#let me know your reflections idk

[lassify]

Is Twilight a good therapist?

[Spoilers for SxF Ch.77 if you haven't already read it!!]

I am a huge fan of seeing representation of what it's like to be in the therapy room, but there are always soooo many things that the media get wrong, and I really wanted to draw attention to Twilight's portrayal as a therapist. (This is coming from the POV of someone who works in a clinical setting in the UK/Scotland).

Before I get stuck in, I also want to make it clear that Psychiatrists and Psychologists are VERY different, and in this scene Twilight is very much acting as a Psychologist.

("What's the difference?" you may ask.

WELL:

It's easy. A Psychiatrist is trained as a medical doctor, specialising in mental disorders largely from a biology perspective, and they are qualified to prescribe drugs and medication.

A Psychologist on the other hand delivers talking therapies, and is trained to see mental health from multiple perspectives. Basically, exactly what we see Twilight doing in this scene!)

So, we have a spy who has received next to zero medical training and, as far as I can tell, has whizzed through textbooks in his spare time - no placements, no clinical training, no assessments or exams, no clinical supervisor to assist in reflection or case management.

So, how does he do?

Normalising responses to traumatic events ✅

Mr Austin has done the brave thing and turned up looking for help, and Twilight/Dr Forger responds by putting his problems into context, and normalising the experience for him. We love to see it. This is SO important to trauma-informed working.

2. Providing reassurance and expectations for recovery ✅

I love this even more because what Twilight is saying is true. Only 10% of people who experience a potentially traumatic event actually develop PTSD symptoms, and of those, 70% will recover within the year. Twilight is reiterating the message that acute trauma is absolutely recoverable.

3. Teaching and demonstrating coping skills ✅

It's not enough for clinicians to simply tell their patients about coping skills, it is essential to demonstrate them too. Bringing the practice of coping skills into the therapy room is so important for helping the patient to build their skills, and to build the therapeutic alliance as well.

Here, Twilight is teaching a simple breathing technique, but I would also commend him for teaching other coping skills: grounding, distraction, progressive muscle relaxation, visualisation, and more - although all/most of these rely on breath control as a foundation.

4. Encouraging guided self-help and making medical reccommendations ✅✅

Just trying a breathing exercise once does not make recovery easy. Twilight knows it's important to encourage patients to do this in their own time.

And, finally, we see him acting as a psychiatrist, and reccommending medication. (Although, let's temporarily ignore that as a spy he has NO TRAINING in psychopharmaceuticals).

5. Breaching confidentiality ❌ Confrontational approach ❌

Oh, Twilight... You have fucked up. Big time. This is the biggest fuck up of the entire session.

It's his SECOND session with this patient, and not only does he take a confrontational approach (putting Mr Austin on the defensive, definitely not conducive to a good therapeutic relationship), but he has BREACHED CONFIDENTIALITY. Depending on severity this is A FIREABLE OFFENCE (even in the UK!).

6. Positioning oneself as the 'expert' ❌ Telling the patient to confront their abuser❌ Not taking into account patient's readiness for change ❌

Oh HELL no. Absolutely not. Confronting fear is a delicate and lengthy process requiring many steps, and always checking in with the patient at every step of the way. It cannot go too fast.

The therapeutic relationship is an alliance, and it's important to empower the patient to make their own choices in therapy, especially if it's something that is a source of fear.

Not only that, but telling anyone to confront their abuser is straight up the worst advice ever. It's not safe.

6.5 Providing rationale and reassurance✅

Okay, I'll concede on this point. Twilight's rationale is sound: in the 'Cycle of Anxiety', Avoidance is a key factor in maintaining one's fear of something, and it is a core criterion in PTSD. Learning how to face a fear is really important to PTSD recovery.

And it's good that Twilight attempts to reassure Mr Austin's concerns.

7. Giving unsolicited relationship advice ❌

This is NOT your role, Twilight. You are outside the bounds of your job description. It's an admirable effort to connect with the patient, but, alas, not appropriate at this time.

8. Not taking risk into account ❌❌❌

This is a BIG one. It is not normal for a person to be so afraid of their spouse to be showing all the typical symptoms of a fight-or-flight fear response (sweating, shaking, racing thoughts, muscle tension, pupil dilation, etc.), and Twilight is missing some pretty obvious cues to indicate that Mr Austin is in a clearly unsafe situation.

HE IS LITERALLY TELLING YOU TO YOUR FACE!!

AND if its bad enough that Mr Austin can't even speak, that means his fear is bad enough to completely shut off his pre-frontal cortex (the centre of executive function, rational thought and decision making), which means that his fear is THAT bad. Add this up with the insomnia, chronic fatigue, frequent dissociation, irritability and mood swings, and suddenly it is bad enough to be considered a trauma response - and Twilight still doesn't question the source of this trauma.

Also, Twilight, you can afford to put the judgement aside. Please.

9. Facilitating an unsafe exercise ❌ Risking psychological safety ❌

Here Twilight is attempting a basic exercise inspired by exposure therapy (which Twilight is NOT trained in because he is a spy). While it is a therapy that has a decent evidence base, you don't to therapy to a patient, you do it with them, i.e. it's a process that needs to have a clear goal with informed consent.

In this instance, Twilight didn't prepare Mr Austin for the exercise, and he ended up in an actual flashback with very high levels of emotional distress. Unsafe.

And, again, psychiatrists do not typically deliver talk therapy - that is the job of psychologists.

Conclusion

Why did I make this thread?

I'm really happy that Endo put in the effort to illustrate a really interesting therapy session, bringing psychology and trauma into the forefront. These are sensitive topics and I applaud Endo for giving a really complex topic airtime, and doing the research into what a proper therapy session looks like - because, for all my criticisms here, it is a pretty decent represention of what therapy can look like. [Especially the good bits!]

I also think this scene/chapter alone does a great job of reducing the stigma of seeking help for mental illness. It's great to see in mainstream media, especially something as popular as Spy x Family, since Japan does have a high suicide rate and intense stigma for those suffering from mental illness.

However, I still felt the criticisms of Twilight's therapy session were important to voice.

We cannot forget that he is not a trained clinician. He is there to gather information on his patients and their families and connect him to the upper classes, which explains his confrontational approach and disregard to psychological safety.

As much as Twilight has truly absorbed the psychiatry textbooks and committed their content to memory, the effects of the lack of training is obvious, showing up as major errors in his clinical practice - some of which could get him fired in today's system.

TL;DR Twilight is a GREAT spy. But a therapist? Not your calling, my friend.

[hajihiko]

💕

[perplexed-penguin]

Ngl I’m actually kinda pissed at people making fun of what they said trump’s weight is and comparing him to muscular guys. Like..I fucking hate trump and would [redacted] but muscle weighs more than fat, equating looks to morality, and fatphobia. I’m just tired.

[the-journey-was-the-point]

A Thousand Enemies

Aaahh I'm really excited to share this fic! It centers around a relationship I never really thought of before-- Calarphain and Linnéa! :3 I was rotating them one time, thinking of animal motifs, and realized these 2 very different characters actually have something in common... though they deal with it very differently.

Summary: Calarphain and Linnéa discuss prey. Relationships: Calarphain & Linnéa

During the times Linnéa thought of Calarphain, she remembered her friend not laying in the cold stillness of death, but sitting in a meadow on a warm summer day. His hair was still white back then, as were his robes, and it made him stand out among lush greenery.

She also remembered rabbits. Calarphain loved all living things, but he had a special affinity for the fluffy big-footed creatures. They seemed to like him as well, as the skittish prey animals often flocked towards the Elf, easily accepting him as if he were one of their own. The feeling was mutual between them.

“I was born weak,” Linnéa remembered him saying once. “I nearly died as a child, and if not for the Lady Galadriel, I wouldn’t be here today.” One rabbit usurped its fellow’s place on Calarphain’s lap, insistent on having its turn to be petted. “Even now, if it weren’t for the light of Eärendil in me, I would be useless against Orcs. The first to die in a siege.”

Linnéa had said nothing then, but listened to her friend from a distance. 

Calarphain didn’t turn to face her. He idly ran his hands through brown fur and looked out into the horizon, where a blue sky met endless fields. “Rabbits are so small, don’t you think? Not like other animals that are much bigger and stronger than them, and hunger for their flesh. It makes me sad thinking about it.”

Another curious rabbit climbed onto his knee, and he scooped it up with his hands. It did not scream as they often did when in danger, for it was comfortable in her friend’s gentle grip. It made him smile. It nearly made Linnéa smile as well. 

“These creatures are content to hop around and eat grass,” Calarphain continued, “but instead, they have to be on the run. Constantly, they know that they’re at the mercy of snares and predators. People, too.” He shook his head then. “At least I have my magic now. Because how are you supposed to live with being so helpless?”

Linnéa took a few steps towards her friend, and all the surrounding rabbits scampered away. Only the one in his hands remained. 

“You run,” she had said with a firm voice, “and you run fast. If you can’t be stronger than them, be smarter. Be cunning. If there are traps, don’t be ensnared in them. And if one should take the fall, never, ever, let it be you.” 

Calarphain furrowed his brows. Linnéa anticipated a rebuttal, but her friend didn’t get to speak his mind, because when Linnéa took another step, the rabbit in his hands screamed. 

—

Run fast, Linnéa remembered saying. And if one should take the fall, never, ever, let it be you. 

She believed it then, and she believed it now as she coated crossbow bolts with black poison made by her own hands. She strapped a dagger to her hips and lifted her crossbow, ready to give a swift end to any threat.

In her mind, the image of Calarphain turned to his death, where his blood flowed out and bright white hair faded into dull brown.

Blood-red lips pressed into a line as Linnéa resolved to never die like prey. 

[treezxu]

shoutout to cassel and lila for SUCKING!!!!! I HATE THEM!!!!!!!!!

[lokilysolbitch]

accidentally proved my own point by reaching the tag limit so i'm finishing what i was saying here✋😭just uhhh pretend this is a really long tag up here

my POINT basically is spirituality and religion if used well will lead you to self reflect. and ideally be kind. it's spirituality. you can't see that shit, you can't prove a lot of it scientifically, everyone is gonna see the same thing differently, etc. it's floaty and fluid like gender. you cannot sit down and study it in a nice neat scientific way to prove if it's real or not and you cannot force it into boxes and say it's wrong when it stops fitting in the box it was never going to fit in. you can't reliably test if astrology or Loki or tarot or psychics are real or not. but that doesn't fucking matter anyway/nm

what matters is did it make you feel better? did it make you learn? did it make you change? did it make you kind? (and these questions are applicable to gender as well, and most things ever) that's testable

me personally my autistic brain eats this shit up like candy and looking at my chart has taught me how to better work with myself and my habits AND has given me an understanding of people who think differently than me. so i will keep doing it

if it makes you judge people for being born in the wrong month or judge people in general uhhh then maybe quit that idk✋‼️

by god i love yappin

Astrology doesn't seem to work.

[chipjrwibignaturals]

yall ever had people that have had such a different life experience to yours that it like. annoys you.

and realistically and morally that person isnt in any wrong, but the things they say are just so incompatible to your OWN life experiences that it starts to piss you off? because it feels to your stupid monkey brain that theyre just making shit up with the confidence of 1000 suns. or is there something extra wrong with me

[bluastro-yellow]

I want the marketing and advertisement industry to explode now

[chicksmoothie]

• Lovedrunk — mingi

Pairing: bf!mingi x gf!reader

— Mingi and you finally decide to move in together, but truth to be told you didn’t have time for each other more than for the basics. This means you are desperate to spend time just enjoying the other’s company (and fuck, and well, it shows)

! Long fuck fic

! based on Say it like you mean it characters but not mentioning its plot

W/C: ~4.8K

Genre: smut, fluff, established relationship, madly in love

Warnings: +18, mdni (seriously), cursing (a lot), dirty talking (another lot), teasing, edging, slight possessive behaviour (from both parts), breeding kink, praise kink, size kink, honestly this is a kink compilation, raw sex (you know you shouldn’t), needy mingi & needy reader, both vibing in the same horny kind of tune, pure hornyness, dry humping, a lot of spit, oral (f receiving), making out, multiple orgasms and therefore overstim, squirting, switch dynamics (rather bratty power bottom reader x service top mingi but also kind of switching so idk?), filming, this counts as a warning too cos really madly in love should be a warning, let me know if I forgot something i hope not cos this warnings are longer than the fic already

A/N: at the end

Also: this oneshot is fiction and in no way aims to portrait anyone involved in the story

Taglist: @i01233 @tinie03 @thesupreme316 @esmedelacroix thanks for waiting ♡

His scent was all over the room after taking a shower. His arm still a bit humid and warmer than usual had you hugged close to him under the blanket. And you couldn’t see it well since it was dark in the room, but the red and white highlights flashing from the tv painting his beautiful profile and the screen reflecting on his glasses had you totally distracted.

you were trying so hard to focus on the anime you decided to watch together. You were so, so trying it…

But the way his casual and cozy look caught your breath each time you had the chance to see it since you moved in together had no hopes in changing, ever.

It had been some time since you had had a quality time and chill night together due to hectic schedules at work and all the move in process, so now that the stars aligned and you had the same days off you wanted it to be as actually chill as possible and restricted every single dirty thought about pulling his glasses off and kiss him to start with.

If only his fingers were not playing with yours under the blanket. If only his shampoo wasn’t the same as yours and you didn’t weirdly get off to that because it meant you were actually living together. If only you weren’t so pent up after nearly a week without seeing each other for anything else but eating and sleeping if you were lucky.

If only you didn’t feel your heart skip a beat every time he chuckled when he found something funny happening in the anime that you were totally not watching.

If only you didn’t love him so fucking much.

Mingi turned his face your way while still smiling to check if you found the scene as funny as he did.

And you will never know what he saw on your face at this very moment, but his smile dropped and his eyes narrowed in only one second. “What’s up babychick? You don’t like the series?”

He knew exactly what was up, but he chose to play dumb for a moment. “Yes, yes, i am loving it,” you recovered quickly from your trance ”it is so interesting” and decided to play along. You smiled, lovingly, not showing how sarcastic you were actually being and on the contrary making it sound as genuine as possible.

You turned your face to the screen just in time to catch a smirk slowly growing on his face. He wanted to play? This you could do it. No problem at all.

—

The voices coming from the tv were white noise and ambient sound at this point. You had been silent since your little conversation earlier, but no words were needed when both of you were anticipating what was going to happen. You knew each other already, so you could tell that Mingi was getting impatient by how he looked at you from the corner of his eye. His tease was backfiring completely and all he could think about was him eating you out, but he didn’t want to lose just yet.

It all started to get complicated for him with you pulling up slightly at the hem of his shirt and placing your hand on his lower stomach pretending you were looking for some kind of warmth, your hand was cold you said. Sneaky girl… and eventho his breath hitched for one millisecond he continued with your little edging game.

He put his hand over yours, saying that by doing so it would warm up quicker. And it could have been an innocent gesture if only he wasn’t tracing random forms and decorating your fingers in suggestive caresses. Fucking tease… Good thing someone died in the anime in this exact moment, that way your little pout could pass as unbothered.

But you were bothered. Both of you were since long ago. All the second intentions behind the caresses, all the low whimpers you could hear from one another at every single touch and trying to contain yourselves from just lose it all and finally fuck were agonizing at this point.

You knowing he was already half hard and that your hand was dangerously close to his crotch but intentionally not daring to touch him wasn’t easy.

Him knowing you were probably already soaking through the grey leggins you used as a pijamas and he had done nothing but sit beside you and hug you yet was even less easy. How bad would it be when he got started…

You realizing the hands you originally had interlaced under the blanket were now somehow resting on your tit made you sigh.

Him realizing that your nipple was perking out and begging to be pinched, squeezed, bitten, sucked and anything possible was almost unbearable.

You and him panting quietly, suffocating in the tension that you both had slowly been creating by doing nothing but know that you wanted each other very, very badly.

You were also getting impatient, so you decided to push his buttons further and you knew exactly how. Without saying a word, you broke your cozy (yet hot) hug to slowly get up the sofa. “Where are you going?” His voice was husky and a little pouty because of your sudden distance. “I am sleepy, I think I am going to be-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as he grabbed your arm and pulled you down, placing you on his lap right over his hard bulge. Both of you moaned at the contact. God he was harder than you thought he would be. This rilling up game was going to be one of your favorites… “stop with the teasing, you win” you smiled in victory “i always win” well, he had to agree on that.

As soon as you leaned in to take his glasses off and give him the long awaited kiss both of you were a panting mess already. The kiss was slow and nasty, drinking in each other as if you had been wandering in a desert for ages and just found a fountain.

His hands were gripping your hips hard, knuckles white and head empty, bucking up every time you grinded your pussy along his dick through your clothes. The friction so good you could cum from just that after all the built up tension, your fingers tangled in his shirt and pulled to bring him even closer. You had the feeling that he had been too far from you for too long, otherwise you wouldn’t be this extremely horny, so needy for his touch and his skin on yours already.

“I need this out of the way” you pulled his shirt off slowly, taking your time on the motion, then yours went after, both ending rumbled on the floor.

You had to take a second to admire his topless figure under you, the dim light of the tv outlining his strong figure, and you looked at him with real adoration written in your eyes “my hand is cold again…” you bit your lip shyly, putting your hand back on his lower tummy as you had done earlier, but this time you traced the pattern of his slightly defined torso up to his chest, both hands meeting at his back and feeling his wide shoulders with featherlike touches.

“You are gonna be the end of me babe, you doing this on purpose?” his head rested on the back of the sofa, eyes lidded, tensing under your light touch and waiting impatiently for you to snap and continue what had already started.

You looked at him with such a fake surprised expression, “what do you mean? I am only admiring my pretty boyfriend” and you knew what you calling him pretty would do to him.

“I thought the game ended” he growled, eyes now on the roof and his adam’s apple bobbing while swallowing a moan at the praise “yes, and I won, so I am going to savor my price” you leaned back and took his chin to make him look at you “see how I am already? You made me wet through my pijamas, anything to say about that??”

He looked down where your leggins were indeed as soaked as he had imagined, the dark patch too close to his cock for his brain to not malfunction. “I am going to fuck you so good babychick you wont be going out of bed in three working days” that you didn’t see it coming. He was never so aggressive from the beginning, but he was in such a horny state his hands were already shaking in your hips.

“Please let me eat you out” you moaned at his begging “its all I can think about” he closed his eyes and sighed just at the thought of your dripping cunt smearing his face and your sweet flavor filling his mouth. “You are so needy…” you said and he nodded slowly and deadly serious “only for you”.

One of his hands run up to your back, the other one still gripping your hip tightly. Your boy was so strong and so big it took him zero effort to stand up carrying you on top of him. “You wanted to go to bed yeah?” You grinned “I knew you would get the hint at some point”

He had been between your legs for two orgasms already. His face a dripping mess and his thumb circling your clit slowly compared to the quick pace his tongue had set on you. Slurping, moaning in your cunt, drawing random patterns in your inner thighs with his free hand to feel your soft skin somehow. He was fucking the mattress to get some kind of friction for himself although he could cum untouched by just the sound of your moans and the way you pushed his head impossibly close to you.

The overstimulation of cumming twice with just his mouth was torture but you couldn’t think about pushing him away, that would be worse. “My girl likes to go wild with overstim?” He slurped up a drop of your cum, pulling out his tongue to show you your own creamy arousal “you think you are stretched out for me already my love?”

You couldn’t take this any longer, having him inside was your top priority in this moment so you grabbed a handful of his hair and dragged him up as he moaned in pleasure due to the sudden pain while you cried “mingi, pants off” you were already naked, but he had still these black home sweatpants that normally drove you crazy but in this moment drove you mad.

He obliged and pulled them down, revealing that he had no boxers on and letting his dripping cock spring out, red, all veins on display and you swore to god you had never seen him this hard in all the time you had been together.

You were already salivating… the stretch of his cock was always good, but this time.. oh my god you couldn’t imagine it, you had to have it.

Wide open on your bed, waiting for him to put the condom on and his dick to finally fill you up, anticipating that stretch you were aching for with little whimpers trying to escape your mouth.

And he knew it.

He was sliding his tip along your entrance, covering the condom in your slick and his own spit after his make out session with your pussy. “mingi, fuck off…” you were desperate for him “baby I really want to slam in, but I have to put it in slowly” this was half true given his size and half him getting revenge for his loss, but you were not having it.

You were always the winner for a reason: whatever he did you took it further.

You rose your hips and pushed against the tip. finally, finally opening yourself for him inch by inch. You couldn’t see it because you had closed your eyes at the feeling, but he kept them wide open in a completely fucked out expression, savoring the sight of your relaxed face for having him inside you at good fucking last.

Mingi tried, but he couldn’t keep your slow pace until the end and bottomed out in one go, gasping and falling over you, completely worn out already. “god, fuck, mingi” After a few seconds of both of you adjusting to the feeling he started moving, his body still flush against yours, he didn’t bear thinking about being the slightest bit apart from you and not feel you tense, squirm and tremble underneath him. Your sweat making it easier for you to meet his movements as if you were water.

“God…Your pussy hugs me so good baby, I love it. My fucking girl… you are mine, yeah? Answer me baby please…” and he sounded as he really needed you to give a response to that question, eyes shut and forehead pressed against yours. “Mingi…” you cupped his face with both your hands to kiss him “i am yours” you whispered between his lips and dragged your fingers to his hair to pull slightly.

His beautiful reaction every time you did so made you clench around him, making him open his eyes in shock at the sudden tightness and turning his growls even deeper.

He pretended he wasn’t, but he was so needy and so clingy. So lovedrunk for you that you saying that you belonged to him had him already close to cumming.

“There is no other one for you either” you looked at him in the eyes through your lashes, pulling off your best sultry face, “you are mine too, say it” he was shuddering, loving the way you demanded his response, bossing him around from underneath him as if the one being fucked to the brim wasn’t you.

You had him so in the palm of your hand he wouldn’t mind you closing it and crush him, how could he answer anything else than that? “I am yours baby… fuck…” and that made you giggle.

“Thanks” you pecked his lips, hugging him around his neck, legs around his waist pushing him deeper and earning a low moan from him, “baby I really won’t last today”, and it was a given since you had been fucking each other really since the moment you sat on the sofa this afternoon, “so take it easy on me and behave yeah?” he was fucking you slow, the way he knew you liked it. The way he could fill you completely and leave no single untouched spot inside you. But also the only way he would be able to keep going for a while.

And just because you were dying to see him lose his mind completely were you determined to do everything you knew he loved at the same time. Pressing kisses all over his neck till you reached his earlobe and bit it, “I am behaving right? I am being so good today, what you gonna give me, hm?”

He was panting heavily, eyes shut, both his hands at each side of your head, the vision so good and his dick so deep you nearly started crying at the unbearable thrill.

But you decided to slowly move your arms down from his neck to interlace one of his hands with your own instead. Your other hand landed on your lips, tongue full of spit ready to coat your fingers in your saliva and leaving a string behind once you finished with the task, never breaking the eye contact.

Mingi couldn’t win against you being a dirty brat, but he had even less chances of winning against your hand going down where your bodies met to push one of your soaked fingers inside your cunt, stretching you even more but making it even tighter for him.

His jaw clenched and his eyes were silently asking you if you were being fucking for real right now. And oh my god you were, so fucking for real that you started moving your finger slowly inside you and rubbing his dick on your way, moaning loud and grabbing his hand tightly, needing to hold onto something for how good it was feeling for you too.

“Fuuuuuuuuck….” Fuck it, he really didn’t stand a chance from the beginning “I am gonna cum, where do you want it? Tell me babe I won’t last much more” he knew that you loved to feel his cum all over you and you were already trembling, so close yourself.

You couldn’t imagine him pulling out from you right now nor for too long, this past weeks without any intimate contact at all were working hard on you so you didn’t have to think it twice “mingi please… cum inside”

He could never have figured you would say that, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he thought about how to answer.

“Raw baby?” He finally asked with a cry, just to make sure he was understanding it right “please…” your affirmation whisper froze him and made him almost nut on the spot.

He slowly carried on with the roll of his hips, struggling with the pace while the only thing on his mind was to piston fuck you into the bed after what you had asked him to do “you can’t say shit like that”. He was struggling, gritting his teeth and he really wanted to obey but you would regret this tomorrow, this had been said in the heat of the moment, or at least this is what he was telling himself in order not to breed you full.

But you blinked, you fucking innocently blinked pretending to be surprised, knowing how bad he wanted it and quickly slid your sticky hand out of your cunt and between your bodies to push him off and pull him out “but I can tho”.

In one swift motion and in a record time you took the condom off, tossed it somewhere on the floor and aligned his pulsing cock inside you again, painfully slowly sinking him in as you watched his face contort in pure ecstasy by the contact of your wet walls around him for the first time in months using protection.

Nothing could describe the way he felt about having you split open and raw underneath him, completely his to take. You put your arms around his neck, dragging him down to look him in the eyes again as you always liked to watch him when he reached his climax “now you can cum baby” your voice was merely a whisper, small but commanding “i will look so good with your cum dripping out later”.

And that was it. Something animalistic took over him and he started to move rougher, faster and more desperate than he ever had .

“Yeah?? You want to be full of my cum that bad??” His voice deep in the crook of your neck sending shivers through your whole body. Shit, you wanted to see his face!! but you were feeling so good at the way he thrusted into you, grinding his pelvis against your clit each time he went back inside, that you couldn’t be arsed complaining about it.

“Not enough with having me ballsdeep inside you that you also want to keep me there after I pull out??” He was testing the waters, trying to find out if he could say what he actually wanted to. But your loud moan at his words told him that he could carry on and so he did.

“You want me here?” you were far gone, dripping from your pussy to the bed and your skin burning, goosebumps all over and making the prettiest noises he had ever heard.

Never knew this would thrill him so much, but as his hand reached your belly, pressing down slightly and feeling himself moving in and out of you over your skin and going back to kiss you desperately he understood that no other raw pussy was ever gonna have him “you want me to get you pregnant tonight or what?”

Finally. He met your eyes just in time to see them roll back and flutter shut, your cry immediate “yes yes yes yes” you were begging, your cunt squeezing and sucking his cock in so hard it was getting difficult for him to slide out, seeing white ass stars as you came around him repeating his name since it was the only word you could remember.

The noises of your wet bodies crashing every time he thrusted inside you filling his ears and the warmth of your cum soaking his pelvis felt too good, “you drive me fucking insane” he growled and was now letting go, feeling you milk him dry and trembling in a pleasure he was sure he was going to get addicted to.

Cumming raw and inside after holding it in for so long only for you, he really wanted to see how your tummy grew big. “mingi…” he covered his nervous smile with your lips, still panting over your worn out body, never pulling out even after both of you came down from the shared orgasm.

Wait, “you are still hard??” you couldn’t believe it “give me another one babes, i know you can” there was nothing else in this world that had him in more bliss than your whole body response when you were cumming and he knew that nothing could ever compare to the way your walls hugged him perfectly, massaging his cock in ways nothing could do. He needed to feel it some more “you are having my kids no? we need to fill this up”. His words were going to turn you into burning ashes.

He started to move slowly again, the painful overstimulation not being enough to make him stop “but mingi I don’t think I can cum anymore” your eyebrows were beautifully frown and a tear was about to roll down your cheek when he suddenly flipped you over, you being still flush against his body but now on top of him. He fucking knew you loved being on top, completely able to adjust to his length and set your own pace. Watching him from above was one of your most personal moments.

You looked at him in disbelief, he was seriously going to play this game with you??? You straighten up, watching him dangerously challenging but still catching your breath. As soon as you leaned back and rolled your hips your thoughts about not being able to cum were already gone, his dick filling you up so good you couldn’t believe you ever said that.

You put one hand over his leg to balance yourself while grinding over his dick nice and slow “actually maybe I can…?” your other one gently reaching your belly and caressing it in a wide circle, your own touch giving you goosebumps, the gesture making him flinch at the thought of his cum inside you right where you were touching yourself, yours and his imagination going fucking wild.

He closed his eyes to savor each sensation you could pull out of him, hands running up your legs and landing on your hips to help you grind. But he really wanted to see you, so when he opened his eyes again you were still watching him, all the love you felt for him showing on your face and basically dancing on his lap, little moans escaping your mouth. His eyes on you were so raw and sincere it had you melting, a hot drop of your slick running down your boyfriends lap. How the fuck were you this lucky you didn’t know.

He was biting his bottom lip, all his feelings over the place. he loved you so much. And knowing you felt the same for him sometimes blew his mind “how am i so lucky?” you smiled at his words matching your exact thoughts, “look at me mingi, am I not lucky too?” he indeed looked at you, from your pretty face to your pretty hole sucking his cock, a husky moan leaving him.

He brought his hand to your pussy and split your lips open to watch how his cock disappeared inside you “fucking god…” he nearly came again at the sight of his release forming a ring around his base “I wish I could see this forever” and he could tell when you had a bright idea pop into your clever head, like right now.

You stopped for a second to reach out for your phone, your change of position making him pant and trying to hold you still. You popped the camera app on your screen and pressed record then offered it to him. Seriously, how was he so lucky? He was too horny to argue or question you so…

His eyes were fixed on the screen, watching you go back to moving gently on his dick but quickening your pace until you were sliding him out and bucking back in, jumping and moaning nonsenses. His dick felt so right inside you, so where it belonged to that you stopped thinking what you were saying, completely lovedrunk yourself.

“I love this dick” he groaned and struggled to keep the recording and it took everything in him to not throw the phone away and keep looking through the screen, “no one else is ever cumming inside me, I am all yours” you cried and threw your head back, letting out a high pitched moan as you sensed his free hand grip your hip tighter and buck up to meet your movements.

The hand where he was holding the phone completely trembling, the dirty feeling of this happening to him but also watching you getting fucked through anything that wasn’t his own eyes made it look like something nasty. And hell was he getting off to that shit, “mingi I am gonna…” “yeah, yeah please cum babychick, I am following”

Mingi had this rare gifted talent of making you cum as soon as he commanded, and so you did. The scream was loud from both parts, your pussy tightening harder than it ever had around him, not wanting him to ever leave that place “I am cumming inside again baby is that okay?” you couldn’t even manage to answer, your orgasm so hard it was taking forever for it to go down, so you only nodded fervently as a yes.

All the edging and the overstimulation from earlier skyrocketing your sensitivity. It wasn’t easy for it to happen to you but it did this time and it was recorded forever for commemorative purposes; your pussy started to spray over everything reachable around you, all his torso drenched in your squirt, the camera lens soaked and the image blurry.

Fuck it, you didn’t need to save anything else. Mingi stopped the recording and tossed the phone somewhere over the bed, sat up straight to hug you while you were still crying out his name and started to thrust harsher from bellow.

You hugged him back, curling your legs around his waist to keep him as close as you could and started to kiss him desperately, no rhythm no attention, waiting for this rollercoaster climax to end. His movements were already unsteady due to his own incoming orgasm, calling your name and saying sweet praises into your mouth as the string finally snapped and he finished inside again, making your insides warm with his hot cum.

Once he calmed down he fell on his back over the bed, hugging you still over on top of him, totally worn out and suddenly cold after what you thought had been the best orgasm you’d had.

“shit” you sighed “it is so cold” mingi smiled, completely satisfied, “let me get a towel, I will clean this mess up” he reached down to get a sample of the said mess in his finger. You couldn’t help it and licked it without thinking, “baby… don’t go there again” he was being half serious, but his still inside cock twitched weakly. You laughed at him, “baby go get that towel, I am seriously cold”.

He slid out of you, leaving you to get the promised towel, both relieved and sad at the sudden emptiness in your cunt. But… wait, it is not that empty? Your cheeks burned beet red, remembering how you had been begging him to get you pregnant. How many kinks were you gonna collect with this guy?! Your hand moved by its own, trying to find its way to your slit.

As soon as you felt it in your fingers you couldn’t stop yourself, you were putting all the cum that dripped out back in, moaning quietly at the single thought of your belly full of him again.

“need any help with that?” you looked towards the door, he was leaning against its frame, towel in hand, his smile showing his front teeth that you loved so much. You had to smile back, “yeah?”

—

A/N: Hellooo haha this took me a while.

I know it was meant to be the continuation for Say it like you mean it, but it has been so long already (two whole years to be exact) that I found no joy in these characters anymore. And as much as I tried to start them over again (seriously I had like 9 drafts about them) it always ended up being just not too good. I really wanted to give them a hot and steamy (and really long wtf) chance with this one. I think my writing got better too (not posting at all but still writing), even if english is not my mother language and therefore I am a bit limited!

I would like to improve some more for the next one, which will also be set on mingi & the chick since i am biased and i kinda got attached to some of the topics I was writing about in Say it like you mean it. So for now we have this one, but possibly the next one will fiiiiinally be SILYMI part.2? When? Who knows, no one when it comes to me i am afraid.

Anyways! I hope you enjoyed. Comments are welcome ♡

[salemlunaa]

∘˚꥟ BE A GOD ꥟˚∘

start demanding stop asking and waiting

whether you’re religious or not picture this:

let me ask you a question, when god wanted light did He go “let me see if i can make light and if i can’t i’ll just go ask for advice”, “i’ll try but just incase it doesn’t work”? no, He didn’t. He didn’t sit around scripting how the world would look with light. He had a vision what He wanted to do, He said “let there be light”, and there was light. That was it. He spoke it into fruition and it came and that was it. There was no “maybe it will happen tonight idk” No he wanted it he demanded it and it happened.

You need to realise that, you are the god in your world. You need to start affirming. and taking your demand for certain.

According to AI, “In terms of manifestation, affirming is something that is to be declared CONFIDENTLY as FACT”

are you stating the fact that you induce pure consciousness as fact or is it a maybe.

are you stating that you are “I AM” or is it just so that you can maybe induce pure consciousness that night.

are you stating that you have your desires as fact or is it, im just affirming so maybe ill get it.

You’re a god, start acting like it. stop leaving it up to chance, you don’t do maybes or ifs it’s always an absolute, always a fact

A god speaks something into fruition as soon as they want something. They understand the power of their subconscious mind and utilise it properly. They don’t care what the 3D is showing them because they know that it has to reflect the 4D. no matter what. Idc if the 3D is repeatedly slapping you in the face, idc if you’re staring your 3D in the face right now. A real god knows that circumstances aren’t real, that the reality that they accept is the only thing true because they’re gods and can simply decide that.

Be a god, not a beggar. Be a god, not just anyone who just happened to find out about manifestation.

Be a god. and stop with the “what if it doesn’t work”, you speak something into existence it happens, you want something? cool, it’s already here.

Be a god and stop with the chance and “just incase”

🍯🫐 stop with the maybe, like seriously.

[shawtuzi]

idk what this is it kinda just came to me

cw include: breath play, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, sugu is such a sweetie pie :((, two bfs but only suguru’s fucking you in this, i added a cute interaction between sugu and eren bc why df not <33 (boarder credit @/bernardsbendystraws)

“you wanna know what i noticed?” suguru asked, wiping off any excess from the face mask he just washed off. eren was beside him brushing his teeth, tired eyes looking at his reflection as he brushed his teeth. eren locked eyes with suguru in the mirror, his brows raising in question.

suguru looked outside of the bathroom making sure you weren’t in earshot—thankfully you were already preoccupied running over citizens in gta 5.

“don’t get all bashful on me now,” eren’s muffled voice teased suguru. he could tell by the pink tint in his cheeks that it was definitely something naughty. suguru was the shyest perv eren had ever met in his life.

geto kissed his teeth, yanking off his (your) bubble headband. “i think…y/n’s into breath play,” suguru couldn’t help the smirk that quirked his lips, especially when he saw that eren’s tired eyes were now wide and full of questions.

“look just hear me out…”

*flashback <3*

suguru’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, his thighs trembling from pure pleasure. he had your knees to your ears, skillful hips slapping into the back of thighs as he fucked you like he hated your guts. you cried out in pleasure when his fingernails dug little crescents into the fat of your thighs, a gush of your essence coating the base of his dick soon after.

“c-choke me.”

“h-huh?”

suguru’s pace slowed but never stopped—he was toooo fucking close to his nut to stop completely. your hand weakly tapped at his, “choke me please. i c-can handle it s’okay.” suguru gulped, his balls tightening. with a shaky hand he wrapped his fingers around your throat, adding zero pressure whatsoever.

you huffed, kicking your feet against his lower back. “do it harder sugu. it’s okay i can take itttt,” your lips were turned into an adorable pout, doe eyes brimming with the neediest tears. suguru’s brows furrowed, his lips turning into a frown. he was just so scared he’d hurt you :((

you could sense the change in his demeanor, a small smile making its way onto your lips. you brought a hand up to caress his jaw, letting out a tiny laugh when he leant into your touch. “if it hurts i’ll tap you okay? don’t worry sugu, let loose a little m’ a big girl,” suguru laughed at the last part, pressing a kiss to your palm before shifting his weight to apply more pressure to your throat.

you gasped at the new angle, your pussy clenching suguru’s cock like a vice when his hand tightened around your throat. suguru pulled out till only the tip was in before slamming back inside you, his hips circling deliciously before repeating it three more times. “f-faster!” you croaked, your heart fluttering when suguru licked a stray tear off your cheek. that was certainly new.

suguru’s strokes were quicker but still just as precise, his spongy tip kissing that special spot deeeep inside you. “f-fuck baby s’wet for sugu,” he grunted, a whimper that he so desperately wanted to keep down bubbled in his chest. “d-don’t….don’t lemme breathe till i cum, m’so close sugu,” suguru’s eyes widened, his pace faltering the tiniest bit.

did you always like being this roughed up?

suguru didn’t answer, instead he just righted his grip around your throat once more until he heard you squeak. his dialed pupils found yours, looking for any signs of discomfort but all he saw was your mouth dropped in pleasure, your eyes nearly rolling back. his pace quickened, his swollen balls slapping harshly against your backside.

“o-oh fuck!” you squealed, your teeth clenching together when you felt suguru’s pelvis rub harshly against your puffy clit. “ooo shit your about to c-cum, i can—fuck, i can fuckin’ feel it,” suguru growled, his thumb pressing down on the center of your throat. your head was beginning to feel very fuzzy and you loved it.

suguru let out a high pitched whine when the first stream of your cum hit his stomach abruptly. your eyes were completely rolled into the back of your head, droplets of drool leaking from your lips and onto your chin and neck. suguru continued to fuck your through your orgasm like a madman, his grip on your throat loosening.

you weren’t quiet sure what happened, suguru wasn’t too sure either but something in your tummy snapped, your orgasm hitting even harder than it was before. “sh-shit you’re still fucking cumming?” suguru gasped in awe, his teeth clamping onto his bottom lip at the sight of the never ending streams of cum coating his dick and abdomen. “look at that,” he grunted, cupping the back of your neck. he pushed your neck upwards, forcing you to look at the mess between your bodies.

you weren’t capable of even making a sound, all you could do was look your sugu in the eyes and silently beg for his cum. oh how he loved when you looked at him like that.

suguru’s abs clenched, his hips pushing against yours one last time before he came, white dots clouding his vision. he slowly rolled his hips, relishing in the sloshing noises that echoed throughout the room.

“you okay baby? wasn’t too rough on you was i?” he frowned, cupping your face in his hands. you giggled breathlessly, shaking your head. suguru kissed your lips three times, his tongue slipping into your mouth. you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tugging at his jet black strands.

“mmph don’t get too excited sweetness, let’s wait for eren for the next round yeah?”

*flashback over <3*

eren was absolutely gobsmacked at this information, his mouth parted but no words were able to be formed. suguru was as red as tomato, his eyes looking anywhere but eren’s. “hey,” eren said poking suguru’s chest, “remember what we talked about with eye contact? y’don’t need to be so nervous sugu it’s just me.”

suguru nodded, giving eren a small smile. “you’re right you’re right…but yeah that’s what i’m thinking. i could be wrong but with her you never know,” suguru chuckled, his ears pricking up when he heard footsteps approaching the bathroom.

“what’s taking you guys so longgg? m’getting bored by myself in there,” you whined, nuzzling into eren’s side. eren squeezed your hip lovingly, his lips lifting into a smirk. you gasped when you felt eren’s hand wrap around your neck, your head knocking against the door with a soft thud when he pushed you against it. “w-what’s your deal?” you whined, your clit tingling at the force.

“me and sugu had a very interesting conversation about you. ‘told me that you liked to be fucked till your dizzy and breathless…is that right?” eren spoke softly, his thumb brushing your chin. your eyes flit to suguru’s, your lips pushing into a pout at the shit eating grin in his face. “that was supposed to be a secret,” you whispered, knowing good and well what the two men were talking about.

eren tutted, slowly shaking his head, “my sweet girl y’know there’s no such thing as secrets in this relationship, isn’t that right babe?” suguru nodded eagerly, warmth pooling in his lower belly. he rlly liked when eren called him pet names hehe. you jumped when you felt eren’s free hand cup your pussy gently, his palm bumping against your clit.

“i can feel your heartbeat over your shorts princess,” he whispered in your ear, licking over the shell of it. you whined in embarrassment, wanting so desperately to cover your face but you knew better than to hide yourself from your boyfriends. suguru inched closer to the two of you until he was cornering you along with eren.

“don’t be embarrassed baby, i really liked it! i know you did too right?” he grinned, squishing your cheeks together. eren gave you a look, silently telling you to be honest. you huffed through your nose, nodding shamelessly. you felt so small underneath their intense gazes, but you definitely couldn’t deny you were excited for whatever was coming your way!!

[mercvry-glow]

Back again

parings. andrew "pope" cody x reader

summary. an unexpected visitor breaks into your house after having spent years locked away. unexpected, but not necessarily unwelcome.

warnings. age gap (pope 39, reader late 20s), breaking and entering, gun mentioned but not used, reader and pope have a son together, cody family mention, pope is awkward af but literally when is he not, reader does not stand on business and misses pope, pope in general, let me know if there's anything else.

notes. I genuinely struggled so hard with this, but it's finally out. I love the show though and am so glad shawn is getting his flowers with how popular the pitt became. if this flops, idk how much i'll regularly write for pope but if something pops into my head or if i get more requests i'll see what i can do! as always thank you so much and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 2800+

It was past midnight.

The waves outside crashed gently against the cliffs, the ocean reflecting slivers of moonlight. Your bathroom—marble floors, soft golden lighting, wide windows overlooking the water—was quiet except for the hum of your favorite playlist and the low hiss of the shower shutting off.

You wrapped the towel around yourself, tucking it at your chest as you padded across the warm floors. Steam clung to the mirrors, fogged your reflection. You barely glanced at it. Just another night, just another routine. Lip balm, face serum, silk robe. Everything in its place. Controlled. Safe.

Until the lights flickered.

You froze. Turned slowly. Then the hallway sensor triggered—that soft click you weren’t supposed to hear from this side of the house.

Your stomach dropped.

This was a gated home. Security on every window and door. Patrols after dark. You lived here because no one was supposed to get in.

But someone had.

You grabbed the drawer under the sink. Your fingers skimmed the handle of the pistol you never thought you’d need to use again. Heart racing, you crept to the open door of the bathroom, back pressed to the wall, breath locked in your chest.

Then you heard it. Slow, steady footsteps on the hardwood. Not rushing. Not clumsy.

Deliberate.

And then he appeared.

You nearly dropped the gun.

“Jesus—”

“Hey,” Pope said quietly, stepping into the golden glow of the bathroom like he belonged there. Like this was his house. His ocean view. His night.

You stared at him—dripping water, towel barely hanging on, heart pounding so loud you couldn’t think. He looked the same and not the same. Bigger. Leaner. That same raw, unreadable face. Eyes locked on you like they hadn’t looked at anything else in three damn years.

“How—how the fuck did you get in?” you finally breathed, voice shaky but sharp.

He didn’t answer right away. Just looked around. The bathroom. The house behind you. You.

“Security’s good,” he murmured. “But I’m better.”

Your fingers tightened on the handle of the pistol.

“Put it down,” he said softly. “If I wanted to hurt you… I wouldn’t be standing here talking.”

You hesitated. Then set it on the counter with a hard clack.

“You broke into my house.”

“I needed to see you.”

“You could’ve called.”

“You wouldn’t have answered.”

He took a step closer. You didn’t move, but your breath caught. Everything about him still made your skin burn—fear, fury, and something dangerously close to longing.

“I got out,” he said. “And you weren’t at our old house. Smurf told me you moved. Gave me pictures. Told me you were doing good.”

“Pictures?” Your voice broke. “She gave you pictures?”

“Of him too.”

Your heart clenched.

“I didn’t come to fight,” he said quietly. “Didn’t come to take anything. I just… I couldn’t sleep knowing you were out here, and I didn’t know if you were okay.”

You stared at him, the towel still wrapped tight around you, pulse thrumming through every inch of your body. The man who once held you like the world might end. The father of your child. The ghost that haunted every night you told yourself you were over him.

“I should call the cops.”

He nodded. “You should.”

But you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And the silence between you burned.

You still didn’t move.

Pope stood just inside your bathroom, jaw tight, chest rising slow like every breath burned. His eyes swept over the space—over you—like he couldn’t believe it was real. Like maybe he’d dreamed this place a hundred times in a concrete cell and wasn’t sure yet if this was another one.

“Where is he?”

Your chest tightened. “He’s here, in his room.”

His brow twitched. “Here?”

You nodded, heart pounding. “Down the hall. Asleep.”

He blinked like you’d hit him.

You crossed your arms. “Didn’t see the point in running. Not when I already knew you would find us.” That landed. He looked away, jaw flexing, like he hated how easily he could’ve shown up if he’d tried.

“I figured you’d leave,” he said after a moment. “Take Danny. Disappear.”

You held his stare. “I thought about it. But… he’s got your last name. And I wasn’t gonna lie about that.”

Pope’s eyes flicked toward the hallway—like he could see through the walls. Like the kid he hadn’t seen in three years was just around the corner, breathing softly in his bed.

“Is he okay?” His voice cracked just a little. “I mean… is he good?”

You nodded slowly. “He’s wild. Sweet. Always asking questions. He’s obsessed with dinosaurs. He thinks mac and cheese is gourmet.”

A ghost of a smile touched Pope’s mouth, then faded fast.

“He’s four now?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

You didn’t say anything.

“Does he… does he know about me?”

You swallowed hard. “Only what I told him. That his dad had to go away for a while. But that he loves him.”

Pope stared at the ground for a long moment, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“I never got to say goodbye,” he said.

“I know.”

“I thought about him every damn day.”

You didn’t respond. You didn’t trust yourself to.

“Can I see him?” he asked, voice rough. “Just for a second. I won’t wake him, I swear.”

You should’ve said no. Should’ve thrown him out right then and there.

But you couldn’t.

“Be quiet,” you whispered.

He followed you out of the bathroom. Every step down the hall felt heavy, soaked in everything unsaid. You stopped at the second door on the right—blue paint chipped from tiny hands slamming it too hard, a crooked dinosaur sticker stuck near the bottom.

You eased it open.

There he was—Danny. Small and soft and curled up in a tangle of blankets, one hand clutching a stuffed T-Rex, the other flopped above his head like he’d passed out mid-adventure. A dim night light lit up the corner, casting shadows over his round cheeks and dark lashes.

You felt Pope stop behind you.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe. You didn’t even need to look at him to feel what was radiating off him like heat.

Grief. Wonder. Love. Guilt.

He stepped just close enough to see better—just close enough that his hand brushed the doorframe.

“I missed all of it,” he whispered.

You nodded. “Yeah. You did.”

He stared a little longer, eyes full of something thick and breaking. Then he backed away, slowly.

“Thank you,” he said, voice shaking.

You didn’t reply. Just quietly shut the door behind you.

And for a long, fragile moment, neither of you said anything.

Eventually you had taken him downstairs, after getting dressed. You moved around your kitchen slowly, barefoot on cold tile, the silence stretching between you as the fridge door hummed and the rain ticked against the windows. You grabbed two glasses just… needing something to do with your hands.

Andrew stood near the counter, watching you with that unreadable look he always had—like he was half in the room, half stuck in his own head. 

Staring. Always Staring. 

“I drove by our old place the other day,” you said, trying to sound casual. “It was gone. Sold, actually.”

He didn’t look surprised. “Yeah. Smurf sold it while I was inside, probably after you moved.”

You blinked. “She really sold it? That was your house.”

He shrugged, something bitter flashing in his eyes. “Technically it was Smurf’s. Always was. She held the deed. Didn’t want to ‘waste’ it on me rotting in prison after you left too.”

Your stomach twisted. “Jesus…”

“It’s fine,” he muttered, like it didn’t matter. “Wasn’t much to come back to anyway.”

You leaned against the island, glass in hand. “I thought you’d still be staying there. Honestly, I figured I’d see you lurking in the backyard one day.”

A corner of his mouth twitched. “Didn’t think you wanted me anywhere near you.”

You gave a small, tired smirk. “Depends on the day.”

He didn’t laugh, but you saw the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. Still, he wouldn’t sit. Wouldn’t touch the water. Like he didn’t trust himself to get comfortable.

You let the silence hang a beat longer, then asked gently, “You been staying with your family?”

“Yes and no, mainly staying at a motel,” he said. 

You raised an eyebrow. “They don’t want you in the house?

“Pretty much.”

“And Smurf?”

He paused, eyes flicking toward the window. “She called it. Gave me some cash, some kid’s been staying in my room. You remember J?”

You swallowed. “Barely, but that sounds like your mom.”

He glanced at you. “You still see her?”

You hesitated. “Sometimes. Holidays, mostly. She sends gifts. Makes a show of being ‘Grandma Smurf.’” You exhaled, slow and careful. “It’s… complicated.”

“I bet,” he murmured.

You met his eyes. “I don’t hate her. For his sake, or yours, I let her in. But I don’t trust her.”

He nodded. “Good.”

Another pause. Then softly, “I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“In Oceanside?”

He nodded once.

You let your fingers trail the edge of the counter. “Thought about leaving. But this is where he was born. Where we held him for the first time. I didn’t want to erase that just because it hurt.”

Pope looked at you like you’d cracked something in him wide open.

“I thought maybe you’d changed your name,” he said.

“I didn’t,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted him to remember where he came from. Even if he didn’t know all the details.”

Pope swallowed hard, his voice a low rasp. “I don’t deserve that.”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t about you.”

He looked down at the floor, then back at you, and for a second, it felt like time folded in on itself. Like you were young again, still stupid in love with the broken, furious man no one else could understand.

But you weren’t that girl anymore.

And he wasn’t that guy.

Still… your voice came soft, like it always did with him.

“You should stay. I’ll set out some blankets for the guest room.”

Pope didn’t move. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

You gave a tired smile. “Then don’t, Andrew.”

It didn’t take long for you to set him up, and go back to your own room. Sleep didn’t come easy after that conversation, and knowing that Andrew was in the house at your own volition didn’t do anything to ease the worry building in your chest. You didn’t know what time it was when you woke up—just that the light leaking through your curtains was soft and gray-blue, the kind that came before sunrise on cloudy mornings. Your pillow was warm. Your body was tired. But something pulled you from sleep. Some shift in the air.

Something was different.

You blinked your eyes open and sat up slowly, the ache in your chest blooming before your thoughts caught up. You glanced at the empty space in your bed. The hallway was quiet. Too quiet.

Then—faintly—voices.

You slipped out of bed barefoot once again, heart ticking fast for reasons you didn’t want to name. The air in the hallway was cool against your skin. You padded toward the stairs, one hand on the railing, every step measured like your body remembered how to be careful in moments like this.

The TV was on.

You crept down, slow and quiet, and paused just before the last step.

And there they were.

Danny curled up on the couch, wrapped in his blue fluffy blanket, head resting against a pillow like he’d done it a hundred times before. And next to him, hunched with his elbows on his knees, was Pope. Quiet, still, eyes trained on the screen—but not really watching.

He looked like he’d been sitting there for hours.

The TV played some old cartoon—one of those early-morning classics with soft colors and slower dialogue. Danny was focused, small smile tugging at his lips. Pope looked like he couldn’t breathe without permission.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Not until Danny mumbled something—“That guy’s mean,”—and Pope gave a little grunt of agreement.

Then his eyes lifted, soft hazel meeting yours.

His whole body tensed like he was about to explain himself, apologize, vanish into the walls. But you didn’t say anything. You just stood there, hand on the railing, heart breaking in slow motion.

“He couldn’t sleep,” Pope said softly. “Said he had a bad dream.”

You nodded, trying to find your voice. “He gets those sometimes.”

“I was coming down to make coffee. He was already up.”

“And you turned on cartoons?” you asked, almost smiling.

Pope looked down, a little sheepish. “Figured it was better than silence.”

You stepped off the last stair, legs slow, body unsure.

Danny caught sight of you and beamed. “He knows all of my shows!.”

“Oh yeah?” You swallowed the lump in your throat. “That’s impressive.”

“He doesn’t know the guy with the stick though.”

Pope gave a small, amused grunt. “I got nothing.”

Danny nodded. “It’s okay.”

You stood behind the couch for a second, arms crossed gently over your chest, watching the two of them. The way Danny had unconsciously scooted closer. The way Pope hadn’t moved a muscle, like shifting might shatter the moment.

You circled around and sat on the arm of the couch, your eyes on your son.

“You okay, baby?”

Danny nodded, rubbing his eye. “I’m not tired.”

“You want breakfast?”

“Not yet,” He leaned against the pillow. “I wanna finish this!”

“Okay bossy pants,” You glanced over at Pope. He was looking at Danny like he was still trying to believe he was real. That this whole thing wasn’t some dream he’d conjured behind a motel curtain.

You lowered your voice.

“How long’ve you been sitting here?”

“A while,” Pope admitted. “Didn’t want to wake you.”

You watched him a second, heart twisting in your chest. He looked more human now. Less like a ghost from your past, but still haunted.

He flicked his eyes toward you, voice quieter. “He’s good. You did good.”

You didn’t say anything for a beat. Then you nodded. “Thanks.”

The cartoon kept playing. The sky outside turned a little lighter, and things almost felt normal—Like the past three years had never happened. 

The cartoon kept playing in the background. The sky outside turned a little lighter, and things almost felt normal—like the past three years had never happened.

You sat in the quiet for a while, watching Danny’s eyelids droop again, little body finally giving in to sleep. His fingers still clutched the edge of his blanket, leaning into Pope, knowing nothing about personal space. 

Andrew hadn’t moved, barely even breathed, like one wrong shift might wake him or make you change your mind.

You turned your eyes to him, quiet. “So… are you planning on coming back?”

He looked at you then, really looked, his eyes tired and soft and full of something that made your chest ache.

“Only if you want me to.”

Your fingers tightened where they rested on the couch cushion. You wanted to say yes. God, part of you wanted to say it too quickly. But the rest—the part that remembered the weight of his family, the danger they lived in, the years you spent trying to keep Danny far away from it all—held you back.

“I don’t know if I can let you back into his life like nothing happened,” you said quietly. “Not after everything. Not if there’s even a chance they’ll pull you under again.”

“I wouldn’t let them,” Pope said. No hesitation. Just that low, steady conviction that used to scare you when it was aimed at other people, one you didn’t know if you could believe. “They don’t get to have that power anymore. Not over me, not over you, and not over him.”

You looked at him for a long moment. And whatever was in his face—grit, sorrow, a promise he hadn’t figured out how to say out loud—felt real.

“I want to believe you,” you whispered. “But I need more than words this time.”

He nodded slowly. “Then I’ll give you more.”

Your eyes fell to Danny, his lashes long against his cheeks, chest rising and falling in soft little breaths.

“You scared me last night,” you said. “But not because I thought you’d hurt us, just… well—I’m sure you get it”

“I do,” Pope murmured. “I get it.”

Another long, aching silence stretched between you. Then he shifted slightly, brushing Danny’s blanket up over his shoulder with a gentleness that shattered something inside you.

“I don’t want to blow this,” he said, eyes still on his son. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.”

You breathed in slow. Let it out slower.

“Okay,” you said. “Then stay for breakfast.”

Pope looked at you, the faintest flicker of relief in his eyes. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Just… don’t make a habit of breaking into my house.”

That earned the tiniest smile. “No promises.”

But the tension had cracked. The ice was melting, slowly. And somewhere in the quiet, cautious hope started to grow. The cartoon shifted to the next episode. The sun crept higher, lighting up the kitchen in soft gold.

And this time, it felt like maybe you wouldn’t be facing the morning alone.

mercvry-glow 2025

[noirscript]

bride of the abyss

Pairing: Yandere Siren x Reader Description: Years after you saved him, Zeiryn returns to drag you beneath the waves—where his love waits, fierce and inescapable. Warning/s: Yandere | Noncon/Dubcon Themes | Kidnapping | Possessive Behavior | Captivity | Obsession | Emotional Manipulation | Mild Violence | Body Morphing/Transformation Note/s: Commissioned on ko-fi! Thabk you for trusting me with your commission! Idk if you've received the email. I hope you enjoy this one! Tags will be added later!

Commissions are still open!

Masterlist | Commission | Tip Jar

The first time you met him, the sun was so high it burned your shoulders through your shirt. Your sandals had long been discarded, the soles of your feet pressed against coarse, grainy sand, warmed by the afternoon heat. Vacation meant freedom, and for you—a curious child with scraped knees and untamed hair—that meant wandering far beyond the adults’ lazy eyes and picnic baskets.

You weren’t supposed to be near the cliffs. The locals had told stories, murmured warnings of tides that dragged unsuspecting feet into the undertow. But you were eight, and warnings slid off your ears like water. You’d chased a crab across slick rocks, nearly slipping once—okay, twice—before rounding a jagged stone formation and stopping short.

A glint of silver caught your eye. At first, you thought it was trash—a bit of foil or an abandoned soda can. Then it moved. Just slightly. Enough to catch the sun and reflect a brilliance so blinding it made your eyes water. You stepped closer, heart thudding, and gasped.

He was tangled in a net.

You didn’t know what he was—some strange fish, perhaps? But then he turned his face to you, and your world cracked open.

He had eyes like the sea after a storm—grey, but not dull. There was depth there. Sorrow. His skin, though damp and streaked with grit, shimmered faintly under the sun. Hair, long and tangled with bits of kelp and shell, framed a face that was almost too lovely for this world. And below the waist…

A tail. Silver-scaled, powerful, twitching weakly with every shallow breath he took.

You froze.

He didn’t speak. He just stared. His lips slightly parted. You noticed the way he held himself, cautious and ready to defend. His hand—webbed and claw-tipped—twitched when you shifted your weight.

“I won’t hurt you,” you said, holding out your hands to show you had nothing. No rocks. No spear. Just your palms, scraped and pink from climbing.

He blinked slowly, suspicious still.

“Are you stuck?” you asked.

No reply. But he didn’t back away when you stepped closer. You knelt beside him, the scent of salt and something sharper—like rotting seaweed baking in the sun—invading your nose. It made your stomach twist. But you pushed it aside and began working at the net.

The knots were tight. You pulled and untangled, ignoring the barnacles slicing your fingertips. Time passed, but neither of you spoke. It wasn’t silence. The waves talked, the seagulls screamed above, and your own breath came hard with effort. Still, it felt sacred—like speaking would shatter something delicate between you.

Eventually, the net slackened.

He let out a sharp sound—surprise? Relief?—and pushed himself forward, dragging the last threads free with a flick of his tail. Then, to your astonishment, he touched your arm. A light brush of damp fingers on your skin. He didn’t say thank you. He didn’t need to. The look in his eyes—raw and electric—said everything.

And then, he was gone. A splash, a spray of saltwater, and silver glimmering beneath the waves.

You never told anyone.

You convinced yourself it was a dream, a fantasy born from too much sun. But you visited that rock again. And again. Just in case.

Years passed. You grew up. He did not fade.

• • — ✦ — • •

Beneath the waves, he remembered everything.

Zeiryn had been young when you saved him, and even then, his mind was unlike the others. While his kin drowned sailors and split hulls for fun, Zeiryn watched the world above with a secret hunger. He had never known mercy—not until you. He thought you were an illusion at first. A sun-struck phantom, kindness shaped like a child.

But you were real. You touched him without fear. You saved him.

And he had never forgotten.

Seasons passed above and below. He grew stronger, his voice deeper, the gift of his lineage blooming in his throat. His tail thickened with muscle, the silver of his scales deepening to something more molten, almost iridescent. His hair, once wild and matted, was now woven with the treasures of the deep—rings of coral, braids of pearl, beads carved from whalebone. He was no longer a drifting child of the tide. He was a leader now.

Yet every dusk, he swam to the same stretch of shore, peering through kelp and coral, waiting for the only face that had ever haunted him.

And then—finally—he saw you.

You stood there, older, but still you. Your eyes held the same wonder, the same distant sadness. He watched from the rocks, heart hammering, the sea rising with every thrum of anticipation. You were holding a bottle. The scent reached him even through the water. Alcohol. Sour and sharp.

You stumbled closer to the edge, barefoot like before. He didn’t understand your tears at first. But when they hit the water, he tasted them.

Bitterness.

He had never tasted sorrow before.

He moved without thinking, cutting through the water with a predator’s grace. When you stepped into the sea—lost, maybe hoping it would take you—he was already there. His arms wrapped around you just before your knees buckled. He caught you. Held you. And for the first time in years, he felt whole again.

He turned to the shore. His eyes, once filled with awe, hardened. There were people there. A town. A world that had allowed you to suffer.

He would never forgive it.

The water closed over your head.

And he took you home.

• • — ✦ — • •

The cold hits you first. It pierces your skin like needles, forcing your eyes open.

Then the pressure—thick and heavy—presses against your chest. You try to gasp and choke instead. The world is liquid. Blurry shapes. Movement. Panic claws through you. You thrash—

Then you notice the shimmer.

Your legs—no. Not legs.

You scream, but no sound comes out. Just bubbles.

The tail is yours. You move, and it moves with you—powerful, golden, alien.

Your lungs don’t ache. You aren’t drowning.

You’re breathing. Underwater.

A presence approaches. You backpedal—awkward, instinctual.

Then he’s there.

The siren.

Older. Towering. Regal in a way that defies language. His eyes widen as you meet his gaze. He reaches for you like a lover, a prayer on his lips without sound.

You float, stunned, your heart racing in your chest.

"You're awake! Welcome home!" he says—somehow, impossibly, the words sliding into your mind like a current. His voice doesn’t echo in your ears. It resonates in your bones. Inside you.

Your lips tremble. “What... what did you do to me?”

He cocks his head, almost confused by the question. “I saved you.”

You glance around. Coral walls. Bioluminescent plants. Faint shadows darting beyond what your eyes can track.

“I didn’t ask to be saved.”

His face falters, just briefly. But then the soft smile returns. “You did, once. When I was dying. You touched me. You gave me your warmth. Your kindness.” He swims closer. “You were the only one who ever did.”

“That was years ago.” You try to back away, but your body is sluggish in this new form. “I was a kid.”

“You remembered me.” His voice is gentle now, like a lullaby. “You returned.”

You shake your head, panicked. “No. I—I was just walking. I didn’t know—”

His hand reaches forward, cupping your cheek. His touch is warm now. Familiar. Like seawater kissed by the sun. “You were hurting. They made you cry. But you don’t have to cry anymore.”

“I want to go back,” you whisper.

“There’s nothing there for you.”

He’s not angry. Not yet. Just... patient. Like he’s waiting for you to understand something you’ve missed.

“You belong here,” he murmurs. “With me.”

You remember the way he looked at you back then—curious and soft. But this is different. There’s devotion in his eyes. A fire born not of gentle affection, but of obsession that has steeped too long.

“You changed me,” you say, voice shaking. You look down at the tail. “How?”

“There’s a pearl,” he says, pointing to your side. You notice now—embedded near your hip is a small, glowing orb, barely visible beneath your skin.

“I couldn’t risk losing you again.”

You turn, frantic now. “No, no, this isn’t right. I can’t—this isn’t real.”

“You are real.” His voice is sharper now. “I dreamed of you so long I thought you were only in my mind. But you’re here. Flesh and spirit. And you’ll never have to suffer again.”

You shake your head. “I’m not your wife.”

Silence.

Then he leans close, his breath warm against your ear even underwater.

“Yet.”

• • — ✦ — • •

Back on the surface, a woman named Marina squints at the shore where she last saw you. She’s a local—grew up with the sea in her lungs and warnings stitched into her grandmother’s lullabies. When she saw you walk into the ocean, something in her gut twisted. She waited hours. You didn’t return.

Now, she’s standing with a fisherman and an old priest, their gazes following the waterline.

“No body,” the man mutters. “Currents here don’t drag far. Should’ve washed up if she drowned.”

“She didn’t drown,” Marina says softly. “She was taken.”

The priest mutters something in an old tongue. The fisherman scoffs.

“By what? Sea spirits? Merfolk?”

“No.” Marina’s eyes don’t leave the water. “A siren.”

“Those don’t exist.”

“They do,” she says. “And if it’s the one I think… she won’t come back.”

And deep beneath the waves, Zeiryn brushes a strand of hair from your face as you lie curled in coral-silk bedding. You’ve cried yourself into a stupor. But your skin is warmer now. The transformation is complete. Soon, you’ll forget what it was like to walk. To speak above the waves. To live without him.

He hums you a song—a melody he’s written over the years, just for you. It wraps around your heart like a net.

You stir in your sleep.

He smiles.

Tomorrow, you’ll love him back.

You have to.

After all… you’re home.

TBC.

noirscript © 2025

Taglist: @hopingtoclearmedschool @violetvase @zanzie @neuvilletteswife4ever @yamekocatt @mel-vaz @vind1cta @greatwitchsongsinger @delusionalricebowl @nomi-candies @jsprien213 @kaii-nana33 @saturnalya @yandereaficionado @pinksaiyans@ivantillenthusiast @missybabes

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Pt III good omens but i STILL SOMEHOW haven't watched it (and i'm increasingly passive aggressive)

i'm now basically held hostage adopted as mascot by this fandom. it's fine i'm fine *SIGNALS FOR HELP DESPERATELY*

Alright fuckers I swear this time I'm going to get some shit right. Without further ado, here's my third attempt at a good omens summary:

Everything everywhere is queer all at once

Angel Aziraphale and demon Crowley on earth likey each other

The car is a bentley and it is BLACK not silver and everyone is very upset about this. my bad yall it was reflecting light therefore i guessed more silver than black but I'm not Anish Kapoor take your black.

Then it is yellow, and aziraphale likes it. crowley preferred the black because he's a flamboyant emo.

God is a deadbeat absentee parent and you are all children of divorce.

There's a naked archangel and they cause problems for the husbands somehow. By being naked? By being an archangel? By being at their doorstep? Who knows not me

They were actually married for 6000 years, they just are the last to know about it.

Crowley is on fire. Like, he's slaying for sure, but also he is literally on fire, like Aziraphale's bookstore.

The actors like I said before are Michael Sheen and David Tennant but this is the place where I finally admit that I don't actually know who is whom. I'm going to assume Michael is Aziraphale because Michael sounds angel-y and David is Crowley because uh Michaelangelo made David and was gay for him.

Terry Pratchett is not fictional.

He co-wrote the book with @neil-gaiman, who IS fictional, because he does not have social media. Several of you have assured me that he is in fact a fandom inside joke. I like to think he would be proud of me.

They adopt a preteen and Crowley gives him bad advice.

At some point a baby was delivered to someone and was exchanged for the son of Satan. Idk if the baby is the preteen, or the son of satan is the preteen, or neither. This could be a fanfic, I have no way of differentiating the fanfic from canon on tumblr, except that the canon is weirder.

Crowley does not go down a chute. He goes down a telephone cord after making himself microscopic to pole dance on a pin with shroom-induced backgrounds.

During this his stage name is Disco Tony. Get it king go slay you're making better life choices than I am tbh.

Aziraphale is a biblically accurate angel, and you have all gone to extensive lengths to prove this to me. I understood nothing, but there you go.

It's all very queer, just like the fandom.

Crowley is a retired demon but he still sins by breaking the speed limit.

They eat at fancy restaurants and bicker but like in a sexual undercurrent way.

Crowley gives Aziraphale a private dance that is not a lap dance, it is an apology dance, but not in a kinky way, until it is.

Their haircuts keep changing and range from 'this is acceptable and gay' to 'i let a drunk chimpanzee take gardening shears and a blowtorch to my hair'

It's all ineffably queer my good fellows

Everyone keeps trying to convince me Neil Gaiman is the villain yeah no guys I know it's really you. Y'all be like 'SEASON TWO BROKE ME' and then you're making headcanons to make it sadder yeah I see you mmhm.

There is a final fifteen. It is sad. What is it? No one told me.

The demon turns goats into crows and the angel turns them back and then children are turned into newts (does the angel turn them back? who cares not yall) and the demon was the snake in the Eden garden and everyone's furry game seems to be on point.

There are a rather lot of children. I have not seen them. But I am assured they are there. They are, guys. I assume they were turned into the alcohol Aziraphale and Crowley drink or something.

There was an apocalypse plotline. It was averted. It is not important. You don't talk about plotlines in this fandom, no sir.

Crowley doesn't want to go to heaven. Aziraphale is sad.

The kiss is not nice, just like this fandom. It is queer, just like this fandom. It is sad and desperate and masochistic, just like this fandom.

Aziraphale doesn't want to stay back with Crowley. Crowley is sad.

Season 2 ends. Fandom is sad.

Everyone's sanity is hinging on the promise of a happy ending in season 3. Good luck guys.

Y'all better appreciate this. I can't even boast to my mother about this legacy of mine, hey mum your son has been held hostage kidnapped inducted into a cult adopted by a fandom he's not part of look he's winning at life.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 I THINK I'VE SEEN THIS LOVE BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai finds himself back at your apartment in the weeks after the conflict with alexander pushkin while you're away in rome, hoping to push away the emptiness consuming him by dragging himself to the one place he's ever felt okay. it's not enough—not when you're not there—but he can't, and won't, ask you to drop everything you're doing to come deal with him and his fucked up head. luckily, he doesn't have to.

(wordcount: 5.8k; fem!reader, sfw, hurt/comfort, dazai depressive episode, implications of him having an eating disorder, mentions of past suicide attempts/self-harm, talks of suicide, dazai struggling with his place in the ada & struggling to find a reason to live, unedited.)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: YAYYYYYYYY ANOTHER AGE 22 FIC!!! this one was rlly ifhasudfhasd idk i liked writing this one. i like getting in deep with dazai's mental health it's therapeutic for me LOL. but i thought this one was a long time coming honestly, dazai's first bad depressive episode since they reunite at 22. wahhhhhh they both love each other so deeply it makes me sick. anyway there's a waterloo reference in here u guys better catch it or ill perish.

Dazai doesn’t know how he got to your apartment. Doesn’t know when he got to your apartment. Doesn’t even know what he’s doing at your apartment. By the time he finally starts to drag himself out of whatever dissociated state he’d been in, the sun has long set and the stars are shining brilliantly outside the windows lining the far side of your room, and he finds himself curled up in a ball in the center of your bed.

The last thing he remembers is that he was at work. He hadn’t slept the night before, or the night before that, or even the night before that, but he’d managed to drag himself into the office two hours late with a stubble he didn’t trust himself to shave, dressed in the same crumpled clothes he wore the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that.

They’re in a disheveled heap on your floor now. Dazai absently takes note of their location near your door and then looks down at himself, realizing that he must’ve changed into a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt when he got here. They’re not one of the ones you keep around for him, that’s for sure—the pants are riding up his calves because they’re too short for him, and the sweatshirt is a bit tight around his shoulders.

It’s a little uncomfortable, but the fact that they smell like you trounces the fact that they don’t fit him properly. He still feels a bit hazy even now that he’s drawn out of his trance, but he manages to drag himself to the top of your bed and shuffle himself beneath your dark sheets, letting his head drop against your pillow, eyes sliding shut as he desperately inhales the familiar lavender and vanilla of your shampoo.

Surrounded by the scent of you, he can almost pretend that the weight of the blankets on him is your arm draped around him as you pull him to your chest. He can almost drive away that cold, empty feeling that’s been consuming him the past few days. He isn���t sure what triggered this—he thinks maybe it’s been looming since you came back to deal with Alexander Pushkin two weeks ago, since he had to come to terms with the fact that you are the enemy now. That things aren’t the same as they used to be, that they’d never be the same as they used to be. 

It’s not you and him (and Chuuya) against the world anymore—ninety percent of the time from now on, it’s going to be him against you (and Chuuya) against the world, and Dazai has never felt so entirely alone. And he shouldn’t because he’s not alone: he has the Agency, but… 

But it’s just not the same.

His eyes flutter back open, and he stares ahead blankly at the windows. His reflection stares back at him, inhuman and incomprehensible; his eyes are dull and hollow and far too black, looking more like they belong on a monster than a man, and his skin looks gaunt and pale, his poor eating habits catching up to him. No wonder Yosano has been so on his ass about nutrition, and Kunikida has been stopping by more often with meals that end up getting thrown out. He looks like a ghoul. A wraith. Ugly and uncanny—his rotted mind and heart finally reflect onto his physical appearance so people can see him for what he really is. A demon. A monster. Something that cannot consider itself human.

He can only draw his eyes away from his reflection when he feels his phone buzz—he would ignore it usually, but it’s a welcome distraction from the haunting image of himself right now. He scrambles, trying to figure out where he’d dropped it, and it’s only when his fingers close around the device that he can finally breathe again.

The screen is too bright when he clicks it on. He grimaces at the light burning his eyes, fumbling to turn down the brightness so he can actually see what’s on the screen. His eyes scan quickly over the notifications—a dozen from Kunikida, a handful from Yosano and Atsushi, and—

And three missed video calls from you.

You must’ve gotten the notification that he was in your apartment—either from the security system or your doorman, but he’s pretty sure that he was careful to avoid the man’s notice and the cameras around the building. He chews on the inside of his cheek as his finger hovers over the call-back button, unsure if he wants to even call you back. You’re busy, surely—you’re back in Italy dealing with Port Mafia business, and it should be almost the evening there. You have more important things to be doing than dealing with his fucked up brain.

Still, his finger betrays him, pressing down on the screen before he can stop himself. The dial tone rings in his ears, each second stretching endlessly, anticipation curling in his chest. He braces himself for your voicemail, for the impersonal automated message to remind him that you’re too far away, too unreachable. But then—

“Dazai?” 

Your voice is soft, slightly breathless, like you hadn’t expected him to call back so soon. He swallows, throat painfully tightening at the sound of you, unable to look down at his phone. For a moment, he can’t bring himself to say anything. The lump in his throat is just too big for him to force his voice past it.

“Hi,” he finally whispers. His eyes rake over your face greedily, and he’s grateful that he video-called you back. You look beautiful—always do, he thinks wistfully—but even more so today. You’re dressed pretty, lips painted red, and eyes all done up; you must be at an event because he can tell that you’re not wearing the suit you usually wear. He can see the straps of your dress, just barely visible in the camera. “You look pretty.”

“Hi,” you reply, matching his tone. “Are you okay?”

He exhales shakily, forcing himself to play his part. “Of course, bella,” he says, injecting as much of his usual teasing lilt into his voice as he can manage. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You don’t buy it. He knows you don’t. You never have.

There’s a pause on your end, filled only by the faint sound of movement, a rustle of fabric, and a muffled voice calling your name. A male voice. Dazai’s fingers tighten around the fabric of your sheets. He hates the ugly feeling that curls in his gut. 

Your voice softens as you finally say, “You’re in my apartment.”

“... No,” Dazai lies after a few seconds, turning on his side to curl into himself. “Are you at an event?” 

“Yeah,” you agree, eyes flitting to the side to give someone off-screen a small, dismissive smile. “I’m with Tolstoy and Goldoni at a dinner. We’re meeting with a representative of the Church later—we’re trying to figure out who exactly Fyodor Dostoevsky is. Goldoni invited Tolstoy and me to Vatican City because he thought the Church might have information that could be of use to us.”

“Sounds important,” he says quietly, and he hates how small his voice comes out.

The corners of your lips soften as you look at him, and Dazai is suddenly very acutely aware of how ghoulish he must look. He almost wants to turn the camera away from his face, but he knows that’ll only bring more attention to it.

“Not more important than you,” you tell him, and for a second, Dazai thinks he might cry, all of the tension in his chest loosening at your words. “I would rather be there with you.”

“Me too,” Dazai breathes out, lashes wet and fluttering as he turns his face out of view of the camera, wiping his eyes furiously. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t usually let it get to me like this. I just—”

“Don’t you think that's probably why?” you ask him softly. Dazai’s throat tightens painfully—if his eyes slide shut, he can almost imagine your fingers threading through his hair as you speak. “It’s Thursday there, right? Are you going to work in the morning?”

Dazai peeks up from the pillow curiously, wondering why you changed the subject so quickly. He bites his bottom lip, wondering if this is your way of asking him to leave. “I—I don’t know. Probably not. I can, I guess—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt immediately, and he looks at you again, waiting for you to continue. “I’ll be back Saturday night, wait for me?” 

“If you insist,” he rasps, still a bit drowsy, barely able to hold his eyes open as he looks at the screen. He sees you smile lightly, and that’s worth the burn in his eyes that the light of the screen causes. “Are you leaving?” 

You pause, and he sees you look back at where he assumes the rest of the people attending the dinner are sitting, and Dazai’s heart sinks. His chapped lips part to tell you that he’s fine, to crack a joke or flirt with you just enough to convince you that he’ll be okay if you go, but all he’s able to do is take in a ragged breath.

“I can stay on the phone,” you offer. “I won’t be able to talk, but I’ll be here, at least.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

He doesn’t hear you immediately standing up, so he cracks an eye open to see what you’re doing, and his mouth dries when he sees you staring at the screen with an indecipherable expression. You look like you want to say something, but Dazai can’t fathom what it might be. After what feels like an eternity, your head finally drops a little.

“Try to sleep,” you murmur before he hears you rise to your feet.

You don’t say anything else to him, but you don’t hang up either. Dazai listens as you walk back into the dining hall and laugh when Leo Tolstoy accuses you of trying to ditch them. He hears you apologize and tell them that you had to take an important call. He listens as Goldoni chuckles and teases you about a ‘mysterious lover,’ and he listens as you brush it off with a laugh, but you don’t deny it.

Dazai closes his eyes again, listening to the distant hum of your voice, the way you navigate the conversation so effortlessly, the way you sound so at home in a world that no longer includes him. He hates it. Dazai has regretted his decision to leave the Port Mafia before, but never more than now. He feels so separate from you, the two of you are living in entirely different worlds now, and he just hates it. He’s not good at saving people, he’s not good at being good at all, and it’s so exhausting pretending to be—he’ll never fully fit in with the rest of the Agency, and now he doesn’t fully fit in with the one person who has always accepted him for him, and it’s because of his own doing.

Eventually, his eyelids grow heavy as exhaustion finally catches up to him. He barely registers the moment his grip on his phone loosens, nor does he notice when the tension starts to seep from his muscles. The last thing he thinks he hears before sleep claims him is the sound of you excusing yourself from the table and the soft whisper of his name as if checking to see if he’s still there.

And then, silence. For the first time in what feels like forever, Dazai sleeps.

---

You’re not entirely sure if Dazai will still be there when you get back to your apartment. You don’t even bother going to talk to Mori, even though you know you should be heading to his office immediately to debrief everything you learned from Goldoni about Dostoevsky. You won’t be able to focus until you know Dazai is okay—you know that look in his eyes more intimately than anyone else. The first time you saw it, you found him on the roof of your building, swaying precariously on the edge, and the last time, you found him slumped over in your bathroom with a razor blade.

You drop your suitcase haphazardly on the ground, glancing down the hall to his bedroom, but your gut screams to go up to your room, so you place the food you grabbed on the way back down on the table and take off up the steps to your bedroom. The door is open, and you slow to a stop when you see a small lump curled up beneath your dark sheets.

You exhale softly, a fond smile curling onto the corners of your lips as you slip your shoes off and make your way over to him. 

You climb on top of the bed, careful not to disturb him, and you pull the sheets back just enough so that you can see his head. He looks at peace—fast asleep, his phone resting next to his head as he lets out even puffs of air. You let the call finally drop when you got up to your apartment, so you take his phone to rest it on the nightstand before turning your attention back onto him.

You lift your hand to run your fingers through his hair, watching as he lets out a soft noise in the back of his throat before leaning into your touch. He’s been sleeping since you got on the call with him over twenty-four hours ago, and there are still dark bags beneath his eyes. You don’t want to wake him up, but you know him and you know he probably hasn’t eaten in days.

Maybe more than that, you grimace, fingers tracing over his face. He’s lost weight, you know that just by looking at him—his cheeks are a bit sunken, and even though he’s wrapped in your blankets, you can see how thin his frame is. Dazai has never been bulky, but he’s always been lean and toned—now, he seems almost frail beneath the blankets. You swallow thickly as you lean down to brush your lips against his temple, watching as he slowly stirs awake.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper, still brushing your fingers through his hair as his hazy gaze slowly focuses on you. The pet name rolls off your tongue easily in spite of the fact that you haven’t used it in years—it’s reserved for Dazai, and it’s specifically reserved for moments like these.  “You awake?”

Dazai doesn’t respond. You don’t really expect him to. Your hand slides from his hair to cup his face, running your thumb over his cheekbone. He leans into your touch instinctively, and you can see his lashes start to flutter shut again.

“I brought food,” you tell him quietly as you shift to lay down next to him, slipping an arm around his thin waist to spoon him. You kiss his shoulder blade before nuzzling your face in the nape of his neck. “You should come eat.”

He needs to shower too, you think absently, but you have a feeling that’s going to be more difficult to convince him to do than eat. You can see the bandages on his neck yellowed and frayed at the edges—he probably hasn’t changed them in a concerning amount of time—and his hair is oily and greasy, all of the usual fluff gone. 

“I’m not hungry,” he murmurs. 

His voice is hoarse, a little over a rasp. You make sure to keep your arm around him as you prop yourself up on your other elbow, looking over him to catch him staring blankly into his reflection in the window. His eyes are dark—too dark and too empty, which means his mind has retreated back into a bad place. 

You press your lips together before coming to a decision. You take your arm from around his waist to lift it to his head, wriggling your hand under his cheek to forcibly turn his head up to the ceiling. His whole body falls onto his back when you succeed, and you catch a hint of displeasure in his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling—better than the emptiness. You don’t think he was doing himself any favors staring at himself like that. He’s never liked his own reflection.

“I brought your favorite,” you tempt, sitting up so that you’re kneeling next to him. You pull one of his hands into your lap, using your index finger to trace the lines on his palm and each of his fingers. “Come have a little.”

His expression softens as he looks down at where you’re tracing his hands. He asks quietly, “You brought crab?”

“Good crab,” you confirm. “From the rooftop restaurant in Naka that you like.”

He blinks. “They’re not open this late.”

You give him a smug grin and tell him, “They’re always open for me.”

He doesn’t roll his eyes, but he almost does from the way he side-eyes you. “You sound like Chuuya,” he mutters.

You ignore the insult and say, “Come eat.”

What little energy he mustered fades as his gaze shifts back to the ceiling. “I don’t want to move,” he whispers, voice little over a breath.

I can’t move, he’s really saying. His throat bobs as his eyes slide shut, and you let out a soft breath, lifting your free hand to caress his face as you lean down to press your lips gently to his forehead, tracing them over the bridge of his nose before brushing them against his.

“I’ll bring it to you,” you say quietly, shifting to get up off the bed, but you pause when he reaches out to grab your wrist. His grip is weak, fingers clinging to your suit jacket desperately, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed him grabbing for you if you hadn’t seen him move. “What is it?”

“Stay.”

“I’m not going far,” you tell him. “Just down the steps—”

“Stay,” he rasps out, opening his eyes to look at you again, and you freeze when you see the glassiness in them. “Please.”

“Okay,” you agree, shifting to lay with him again. Usually, he’ll curl into you when you guys lay together, but he stays flat on his back staring up at the ceiling. You lift your hand to turn his head to the side so he’s looking at you, and your heart clenches when you see the pain plainly visible in his eyes.

You don’t have to ask the question. Dazai’s lashes flutter shut, wet with tears he’s not letting roll over his cheeks. You run your finger over his cheekbone again, drawing small circles against his skin as you caress his face.

“I’m so tired,” he breathes out, voice hoarse. “I’m so tired. I’ve done everything he wanted, but nothing has changed. I still feel so empty, I still don’t belong there. I thought maybe once I started doing what he asked, I would change, I’d be better, I’d be good. Happier. But I still feel the same. I still want to die. I’m still me.” 

You inhale shakily. For as much as you’ve always known about Dazai’s unending yearning for death, he’s never actually explicitly said it out loud before, at least not to you. For a moment, your thumb pauses in the steady circles you’re drawing against his cheek, but you force yourself to speak. 

“You can’t live for someone else, Osamu,” you whisper, voice cracking. “You need to find a reason for yourself.”

“But what if I don’t have one?” Dazai asks, a ragged noise escapes his lips—a sob or an inhale, maybe both. His fingers are trembling in your hand; you think maybe you were wrong. Dazai doesn’t want to die, not really; he wants a reason to live desperately, but can’t find one, and without one, he doesn’t see the point in going on. “What if I don’t have one?”

“Then I’ll help you find one,” you say softly, your voice steady in spite of the tremor that runs through you. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you. We’ll figure it out together, you’re not alone. You’ve never been alone.”

Your hand slips off of his face when Dazai turns his head away, breath hitching, but you feel the tears finally start to roll over his cheeks as your hand drops to the mattress.

“But why?” he breathes out, voice wavering. “Why? I don’t understand.”

“Why what?”

“Why are you here? Why are you helping me? I left you, I left you and didn’t even say goodbye, and as soon as I came crawling back into your life, you let me. I know you left Rome early to come check on me. You never leave right after events, you wait a few days until the politics of it dies down.” His voice is pitched. Wobbly. It cracks over every other word, and he becomes more and more distressed with each passing second. “I don’t understand. I wasn’t even—I wasn’t even good to you back then. I couldn’t commit to you, and even when I did commit to you, I was still making things hard. I don’t understand why you’re here, why you’re with me when I only ever make life harder on you, I don’t deserve it. I—”

“Because I love you,” you tell him, sitting up to take his face in both of your hands to force him to look at you. The three words you never spoke before he left because you were afraid it would make him run, the three words you didn’t say back when they slipped from his mouth in the haze of pleasure, the three words the two of you have been dancing around for six years. He stares up at you, frozen, brown eyes wide and lips parted. “I love you, Osamu. I love you so much that it makes me sick sometimes. I love you even when you make things hard, I love you even when you run, even when you push me away, even when you disappear without a word and make me wonder if I’ll ever see you again. And I hate that I do sometimes, I really do—you drive me insane, but I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything.”

His lips part, but no words come out. His hands are trembling, but his grip finally tightens on yours. His chest rises and falls in short, uneven breaths, and you carefully pull him into your arms. He instinctively curls into you, resting his head on your shoulder; you bring your free hand up to cradle his head, fingers tightening around his other hand.

“I left Rome early because I knew you needed me to,” you continue. “And I didn’t want to wait for you to ask, because I knew you’d never.”

His breath hitches. “I just don’t understand. I—”

“You don’t need to understand, Osamu,” you tell him quietly. “You just need to let me love you.”

“I don’t know how to be loved like this,” he whispers. “I’m going to mess it all up.”

“Then we’ll fix it again,” you promise, kissing the top of his head. “We have the rest of our lives for you to learn, yeah?” 

Dazai’s nose brushes your jaw as he shifts his head to look up at you, and you let your head fall to the side so that you can look at him. His eyes are swimming with emotion as he lifts his hand to your face—his fingers tremble as they brush your skin.

“I love you too,” he says softly, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly. It’s different hearing it now when he’s not drunk with pleasure, when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him. It makes your throat swell, makes your eyes wet and glassy. “So much. It gets me so twisted up inside that I can barely breathe. I thought of you every day we were apart. It drove me crazy—you don’t understand, I saw you around every corner, I heard your voice in the wind. I dreamed of you every night, and I hated waking up because I knew you wouldn’t be there. When I heard—when I heard you were sent abroad, I went back to your apartment—”

Your eyes widen, and Dazai buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I thought I would feel better. Your apartment—it’s always where I’ve felt… okay,” he continues, voice muffled against your skin, “but it made me feel so much worse. I’ve felt so guilty over leaving you without saying anything. It’s been eating me alive for years and—”

“It’s okay,” you whisper when his voice breaks into a sob. “It’s okay. I understand now. I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupts, voice rising in pitch as he forces himself to sit up to look at you. You sit up with him—his pupils are dilated, eyes wild, and he’s no longer trying to hold back the tears. “It’s not okay. I hurt you, I left you. It hadn’t even been a year since Itou died, and I knew you weren’t okay even though you pretended to be. You needed me and I left you. And—”

“And I forgive you, Osamu,” you tell him, reaching forward to grab his shaking hands again. It scares you how much you realize you mean it—you don’t think the resentment will ever fully go away, but you do forgive him. “I forgive you for leaving. I’m glad you left, I’m glad you got out of there, I’m glad you’re with the Agency. Of course I’ll always be sad that we’re not working together anymore, but we’re still us, we still have each other and that’s what matters.”

“But—” he starts to whisper, nails digging deep into the skin of your hands, but you don’t pull away.

“There is no ‘but’,” you say quietly. “I know you can’t see it yourself, Osamu, but I do. You have changed since you’ve been with them. You’ve changed for the better. I knew it the moment we first saw each other after all those years, and I know it now.”

“Then why do I still feel this way?” he breathes out desperately, looking to you for an answer. “I don’t understand.”  

“You’re not just going to suddenly wake up one day and feel okay,” you say with a wry smile, reaching out to caress his cheek. “That’s not how it works. But you’re doing good, Osamu. You are good. If the me from four years ago met the you now, I would never believe that you’re my Osamu—you haven’t let yourself see how far you’ve come, but before we met in my office, the last I remembered of you was when you were an executive, so I can see it better than anyone. The boy I knew four years ago is not the same man sitting in front of me today. I forgive you for leaving because it makes me happy to see who you’ve become since you’ve been gone. I’m proud of you, Osamu—and I know he would be too.”

Dazai grits his teeth to hold back another sob, head hanging forward. You shift toward him to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

“I hate that you always know what to say,” he mutters, fingers digging into the back of your suit jacket as he clings to you.

“Well, it is kind of my job,” you say dryly, lips curling up when he lets out a puff of air that you can only assume is amusement. 

“What about you?” he finally asks. You barely hear him since he’s speaking so quietly. “You could leave too. You could come with me. You could be good too—we could learn together.”

“Osamu—”

“You could,” he insists before you reject him, sitting back on his heels to look at you. “You could—”

“I don’t want to,” you tell him firmly, watching as his shoulders slump. “I’m not like you, or even Chuuya. You never enjoyed being in the mafia—you were the most successful executive we had, and you just didn’t care. You were only there because you were trying to find a way to spend your time. And Chuuya, he’ll always do what needs to be done to protect the city—he knows that sometimes you need to do bad things for the greater good, but he doesn’t like it.”

“And you?” he asks quietly.

“I love it,” you admit, swallowing thickly. “I don’t give a shit about the city, or the people, I like the money and I like the power and I like the fear and the respect and the love. I like having the most powerful men in the world in the palm of my hand, and I like knowing that if I wanted to, they would kill for me, die for me, start wars for me. I like that when I walk into a room with the Prime Minister, he’ll walk up to me for my attention. I like being wined and dined in foreign countries because all of their politicians and oligarchs want my favor. I love being with Port Mafia, Osamu. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to be good.”

You don’t expect Dazai to laugh, but he does. He barks out something caught between a sob and a laugh, pressing his hand to his mouth to smother it.

“And what does it say about me that you saying all of that made me hard?” he chokes out between either sobs or laughs, maybe both.

Your hand flies to your mouth to smother your giggle, but it’s to no avail, because when Dazai snorts, you can’t hold it back anymore. He leans into you as he bursts into laughter, and you press your face into the top of his head, burying your face in his hair as you giggle, absently wiping away the tears streaming down his cheeks.

When he finally starts to calm down, hysterical laughter becoming soft giggles, he lets out a heavy sigh. His lashes are still wet against the skin of your neck, and he’s still upset, but his shoulders aren’t tense anymore as he sinks into you.

“If you really think I’ve changed,” he asks, voice too small, “then how do you know you still love me?”

“Because you’re Dazai Osamu,” you answer instantly. “I’ll always love you—whether you’ve changed for the better or worse, I’m yours, and you’re mine. You changing just means I get the chance to fall in love with you all over again.”

A noise slips from his lips—you can’t tell if it’s a soft ‘oh’ or a gasp, but his arms tighten around you. After a few moments, he lets out a breathy, “I love you.”

You kiss the top of his head in response, running your hand up and down his spine absently before he finally lets out a heavy sigh and sits back on his heels to look at you. His eyes are heavy, and his smile is sad.

“Mori wants me back,” he says quietly after a moment. You inhale sharply, heart sinking as your hands drop back to your lap. “He’s mentioned it twice now. And you said it yourself, when he wants something—”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” you say firmly, reaching out to squeeze his hand. “I’ll handle it.”

“But—”

“Seriously, Osamu,” you say, and then add teasingly, “Don’t you still trust me? Didn’t you once say body, heart, soul, and trust?”

Dazai’s face instantly heats up. He rips his hand from yours to bury his face in his hands, letting out a long groan. “Can you not repeat all the embarrassing things I said when we were younger?”

“Please,” you laugh. “You don’t think me and Chuuya stopped re-enacting the ‘that’s why I love you’ just because you left, do you?”

“Oh my god,” he complains, falling over onto the bed to press his face into your pillow. You only barely catch the muffled, “I’m going to smother myself, and it’s on you.”

You laugh and shift to drape yourself over his back, kissing his shoulder blade before resting your head down on his back, drawing patterns on his back. “Anyway, I thought that one was cute, not embarrassing.”

Dazai only lets out an irritated grumble that makes you smile. 

“Ah, sweet hime, I’m going to have to disappear again for a few days after this one,” he sighs, turning his head to the side to look at you from the corner of his eye. You shimmy up a bit to press your lips to his cheek, watching his eyes flutter shut. “This is all just too embarrassing. You know how I feel about… talking and emotions.”

You can hear the disgust dripping from his words, and you laugh. “Tell that to someone who hasn’t had to talk you off the edge of a roof or wrestle you for a razor blade.”

His lips curl up into a soft smile. 

“Fair,” he whispers. 

You bite back a yelp when he suddenly rolls onto his back, hands darting out to shift you so that you’re lying on his chest instead. He reaches up to cup your cheek, and you let out a quiet breath when your eyes meet his. They’re still a bit too fragile for your liking, but there’s a peace that you’ve hardly ever seen before in them, and it makes your heart warm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he admits, running his thumb over your cheekbone, staring at your face like he’s trying to burn it into his memory. “Please don’t ever go somewhere I can’t follow.”

“Somewhere without you?” you tease. “Sounds dreadful.”

He lets out a laugh, but there’s something sad that lingers in his eyes, and it makes you pause. You remember the words he said to you after the near-successful assassination attempt on you four years ago—everything I never want to lose is always lost, I’m so scared that you’ll be next.

“You won’t ever lose me, Osamu,” you promise.

Dazai’s gaze lowers. “I hope not.”

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Spice Up Your Life

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: max verstappen x fem!beckham!model!reader

♥ synopsis: you’re the daughter of victoria and david beckham. ginger spice, aka geri halliwell and the wife of red bull principal was in a pop group with your mom, allowing you to visit the paddock frequently and meet the one and only max verstappen.

♥ smau - fc: isabelle mathers + girls on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: ft. a few familiar footballers and no horner

-August 2024-

liked by victoriabeckham, davidbeckham, maxverstappen1, and 584,603 more

ynbeckham home sweet home

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judebellingham i’ll let the united kit slide for now

ynbeckham 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👨

user7 i need more judeyn content

k.mbappe @/ynbeckham your dad played for madrid too you know

ynbeckham @/k.mbappe yea i know

vinijr damn 😐

ynbeckham i love you guys I swear 🫶

manchesterunited welcome back

ynbeckham let’s start the season strong 💪

user1 she is her

user6 let’s go man u girlies

user2 stop it why is @/maxverstappen in her likes?

user3 because he has good taste?

user5 i’ve seen yn at madrid games sitting next to carlos so maybe max has seen her 🤷‍♀️

user7 @/user5 it’s that versainz influence

liked by maxverstappen1, realmadrid, davidbeckham, and 483,549 more

ynbeckham madrid

tagged; @/judebellingham

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erling awh she even wore your kit

judebellingham i know 😍

user1 bet max wishes she was wearing his number lol

carlossainz55 @/ynbeckham i knew you’d come around eventually

ynbeckham peer pressure

realmadrid @/ynbeckham you love us

ynbeckham @/realmadrid i do 😔

user2 i LOVED seeing david & victoria there with yn

user3 right! it was so sweet

user4 the way they were cheering on jude too 🥹

user5 idk anything about the judeyn lore…

user4 @/user5 i gotchu! with davud being who he is yn had immediate connections to the world of football. madrid and united are the two teams most people know him from so yn quickly made friends with a lot of the players like jude!

maxverstappen1 feels like everyone was there except me 😅

ynbeckham you didn’t miss out on too much but you should totally come down to the pitch one day 🙃

maxverstappen1 @/ynbeckham maybe i can just invite you over to the paddock this weekend?

ynbeckham @/maxverstappen1 ill check my schedule

user7 SMOOTH

user8 stop it did max just pick up yn in her comment section 😭

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You pulled an already opened white envelope from your counter and spoke directly to your phone, which was recording you.

"I'm sure we've all seen the Max comments, everyone was raving about it. What I want to know is... who told her?" you pointed at the camera, sunlight reflecting off of the charms on your nails.

"I got this letter from Geri with a Red Bull paddock pass inside," you stated, pulling the lanyard out of the envelope. You flipped the pass ID over to show the camera up close, "Valid for: All Days."

You stepped back from the camera with a knowing look on your face, putting your hands on your hips.

You tilted your head, "I guess I'll see you in Monza."

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yns insta story

liked by landonorris, davidbeckham, judebellingham, and 249,785 more

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user1 she wasn’t joking 😭 she’s actually in monza

user2 whatever max wants max gets

davidbeckham i’ll be in the mercedes garage if you need me x

ynbeckham ok 🙂↕️

redbullracing @/davidbeckham you won’t be joining us?

davidbeckham @/redbullracing maybe i’d join you if i had a valid pass like yn

redbullracing 😬

user3 THEY DIDNT EVEN GIVE HIM PASSES HAHAHAHDJDJD

user5 no fucking wonder he’s hanging out at mclaren and mercedes 😭

user7 gonna need someone out there to record her and max's meeting tbh

gerihalliwell glad to see you put the paddock pass to use! can't wait to see @/victoriabeckham in Vegas <3

♡ by ynbeckham and victoriabeckham

user9 you couldn't get david passes too?

gerihalliwell I got 2 to give away... my hands are tied

user12 double it and give it to the next disgruntled dad

user8 lets go spice girls vegas reunion

user10 if they're gonna make vegas a whole thing we might as well have geri and victoria sing like they did in '97 for the mclaren car launch

user14 the f1 spice girls lore runs so deep

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-Post Race Interview-

”Max how did you feel about your race today?”

“Uhm,” he scratched his head. “Definitely could have done better, the car could’ve been better, but you know congrats to Charles.”

“I saw the Beckhams in the paddock today. How do you feel about Y/n cheering you on in your garage today?”

“It felt great you know? I’ve always wanted to meet her and her family. I’ve talked to two of the spice girls now so we’re getting close to crossing that off the bucket list.” he laughed. 

”Alright, thank you Max,” the interviewer said and he walked off.

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liked by charlesleclerc, scuderiaferrari, maxverstappen1, and 974,635 more

ynbeckham adorando il mio tempo qui in Italia 🇮🇹 @/charlesleclerc congrats on the win, i know tifosi is proud !! @/maxverstappen1 it was truly great to meet you, i hope we run into each other again soon <3

translation: adoring my time here in italy

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redbullracing we were glad to have you in the paddock yn!

ynbeckham thank you so much for having me <3

judebellingham you better invite me next time

redbullracing @/judebellingham i’ll try my best to🫡

k.mbappe @/redbullracing if you invite him you have to invite the whole team otherwise it’s just unfair

redbullracing it’s just an inchident

user1 oh and you just know max is shaking right now

charles_leclerc he dropped his phone

maxverstappen1 @/charles_leclerc delete this

user2 seems like max won’t be following charles on insta any time soon

user3 i loved seeing her in the paddock today! i don’t think i’ve seen her at any events other than for modeling or footy

user5 hopefully she’ll keep coming back

scuderiaferrari tifosi is definitely proud of charles! i’m sure they’d be happy to see you one day in our garage @/ynbeckham 😉

ynbeckham admin 🤭

redbullracing @/scuderiaferrari stop trying to steal our new mascot you already have leo and now roscoe

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ynbeckham getting ready for the versace runway

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bellahadid cant wait to see you walk ❤️

judebellingham still upset I wasnt invited but whatever

k.mbappe yeah get in line

user1 you are SO stunning

maxverstappen1 can't wait to see you

ynbeckham 🫶

user2 wait a damn minute max is gonna be there?

user3 or does he just mean see her again in general lmao 😭

user2 @/user3 why would he mean that?

user3 @/user2 I dunno he posts comments like they're private texts

user7 why are we not freaking out over the heart yn posted

user6 maxyn crumbs

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✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by donatella_versace, judebellingham, landonorris, and 2,842,473 more

versace a collection unapologetically positive and authentically Very Versace…

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ynbeckham it was an absolute honor <3

francisca.cgomes you looked stunning 😘

ynbeckham thank you kika 💋

user8 the three of them ate the runway up

landonorris hire me next

ynbeckham I think max would make the perfect model 😍

landonorris ...

user2 shes whipped for him

user3 is she wrong tho

gigihadid great to see you again Lewis <3 its been a long time

♡ by lewishamilton

user7 hang on let them cook

user12 yns dress >>

user5 lewis is completing his side quests rn

judebellingham our girl walked a runway 🥹

vinjir shes all grown up

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yns insta story

liked by gigihadid, judebellingham, k.mbappe, and 563,493 more

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ynbeckham GUESS WHO HAS A DATE

judebellingham it was about time

user1 whoever it is wife her up

carlossainz55 if i’m the date does that mean we get to go to a madrid game

ynbeckham @/carlossainz55 wow using me for clout much

maxverstappen @/ynbeckham @/carlossainz55 couldn’t be me

user2 MAX 😭

user3 max is putting in the WORK

user5 wait a minute does this mean her date is not max?

user7 wdym?

user5 he didn’t like the post and sure he commented but certainly he wouldn’t still be trying to put moves on her is they were already going out…

user6 @/user5 you better be lying 😭

user10 NO please I need maxyn

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri, and 1,539,094 more

maxverstappen1 a much needed vacation before vegas

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user1 max blink twice if you need help 😰

user2 i’m really starting to lose hope in maxyn

user3 why was he at versace then?

user4 i dunno having the seven time world champ and the two current champ contenders there is good for business maybe?

user5 yn is still going to vegas tho

user6 she could just be going there for her mom and geri

user7 guys..

user10 no please they were just flirting in comments like two days ago

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liked by redbullracing, brookylnpeltzbeckham, gerihalliwell, and 1,745,952 more

ynbeckham it’s race weekend! how are we feeling?

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manchesterunited feeling like you abandoned us :/

user10 i can’t believe she’s missing united vs city for this 😔

ynbeckham i have to support my man this comment has been deleted

user1 yn we need a vegas vlog 😩

user2 spice girls reunion go crazy in the chat

gigihadid i’ll see you again soon <3

ynbeckham <3

judebellingham wish i could be there

ynbeckham call me when your season is over

user3 judeyn…

user7 guys what if she’s dating jude

judebellingham @/user7 i can confidently say she’s not

user7 @/judebellingham but what if that’s a cover up 🫣

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liked by redbullracing, ynbeckham, charles_leclerc, and 3,493,595 more

f1 for the second time in a row max vestappen has won the vegas grand prix

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ynbeckham @/maxverstappen1 i’m so proud of you. love you so much ❤️

♡ by maxverstappen1

user3 MAXYN IS REAL

user7 i just dropped my phone

user10 i fell to the ground

user4 this is what we’ve been waiting for

user7 congratulations max 🫶

ynbeckham DU DU DU DU MAX VERSTAPPEN

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max’s insta story

liked by ynbeckham, charles_leclerc, judebellingham, and 1,843,950 more

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francisca.cgomes you two are so cute together 🥹

user1 stop it they’re so adorable

user2 david is being awfully calm right now lol

alexandrasaintmleux we should double date

ynbeckham we’re so there!

ynbeckham love you so much

maxverstappen1 i love you more

liked by bellahadid, haileybieber, victoriabecham, and 2,953,290 more

voguemagazine yn beckham to be on the cover of british vogue

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bellahadid congrats on your first cover i’m so proud 🥹

ynbeckham thank you bella 🫶

user1 she is SO beautiful

rhode come model for us 😍

ynbeckham just say when

user2 your favorite nepo baby’s favorite nepo baby

maxverstappen1 buying every printed issue right now ❤️

ynbeckham stop im blushing 🤭