

You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax into his embrace, feeling the tension leave your body as you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with him. “I just want to make you happy, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice tinged with emotion.

“And you already do.” Megumi replied without hesitation, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just being with you makes me happy.”

His sincerity brought another wave of tears, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love for the man who held you so tenderly, who accepted you with all your flaws and insecurities.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly as the emotions overwhelmed you. “Thank you for loving me.”

Megumi’s eyes softened, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment. “You don’t need to thank me, you know?” he murmured against your skin. “I love you because it’s you. And nothing will ever change that.”

He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with an affection that made your heartache in the best way possible. “We’ll figure everything out together, okay?” he said softly. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the tears. “Okay.” you agreed, your voice steadier now. “Together.”

Megumi smiled back at you, a look of pure love and reassurance in his eyes. “Together.” he echoed, pulling you back into his arms, holding you close.

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epilogue

A few weeks had passed since that quiet ride home, and in that time, something had shifted between you and Megumi. The weight of your insecurities had eased, replaced by a growing confidence in the love you shared. You found yourself cherishing the little moments even more—the quiet exchanges, the smiles, the unspoken understanding that connected you both.

One evening, after one of Megumi's performances, you found yourself backstage, watching as he wrapped up his set. The energy in the room was electric, the audience’s cheers still echoing as Megumi made his way off the stage. He spotted you immediately, his eyes lighting up as he walked over. Without a word, you reached for him, pulling him into a kiss, a moment of pure connection amidst the chaos around you. A friend snapped a quick Polaroid of the two of you, capturing the tenderness of the moment.

Later that night, as you looked at the photo, an idea came to you. You carefully positioned the Polaroid against a backdrop of Megumi’s stage gear, the memory of that kiss still fresh in your mind. With a smile, you snapped a picture of the Polaroid and opened your social media, ready to share this piece of your world with him—and everyone else.

The caption came naturally: "Here's more Polaroids for you to hide." It was a playful nod to the many photos Megumi had tucked away over the months, small tokens of your relationship that he kept close even when the world wasn’t looking.

You hesitated for a moment before hitting ‘post,’ but something in you felt ready—ready to share this part of your life, ready to take that next step with him.

It didn’t take long for Megumi to see the post. Almost immediately, he shared his own Instagram story, adding his own words beneath your caption: "Only if you let me love you anyway."

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you both had gone through, every doubt, every moment of reassurance, every bit of love that had brought you to this point.

You smiled as you read his response, feeling a warmth spread through you. It was a promise, a reminder of the love you shared, a love that was strong enough to weather anything.

And as the notifications began to roll in, the world catching a glimpse of the two of you together, you felt at peace. Because you knew, no matter what came next, you had each other. And that was enough.

As soon as you posted the Polaroids on your Instagram, the reaction on social media was immediate. Especially on Twitter. Fans of both you and Megumi began flooding the comments with a mix of excitement, surprise, and overwhelming support.

Fan 1: "Wait, are they… official now? My heart can't take this! 😭❤️"

Fan 2: "These Polaroids are so cute! Megumi must be over the moon!"

Fan 3: "I knew something was going on! They’re perfect together. Look at that smile in the last photo!"

Fan 4: "This is the content we've been waiting for! I can't believe it's finally happening!"

Fan 5: "Only if you let me love you anyway" — Fushiguro Megumi, you romantic! 😍"

As you scrolled through the comments, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Megumi. You know he must be excited. More than he would let on to show. And you knew only you would know. You answered with a smile, hearing the familiar warmth in his voice.

"You saw the post, huh?" you teased.

"I did, I did." Megumi replied, his voice soft but filled with emotion. "I wasn’t expecting you to share those photos just yet. But I want you to know that I’m really glad you did. I finally get to love you in front of everyone.”

"Yeah, I know." you admitted, your heart fluttering. "I just… I wanted to take that step with you. I’m ready, Megumi. Don’t worry. Just let me love you the way you deserve, okay?”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and you could almost picture the gentle smile on Megumi's face. "You already do love me. But let’s keep taking polaroids for me to hide, okay? I still want some things that are just for me, from you.”

You laughed, feeling a wave of affection for him. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."

“I love you.” He whispers on the other side of the line.

You smile, feeling butterflies. “I love you too.”

[heartofwritiing]

Kiss me (beneath the milky twilight)

paring: musicanbur x fem!reader

summary: you're the backup singer for lovejoy, the fans don’t know you and wilbur are together, but one duet changes that.

authors note: trying to practice dialogue, so sorry if it is a little wired and doesn’t make sense idk how to write good conversation lmao, also i thought this idea was cute hope you guys like it :)

warnings: short, a make-out on stage, fluff, unedited!

“Okay, someone ate the last poptart this morning on the bus, fess up, who was it?”

Mark, who was twirling his drum stick a few times questioned amongst the group as you and the rest of lovejoy stood in a circle backstage minus Wilbur; who was still asleep in his dressing room. Pre-show naps were a ritual for him now.

Being on tour was an experience to say the least. You never thought you’d be sharing a small space with four grown men, but here you were living on a tour bus for the next four months with them. Most days it wasn’t complete chaos, you all had your respective bunks and areas but a lot of times you thought you’d somehow died and were sent to purgatory until whoever decided to send you to actual hell.

“I don’t know but I have a stash in the bus so I know it’s not me,” you raise your hands up in innocence.

“Why do you get your own secret stash?” Mark frowns.

Wilbur liked to spoil you with snacks to hide around the bus so the other boys wouldn’t find them just to tease them, All in good fun of course.

“Perks of being the lead singer’s girlfriend,” you smirk with your chin held high.

“Im convinced now that you’re the pop tart thief,” Joe added, thumb and pointer finger fiddling with the tuning pegs on his guitar while standing off to the side. “I know all the little hiding spots on the bus and I haven’t seen any secret stash of pop tarts anywhere,”

“That was completely sus of you to say, now i think it was you!” you pointed.

Stupid moments like this made up for all the times you got annoyed with them. Though you loved them all to death they drove you absolutely insane.

“So where’s your secret stash then?”

“Ill never tell, you thief.”

A pair of arms suddenly came to snake around your waist and pull you further back until a head rest on your shoulder. A very sleepy Wilbur yawned and pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder. You smiled sinking back into your lovers arms and reached your hand up to pet his soft curls. Almost instantly he hummed and it mimicked a cats pur.

“What are you guys arguing about now?” he mumbled against your shirt.

“I wouldn’t say we’re arguing, just pointing blame for whoever stole the last pop tart this morning,” you explain.

“It was probably Ash,” Joe quips. Ash looks offended with his arms raise in confusion.

“Oh no, that was me,” Wilbur states nonchalantly.

“WHAT?!” The group erupted into protests.

“I was hungry,” Wilbur shrugs. “we can afford more guys.”

“very true,” you piped.

“well i guess this solves the great pop tart thief mystery,” Mark shrugs.

“Case closed.” you remark.

Soon the argument dissolved, and everyone spoke amongst themselves. You rocked with Wilbur side to side as you hummed no tune in particular as you leaned against him.

“How was your nap honey?” you asked.

“lonely,” he states. “I missed you,”

Your heart jumps at his sentiment. It had only been a few hours since you both woke up tangled in each other’s limbs, maneuvering out of the small bunk trying not to roll out and fall. Still, you missed him when he wasn’t around too.

“I missed you too,” you brought his hand up to your lips and gave it a kiss before placing it back down against your waist.

“you still wanna go through with tonight?”

You knew what he was referring to. Wilbur had come to you with the idea of you both singing a duet on stage at one of the gigs. At first you weren’t so sure, it was his bands time to shine and you didn’t want to take away from that. You’re the back up singer for Wilbur, you felt out of place trying to share the spotlight. After some convincing; more like brain washing you with his puppy dog eyes, you eventually caved and agreed to do it.

Now that it was so close to the performance, the nerves in your body weren’t going away. You had never really been front and center on stage before. Always in the back round hidden in the stage lights. So the thought of being in-front of a crowd of a thousand people staring at you, probably waiting for you to possibly mess up, was fucking you up in the brain just a bit.

Wilbur could practically feel how tense you suddenly got and perked his head up and looked at your face with a slightly worried expression.

“We don’t have to if you’re not ready darling,”

“No, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head. “I wanna do this with you, It’ll be fun.”

Your smile didn’t seem to convince him. He didn’t want to push you into anything but, he could sense how anxious you had seemed the past couple of days. One word from you and he would cancel the whole show if you asked. which of course was very silly of him.

You were determined to get over this fear and just go with it. With one last final hug you both pulled apart and began getting prepared for the show in an hour.

The show was so explosive. The energy of the crowed was strong tonight, it made your adrenaline buzz with excitement. You had almost completely forgotten about your nerves when you stepped onto that stage.

The band had just finished One Day and cheers and screams rang out through the venue. You watched as Wilbur reached down to grab the towel sat beside his mic stand and whip his brow clean from sweat. He threw the towel back down and leaned into the microphone.

Wilbur had told you after One Day was the time slot you had to sing the duet with him.

“Alright, so we have something special planned,” Wilbur spoke. “I wanna welcome to the front of the stage Y/N, my incredible backing vocalist!”

Cheers rang out for you as you stepped center stage into the light clutching your microphone. You smiled and wave at the crowd shakily, you could practically feel your heartbeat out of your chest.

“Were gonna play a song for you, and I need you guys to sing the lyrics if you know them, and be nice to Y/N, shes super nervous,”

A chorus of ‘awes’ rang out from the crowd and you blushed bashfully as you heard a bunch of various shouts of support.

“Thanks Will,” you playfully roll your eyes at him revealing your secret.

The song you had chosen was Kiss Me by Sixpence Non the Richer, one of your favorites. The opening chords rang out as Joe began the melody. Soon, Mark kicked in the drums and you were bobbing your head to the beat.

You glanced over at Wilbur and saw a smile on his lips as he began playing as well. He looked over at you and saw the panic glossing over your eyes in the light. Somehow it made you forget everything once you connected eyes.

Look at me. he mouthed. just keep your eyes on me.

You took a deep breath and began to sing the lyrics, keeping your eyes locked with Wilbur. Somehow it made you forget everything around you and be in the moment with him.

Kiss me out of the bearded barley

Nightly, beside the green, green grass

Wilbur saw how stiff you were, barely moving your limbs. In an attempt to get you to be more comfortable he moved towards you while continuing to play.

Swing, swing, swing the spinning step

You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress, oh

He leaned forward until he was practically kissing your mic. Shocked at the close proximity you kept your composure as you both sang the chorus of the song in harmony.

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

staring deeply into each others eyes nothing else seemed to matter. The pit in your stomach making your knees weak with the look in his eyes as they flickered down to your own lips as he sang.

You rested your left hand on his bicep, the fabric of his silky black button up grounding you before you got too light headed.

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You broke apart and suddenly felt weightless. You danced around the stage as Wilbur watched you with awe and adoration. Your cheeks were hot feeling his eyes on you the entire time. You sang the next line;

Kiss me down by the broken tree house

Swing me upon its hanging tire

Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat

You moved towards Wilbur and he turned to wiggle his hips to the beat. Trying so hard to hold back a laugh, you copied his movements. You couldn’t wait to see all the videos on your timeline the next day.

leaned against his side and began singing together once more;

We'll take the trail marked on your father's map

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand, strike up the band

And make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling

So kiss me

You dance around the stage again feeling yourself in the moment as the last notes rang out. You didn’t even process the cheers and screams as you felt a pair of hands cup your cheeks and press their lips against yours.

Your eye’s opened in shock to see Wilbur was the one who pulled you into a kiss. On stage. in front of a whole crowd of his fans. Fuck it, you thought, and melted into his touch. His lips moved against yours softly and you could feel your skin set aflame.

Your arms looped around his middle and pulled him closer to you. Hours could have passed and you could’ve kept kissing him, but eventually you pulled away for the lack of oxygen in your lungs. Chocolate eyes peered down at you with such love you had ever felt. Wide smiles broke the two of you into infectious giggles you could barely hear over the whole crowd of people screaming all around you.

Wilbur took your hand and walked back over to his mic. All your friends were cheering you on as well, Causing you to blush harder at all the attention on you but it didn’t matter anymore.

“Well, that was a heat of the moment sort of thing guys, sorry about that,” his giggle echoing through the venue speakers, everyone ‘wooed’ in response. “Had to take my moment, y’know?”

Wilbur gazed at you out of the corner of his eye to see your bashful state. Squeezing your hand he said one last thing to the crowd before he had to move onto the next song on their line up.

“Everyone please give it up for my beautiful, wonderful, talented, girlfriend!”

You were most certainly redder than a cherry at this point. The crowd was loving every second of it. Hiding your face in Wilbur's shoulder from his side, he kisses your forehead before having to send you back over to your place on stage. You very certain your twitter feed will be insane the next day.

It wasn’t long before the next song started up and you were dancing along with Leandra. Wilbur gave you one final glance behind him and you blew him a kiss to which he beamed at you before he turned forward to continue on with the show.

-

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @joviepog

let me know if you wanna be added or removed! :)

[idkfitememate]

سلام! همانطور که می بینید این تصویر رئیس جدید در آینده است، می خواستم بپرسم واکنش شخصیت به خواننده سازنده که او را به عنوان یک حیوان خانگی همه جا می برد چیست؟🥺💖😂

Fontaine’s New Dragon

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : Gn! Water Dragon x Fontaine

૮꒰ྀ���∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 895

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : Fluff, Neuvillette & Reader implied to be past lovers

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Thank you to the people who helped me translate! ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

Also fun fact, I reverse searched the image and the literal place I could find it was a Twitter (or X🙄) post that was like “Neuvillette’s furry dragon form dropped?” and got an amazing idea~

Furina was an eccentric woman. That was well known fact all throughout Fontaine.

Another known fact was that you could commonly see her out and about with her Salon Solitaire. That Salon consisting of - of course- Gentilhomme Usher, Surintendante Chevalmarin, Mademoiselle Crabaletta and the Singer of Many Waters.

What was uncommon, however, was seeing her spend so much time at the waters surrounding the Court of Fontaine.

And by spending a lot of time, I mean spending hours at the water. Which sounds weird because she’s the literal Archon of water but… eh.

The people didn’t really bother with what she did unless it pertained to a court hearing.

Neuvillette did care. He was thoroughly confused as to why his Lady was spending so much time near the water with her troupe. He knew she was… well. He didn’t really have a good word to describe the bouncy girl, but she certainly was something.

It wasn’t until all members of higher position in Fontaine were called to the Hotel Debord for a “special announcement” as she claimed.

And everyone did show. Though the dragon was a bit confused when he saw the magicians and their sibling in room. And Navia.

Navia…

He shook his head and looked away from the blonde who seemed to have not noticed him yet.

Taking his seat, he and everyone else awaited the arrival of their Archon.

The lights turned down and a spotlight lit up the stage.

The first to rush out was Surintendante Chevalmarin, filling the stage with bubbles as music began to play.

Next was Gentilhomme Usher, who launched pulses of water into the air, said pulses catching the light in just a way that made rainbows fall across the stage.

And finally Mademoiselle Crabaletta rolled into view, the bubble surrounding her popping and rings flying into the air, being caught by ribbons and hooks in the air.

“Is everyone ready?~”

Heads turned to the back of the room where Furina stood. Jumping up she landed on a bubble, that of which she rode down onto the stage.

Her Salon danced around her as she spun.

“Then I would like to introduce you all to the newest member of my Salon Solitare!~”

The rings that were thrown were then lit up by their own spotlights.

“Please give a warm welcome tooooo….!~”

All four on stage stopped dancing gestured up towards the rings above them.

“Dragon des profondeurs chantant*!~”

Her words were met with a a noise from off stage, before something swooped from above, quickly swinging through the hoops attached to the ceiling.

It was long and cover in royal blue and azure fur, speckled with greens and topped off with gold.

Its body was long and serpentine in shape, long golden whiskers flowing freely from its face.

A crown like structure sat on its forehead, four ears pointedly raised in a regal manner.

Its tail was unlike its body, it ended in a large fin that didn’t match any fish any other had seen before. It looked strong and powerful, one to bend the waves under its will.

The music silenced and the light dimmed as the beast found purchase on the rings above the stage.

Large wings rose from its back, poised in the air like a painting.

And finally, it glowed.

Bright golden and azure fill the room with tints of sea foam green. Its eyes opened to reveal stark white eyes that’s glow was only slightly y dimmer than all the other lights on its body.

Silence filled the room.

Eyes were wide and no one knew what to say. What could they say? Their Archon had just found a dragon, an actual genuine DEEP SEA DRAGON, something that hadn’t been recorded for years! Last known sighting of a being even remotely similar to those was the Hydro Dragon and its description was the…

… Was the exact same as the dragon before them.

If not a bit bigger but perhaps they could change their size?

As soon as this thought went through their heads, you gracefully leapt down onto the stage, a rumbling purr emoting from your throat. You did in fact increase in size, the stage allowing you to reach a point where Furina was the size of one of your smaller ears.

“Hehe! You should’ve seen them when I found them beneath the waves!~”

Ah. Of course. Even that wasn’t your size.

The shocked silence was interrupted by someone clambering up from their seat.

Neuvillette.

He ran forwards towards the stage with an expression none of them had ever seem before. Hopping up onto the stage, he faced the dragon as it turned to him.

The two made eye contact for a moment before the Sovereign held a shaking hand out. You walked forward and pressed your head into his palm.

“…Ma brillante perle des profondeurs..?”

Your throat rumbled in response, a smile over taking your previously blank face.

“Mon très cher poisson-ange.~”

Everyone who wasn’t a dragon jumped at the sound of your rather deep voice.

Neuvillette wrapped his arms around your neck - though with your current size they barely made it one fourth of the way.

And I’m response you nuzzled against him. You’re glowing pulsating in a comforting way.

“Wait wait wait… YOU CAN TALK????” Furina’s voice shattered the silence.

“AND YOU KNOW THEM NEUVILLETTE?!?!?”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : I hope it satisfies! I love my little guys hehe. Because of all the Neuvillette me thinks he may become a new favorite hehe ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა!

Hope you enjoyed!

* Dragon of the singing depths - Furina to You

* My brilliant deep sea pearl - Neuvillette to You

* My dearest angelfish - You to Neuvillette

[muiitoloko]

11 o'clock girl

Summary: The sheriff notices you and makes you the 11 o'clock girl.

Pairing: Sheriff of Nottingham × Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, questionable consent, degradation.

Author Notes: Hey folks! First off, a big shoutout to all 150 of you wonderful followers! *pops open a bottle of budget-friendly champagne* Now, let me tell you about my recent dive into the cinematic masterpiece that is "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." Can we just take a moment to appreciate Alan Rickman's brilliance in that movie? He practically swiped the spotlight from Costner like a pro pickpocket!

So, I decided to scribble down a few thoughts about the character, but fair warning, I might have taken some creative liberties here and there. So, if the Sheriff of Nottingham ends up doing something completely outlandish, just roll with it, okay? Oh, and I should probably mention that I didn't bother proofreading this gem. Hey, blame it on my laziness! But I promise I'll clean up the mess later. Cheers to that! 🥂

As a lowly servant in the castle of Nottingham, you've always known the dangers of catching the Sheriff's eye. His reputation for cruelty and ruthlessness precedes him, and you've seen firsthand the consequences of crossing him. But when the Sheriff notices you, it's not fear that grips your heart—it's a chilling sense of dread mixed with a strange fascination.

At first, it's just a fleeting glance, a passing acknowledgment of your presence as you go about your duties. But soon, those glances turn into lingering stares, his piercing brown eyes boring into your soul with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

You try to keep your distance, avoiding him whenever possible and praying that he'll lose interest and move on to someone else. But the Sheriff is relentless, his obsession with you growing with each passing day until it becomes impossible to ignore.

One night, as you're tidying up the Great Hall after a banquet, you feel his presence behind you, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in close. "You have a name, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You nod nervously, unable to speak as fear grips your throat like a vice. But the Sheriff doesn't seem to notice—or perhaps he just doesn't care—as he continues to hover close, his gaze burning into your skin with an intensity that makes you squirm.

"I want you," he said abruptly, his words sending shockwaves of terror through your body. The implication hung heavy in the air, leaving you trembling with fear at the thought of what he might do to you.

But before you could respond, the Sheriff gave you a chilling command. "Come to my quarters at 11," he instructed, his voice dripping with authority. "And don't be late."

You nodded numbly, too terrified to refuse as the Sheriff smiled contentedly to himself before leaving, leaving you shaking in his wake. As you stood alone in the Great Hall, the weight of his words settled over you like a suffocating blanket, filling you with a sense of dread and helplessness.

The thought of what awaited you in the Sheriff's quarters made your stomach churn with nausea, but you knew that disobeying him was not an option. With a heavy heart, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that you had no choice but to obey his command.

As the clock struck 11, you found yourself standing outside the Sheriff's quarters, your heart pounding in your chest as you knocked on the door with trembling hands. The seconds stretched into eternity as you waited, the anticipation building with each passing moment until finally, the door swung open, revealing the Sheriff standing before you.

He was dressed only in his pants, his black hair tousled and his brown eyes gleaming with amusement as he greeted you with a sly grin. "Ah, the 11 o'clock girl," he purred, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Right on time, as always."

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stepped into his quarters, your eyes darting nervously around the room. But before you could utter a word, the Sheriff turned away from you, his attention drawn to the woman lying in his bed.

"Time to go, darling," he said casually, his tone dismissive as he addressed the woman who lay beside him. "You were the 10:45 girl, weren't you? Off you go now, before I lose interest."

The woman scrambled to get dressed, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she hurriedly gathered her belongings and fled the room, leaving you alone with the Sheriff once more. As the door closed behind her, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over you, the realization sinking in that you were not the only one he had summoned tonight.

But as you looked at the Sheriff, his gaze lingering on you with a hunger that sent a chill down your spine, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. You had been summoned here for a reason, and now it was time to face whatever fate awaited you.

But as the Sheriff approached you with a predatory gleam in his eyes, a wave of doubt washed over you, your mind reeling with questions and uncertainties. Did you truly want this? Did you have any choice in the matter?

As he drew closer, his hands reaching out to touch you, you couldn't help but flinch, your body recoiling instinctively from his touch. But the Sheriff paid no mind to your hesitation, his eyes blazing with desire as he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a rough and possessive kiss.

As the Sheriff pulled you into his embrace, his hands roaming over your trembling form, a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Despite your fear and uncertainty, there was something undeniably thrilling about being in the presence of such a powerful and commanding man.

"You're trembling, my dear," the Sheriff remarked, his voice dripping with amusement as he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "Nervous, are we? Or perhaps just excited to finally be in my arms?"

You couldn't help but blush at his words, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you struggled to maintain your composure. But the Sheriff only chuckled darkly, his hands wandering lower as he pulled you closer, his touch sending sparks of desire coursing through your veins.

"Tell me, darling," he murmured, his voice low and husky as he trailed kisses down your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you know why I summoned you here tonight? Or are you content to let me take what I want without a word of protest?"

His words sent a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. But before you could respond, the Sheriff silenced you with a searing kiss, his lips hungry and demanding as he claimed you as his own.

As his hands roamed over your body with a possessive urgency, you surrendered yourself to him completely, your mind clouded with desire as you lost yourself in the heat of the moment. And as the Sheriff guided you towards the bed with a predatory gleam in his eyes, you knew that there was no turning back now.

He paused for a moment, his fingers caressing your thigh with a disturbing mix of possessiveness and curiosity, he posed a question that made your heart race with apprehension.

"Are you a virgin?" he asked, his voice laced with a cruel edge as he studied your reaction.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry with fear as you stuttered out a nervous "no." The truth was that servants like you were rarely virgins, your station in life leaving you with very few options and even fewer expectations of finding a husband.

The Sheriff nodded, his fingers trailing under your servant's dress, which was little more than a rag draped over your body. "How many men have you been with, then?" he inquired, his tone mocking and derisive.

You lowered your gaze respectfully, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you admitted, "Only one, milord. A stable boy here at the castle."

The Sheriff's brow quirked in amusement, a sardonic smile playing on his lips as he considered your response. "Ah, a stable boy," he remarked dryly. "Is he your betrothed, then? Your one true love?"

You shook your head quickly, your voice barely above a whisper as you denied his assumption. "No, milord. We were... merely acquaintances."

The Sheriff chuckled darkly at your response, his fingers continuing to roam over your trembling form as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Well, my dear, it seems you and I have something in common," he murmured, his voice dripping with malice. "Neither of us is meant for love, only for pleasure."

You shuddered at his words, a chill of dread creeping down your spine as you realized the true nature of your predicament. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you knew that there was no escape from the Sheriff's clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

And as he pressed his lips to yours once more, his touch hungry and possessive, you resigned yourself to your fate, knowing that there was no turning back now.

As the Sheriff of Nottingham stripped away your meager garment, revealing your naked form to him, a predatory grin spread across his lips, his brown eyes gleaming with a cruel hunger. His gaze lingered hungrily on your exposed body, savoring every curve and contour as if he were appraising a prized possession.

"You're beautiful, my dear," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he traced a finger along the curve of your hip. "Almost too beautiful to be a mere servant."

You flinched at his touch, feeling a chill of dread wash over you as you realized the true extent of your vulnerability. But before you could protest or beg for mercy, the Sheriff's hands were already moving with purpose, stripping away your last shred of modesty with callous disregard.

As he tossed your underwear aside, leaving you completely exposed before him, you couldn't help but tremble with fear and shame, your heart pounding in your chest as you braced yourself for what was to come.

The Sheriff's smile widened at the sight of your nakedness, his eyes devouring you with an insatiable hunger that made your skin crawl. He wasted no time in making his intentions clear, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself between your legs, his erection throbbing with anticipation.

With one hand gripping your thigh possessively, the Sheriff used his other hand to guide his throbbing member towards your entrance, his touch sending shockwaves of pain and pleasure coursing through your body.

"No, please, wait," you pleaded, your voice trembling with desperation as you tried in vain to reason with him. But the Sheriff paid no heed to your protests, his lustful desires driving him forward with relentless determination.

Ignoring your cries, he thrust himself into you with brutal force, causing you to cry out in agony as he stretched you beyond your limits. You were not ready for him, not prepared for the searing pain that tore through your body with each merciless thrust.

But the Sheriff showed no mercy, his movements relentless as he claimed you as his own, his grunts of pleasure mingling with your cries of pain. He was rough and demanding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he pounded into you with a primal intensity.

"Ah, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice thick with lust as he reveled in the sensation of your warmth enveloping him. "That stable boy clearly didn't know what he was doing if he left you like this."

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to endure the agonizing pleasure, your mind clouded with a dizzying mix of pain and arousal. The Sheriff's thrusts were relentless, each one driving you closer to the edge of oblivion as he claimed you as his own.

And as he pressed your hand against your lower stomach, forcing you to feel the full extent of his penetration with each thrust, you realized with a sickening sense of despair that there was no escape from his clutches—that you were nothing more than a pawn in his twisted game of power and desire.

As the Sheriff continued to thrust into you with a relentless determination, his words became more cutting, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain.

"You like this, don't you?" he taunted, his breath hot against your ear as he reveled in your helpless submission. "A filthy little servant like you, enjoying being used like a common whore."

You whimpered at his words, a mixture of shame and arousal coursing through your veins as you struggled to reconcile your conflicting emotions. You knew you shouldn't be enjoying this, shouldn't be responding to his cruel words with such eagerness, but you couldn't help yourself.

With each thrust, the Sheriff seemed to find new ways to demean and degrade you, his words like daggers piercing your already fragile sense of self-worth.

"You're nothing but a plaything to me," he sneered, his tone laced with contempt as he continued to pound into you with a punishing rhythm. "A worthless little whore, good for nothing but spreading your legs and taking whatever I give you."

But instead of recoiling from his words, you found yourself growing more aroused with each insult, your body responding eagerly to his dominating presence. With a newfound sense of confidence, you reached out and grabbed the Sheriff's back, pulling him closer to you as you urged him to intensify his thrusts.

The Sheriff's eyes widened in surprise at your boldness, a dark grin spreading across his lips as he realized the depth of your depravity. "Well, well, it seems our little servant has a bit of a backbone after all," he chuckled, his voice tinged with amusement. "I like that. Let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

With a renewed sense of purpose, you gripped the Sheriff's ass firmly, urging him to thrust into you harder and faster as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment. Despite the pain and humiliation, there was something undeniably exhilarating about being dominated by such a powerful and commanding man.

And as the Sheriff chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands roaming over your trembling form with a possessive urgency, you knew that there was no turning back now—that you were his to command, body and soul. And strangely, in that moment, you wouldn't have it any other way.

As the Sheriff took your hand off his ass and pinned it to the bed above your head, you felt a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. His touch was rough yet electrifying, sending shivers of anticipation racing down your spine as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of the moment.

Leaning down, the Sheriff pressed his lips to your neck, his kisses leaving a trail of fire in their wake as he trailed down to your collarbone. With effortless strength, he took your other hand and pinned them together above your head, his large hand easily holding them in place against the mattress.

You moaned with pleasure, the sound music to the Sheriff's ears as he reveled in the intoxicating power he held over you. With each thrust, he drove you to new heights of ecstasy, his movements relentless and commanding as he claimed you as his own.

As he kissed down your collarbone, the Sheriff couldn't help but marvel at the scent of soap on your skin, a stark contrast to the other women he had been with. "You smell divine," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration as he praised you for your cleanliness.

But you were lost in pleasure, your eyes closed and face contorted in ecstasy as you surrendered yourself completely to the Sheriff's desires. With each thrust, your back arched and your body writhed beneath him, the sensations overwhelming your senses as you neared the brink of climax.

The Sheriff watched you with a hunger that bordered on obsession, his brown eyes dark with desire as he imagined what it would be like to see you cum on his dick. It was a thought that had never crossed his mind before, the idea of giving pleasure to a woman rather than just taking what he needed.

But as he gazed down at you, lost in pleasure and utterly vulnerable beneath him, the Sheriff felt a strange sense of longing stirring within him. He wanted to see your expression as you reached the peak of ecstasy, to witness the raw, unbridled passion on your face as you surrendered yourself completely to him.

With a newfound sense of determination, the Sheriff quickened his pace, driving you towards the edge of oblivion with each powerful thrust. And as you cried out in ecstasy, your body convulsing beneath him as waves of pleasure washed over you, he knew that he would stop at nothing to make you his own.

For in that moment, as you lay beneath him, utterly vulnerable and completely surrendered to his desires, the Sheriff realized that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side—to possess you body and soul, now and forever.

[mercuriians]

say what you want

synopsis ☆ you're forced to confront your feelings for aomine when your plans go wrong at a party.

content info — angst to fluff, some hurt/comfort, fem! reader, mutual pining (reader & aomine are both idiots), little bit suggestive at the end. also, as a WARNING, this work contains references to underage drinking so if that makes you uncomfortable then please don't read this.

word count — 3.1k words.

author's note — first full knb fic i've written!! yeahhh i got carried away so oops. wasn't really sure how to end it but i hope it's alright either way. while i was writing this fic i was listening to take a chance with me and lowkey by NIKI, so if you want to feel the vibes of the story then u should listen to those songs, they're amazing i promise. hope u guys enjoy!!

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault."

you aim for your words to be sharp, accusatory, and scathing, filled with the type of poison that conveys just how irritated you felt at the moment; they’re intended to withdraw some kind—any kind, actually, since it’s aomine you’re talking to—of guilt or acknowledgement from the boy, or at the very least a sign that yes, he was the one who deserved the blame, and every ounce of it too.

however your objective falls short, and there’s a thought that irritatingly lingers at the back of your unusually sluggish mind: that, really, you weren’t exactly free from fault either. but it isn’t like you want to admit that because even the boy next to you knows the extent of your obstinacy and pride.

it’s a shame, and it’s quite ironic too, that your words are ultimately what betray your integrity. the way they come out breathless, slightly slurred, and definitely nowhere near scathing says more than enough.

earlier, you might have drunk a bit more than you were supposed to.

but to be fair, it was kise's seventeenth birthday. knowing how passionate he became whenever the subject was about parties or having fun or legitimately just having the spotlight on himself, the celebration turned out to be rather wild, to say the least. though when you had all five—technically six—members of the miracle generation gathered in the same area, as well as some of their respective teammates, the pandemonium was likely the only thing you could even anticipate. besides the heavy stench of testosterone of course.

see, your original plan was to spend the night quietly spectating the crowd. you never really liked parties, and you never really liked all the chaos that it brought. what you did like, though, was watching that same chaos unfold before your eyes. you even prepared your childhood friend to be by your side when it all went down, with his fluffy baby blue hair and his innocent, perceptive gaze never straying too far from where number two sat contentedly, playing with a rubber ball.

"how long do you think it'll take before kagami and aomine get into a brawl?" you had mused, hiding your amused grin behind your hand as you watched the two basketball players get into an argument over what the next song would be.

all the while, you hoped that kuroko didn’t see the way your eyes dipped towards the area of skin that aomine’s shirt haphazardly left exposed.

luckily he didn’t seem to notice. either that or—this was more likely—he was kind enough not to comment.

"ten minutes." kuroko had stated bluntly, answering your question. as it turns out, he wasn't far off from the mark.

so, for the first half of the party, your plan worked. you sat by the corner, languidly drinking from your cup of apple juice while you chatted with kuroko about anything that came into your mind. everything was fine, things were going well on your part, and at some point, you even sang along to the cheesy pop music that the speakers blasted.

most of all, you managed to avoid aomine.

but to put it frankly, shit hit the fan the moment the clock hit eleven. a bit surprisingly, the instigator wasn’t aomine, or takao, or even the golden birthday boy himself. no, it was sweet, exuberant momoi.

looking back on it, maybe your surprise was unreasonable. this was the same girl who could make eerily accurate predictions simply based off the statistics she collected from the court, and with you being a basketball player yourself, you knew just how scheming momoi could be when she really wanted to. that, and the fact that she happened to be another one of your childhood friends.

yeah, you probably should have realized that she was plotting something.

yet the realization never dawned on you. not when she offered you three consecutive cups of sake and claimed that “it’s to help you loosen up!”, not when she managed to pull you away from kuroko, not when she proposed the stupidly cliche spin the bottle game, and definitely not when she forced aomine to sit directly across from where you were.

after watching a few hilarious and awkward rounds, it was only inevitable for you to be the one spinning the bottle, and it was only inevitable for the damned thing to land on the one boy you were hoping to skip. and no, not because you hated him, but precisely because you simply couldn’t. it was impossible to not like aomine, even with his laziness, arrogance, perversion, and occasional playboyish tendencies. the truth was that behind every flaw of his, there were just as many positives, whether it was his obstinate loyalty or his unwavering honesty or his genuine respect for those who earned it.

so no one could blame you for the way your breath caught in your throat when aomine held your gaze and when he eventually began to make his way over. “this okay with you?” he asked nonchalantly as if this was a light, casual matter, and as if he didn’t care at all. yet, there was a slight, barely noticeable tightness in his navy gaze. had you not known him for years now, you likely wouldn’t have picked up on that small detail.

but as small as it was, really, it was anything but. and with your heart beating just a bit faster, you knew exactly why.

you nodded your head wordlessly, your lips parting, your eyes meeting his, and your message being spoken and understood through that eye contact alone. aomine leaned in, and you closed your eyes.

his lips were chapped, and his hand felt rough and calloused against your skin, but you felt a trail of fire prickling through your body anyway. quicker than you would have liked to admit, you found yourself falling deeper. you hoped, for a brief, flickering moment, that aomine felt the same. maybe, within his mind, there were thoughts of you.

swirls of past memories, like when you two would play basketball together, sweat dripping down your faces, soaking the fabric of your clothes as you focused on not letting him score; fragments of the future, like what it would be like to attend college together; and wishes for the present moment, like maybe how he wanted you to be his, just as you've wanted him to be yours since the last year of junior high.

you pulled aomine in closer, fingers digging into his collar. the logical part of your mind shrieked, voice raising in volume the longer you pressed your body against his, but you shut the thoughts out.

very, very vaguely, it occurred to you that the alcohol made your heart beat faster, made your spirit burn recklessly in a way that you hadn't known before.

for better or for worse, aomine noticed too.

and the moment you regained all sense of control, you realized that you no longer felt the weight of his body, or the warmth of his lips. bright lights flooded your vision as you opened your eyes. aomine stood a foot or two away, his shirt a bit crumpled from where you had gripped the fabric.

there was a certain kind of look on his face, but the problem was that you were unable to decipher it. this was the first time you couldn't read him.

fear settled into your bones.

had you just ruined everything between the two of you? not just the chances of ever dating him, but your friendship as well? should you have kissed him in the first place? what kind of person did he think you were now?

what had you done wrong, and why did you ever even accept those drinks from satsuki?

suddenly the room was full of too many people, and there were too many sounds and the lights were starting to blind you and damn it you couldn't even hear yourself think. in the heat of panic, you found yourself running, murmuring mindless apologies to whoever you almost crashed into.

you didn't stop until you reached kise's balcony. it was small, barely enough for three people to fit in, but the fact that you were able to taste the crisp june night air was enough.

unfortunately, it turned out that you only had a few minutes to spend alone with your thoughts. before long, the sound of the glass door sliding open disrupted the silence. you closed your eyes, praying to whatever was above that it wasn't the one person you wanted to avoid.

"wow, you really don't want to talk to me, huh?" a gruff, low voice dryly remarked. well, shit.

your eyes flew open. "i—uh, aomine," you cleared your throat hastily, "what did i.. did i say that out loud?"

"sure did," he confirmed. you heard him walking towards you before you saw him slide into the narrow space on your left. cautiously, you snuck a glance; his expression seemed to be unbothered, but knowing what happened ten minutes ago, you wouldn't risk a bet on it.

his eyes met yours. "you've been acting off," he remarked.

you refrained from rolling your eyes, like it wasn't already clear enough. "yeah, well, the sake that satsuki gave me was.. um, expired." you lied, and quite messily too. "made my stomach feel weird."

"she made me check the expiration date before her mom bought it," aomine deadpanned, and for the umpteenth time that night you wished that the floor was kind enough to swallow you whole. "and your stomach seems fine to me."

"well you wouldn't know that," you shot back, somewhat angrily. "and why did—how did satsuki even get her mom to buy alcohol in the first place?"

"her mom was the one who suggested it," aomine shrugged. despite the twinge of surprise that you felt—you weren't exactly sure if an adult was allowed to buy alcohol for seventeen-year-olds—it was quickly washed away and forgotten, overshadowed by the look that the boy suddenly gave you.

"so, are we gonna keep dodging the topic or what?"

your shoulders sagged, your arms crossing over your chest instinctively. "what is there to talk about?" you muttered.

"look, between the two of us, you're definitely the smarter one," aomine stated bluntly. "so quit actin' like you don't know what happened back there, (name)."

a heavy sigh escaped from your lips, frustration welling up within your chest all over again. you found it quite difficult to even breathe at the moment. "i don't want to do this right now," you stated. "so please just leave and we can pretend like—"

"that's the problem right there," aomine interrupts, an unprecedented twinge of emotion filling his voice. it was anger and frustration akin to yours, yes, but there was something else—something that you could reluctantly guess stemmed from a place that he'd kept hidden until now. "you keep avoiding me like i'm the damn plague or something. i didn't even do anything wrong, and if you feel like i did, then i can't do anything about it because you're not telling me shit."

and that right there brings you to the present moment, the buildup to the storm that's about to wreak havoc and tear up the land.

"you know, ahomine, this entire thing was your fault." you hiss, every ounce of your feelings pouring out without abandon. it's messy, it's unorganized, and it's raw; maybe none of it even makes sense, or maybe all of it does. you don't bother trying to wrap your head around it because there's no use in doing so.

for once, you don't think, and you let your words spill out like water from a broken faucet.

"it's your fault because you made me feel this way about you, even though you're one of the laziest, rudest, and most obnoxious people i know, not to mention that you read those perverted magazines. but you're also one of the most loyal and genuine, and i know that you would never lie. not on the court, and not outside of it, either. and that just—a-all of it frustrates and confuses me because we're polar opposites. you say whatever's on your mind, and you don't care about what people think about it. i can't do that."

you take a moment to breathe, to slow down, and to collect your scrambled train of thought. "i think that's why i don't tell you things like this. i'm probably drunk right now, but i think you want someone who's as unafraid as you are, someone who takes charge of the situation instead of being in the background. the only time i can be bold is when i play basketball. because then it's just—"

"just you, the ball, and the person in front of you," aomine finishes. surprisingly, his tone is soft, even understanding, and you look up to meet his gaze. "i know how that feels."

"it's like nothing else matters when you're on the court," you whispers, and the boy next to you nods. "all of it is simple. it's nothing like having to deal with your emotions, and having to understand them."

"you're right about that," aomine agrees. there are a few, shocking beats of silence that ensue, both of you seeming to ponder on your individual thoughts. "but, you know, the way you kissed me back there said a lot."

your face flushes pink. "yeah, i know," you mumble, turning your head away as you rest your arms against the railing. there's an uncomfortable feeling that sinks into you, just being aware that aomine knows how you've felt about him for years. you don't remember ever feeling as exposed as you do now.

"you're a good kisser," he comments somewhat offhandedly. "makes me wonder how it'll feel like to do that again in the future."

you pause.

your mouth drops open. "huh?" you stammer embarrassingly. "you can't joke about this, aomine—"

"look at me," he interrupts, softly but firmly. with hesitation swirling within your mind, you raise your head to meet his sapphire eyes. there's no trace of humor, or scorn, or sarcasm anywhere on his face, however. in fact, the seriousness exuding from his expression feels undeniably out of character.

and yet he's never looked as breathtaking as he does now.

"i hate saying this, but i think satsuki really did succeed this time." seeing the confusion on your face, aomine explains, "i tried pretending like i didn't have feelings for you either, because like you said, it feels weird. i guess ignoring them was more convenient for me, too. but, satsuki being satsuki, i guess she got bored of us being idiots and pulled this entire thing together."

"she's an orchestrator," you mutter, astonished. "wait, so, this means that you like me too—i'm not hallucinating?"

"nope, your ears are working perfectly fine." he states. "i've liked you ever since you broke my ankles and put me on my ass back at teiko."

overcome with surprise and glee—none of this feels real, still—you can't help but snort. "weren't you pissed when i did that? i mean i remember kise drooling over me, and akashi-kun giving me a compliment, but you were definitely upset." fond memories flash within your mind as you remember the sheer embarrassment and anger on a thirteen-year-old aomine's face.

"and i was, believe me," the boy chuckles. "but that was the first time a girl played against me and won. usually, they would just crowd around me and ramble about how hot i was. it was an unexpected change, but it was nice. kind of turned me on, too."

the last part almost causes you to choke on your saliva.

"such a pervert," you accuse him, a tint of pink staining your cheeks. "i don't even wanna know the thoughts that filled your head."

"i was thinking about how great of a girlfriend you'd be," aomine grins, stepping towards you. he reaches out, his hand moving to fix the strands of hair that covered your face. "and how pretty you'd look wearing my jersey."

"we can talk about that later," you swallow, looking up at him through your lashes, the party long forgotten. "right now, all you have to think about is kissing me again."

"that's easy," he retorts, his strong arms circling around your waist protectively. aomine leans down, his eyes slowly sliding shut, and his distinctive scent—cedarwood, smoke, and a hint of sweat—washes over you as his lips slot against yours.

unlike before, the kiss isn't frenzied or desperate; still, it maintains an air of passion, which both of you can clearly feel. his hands are curious, wandering and tracing areas all over your clothed body, almost as if he's trying to imprint them into his memory. they finally rest comfortably on the small of your back, with your own hands perched on his broad shoulders.

sneakily, he bites your lip, prompting a small, sharp whimper. your mouth opens invitingly, and his tongue sneaks in, swirling around your own.

when you pull away a little while later, you find yourself panting. your chest heaves with every breath, and your knees start to feel weak. "and you say i'm the good kisser," you say breathlessly, reaching up to give him one more peck.

"well i wasn't lying, was i?" he raises his brows slightly, making you giggle. "i had to stop myself from going even further."

"nobody said you had to stop," you whisper under your breath, catching him by surprise.

"trust me, i didn't want to," aomine leans down again, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. "but we're both a little drunk right now."

his words bring you a renewed sense of clarity, or at least something resembling it. he's telling the truth, really; doing anything reckless under the influence of alcohol is quite far from being a good decision. "and i thought you were supposed to be a delinquent," you tease him harmlessly.

"even delinquents use their brain sometimes, (name)," he rolls his eyes. "besides, i'm starving right now. i wanna eat some of the onigiri that kagami made, even though he gets under my skin."

"he's a really good cook," you sigh in admiration, examining aomine's expression closely, "and he's handsome, too.."

he scowls. "watch it," the boy warns, "don't say anything you're going to regret later."

"sorry, daiki," you apologize with a grin. "it's just fun to tease you."

"whatever," aomine mutters. "tomorrow, i'll get my payback."

[electricbathsalt]

To follow-up my last Hardcore Delusional take, I will be discussing the possibility that Chisaki being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai was actually planned. I’m not saying I necessarily believe this to be canon, just how I think it’d play into canon if it was. This post is long as hell, so simmer down and buckle up, if you so please.

Okay so, as was confirmed in chapter 419, Chisaki was in one of AFO’s facilities as a kid. Now the question to be begged is how he got out of said facility, when his quirk obviously holds a lot of power and potential, which makes it feel like AFO would’ve put at least some effort to keep Chisaki within his grasp.

So here’s the thought: He did. Chisaki didn’t truly escape the facility, he was just put into another one. Chisaki being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai was just to put Chisaki somewhere AFO knew about, so that his lesser project could be monitored and molded while he worked on his primary project, Tenko. Also maybe Chisaki proved a bit too rebellious/resistant? So AFO thought the best course of action would be to give him the false security of a new start so that he would be more pliable.

So, AFO got into touch with one of his contacts to take care of Chisaki in the meantime. And considering both the theory that Chisaki accidentally killed someone with his quirk when it manifested (maybe his mother) and also the likely dynamics of the facility he was in, it’d be relatively simple to introduce him to a parental/mentor figure who’d he then attach to and feel like he has to prove his worth to. Which, on top of this, said parental/mentor figure being some flavor of authority figure as well would probably deepen Chisaki’s feelings of admiration and respect towards them. And it needed to be someone who’d be able to easily blend someone new into their home without much suspicion, someone who has a life of secrecy, someone whose lifestyle would be a gradual immersion into crime, and who, behind the curtains, knows how to get people to look up to them and also subtly mold them to their desires. So basically, Pops (a Yakuza leader) was the perfect candidate.

AFO contacts Pops. They make a deal of some sort. Chisaki escaping and being taken in by the Shie Hassaikai is staged.

Now the actual process of Chisaki being in the Shie Hassaikai. Here’s where things get tricky.

They want Chisaki to feel indebted and loyal to the Shie Hassaikai and Pops so that he’ll listen to Pops and have the independent want to help the Shie Hassaikai however he can. They want to make it feel like the Shie Hassaikai are the only people that’ll accept him and care for him. That’ll make it easier for them to project their goals onto him, as they’re already pretty sure this mindset will start by itself in Chisaki’s head, and all they have to do is water it/not stunt it. Which leads into…

“I get that you’re trying to repay me for getting you off the streets, but ya always take things a little too far.”—Pops to Chisaki. One might say this is an argument against Pops negatively influencing Chisaki, but! I present: That’s simultaneously stoking the flames that it’s okay for Chisaki to feel indebted to him, BUT that it’s not okay for Chisaki to be too ambitious with it. If the Shie Hassaikai isn’t declining, there’s no motive for Chisaki to eventually agree to work under the League. Instead of harboring similar feelings of respect and indebtedness towards the LOV because they helped the Shie Hassaikai at their lowest, he’d most likely begin resenting them for “siphoning their spotlight”, or something along those lines, in the case that Pops would sign an alliance with the LOV, if that makes sense.

So yes, the idea was to get Chisaki to be devoted and hardworking, but to also keep him from doing anything too bold. The plan was that hopefully, he wouldn’t branch out too much, and when he did, Pops would simply smack his hand away.

Then Eri came into the picture. Something I think about but don’t really see anyone mention is how easily Pops remanded Eri into Chisaki’s care, despite her being dangerous in ways they didn’t yet know how to handle. Was he not at all worried Eri might accidentally kill Chisaki, too?

Anyway. Chisaki is appointed Eri’s caretaker. He’s assigned to figuring out what exactly is going on with her, and when he does, it doesn’t bode well for his begging-to-overflow ambitions that’ve been getting stamped down for years. He thinks up the quirk-destroying bullets + antidotes to make a monopoly on the market plan. He presents it to Pops.

Pops is decidedly not happy about this. That’s a plan that could completely ruin AFO’s (or so he thinks) and Chisaki is becoming way too enterprising and persistent with it. He finally decides to shut down the whole concept by using a fear tactic he knows will strike directly to Chisaki’s heart—threatening that Chisaki will have to leave the Shie Hassaikai if he considers anything like this anymore. (There’s also the idea that getting him to leave the Shie Hassaikai would make that yearning to be approved of/accepted have to get redirected somewhere else, since Chisaki currently seems the type to thirst for validation, which would turn him to the LOV/AFO more “naturally”. As a potential thought process behind Pops saying that)

This backfires,, to say the least. Pops had underestimated just how devoted (obsessed) and one-tracked (insane) Chisaki already was.

Now here’s the thing. It doesn’t seem very plausible that AFO wouldn’t have found out about Chisaki taking over the Shie Hassaikai—and he almost definitely did. Now here’s the other thing—that doesn’t necessarily mean he knew about the bullets. Especially since his inside source was taken out instantly after learning the specifics of it. Think about it: How did the initial meeting between the LOV and Overhaul go? I think if AFO knew about the bullets, he would’ve at least told Shigaraki, and Shigaraki would’ve told the LOV.

But backtracking, here’s some more quotes of Pops: “That again? You’re obsessed. Straying from humanity means the end of gangster chivalry, Chisaki. And people won’t follow such soulless heresy.” (Ironic on that last one), and another: “I can’t have you straying so far from our way of things.”

And finally, “If you don’t want to follow our way… then you should just leave.”

The language Pops uses can feel a bit strange or off sometimes, in the way that it feels a bit domineering/demeaning. Him ingraining it into Chisaki that he needs to “follow their way” could easily be written off as he just wants him to follow the Yakuza code of ethics, of course. But that’s the thing with pretty much everything Pops says. All of it could be seen as innocent, just as much as it could be seen as ulteriorly motivated. All of these could be genuine, but they could also be a means to try to keep Chisaki in place until AFO needs/wants him again. That’s the thing, ain’t it? It’s all ambiguous.

[sergeantsporks]

I honestly always thought that Lilith's resentment of Hunter stemmed from her being jealous of his "close" relationship with Belos.

Lilith was a frigging teenage girl when she joined the Emperor's Coven. She had an estranged relationship with both of her parents at that time. She was also isolated from them. Belos presents himself as an affable authority figure to the Isles.

If she didn't quickly start viewing Belos as some sort of pseudo father figure, I'd be seriously surprised.

And Belos, given that his whole "thing" was manipulation, had to have picked up on that. I'd be genuinely shocked if he didn't outright cultivate it!

Especially since doing so would've assured him of Lilith's loyalty (Until, you know), sowed discontent within the higher ranked members of the Emperor's Coven (Since they all want to be "close" to Belos), and presented an excellent opportunity to cause pain to the Clawthorne family. (And we all know that he's not wholly beyond being petty like that, lol.)

In addition to giving Lilith one damn good reason to hate Hunter's guts from the day he set foot in the Castle for the first time. LMAO.

This random kid appears out of nowhere and he's somehow the Emperor's nephew?!? So of course the expectation will be that Belos is going to dote on him and give the little tyke whatever he wants, up to and including a powerful position within the Coven. Likely without the kid having to lift a finger.

XD Poor Hunter could've literally spent his whole childhood worshiping the very ground Lilith walked on and she still would've despised the poor child. There was literally nothing that he could ever do that would be "right" in Lilith's eyes. Because his mere presence is an affront to her!

As it also is to all of the other Coven Heads.

Which is, naturally, exactly what Belos wanted. Can't let his little child solider have other trustworthy adults in his life. No, Belos needs to be the only person he can 100% always trust and thus, turn to in times of trouble.

:( Poor Lilith, poor Hunter.

Yeah, I know I've talked about Lilith being like "Finally, I'm going to get out of the shadow of my sister, I'm no longer going to be second-fiddle in the eyes of an authority figure to a prodigy, excellent" only for a new prodigy pop up and take the spotlight and all the attention of her top authority figure 20 or so years later. Like. She must have been screaming.

But honestly? I think you're right. I don't think Hunter did anything, not at first, anyway. We see in Thanks to Them that a lot of his posturing and pride/confidence literally comes on and off with his physical mask. Underneath, he's just... kind of a dork loser who's pretty adorable. Sure, he's not PERFECT, it's not TOTALLY a persona; the "golden guard" does bleed into Hunter and vice versa, but I can definitely imagine all the other coven heads (and ESPECIALLY Lilith, who's already predisposed to feel threatened by people whose seeming "natural" talents exceed her hard work) coming in already expecting him to be a nepotism brat.

Hunter is nothing if not someone who tries very hard to live up to people's expectations of him. So even if he wasn't some annoying little twerp at first and was just a genuinely curious and excited kid who wanted to hang out with The Cool Kids (coven heads) (especially considering we know he wasn't really allowed near the other scouts), I have no doubt that he started leaning into their expectations of "bratty kid who can do whatever he wants because he's the emperor's nephew" after the first few rejections. Which would only make their perception of him justified in their eyes, which would only make him worse, etc. etc. So even if he was a perfect angel at first and worshiped the ground the other coven heads walked on, like you said, he definitely became/acted like the brat they all thought he was by the end.

[taylorswiftstyle]

Throughout the twelve games she's attended, her style has been consistent. Sarah Chapelle, who covers the pop star's fashion at Taylor Swift Style (on Instagram @taylorswiftstyled) and is the author of the forthcoming Taylor Swift Style: Fashion Through the Eras, tells T&C that Swift's NFL era is "feminine, thoughtful, and on-theme." She explains, "Taylor's NFL era style reflects the same level of intention and care she brings to all her fashion. Even as a sports spectator, Taylor is someone who is fully aware of the weight of her fashion choices. I love that she's taken the same level of care in her game day style and the brands and businesses she supports with her outfits as she does with all her fashion. The level of intention she brings to her style makes her so fun to watch as a fan."

Her outfits have stuck to the formula, Chapelle explains, including "a stylish coat paired with a simple base, in Chiefs colors naturally, and a heeled boot." If she goes to the Super Bowl, what could Swift wear? Here's Chapelle's guess: "Taylor has generally stayed loyal to the Chiefs color palette of red, black, and gold so I definitely imagine that will continue. While she’s shown that she's not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeves literally in custom wear showing off Travis's number like her Kristin Juszczyk jacket, I can also see her in something as laidback as what we saw at the AFC Championship Game in her red Guest in Residence cashmere sweater to show comfort in having a quieter, supporting role and letting the spotlight be on the team and players."

[bchan95]

Tension Pt. 3

Author's note: sorry for the delay, I hope you enjoy.

Part 1 Part 2

I stared at him for another moment, my hand pressed against my lip. He just... kissed me out of the blue? He just told me that he was jealous of the waiter hitting on me and then he kissed me. The club was already smoke-heavy and dim, but the gravity of this situation was making it appear pitch black.

Nauseous thoughts overtaking my senses, I felt my hand touch a hard surface in front of me. I tried to look up but I felt my knees start to give out underneath me. Everything was starting to turn a light grey, my palms were sweating, my heart was racing, my-

"Y/N, Y/N talk to me."

I snapped back up to attention meeting his face in the bright spotlight behind him. All of a sudden everything was where it was before the spinning. Chan was staring back at me with wide eyes, his hands bracing my upper arms tightly.

"Are you back?"

I bit down on my lip and nodded. Although the chao that floated around my mind for a moment there might have actually been more cathartic if I was being honest. I nodded again. Not sure if that one was for me or for him.

"Yeah," my throat was still dry, making every word even more painful than it already was. "I'm here, can you, can you get me a glass of water please."

He nodded quickly and sprinted away from me and toward the bar. Changbin still stood at the counter. He nodded at Chan, glancing at me quickly before turning to grab a glass of water. I watched the whole interaction on the balls of my toes. As Chan turned back toward me my heart jumped into my stomach again out of fear of reacting too much or too little to any of his movements. He holds the glass out to me and has a slight smile on his face. Those wide doe eyes didn't match the cheer, pleading with me in a single glance.

"Thank you," I forced a smile as I quickly drank.

Chan watched my every movement. I could feel his eyes on me no matter what I did. I took a sip of water, and his eyes followed as if I were to slip up and drop the glass on my face. I couldn't help but feel a little unnerved by the attention. My best friend wasn't always the most cautious with me. He always cared deeply, but knew I could hold my own. So I had to say when Chan grabbed my glass out of my hand as I moved to place it on the counter, I almost jumped back at the touch.

"God, I'm sorry," Chan said in a panic, shifting a little further away from me. "I'm doing everything wrong I'm sorry."

Now I had to giggle. I was usually the one to overthink. Chan hadn't messaged me in six hours. He died. Chan didn't wish me a happy birthday right at midnight. He hates me. It was nice to be the other person in this scenario for once. For him to treat me like porcelain, worried that any move I might make would be the last one.

But I should probably put him out of his misery. I smirked and shook my head at him. Sitting back down on the wooden bar stool, I placed my head in my hand and looked up at him. He leaned his head to the side, his eyebrows scrunched as he watched my lips turn upward.

"Chan sit down my god, you're making me more anxious like that."

He finally popped a bit of a smile as he sat back down. We sat in silence for another moment. All I could hear was the urgency of my breath as I drank my water and Chan's toe-tapping against the floorboards. I wondered what he was thinking. If the brevity of the kiss was overtaking his mind too. In a good way. I was becoming dangerous with this new power. His eyes over me like a watchful shadow as I made my next decision.

"So."

"So."

We had another stare-off. This was getting ridiculous. I had to laugh in frustration so I wouldn't burst out of my every waking thought. Why did you kiss me? Did you only kiss me because of Changbin? How long have you wanted to kiss me? Are you going to try to kiss me again?

What if I wanted you to kiss me again?

I sighed "I'm not mad, you know?"

I think I almost saw Chan jump out of his chair at with that knowledge. His whole body reacted, feet lifting off the ground, hands moving off the counter and all of his facial features rising. He looked like a kid who had just told his family was going to Disney. Cute. To see him so elated. And about me.

"You aren't?" He questioned, eyes focused on me

I looked at his face, the faint freckles painted across his cheeks were more present tonight without the makeup. His soft brown eyes looked richer with the lack of light beaming on him.

No, Y/N.

No time to get distracted now. I shook off the warm look and focused back on my glass as I spoke.

"Well, not not mad. More confused than anything."

I made eye contact with him again and my heart almost leaped out of my chest as I watched him lean forward, eyebrows pulled to the middle of his face as he nodded at me.

"I understand, I crossed the line."

I chuckled under my breath "Chan, you don't just dance with another girl all night, and then tell me you want me." I spun the glass around to distract from all the buzzing in my brain as I spoke. "That's extremely confusing."

"Y/N, I really am sorry."

"Did you even mean it?" my features pinched together as I kept my eyes on the condensation on the glass.

That's when I finally heard him move. I panicked, looking up and expecting him to be leaving the bar. That I was wrong once again. It was the heat of the moment and he didn't mean anything by it really and...

Then I looked up and saw that he simply pulled his chair closer to me. His eye color is even more crisp auburn from closer up. Shinier too. Like when I hold back a cry around him. I was going to make my lip raw at this point from gnawing on it but it was the only thing grounding me as I challenged myself to keep talking.

"Y/N.."

I interrupt him, shaking my head "Chan it's okay if you didn't I just-"

He taps my knee softly, bringing my words to a halt.

"Can I finish my thought?"

I nod silently, teeth gripping the skin beneath it.

"I meant it... when I said I was jealous," He started, rubbing the back of his neck. "I also meant it when I kissed you. I wanted to do that."

I just kept nodding, my eyes bouncing around his features, worried that any sustained content would burn me on impact. Chan sighs loudly again, tapping on the bartop next to us. Close enough for our hands to touch. I wish he felt brave again.

"Oh."

That's when I heard it. Chan's laugh. For the first time in like an hour, I hear that squeaky giggle. That's enough for my head to pop back up quickly in bewilderment.

"What," I feel a smile pop across my face as I look at his more relaxed state.

"Just.... a little bit of a letdown for a reaction for me spilling my guts here, y/n."

I frowned, rolling my eyes. "Telling me that you were jealous and wanted to kiss me really isn't spilling your guts, Bang. We've watched enough romantic comedies together for you to know this."

He returned the gesture, rolling his eyes back at me as he placed his whisky glass back up to his lips. He squinted at the impact of the liquid before placing it back down in front of him and turning to me.

"Fine," he leaned in closer to me, I could smell honey and danger again. "You want a real proclamation of love?"

I freeze and don't say anything. Is he really going to do it? He's not really going to...

I watch Chan lick his lips and roll back his shoulders before opening his mouth once again.

"Y/N," his hand is on my knee again. "I wanted to kiss you tonight. I've wanted to kiss you every night that I've known you."

I feel my cheeks warm as the words leave his lips. Suddenly the ground looks really nice and I'm watching my feet dangle a few inches from the floor as I listen. I hear him giggle again.

"I know I'm your stupid best friend."

I raised my head and went to open my mouth to protest his statement but he placed a finger to my lips, holding eye contact for a second before dropping it.

"I am," he grins even bigger. "But although I'm stupid and I make a lot of mistakes... I know the best decision in my life was bringing you into it. You make me better. Every day you make me better. I've tried to keep it in the back of my mind that I'm okay with just that. You are in my life as a best friend. But... I think the cat's out of the bag now."

He grabs my hand and I roll my eyes at him again.

"Cat's out of the bag? What are you, 50?"

He nods "I am, just ask my bandmates."

I giggle thinking of his band. Rowdy group of guys all younger than us that never let us forget it. I like the way his thumb is drawing circles on the top of my hand. I bite my lips to stop myself from giggling again at such a slight touch.

"I know that I messed up tonight. In more ways than one," He nodded at me. "I'm sorry I left you on your birthday. I'm sorry I was with some other girl all night. I'm sorry I sprung all of this on you right now."

He sighed, bringing my hand up to kiss it. Goosebumps rose up on my arms.

"But I do care about you... a lot," He smirked. "And not just as a best friend but as... whatever this is."

I join him in the giggling, looking up at him wide-eyed. He slowly interwines our hands, letting them swing between us.

"You don't have to answer now... but I would love to do this properly some time."

"You mean..." I feel my heart racing again.

"I mean I want to take you out for real. I want to do this right. I want you."

I gasp slightly, feeling the heat rise on my face again

"I.... think I'd like that."

"Yeah?" He smirks.

I scrunch my nose "Don't start with me."

"Hey guys we're back! Wait whoa...."

We both jolt out of whatever daze we were in collectively and look up at Lia who's wide-eyed, staring directly at our hands.

Taglist: @dontletyourmemebedreams, @salfetkablog, @saranghwae23

[richincolor]

We have a whopping FOURTEEN books on our radar for today! Check them out--you've got great odds you'll find something to add to your TBR list!

All This Twisted Glory (This Woven Kingdom #3) by Tahereh Mafi HarperCollins

As the long-lost heir to the Jinn throne, Alizeh has finally found her people—and she might’ve found her crown. Cyrus, the mercurial ruler of Tulan, has offered her his kingdom in a twisted exchange: one that would begin with their marriage and end with his murder. Cyrus’s dark reputation precedes him; all the world knows of his blood-soaked past. Killing him should be easy—and accepting his offer might be the only way to fulfill her destiny and save her people. But the more Alizeh learns of him, the more she questions whether the terrible stories about him are true. Ensnared by secrets, Cyrus has ached for Alizeh since she first appeared in his dreams many months ago. Now that he knows those visions were planted by the devil, he can hardly bear to look at her—much less endure her company. But despite their best efforts to despise each other, Alizeh and Cyrus are drawn together over and over with an all-consuming thirst that threatens to destroy them both. Meanwhile, Prince Kamran has arrived in Tulan, ready to exact revenge… Layered with exquisite tension and heart-stopping romance, All This Twisted Glory is the explosive third book in the captivating, bestselling This Woven Kingdom series.

ASAP by Axie Oh HarperTeen

Sori has worked her whole life to become a K-pop idol, until she realizes she doesn’t want a life forever in the spotlight. But that’s not actually up to Sori—she’s caught between her exacting mother’s entertainment company and her father’s presidential aspirations. And as the pressure to keep her flawless public image grows, the last person she should be thinking about is her ex-boyfriend. Nathaniel is off limits—she knows this. A member of one of the biggest K-pop bands in the world and forbidden from dating, he isn’t any more of an option now than he was two years ago. Still, she can’t forget that their whirlwind romance was the last time she remembers being really happy. Or that his family welcomed her into their home when she needed it most. . . . So when Nathaniel finds himself rocked by scandal, Sori offers him a hideaway with her. And back in close quarters, it’s hard to deny their old feelings. But when Sori gets an opportunity to break free from her parent’s expectations, she will have to decide: Is her future worth sacrificing for a second chance at love?

Bless the Blood: A Cancer Memoir by Walela Nehanda Kokila

A searing debut YA poetry and essay collection about a Black cancer patient who faces medical racism after being diagnosed with leukemia in their early twenties, for fans of Audre Lorde's The Cancer Journals and Laurie Halse Anderson's Shout . When Walela is diagnosed at twenty-three with advanced stage blood cancer, they're suddenly thrust into the unsympathetic world of tubes and pills, doctors who don’t use their correct pronouns, and hordes of "well-meaning" but patronizing people offering unsolicited advice as they navigate rocky personal relationships and share their story online. But this experience also deepens their relationship to their ancestors, providing added support from another realm. Walela's diagnosis becomes a catalyst for their self-realization. As they fill out forms in the insurance office in downtown Los Angeles or travel to therapy in wealthier neighborhoods, they begin to understand that cancer is where all forms of their oppression Disabled. Fat. Black. Queer. Nonbinary. In Bless the A Cancer Memoir, the author details a galvanizing account of their survival despite the U.S. medical system, and of the struggle to face death unafraid.

Bright Red Fruit by Safia Elhillo Make Me a World

An unflinching, honest novel in verse about a teenager's journey into the slam poetry scene and the dangerous new relationship that could threaten all her dreams. From the award-winning poet and author of HOME IS NOT A COUNTRY. Bad girl. No matter how hard Samira tries, she can’t shake her reputation. She’s never gotten the benefit of the doubt—not from her mother or the aunties who watch her like a hawk. Samira is determined to have a perfect summer filled with fun parties, exploring DC, and growing as a poet—until a scandalous rumor has her grounded and unable to leave her house. When Samira turns to a poetry forum for solace, she catches the eye of an older, charismatic poet named Horus. For the first time, Samira feels wanted. But soon she’s keeping a bigger secret than ever before—one that that could prove her reputation and jeopardize her place in her community. In this gripping coming-of-age novel from the critically acclaimed author Safia Elhillo, a young woman searches to find the balance between honoring her family, her artistry, and her authentic self.

Daniel, Deconstructed by James Ramos Inkyard Press

A nerdy high schooler learns to embrace his main-character energy in this witty and heart-healing ode to movie tropes, meet-cutes, and LGBTQ+ love. Photographer and film buff Daniel Sanchez learned a long time ago that the only way to get by in an allistic world is to mask his autism and follow the script. Which means he knows that boisterous, buff, and beautiful soccer superstars like his best friend, Mona Sinclair, shouldn’t be wasting time hanging out with introverts who prefer being behind the camera. So when Daniel meets a new classmate, Gabe Mendes, who is tall, mysterious, nonbinary, and—somehow—as cool as Mona, Daniel knows exactly how this is going to play out. Mona and Gabe will meet cute, win their nominations for Homecoming Court, and ride off into the sunset together. Daniel just needs to do a little behind-the-scenes directing. But matchmaking means stepping into the mystifying and illogical world of love, dating, and relationships, where nothing is as it seems and no one knows their lines. And when Daniel finds himself playing a starring role in this romance, he’ll question everything he thought he knew about himself and his place in the world.

The Girl, the Ring, & the Baseball Bat by Camille Gomera-Tavarez Levine Querido

Rosie: Capricorn. Does great in class. Wants nothing more than to get into the prestigious Innovation Technical Institute and kiss this awful school goodbye. Her talisman: a magical jacket from her mother’s past that gets people to do whatever she says. Caro: Leo. Rosie’s older sister. Always been closer to their estranged father – and always butted heads more with their strict mother. A trip to Dominican Republic for her father’s wedding leads her deep into family history that clears up any illusions about her parents she’s ever had. Her talisman: a baseball bat that fixes whatever it breaks. Zeke: Certified Triple Pisces. Up in cold-ass Jersey City living with his aunt after his grandmother dies and his father moves to London to take care of his mother. He crushes on EVERYone – he knows he’ll find happiness in love, and maybe a way out of this depression. His talisman: a manifestation stone that will make anyone fall in love with him. Rosie, Caro, and Zeke – and their talismans – find themselves intertwined in a magical, hilarious, and whip-smart Outsiders for the modern day, written by Camille Gomera-Tavarez, a 2022 Publishers Weekly Flying Start.

How the Boogeyman Became a Poet by Tony Keith Katherine Tegen Books

Poet, writer, and hip-hop educator Tony Keith Jr. makes his debut with a powerful YA memoir in verse, tracing his journey from being a closeted gay Black teen battling poverty, racism, and homophobia to becoming an openly gay first-generation college student who finds freedom in poetry. Perfect for fans of Elizabeth Acevedo, George M. Johnson, and Jacqueline Woodson. Tony dreams about life after high school, where his poetic voice can find freedom on the stage and page. But the Boogeyman has been following Tony since he was six years old. First, the Boogeyman was after his Blackness, but Tony has learned It knows more than Tony wants to be the first in his family to attend college, but there’s no path to follow. He also has feelings for boys, desires that don’t align with the script he thinks is set for him and his girlfriend, Blu. Despite a supportive network of family and friends, Tony doesn’t breathe a word to anyone about his feelings. As he grapples with his sexuality and moves from high school to college, he struggles with loneliness while finding solace in gay chat rooms and writing poetry. But how do you find your poetic voice when you are hiding the most important parts of yourself? And how do you escape the Boogeyman when it's lurking inside you?

I Hope This Doesn't Find You by Ann Liang Scholastic Press

Sadie Wen is perfect on paper: school captain, valedictorian, and a "pleasure to have in class." It’s not easy, but she has a trick to keep her model-student smile plastered on her face at all times: she channels all her frustrations into her email drafts. She'd never send them of course -- she'd rather die than hurt anyone's feelings -- but it's a relief to let loose on her power-hungry English teacher or a freeloading classmate taking credit for Sadie's work. All her most vehemently worded emails are directed at her infuriating cocaptain, Julius Gong, whose arrogance and competitive streak have irked Sadie since they were kids. "You're attention starved and self-obsessed and unbearably vain . . . I really hope your comb breaks and you run out of whatever expensive hair products you've been using to make your hair appear deceptively soft..." Sadie doesn't have to hold back in her emails, because nobody will ever read them... that is, until they're accidentally sent out. Overnight, Sadie’s carefully crafted, conflict-free life is turned upside down. It's her worst nightmare -- now everyone at school knows what she really thinks of them, and they're not afraid to tell her what they really think of her either. But amidst the chaos, there's one person growing to appreciate the "real" Sadie -- Julius, the only boy she's sworn to hate...

Infinity Alchemist (Infinity Alchemist #1) by Kacen Callendar Tor Teen

For Ash Woods, practicing alchemy is a crime. Only an elite few are legally permitted to study the science of magic―so when Ash is rejected by the Lancaster Mage’s College, he takes a job as the school’s groundskeeper instead, forced to learn alchemy in secret. When he’s discovered by the condescending and brilliant apprentice Ramsay Thorne, Ash is sure he's about to be arrested―but instead of calling the reds, Ramsay surprises Ash by making him an offer: Ramsay will keep Ash's secret if he helps her find the legendary Book of Source, a sacred text that gives its reader extraordinary power. As Ash and Ramsay work together and their feelings for each other grow, Ash discovers their mission is more dangerous than he imagined, pitting them against influential and powerful alchemists―Ash’s estranged father included. Ash’s journey takes him through the cities and wilds across New Anglia, forcing him to discover his own definition of true power and how far he and other alchemists will go to seize it.

No Time Like Now by Naz Kutub Bloomsbury

It's been one year since Hazeem's father passed away unexpectedly, and one year since Hazeem got his special ability: He can grant any living thing extra time. Since then, he's been randomly granting people more years to live: his old friend Holly, his study buddy Yamany, his crush Jack. . . . The only problem is, none of them wanted to spend any of that time with Hazeem. Now, Hazeem spends most of his days with his grandmother. When she experiences a heart attack, Hazeem is quick to use his power to save her--until Time themself appears and tells Hazeem he has accrued a time debt, having given away more life than he has left to live and putting the entire timeline in serious danger of collapse. In order to save the timeline and himself, Hazeem must take back some of the life he has granted other people. Suddenly, Hazeem is on a journey through and against time, but as he confronts the events of the past, he must confront the mistakes he made along the way. Hazeem will come to realize that when it comes to time, quality is more important to quantity--but is it too late to reclaim the life he's given away so he can really start living? No Time Like Now is a timely twist on A Christmas Carol that takes readers on a thought-provoking adventure, asking what matters most in life.

Out of Body by Nia Davenport Balzer + Bray

A high-stakes, propulsive YA thriller with a body-swap twist thoughtfully exploring themes of friendship and identity, perfect for fans of Tiffany D. Jackson. Seventeen-year-old Megan Allen has been jumping from friend group to friend group in her high school, trying on identities like outfits. Nothing ever seems to fit—until she meets LC, the adventurous, charismatic girl who appears at her favorite coffee shop one day like magic. Finally, Megan feels like she’s becoming the person she’s meant to be: someone like LC. On the night of their friendiversary, what was supposed to be a bonding experience ends in a waking nightmare. Suddenly, Megan is no longer herself. Too late, she realizes that LC has secrets—dangerous ones. Betrayed by her best friend, thrust into another girl’s life, and targeted by LC’s enemies, she must claim what makes Megan Megan to get her life back . . . or die trying.

Pangu's Shadow by Karen Bao Carolrhoda Lab

There are no second chances in the Pangu Star System. Ver and Aryl, apprentices at the most prestigious biology lab among the system’s moons, know this better than anyone. They’ve left behind difficult pasts and pinned their hopes for the future on Cal, their brilliant but difficult boss. But one night while working late in the lab, they find Cal sprawled on the floor, dead. Murdered. And they immediately become the prime suspects. Their motives seem obvious. Ver, who left her home moon to study the life-threatening disease wracking her body, had a hopeless attachment to Cal that could’ve become twisted by jealousy. Aryl, on the other hand, clashed with workaholic Cal because she valued more in her life besides research. To clear their names, Ver and Aryl put aside their mutual suspicion and team up to investigate Cal’s death. As they search for the real murderer, they uncover secrets that have shaped all of Pangu’s moons… and must decide what kind of future they really want.

Relit: 16 Latinx Remixes of Classic Stories edited by Sandra Proudman Inkyard Press

These sixteen stories by award-winning and bestselling YA authors center a Latinx point of view in an empowering anthology that reimagines classics through fantasy, science fiction, and with a dash of magic, for fans of A PHOENIX FIRST MUST BURN and RECLAIM THE STARS In classic stories remixed, Latinx characters take center stage Pride and Prejudice is launched into outer space, Frankenstein is plunged into the depths of the ocean, and The Great Gatsby floats to an island off the coast of Costa Rica. A shape-shifter gives up her life to save the boy she loves from an evil bruja. La Ciguapa covets a little mermaid’s heart of gold. Two star-crossed teens fall in love while the planet burns around them. Whether characters fall in love, battle foes, or grow through grief, each story will empower readers to see themselves as the heroes of the stories that make our world.

You're Breaking my Heart by Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich Levine Querido

Harriet Adu knows that her brother's death is her fault. I mean, it's not actually her fault, but it still kinda is, isn't it? She would do anything to live in a world where she could take back what she said that morning. Then a strange girl shows up at Harriet's high school – a girl who loves the same weird books Harriet does, who doesn't vibe with anyone at school the same way Harriet does – and that different world suddenly seems possible. The girl speaks of a place underneath the subways of New York, where people like them can go and find a home. A place away from the world of high school, grief, cool people, and depression. A place where one may be able to bend the lines of reality and get a second chance at being a better person. Will Harriet open the door? With You're Breaking My Heart , award-winning author Olugbemisola Rhuday-Perkovich offers a remarkable speculative novel that will hit home for anyone who yearns for that one chance to do things over.

[dailydemonspotlight]

Since we're keeping with the theme here, how about one for Loki? A silly little guy that may have started an apocalypse and can transform into anything he wants, be it animals, genders, or animal genders? That's prime Pride Month material

Loki - Day 51 (Request)

Race: Tyrant

Alignment: Dark-Chaos

June 10th, 2024

Trickster gods are a rather common sight in most mythologies- people always love an underdog story, stories about characters who rise from the depths below and strike out their own niches through their wits and manipulation of coincidences- and this one is no exception. Commonly cited as the archetypal trickster deity, though highly debated as to his very existence, today's Demon of the Day is one of the most famous members of the Nordic pantheon, a god who needs little to no introduction- Loki. This deity appears back and forth in pop culture, no matter where you look- from Marvel movies to spotlights in podcasts, sitcoms, and video essays, it's not hard to see why he's such an infamous figure throughout. As the Æsir of chaos, a shapeshifter, and a perpetual underdog, he's a common sight in stories regarding Norse myth... but not the mythology itself.

As mentioned before in my Idun spotlight, Norse mythology is frustratingly archaic to research- there are precisely two sources to work off of, neither of which truly being primary, as almost every primary source has been lost through either the eternal game of telephone history is, actual fragmenting, or a simple inability to read runestones. As such, the only two sources most contemporary scholars have to work off of are the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda, a pair of tomes who are strained, to say the least. Both collections of tales, rather infamously, have been bastardized due to the fact that their authors were both Christian, and cared little for historical accuracy- instead, they rewrote as they saw fit, giving way to frustrations such as the insertion of a 'one above all' god that was never mentioned in any actual stories and is almost purely believed by scholars to be a future retcon of capital-G God into the text. However, this issue only pervades the text in some aspects, and we can look at it as a relatively accurate collection. However, what this has to do with anything is that Loki is a... controversial topic in some areas in the scholarly world, which I'll get into later.

In the mythos surrounding Loki, he was the son of a jötunn by the name of Fárbauti and a hitherto unmentioned goddess by the name Laufey. Laufey's existence is also seen as somewhat controversial- while mentioned as a goddess, from what I can tell, she's only mentioned in reference to Loki, which could entirely mean she's only been added in the Edda's in order to explain away Loki's origins, or, in another possibility, she could exist purely on the fringes of the mythology. Either way, though, this is just the start of several reigning problems with the presence of Loki in Norse text, and one of the most glaring ones in my eyes.

An observation borrowed from Overly Sarcastic Productions' excellent video on Loki is that he is incredibly hard to research for a myriad of reasons- his name roughly translates to 'The Entangler' for a reason, as his mythology is a confusing web of contradictions and baffling ideas, even in the few sources we have to work off of. While I won't repeat her points wholesale, in short, Loki's existence is hard to even verify- it's entirely possible he was a later retcon to explain some unexplained aspects of the mythology, such as how Ragnarok would come to be. Speaking of... what the hell is the deal with Ragnarok and Loki? Aren't I good at segways?

Moving away from the debated existence of Loki, we should center on his role in the mythology from what we know from the Edda's, which is quite a bit. While Loki may be hard to research for a myriad of reasons (refer to the OSP video above), we have several confirmed sightings of this cryptic cryptid of Scandinavian stories, starting with his general role as a mixed practitioner of both being good and evil. While Loki is most well known for his role in perpetuating Ragnarok, the literal apocalypse in Norse mythology that it almost all circles around, he's not a wholly good or wholly bad figure- no, he's a wholly mischievous one. I'll save the Ragnarok talk for a future DDS, such as one on Fenrir, so we can focus on Loki in the day-to-day lives of the Æsir, which is that of being an absolute pest. As a shapeshifter, this genderfluid icon is prone to several bouts of mischief, including but not limited to:

Starting the entire bout with Útgarða-Loki,

Turning into a fly to bother the smithing dwarves,

Becoming a pregnant horse,

Eating a burning apple and becoming pregnant,

Causing the death of Balder, a major point in the start of Ragnarok,

and entering the god's banquet, crashing their party, and being an awful drunk.

Yes, the pregnancies are just... a thing. Don't ask. Overall, though, Loki served as a troublemaker in every sense of the word, stewing up chaos wherever he went. Which included the research of him. Again, as mentioned before, and to quote 20th century scholar Gabriel Turville-Petre, "More ink has been spilled on Loki than on any other figure in Norse myth. This, in itself, is enough to show how little scholars agree, and how far we are from understanding him." Even the exploits listed above are debated somewhat, and many of them don't appear in some canonicities, while others do. The hot debate regarding Loki has been smoldering for centuries, with some proposing him as the God of Fire, others proposing him to be a retcon of Lucifer himself, and still others believed him to be a trickster figure. However, the most interesting of the four popular theories to me has to be one about him possibly being a Hypostasis of Odin.

"Cool, what does that mean?" I hear you asking. Hypostasis is a hard to explain term, to say the least, but it effectively means something that exists to support something else. Think of the Holy Trinity of Christian myth- The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit all support each other in simultaneously being god and not each other at the same time. In effect, this means that Loki could, theoretically, be an aspect of Odin to support his own existence- without Loki, there would be no Odin, and vice versa. This theory, first proposed by Folke Ström, however, has been hotly debated- three others also have quite a lot of credence from around the same time. While I personally find the hypostasis theory the most fascinating, the other three have several credentials as well- Jan de Vries concluded that he may be an archetypical trickster god, while Anna Birgitta Rooth came up with the idea that he was originally a spider, a storyteller, and a weaver.

Hilariously, the fourth conclusion about Loki at the time, one written by Anne Holtsmark, says that no conclusion could be drawn about Loki, making a neat little bow over this entire debacle. Fittingly for a trickster god, research into Loki and his continued existence is incredibly difficult. It's almost ironic, in a way. A common consensus now is actually quite a bit more simple- the idea that Loki is one and the same with the creator of humanity in the text, Lóðurr. The main argument in support of this lies in the idea that, in the Edda's, a set of three Æsir appear often together- Odin, Hœnir, and Loki, who each appear together in Haustlöng, Reginsmál, and a ballad by the name of Loka Táttur. The idea this theory supports is that each of the three- Loki, Odin, and Hœnir- created different aspects of humanity. Loki made the tricky and cunning side, Odin the loyal and intelligent, and Hœnir the commanding and violent. Odin and Hœnir are well marked as being creators of humanity alongside Lóðurr, and it's entirely possible, given the similar pronunciation of Loki and Lóðurr, that it was another epithet for Loki.

Overall, though, Loki is confusing, and I don't even know where to begin on this past the damn Wikipedia article, so I'm cutting this short before I get a headache. Loki is well documented, sure, but those documents are so filled with blots of ink that it makes it hard to look into. So many leads about Loki simply head in circles upon circles, up to the point one may find their own head in their ass in their research- when even the scholars whose jobs are to investigate find this topic frustrating, you know it's bad.

Now, impromptu venting out of the way, how is he represented in SMT? Honestly, I'm not a big fan of his original design- it's cool, sure, but it feels too plain and like a Dragon Ball antagonist to really stick out in my mind. However, the other interpretations throughout the series stick the landing on this tricky trickster far better.

My personal favorite has to be the Soul Hackers design, but Persona 5's is far from bad either- Akechi's Loki looks demonic and cruel, while the Soul Hackers Loki looks far more tricky and conniving, painting well into his role as, well, a trickster! The long blonde hair and bat-like wings make him intimidating and mysterious looking all the same, plus I'm just a sucker for blue and yellow. Mostly appearing as a magic attacker, befitting of his role in the mythology as a tricky shapeshifter, he's a definite favorite of many in gameplay.

[holdmeandhauntme]

she’s a silver lining (climbing on my desire)

word count: 2.1K

summary: the tale of shauna’s complex relationship with knives and jackie taylor

CW: hallucinations, self harm, suggestive content

authors notes: RAH, alrighty so this is my first fic, so i hope y’all enjoy and please let me know if you’d like more content!! this is an idea i’m super keen on and i’d like to explore more :) ALSO BIG BIG THANK YOU TO @lottieshauna for helping to beta read and edit this for me, you are amazing and i love youuuu <3

1996

The soft crunch of freshly fallen snow mocks Shauna as she hastily makes her way towards the meat shed, each step bringing her that much closer to Jackie, prompting her with a constant reminder of what she’d done.

She remembers all the winters from before the wilderness, trying to desperately cling to them and engrave them deep into her mind. Memories of the way the snow would delicately catch in Jackie’s hair and shimmer in the light, as if she were covered in diamonds. Part of Shauna always thought maybe Jackie resembled a diamond too much. All that pressure that weighed on her shoulders moulded her into the perfect spectacle, how she would dazzle crowds in a way that seemed so effortless as the spotlight hit her. Shauna knew better, though, knew it was nothing more than how light would refract through a diamond. Taking these traits that people surged forward onto her and letting them pass through her hollow body to create something beautiful, something valuable.

Jackie had never been a fan of winter, anyways; it was far too cold and the amount of things you had to take into consideration at that time of year just doubled. She would rather spend her time curled up on Shauna’s lap next to the fireplace with a hot chocolate in hand, sipping happily. Shauna always imagined the hot chocolate tasting sweeter from Jackie’s lips than from the mug, but she’d always settled on sipping from Jackie’s cup instead of ruining a friendship over poorly controlled fantasies

The exception to hating winter was ice skating, which Jackie absolutely adored. She remembers the first time she saw Jackie on the ice and how her eyes traced the long stretch of her toned legs, the effortless look on Jackie’s face as she leapt and skated across the rink and towards her. She used to watch in awe as the blade effortlessly glided across the ice underneath Jackie’s command, leaving delicate cuts in its wake.

She wonders if Jackie was in awe now of the blade Shauna brandished, of the way she meticulously butchered their dinners, how her hands guided the blade to glide across the fur clad carcass of whatever Nat and Travis had managed to hunt down for them. Recalling how her once clumsy hands had crudely hacked at the meat and tendons, she thinks that maybe Jackie wasn’t perfect. Perhaps before her body became one with the ice beneath them, she had something she butchered, too. Did her legs tremble as she took a shaky breath and, with the close of her eyes, learned to trust herself?

It all seems like a lifetime ago, a time before she knew the feeling of how the bone would pop from the socket of a shoulder as she dislocated it with her own bare hands, before she knew the taste of Jackie and how she lingered in her mouth and settled down into her stomach, bringing the pair closer than either could have imagined. Before the snowstorm came and left, penetrating her heart with frostbite. Before the wilderness turned her into an animal. But in some sick, twisted way, maybe Shauna was always like this.

She casts a quick glance over her shoulder before entering the meat shed, shaking the snow off her clothes as she closes the door behind her. She’s met with Jackie, arms crossed, eyeing her up and down. “Wowza shipman, way to be courteous to a girl.“

She rolls her eyes, glaring at Jackie in response, though she can’t help the pang of guilt that bubbles in her chest. “Whatever…” Trudging over to take a seat across from Jackie, who’s giving her a playful smile with a raised eyebrow. Shauna lets out a huff, eyes narrowing in on Jackie. “What?” She all but barks.

“I bet you were just dying to see me." Her lips curl up enough to flourish her sharp canines as she snickers at Shauna.

She can feel a surge of heat wash over her as her body tenses at those words. Whipping her head towards Jackie, a low growl echoes through the room as she speaks, “Can’t you just shut up for once?” She’s almost certain that if they were any closer, the other girls would have heard them. Her chest is heaving as she takes deep breaths, which are illuminated by the frigid cold that surrounds them.

Jackie’s eyes soften for a moment, her lips forming a pout. Shauna despises how she feels her guard drop immediately, how she has to beg her body not to move so close that she would fall into the gravitational pull that is Jackie Taylor. Nails dig into the splintered wooden boards below them as her eyes lock onto Jackie’s lips far longer than just a friend’s would. But hasn’t it always been like that? They’ve always precariously walked the line between friends and something more. It was written as a fundamental part of who they were.

It was ingrained in everything, intertwined in the way that Jackie would always find purchase on Shauna’s lap and in her arms rather than Jeff’s. When Shauna got her license, she’d always been the one to pick Jackie up, only fueled by Jackie’s insistence to Jeff that it made sense for Shauna to drive her since she lived closer. And then, of course, the inevitable time of the night they always ran into during Lottie’s parties, both of them are far too intoxicated to care about anything but the other. Jackie would pull Shauna to the dance floor, weaving through the crowds until they were pressed so close that Shauna could feel Jackie grinding into her, head thrown back onto Shauna’s shoulders. She would relish in the soft gasps Jackie would make when Shauna’s grip on her waist would tighten as Jackie pressed back into her. The two girls, trapped in the waltz of forbidden lovers, always doomed from the start. Always destined for one to desperately follow the other with every step they took, mimicking each other, parallel lines never meant to touch.

Jackie had led their dance; she always did, not that she ever meant to. The hold she had over Shauna simply always had her taking the lead. But with that unwanted power came the uncertainty, the faltering, and with such an unpredictable nature, Shauna always found herself struggling to follow the steps, to know what moves to make.Because of it, she learned to overcompensate at times, letting her emotions get the best of her, trying desperately to wrestle the lead off of Jackie and take control into her own hands for once. Jackie would have happily given it to her if she could, but that wasn’t the reality they lived in. Shauna was always destined to step on Jackie’s foot, sending her tumbling backwards into her cruel fate.

Jackie reaches over, planting her hand inches away from Shauna’s, leaning forward to close the gap between them. Before she even processes it herself, Shauna feels her body tugging itself forward to meet Jackie halfway, her eyes still trained on her lips. “If you really wanted me to shut up, then you could. You know what you want, don’t you, Shauna?”

She swallows back the thick saliva that coats her mouth, completely hypnotized, her chest restricting as Jackie speaks, her voice silky and filled with a desire Shauna isn’t quite sure she wants to hear right now. The lack of visible breath coming from Jackie is what grips Shauna, sending her tumbling backwards into reality. She can feel the bile working its way up her throat and threatening to spill out of her mouth. Closing her eyes tightly and shaking her head, she tries to rid herself of the ghost, pleads and prays to be free of the constant reminder of the guilt and disgust that she fills Shauna with. “No! That’s… That’s so fucked up Jackie, I can’t, I won’t, I’m not like that-“

She can feel a shift in her lap, prompting her to open her eyes, only to be greeted by Jackie straddling her. A cold finger hooks its way around the necklace that adorns Shauna, tugging it forward and pulling her with it. She can feel the ghost of cold breath down her neck as Jackie moves to her ear, a smirk playing on her lips. “Oh Shauna, don’t flatter yourself. You’re exactly like that. I mean, you must be really sick to be thinking about this, huh?”

Shauna freezes as Jackie’s grip on the necklace tightens, tugging her impossibly close. Her breathing ragged, she stares blankly at the wall behind them in horror. “Cut it out, Jackie." Splinters of wood embed themselves into her fingertips as she claws at the floorboards.

“What’s wrong, Shauna? Don’t you want me? Or are you too hung up over that little parasite that Jeff put in you?” A cold touch grazes over Shauna’s stomach and under her shirt as Jackie speaks, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

Shauna’s hips jolt in retaliation to the touch on sensitive skin, bucking Jackie away to give them enough space for Shauna to push her off her lap. Jackie lands on her back, her hair spread out below her, letting out a whine as she collides with the hard floor. In another lifetime, this would be something that would leave Shauna breathless, something that would play in her mind for the next several months. Now, all it feels like to her is some perverse dream, cruel and twisted.

Jackie giggles before looking up at her, her face contorting into something more sensual as she lets out a breathy moan. “Tell me what you’re going to do to me, Shauna?” Her voice is airy and pleading, only serving to mock Shauna. She watches as Jackie’s eyes darken, a sadistic smile working its way onto her face.

“I said stop it! This is sick!” Shauna’s hand dips into her pocket, fishing around for the familiar feeling of cold steel. She pulls it from her jacket, her knuckles clenching tightly around the handle of the knife. Jackie’s eyes flick down to the knife, then back up to Shauna and scoff.

“Do you really think you have the balls, Shauna? Aren’t you already guilt-ridden, or are you just a masochist?” She can feel the familiar heat that rushes through her body, her teeth grinding as her jaw clenches. There’s a force that drags Shauna’s knife down, down, down, closer to Jackie. She takes this moment to hook one of her legs around Shauna, sending her tumbling down into Jackie’s lap, effectively swapping their positions from mere moments ago.

“Don’t.” Shauna grits out. Jackie’s hand reaches up to hook her finger in Shauna's shirt, pulling her down closer to her.

“What? You don’t like being my lap dog, Shauna? Are you finally going to be your own person?"

“I said shut the fuck UP!”

She feels the knife sink down and meets resistance as her hand slashes across skin. The ghostly laugh that echoes through the room and haunts Shauna only fuels the blind rage that’s starting to consume her whole. Her mind goes blank as her body is set ablaze, only conscious of the sound of Jackie’s voice that rings in her ear as she watches the blade slice repeatedly through skin.

She’s not sure how much time passes once she finishes, chest heaving from the exertion. Only when the anger quells does she realize it’s her own clothes and body that are torn to shreds and covered in an addictive shade of crimson. She could have sworn it was Jackie’s arms dripping in blood. Her breath comes out ragged as her heart rate spikes again and she's vaguely aware of the dull burn that’s covering her body, now littered with cuts.

“Oh Shippy… I knew you had shit self esteem, but I didn’t know it was that bad. Must be all that guilt that eats at you, huh?” She can’t help the shudder in her breath as she feels a cold touch delicately graze up her spine, spreading chills across her body. She closes her eyes and pretends that maybe this is how Jackie felt that night, that maybe it was a feeling she welcomed with open arms.

It’s the touch that sends her shivering and panting as she keels over into Jackie’s lap. Shauna whimpers as she feels the grip of a familiar cold hand curl around her throat, fingers digging in intently. Jackie’s hand fits so perfectly around her throat that it’s as if that’s where it belonged. Shauna can feel her head begin to spin as her vision blurs and the corners of her peripherals darken. The last thing she remembers is the echo of Jackie’s voice. “Let’s hope they find you in time. It would be such a shame to only do this once.”

[itsallmadonnasfault]

Eighteen years ago, Madonna observed: “Once you pass 35, your age becomes part of the first sentence of anything written. It’s a form of limiting your options and almost putting you in your place. For women, naturally.” She was 47 when she said that and intent on challenging the cultural script that suggested women, especially female performers, had a use-by date.

“Why is that acceptable?” she asked the music writer Brian Hiatt nearly 10 years later, still battling critics who told her to dress her age, act her age — in short, pack it in and retreat from the spotlight because she was past her prime. “Women, generally, when they reach a certain age, have accepted that they’re not allowed to behave a certain way. But I don’t follow the rules.”

To the question “Is she still relevant?” her Celebration Tour, which concluded this month, is proof that she is. Madonna performed before the largest audience ever gathered to watch a female artist and mounted the single biggest free stand-alone concert in history: 1.6 million people turned Rio de Janeiro’s Copacabana Beach into a dance floor on May 4. According to Billboard, her six-month, 80-show tour grossed $225.4 million, making her the only woman in history to gross more than $100 million during six concert tours. (The only solo male in that category is Bruce Springsteen.)

But there’s so much more to her triumph than numbers. That a 65-year-old female pop star pulled off this tour and, despite our increasingly intolerant times, the performance was her most relentlessly and delightfully queer since 1990’s groundbreaking Blond Ambition Tour would be unimaginable, except that it was Madonna. The Celebration Tour proved that Madonna wasn’t afraid of drawing attention to her long career; she owned it proudly.

All of her past selves showed up, in role and in costume, to help celebrate the many ways she has evolved and the many ways she and her collaborators have explored and expressed gender throughout the years. It was a beautifully inclusive, encouraging spectacle. If history is a guide, the social and artistic ramifications of her performance will extend well beyond the numbers and long after her tour.

Madonna’s 1985 Virgin Tour, her debut, included only 40 shows in North America and grossed about $5 million. But its impact on young lives is immeasurable. The young women and girls in her audience were on the cusp of unleashing their sexual selves and embracing their independence, which is what made them so terrifying to a broader society intent on keeping them polite, passive and manageable.

Madonna’s message to her young audience was: Embrace your power, dream big and dare to be your own damned self. That message would resonate through a generation and across the globe, as aspiring Madonnas grew up to be politicians, lawyers, doctors, teachers, members of the armed forces, Third Wave feminists, Riot Grrrls and pop stars themselves.

Madonna was, in fact, the lead author of the female pop star playbook, and she continues to write the unexplored and perilous back end of it while artists like Olivia Rodrigo and Billie Eilish adapt the front end and more established stars like Beyoncé and Taylor Swift refine what’s possible in the middle. Madonna’s continuous career represents a universe of possibility for their own, despite the entertainment industry’s willingness to jettison midcareer women in favor of artists with younger faces and bodies.

But for women not named Madonna (or Beyoncé or Taylor Swift), growing older and maturing in public is much more fraught. Older men are considered wise, but older women are often ignored or discounted. Thanks to the intervention of the pharmaceutical industry, men are encouraged to have an active sex life into their 80s. The idea of older women having sex remains, for many, repellent.

Madonna has challenged our notions of what a woman should do and be on all those counts: She chooses to age as she sees fit, she says what she believes loudly and forcefully, and she is as proudly sexual as she was in 1985.

With her Celebration Tour, Madonna demonstrated night after night for six months that an older woman can exhibit power and strength — joyfully, generously and defiantly. Her glorious performance was perhaps even sweeter when we recall that hip and knee injuries disrupted her Madame X tour four years ago and a bacterial infection threatened not only the Celebration Tour but also Madonna’s life.

Forty years ago, Madonna showed audiences, particularly girls and women, that they could mute the killjoy chorus keeping them from self-realization. On the Celebration Tour, Madonna doubled down on this idea, encouraging fans to follow their hearts, minds and inner freaks by both being herself onstage and employing diverse and talented dancers to carry that message in their own convincing and resonant ways.

If this were the last tour of Madonna’s career — and we sincerely hope it is not — she would retire as the most influential female pop star of all time, a legitimate legend who wowed audiences, defied expectations and broke records. Having served more than 40 years in the public eye, she could take a holiday, take some time to celebrate. It would be, it would be so nice.

NY Times

[a-v-j]

Love is a crazy feeling

Averse and Nyxy

Content warning:

emotion rollercoaster(comedy to fluff to angst, whichever comes first), swearing, kidnapping, yandere fever, suggestive, minor injuries, jealousy, emotional conflict, nyxy confessing his heart out, averse dodging the situation and denying the feelings, 4th wall break, crying, playful banter to deep emotional conversation, resurfacing past, averse tries to laughs it off and stir the whole situation to a more comedic scenario but failed, typos, not really a polish fic so the format can be a bit wonky, drunk author

Written by @nyxus-nyx and me

Averse=Italic

Nyxy=Bold

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Previously(warning suggestive)

Nyxy watches from afar as Averse flirts with yet another Asker. Nyxy’s temper was almost through the roof and his patience is almost running thin. His claw began to clench together and his jaw salivates. He stood there. Growing more and more pissed off.

Averse steps off screen after another flirting session with an asker, it was fun and he sure do love the attention.

"Averse, you son of a gun, ya did it again. that was really clever, hehe"

He praised himself, as he walk in an upbeat manner. It wont be for a few hours till another ask pops out and demands his attention. For now, he'll let akills take the spotlight, seems like some askers are a bit desperate to get boned by that stoic killer, lucky bastard.

He walks by, humming to himself, not minding where he was going or whom he'll bump into...

Nyxy stares down as Averse bumps into him, their eyes were no longer mitchmatch but now both black and red eyelights. His jaw was clenched and his teeth grits.

“Averse…”

Averse hissed a swear as he bounced back from bumping into Nyxy. Took him a few seconds to realize who was infront of him.

"Ah...hey..."

"You good, pal? You looked like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed" He jested

Nyxy grabs Averse by his wrists and lifts him over his shoulder and holds a tight grip as he walks. He slowly grew and shifted into a larger Halfbreed ish form. He wasnt quite beast but halfway there. He ripped open a portal and appears in his room.

Averse was more focused into complaining how that hurt his wrist and that they couldve made a safe word first before going rough on his poor fractured bones that he didn't realize he and nyxy teleported somewhere else.

He eventually took notice, his eyelight looked around the familiar surrounding

"Uh...nyxy..?"

Nyxy closes the portal and throws Averse on the torn bed. As they lock their door and the window. He turned back at Averse and growled, their arms crossed and their not shown tail wacks at the papers on the ground. Their body twitched and was filled with anger.

“Why.”

Averse stared at Nyxy, his face creased in confusion. He can feel the deadly anger that nyxy was giving off, something's wrong and he think he knows just what.

He tried to get up from his back and sat up.

"Why what?????" He questioned, without any humour this time

”Why.. them..”

Nyxy walks over and pins Averse down, their claws piercing his bones and slowly cracking them. His mouth began to salivate black goo as his tail wraps around Averses legs holding him still.

"arghk-"

The sudden sensation of pain surprised averse, he tried to maintain eye contact with Nyxy, he's clearly not in his right mind.

"W-what..? Ya mean...the thing...with the askers...?"

He grunted between words, feeling pointy claws making its way slowly to the core of his bones, bright red magic starts to leak out of the pierced areas.

"There's nothing to it! J-just some playful banter..."

"It matters to you...that much...?"

Nyxy slowly eased his grip hearing Averse was playing around with them but it still made him pissed. He snarls and glares.

“No shit sherlock. The fuck.”

His grip returned and he grew more upset and jealous of the askers. He wanted to be the attention Averse wanted. He will always be the attention he needs. But NO. He chose those stupid pathetic pieces of—

“Trash.”

Averse winced as weight was put on his arms, it's an annoying type of discomfort. Sensing some jealousy vibe off Nyxy he halts and eventually chuckled to himself

"Is nyxy wyxy jealous daddy averse don't give him much attention?" He teasingly cooed

Nyxy glared more and threatened his grip and tightens it. His eyes narrowimg.

“Dont tease me.. im not in the mood..”

He lifts Averse as Nyxy climbs onto the bed and places Averse on his lap. His arms wrap arounds averses body locking his arms and traps Averses under his.

"omhf-"

"Ooh...tight.."

"Hehehe" Averse chuckled as he sat there helplessly. he'd be giving nyxy a very chummy set of pats on his arms for being silly and hopefully they'll both laugh it off but he's in a rather hands-tied situation.

The shorter skeleton don't mind the possessiveness and quite indifferent with the whole situation but the pressure around his small form is kind of therapeutic in it's own way

"Hehe, im sorry."

"Look, im all yours, see?" He faked conceding in defeat

Nyxys arms tighten and loweres his head into Averses shoulder and nuzzles into it. His tail now swaying.

“Your not honest..”

Nyxy red eyelights now stare at Averse as he continues to nuzzle into his shoulder.

Averse sighed admittedly as that is partially true and leaned a bit back as far as he's allowed to against nyxy. The back of his head resting against the others chest.

"It's like you already know me so well"

”Your soul gives you away when you lie.. such a soft sound it gives..”

His one claw circles Averses ribs as the other held him close.

“So quite yet loud and intoxicating to hear..”

Averse let out a shaky breath after he suddenly felt a soft prick on his rib, slowly circling on a certain soft spot.

"Didnt know you were a soul whisperer"

He replied trying to calm himself down, not giving in to the sensation that makes him wanna squeak and squirm

Nyxy begins to grin as his claws start to trace that certain spot. Liking how his soul buzzed in his ears.

“Oh.?”

He tilts his head.

“Looks like your strugglin there.. buddy.”

His tail flicks in excitment, but his jealousy and anger still linger.

“How cute and weak you get..”

A low growl came from the back of averse's "throat" as he tries his damn best to not let it sketch on his face. He now wore a scowl with his usual forced smile as a blush starts to color itself on his cheeks. Well, that's a first...

He best kept his head low, hidden in his hoodie.

"..not...funny.."

He slightly strained, shoulders tensing up.

Nyxy traces the tips of his claws in circles over it. His other hand slowly removing from around him to let his tail wrap around Averes arms and not the wrists.

”How adorable.. struggling..”

His eyes glew into a bright pink crimson and slowly started ro shift into hearts.

Averse puffed a heavy quick exhale and he lifted his head up. Slowly smiling devilishly as he quickly bit his "lip" to stifle some unwanted noises.

He tried to twist his upper body to look directly to Nyxy, he barely succeeded in doing so. Thru half lidded eyes, he looks eye to eye with Nyxy, face having a full on flush, he practically moaned.

'what are you doing to me?"

Nyxy smirked as he leaned down, his faces inches away.

“Punishing you of course!.. although i could do worse..”

His claw presses his nails into the spot and traces smal hearts. His heart eyelights staring into Averses one red light. Their free hand tracing his jaw.

"...mmmhm....."

Averse's eyelight quaver a bit as he intimately feel the surface of his rib scrape away, forming small heart shapes, under the other's claws. His head moves away to the other direction where nyxy's other claw is, as if not wanting to be pricked as it traced along. The longer their claw drags on, the more goosebumps it gives Averse

”Hm.. do you not like it..? I could just stop.”

He pulled his claws away his head tilting to the side as the smirk wilted. (Here comes his incredible acting skill.)

Averse laughs a bit bitterly, appearing to not care but secretly his insides sank and whimper at the lost of that contact.

He finished off the last bit of his laugh and sighed, moving his head downwards, the atmosphere almost suddenly change vibe.

"What are we?"

"bro...are we, like, flirting or is it still a bro thing?"

He dryly chucked, he knows the answer to that but he still want to hear what Nyxy think, even with the fever going on. No matter how out of character it felt to asked that question is. Averse wants to hear the other say it

”Flirting.”

He shrugged as he now just cuddles him.

“I may have a fever.. doesnt change my honest feelings..”

He sighs listening to Averses soul.

At that point, averse is no longer certain of things. It spiked intrigue in him but still a good portion of his rational thinking believes this is all fake and just being played out. But somewhere deep down, he's secretly wishes it was true.

He tries to shrug his thoughts off, whether real or not, this feels nice. More than nice actually, it feels...something..

He's hoping that whatever his SOUL is whispering to Nyxy, it say something true that he himself isnt even sure of.

Hearing Nyxy say that, it was good enough assurance of the situation he's comfortable to accept. Even a little. But he must still be wary... cautious. He can still taste the bitterness of the last time he was in this kind of situation and it kinda conflicts with his own claim that he'll never fall for this trick again but goddammit it feel like hes falling for the same trap all over again. He doesn't feel like he's playing around anymore.

Fear started to stir itself inside him, fear that his long dead heart is starting to beat for this idiot. He wishes to stiffen in the others embrace but couldnt help but just...MELT and soften into the warm arms he had long ago have craved and thought he no longer desired

Nyxy felt his body melt and he nuzzles into Averses skull, his eyes turning to normal.

“Im speakin the truth.. i only speak truth to you..”

He listens to the others soul, it made his temper slowly go out. He liked this. Missed the touch and affection of another. He missed how his heart and soul beated so fast for someone..

As Averse remained leaned back into Nyxy's arms, he slowly closed his eyes. He was quick to open them as he felt a bubble of tear form on the corner of his sockets, he blinks hoping the other wont notice. He sighed nostalgically thru his nasal cavity.

"What...what do you hear from my soul? Or feel or see... however you do it...what is it telling you now...?"

He murmured, wanting to know something his own soul isnt telling him

"Does it tells you...pain? Bitterness?

...

"Love"...?"

He said that last word with a bit of venom

He leans down and places his hand over Averses ribcage. “Its buzzing.. its like.. a mix of emotions..”

He nuzzles into his shoulder, he pokes at the others cheek bone.

“Do you wanna feel mine?”

Colors flood Averse cheek at the proposal. A part of him is really eager and he just wanna nod vigorously, yes, he very much wants to but he doesn't want to seem too eager.

"I-..."

A part of him is afraid to see what he'll find.

What if this is another this?

What if it's another that?

Emotions blinding him more had made it harder for him to stick to the reality of how things really were. He's bordering losing sense of said reality.

His breathing started to pick up pace but thankfully he managed to control it before it gets out of hand.

(It's just a simple binary yes or no question, auto, no need to make it complicated...)

He mentally scolded himself

With that, he put up his facade and replied with fake disgust and a indignant gasp, playfully shoving Nyxy

"lewd!"

Nyxy tilts his head with a soft smile.

“But i dont mind. It only beats for you. If you want, i could rip out my heart as well.” He half jokes as he cups Averses cheek bones to look up at Nyxy. His claw thumbs slowly rubbing the others bone cheeks. “The color red is beautiful on you.”

Averse tried his best not to press against the hand on his cheeks. Fuck his words are getting into him, damn emotions

He even go more flushed

"I hate the color red"

He pouts

Nyxy chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Aw, so you hate my hair?”

He sighs with a soft laigh and lets one of his claws retract to Averses hand and places the others hand on his chest.

His heart was beating fast.

Averse chuckled

Perhaps the drinkuness of his creator rubbed off on him

Thank god for auto_vorrect sometimes

'of course not. I'd love to bury my face into it" he said without hesitation

Nyxy tilts his head and smiled.

“You alright? Am i making you uncomfortable?”

He slowly pulls Averses hand away from his chest.

"heh, takes a lot more to get me uncomfortable"

Averse said as he leaned back, trying to relax. He kinda want his hand back in the other's chest tho but he decides against it.  He felt like he's inches away from touching something pure and holy(the other's soul not the tiddies) but his hands are filthy and not worthy

"M'just...having 2nd hand hangover. I hadn't even had a drink yet"

Averse rolled his eyes and briefly glared at the screen, and totally not trying to move the conversation away from his previous overly-eager admission to want to affectionately nuzzle his nose and face against nyxy's soft, fluffy locks

Nyxy bear hugs Averse and shrugs.

“Okay, if you say so.. and no drinking. Bad for you.”

He lays his head on The others and lets out soft purrs, humming along Averses and his own soul.

“Hm..”

"haha, im totally doing the opposite. B'sides, i dont technically have a liver to destroy so i could definitely drink anyone under the table"

Averse smirked as that will be the next thing he's gonna do definitely. But right now, snuggle time between...bros...?

No homo

"Hmm"

He hummed along

"Ya feeling better? No more upset jealous boyfriend vibe on you?"

”im fine now.. and boyfriend vibes.?”

He chuckles as he sways a lil, his heart began to beat faster. His soul bounced.

”hm.. i feel giddy.”

Averse can practically hear the others heart beat, it's not like how a soul would beat like he's used to, it's got a nice rhythm to it he can listen to all day.

Perhaps the fever's also rubbing off on him. Hopefully not to the point of him having it again but he feels like he's resonating to the same vibe nyxy is having in the moment. He's just feeling all good and happy in the other's company

"Youre really good at breaking my aromantic orientation right now"

He's just gonna rule it out as an effect of the fever.

Now that his arms are free(?), he's able to give those friendly pats on the arms around him, he chuckled along.

Nyxy sighs softly and slowly releases his body and grasp from Averse.

“Im sorry for.. sorta kidnapping you. You can go if you want.”

His body slowly grew to its normal size and he messes with his hair mumbling as he stares anywhere but Averse. The fever was no longer present.. yet he still felt the same..

Averse remained, stuffing his hand into the pockets of his hood.

"Hm, nah, it's comfy here and don't worry bout the kidnapping, i didnt had anything else to do anyway"

He replied doing that content auto-face.

"Unless ya want me to go?"

”n-no! Of course not!- i mean- uhm-“

He groans in embarrassment and hides his face.

“God the fever gave me more confidence..”

He pulls at his hair in anxiousness and smile meakly at Averse. He gives Averse space thinking he made Averse uncomfortable.

“I fucked up didnt I..?”

Averse went on to casually flop down on the bed after space was provided. He sorta made a pouty face that he's no longer against Nyxy but cant help but playfully smirk at the other's growing anxious flusteredness, not in a mocking way but in a way he thinks it's cute.

"Youre adorable when you do that, hehe!"

He points towards Nyxy from where he is laid, still wearing his content auto-face, then went to put his hand back into his pocket. He's aware that things are awkward for the other now the fever is gone

”haha.. t-thanks..”

He slowly turns red as he slowly pull his hands away from his face, he inhales and exhales deeply.

“W-what i said..”

He coughs a lil rubbing the back of his neck.

“W-was true..”

His face turns fully red.

At that moment, averse is not really sure how to respond, which is not like him, he's always sure how to reply back.

He knows, he knows so damn well what Nyxy is telling is true. Inside, he's feeling conflicted. Sure, he does enjoys the others company, he does have fun flirting and bantering with him. He knows what's hes doing, now the door of opportunity revealed itself to averse, he's not so sure what to do anymore. He's not so sure of himself anymore.

"Im an asshole"

He sighed, disappointedly at himself as he gets up, best to keep some things to himself.

He doesn't want to do thing he planned to do anymore, when all of this started. Not to this precious man

He scoots closer to Nyxy, took the other's hands and enclosed it within his tiny ones. His face full of seriousness, he lowly spoke.

"Nyxy, do you really even want to be with someone like me...?"

It's not a proposal to be in a relationship, it's more of a question if Nyxy is aware of what he is asking for.

He wants the other to look past thru his handsome charms and bold flirtations and see Averse, his good, his bad, his all.

.....

He doesn't even wait for an answer, he sighed as he lets go of the other's hand and moved away

"Who am i kidding, this is all just a play anyway"

He sat, facing the other way, crossed his arms and puts on his asshole facade and chuckled, bitterly, man he's such an idiot, getting all carried away like that

"This is such a joke, a very good one that i almost start to think it's all real...sorry for dragging you this far into this"

Nyxy stares at the other facing away.

“Yknow, i dont like you because of your looks and flirting right?”

He crosses his arms close his eyes.

“I like you because your straight to the point, i like you because your dumbass knows how to make me flustered, i like you because you have been so much like me, i like you..”

He pauses and thinks a way to put it.

“I like you because my.. Soul always grts itchy and melty when youe around, it jumps around my body with excitement when your around..”

He opens his eyes looking away

“If this is all a dream and a play.. i dont want it to ever end.. because i say the truth..”

Averse is all hidden away in his hood, if one would listen closely, one would hear silent pained crying. He's really conflicted with himself, and he just knows what to do.

"I have places to be..."

He climbed off the bed and teleported without any word

With that, he was gone...

Nyxy sat there and leaned into his wall of his room, he lets out a long sigh.

”Was i too talkative..?”

He looks at nothing, he hums.

“Your right.. just give it time..”

He looks back up at the ceiling and smiles softly closing his eyes.

“Love is a crazy feeling..”

The End

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