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lupinqs · 2 days ago

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CHAPTER TWELVE ━━ Worried About You

❀ ━ pairing: paige bueckers x oc (jo jacobson)

❀ ━ word count: 5.9K

❀ ━ warnings: mentions of unhealthy eating habits

❀ ━ links: my masterlist, nobody gets me masterlist

❀ ━ author’s note: so many fun things to come without that boy in the way

MORNING COMES too soon for Jo, pulling her from the deep, restless sleep she finally fell into. At first, she doesn’t open her eyes. She just lies there, warm and still, trying to cling to the hazy edges of unconsciousness. It’s better there. There, she doesn’t have to think. But then she shifts slightly and feels the unmistakable weight of an arm draped over her waist, a steady warmth pressed against her back.

For a fleeting second, in the soft, blurry quiet of waking up, her brain wants to think it’s Asher. That maybe last night was some awful, vivid nightmare, and she’ll roll over and find him there, smiling at her like everything is fine and he didn’t throw the last five—or, really, nineteen—years of their lives away. But then her thoughts sharpen, reality settling like a stone in her chest, and she remembers everything.

It’s not Asher’s arm around her. It’s Paige’s.

Her heart feels heavy all over again, sinking with the weight of the truth. Asher cheated. Since September. Three months of doing God-knows-what with that Brooke girl.

Her throat tightens, and she squeezes her eyes shut, willing the tears to stay put. She cried enough last night. Too much, probably. And Paige—God, Paige—was there for all of it. Patient and kind, not saying much but doing everything Jo needed, like pulling her back together without even trying.

Jo takes a deep breath, feeling it rattle deep in her ribs. Slowly, she turns in Paige’s arms until she’s facing her. The room is dim, the light from the window covered by the blanket Paige always keeps over it. Paige is awake, or mostly awake, blinking sleepily at her. Her blonde hair is a little messy, sticking up at certain edges, and her face is soft and unguarded.

When Paige notices Jo looking at her, a soft smile tugs at her lips. She reaches out, her hand brushing some hair away from Jo’s face with a gentle touch. Jo leans into it a little. “Hey,” Paige murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.

Jo forces a small smile of her own. It’s weak, but it’s something. “Hey,” she whispers back.

They fall quiet again. Jo doesn’t know what to say, and Paige doesn’t seem in a rush to fill the silence. Paige’s arm is still wrapped around Jo’s waist, and the younger girl finds herself wanting to be even closer. It just—it feels good, being held like this. Comforting. Safe. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting herself sink into Paige’s warmth.

It’s not like Asher’s. Asher’s arms always felt solid, familiar, but Paige’s—Paige’s feel different. Softer, somehow, though still firm with muscle. Not worse, just… different. And maybe Jo likes it more than she should.

Her mind keeps circling back to everything that happened, no matter how much she wants it to stop. The fight. The crushing, suffocating betrayal. The excuses. Jo’s loved Asher for so long, she doesn’t even know how to think of herself without him. It’s always been them. People used to say they were inevitable, like something out of a movie. It feels like a joke now.

Her fingers tighten slightly around Bubbles, the stuffed turtle Paige had thought to grab for her last night. Jo had clung to it like a lifeline, the soft fabric soaked with tears by the time she’d finally fallen asleep. Paige hadn’t let go of her the entire night. She didn’t even flinch when Jo’s sobs soaked her shirt.

Paige shifts slightly, pulling Jo closer, her hand still resting lightly on Jo’s side. It’s like Paige knows Jo needs this without needing to be told. She always does. Jo doesn’t know how she does it, how Paige seems to understand her better than anyone else.

Paige’s thumb moves absentmindedly over the fabric of Jo’s shirt, a small, soothing motion that Jo finds herself focusing on. It’s helps to pull her away from the spiral of her thoughts a little. She lets out a slow breath, her body relaxing just slightly more against Paige’s.

“Thanks for dealing with me,” Jo whispers after a while.

Paige’s hand stills for a moment, and then she squeezes Jo’s side gently. “You’re not something that has to be dealt with, Jo,” she says slowly, voice soft but steady. “I’mma always be here for you, ’kay?”

Jo’s chest tightens again, but this time it’s not entirely from sadness. She doesn’t have the words to explain how much that means to her, how much Paige means to her. So she doesn’t try. She just shifts a little closer, letting her head rest against Paige’s shoulder. Paige doesn’t say anything else, and Jo appreciates that.

Jo isn’t sure how long they stay like that. But, eventually, Paige begins to slowly sit up, her hand still pressed against Jo’s side. Jo watches as the blonde rubs at her eyes a little, before looking down at her. She offers her another small smile.

“I’m gonna make you breakfast,” Paige says determinedly, her fingers trailing across Jo’s waist. “Just stay here. Relax. Go back to sleep if you want.”

Jo blinks at her, her lips parting as if to argue, but she doesn’t really have the energy to fight—even if it’s just a little bit of bickering. Besides, the idea of staying in bed, cocooned in the comfort of Paige’s blankets, is all too tempting, even if she doubts Paige’s ability to cook anything remotely edible. She’s a little afraid Paige might burn their apartment building to the ground, but she also knows that Paige is trying to help in the only way she can think of, and Jo doesn’t have it in her to tell her no.

“Okay,” Jo murmurs. “Just be careful.”

Paige just grins down at her, expression warm and inviting. She squeezes Jo’s side again before swinging her legs off the bed, standing. Jo’s eyes follow her as she moves toward the door. The blonde glances back at her, saying, “It’s gonna be good, trust,” before leaving through the bedroom door.

Once Paige is gone, the room feels quieter—emptier.

Jo sinks back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling as the events of the last twelve hours replay in her mind like a terrible movie. She can still hear Asher’s voice, still see the guilt, the desperation in his eyes.

Her stomach twists with nausea as the memory washes over her. She really doesn’t want to think about it anymore, but it’s like her brain isn’t giving her any other choice.

Jo sighs, feeling like she’s been run over by a train. She rolls onto her side, her hand reaching for her phone. She’s got to know, has to see. The urge is too strong to resist.

She unlocks her phone and goes straight to Asher’s Instagram. It’s like picking at a scab, painful but impossible to stop. Unable to help herself, she scrolls through his posts, her thumb pausing over a photo dump he posted a couple weeks ago. In the first photo, he’s at a football game, smiling, looking so carefree, like he doesn’t have a single regret in the world.

And then she’s going to his following, her heart pounding as she searches for a name—Brooke. He only follows one, and, sure enough when Jo clicks on her profile—the girl goes to Penn State. This is her.

Jo clicks on the first photo and almost immediately regrets it. Brooke is beautiful—brown hair that falls in perfect curls, striking green eyes that seem to glow, and a smile that’s so effortless it feels like a punch to Jo’s gut. Jo stares at the photo, her mind racing with questions she doesn’t want to ask but can’t seem to stop. What does she have that I don’t?

The thought makes her throat tighten, and she’s about to click away when the door creaks open. Paige steps back inside, leaning against the doorframe and staring at Jo curiously.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” she asks.

Jo hesitates, her finger hovering over the screen. She glances up at Paige, who’s already raising an eyebrow at her. With a sigh, Jo sits up fully in bed and turns the phone toward the blonde, showing her the photo of Brooke.

“Is she prettier than me?” Jo asks, trying to sound indifferent and failing miserably.

Paige’s expression shifts a little, her brow furrowing as she walks closer, stopping at the end of the bed. She leans in, looking at the photo for a long second before meeting Jo’s gaze, blue eyes intense.

“Who is she?” Paige questions, though her voice is firm enough that Jo thinks she might already know the answer.

Jo swallows hard anyway, the words catching in her throat. “The girl he cheated on me with,” she mutters. The sentence tastes bitter on her tongue.

The instant the words leave her mouth, Paige’s expression hardens. Without hesitation, she reaches down and snatches the phone right out of Jo’s hand. “Nah,” Paige says firmly, holding it just out of Jo’s reach. “You are not goin’ down that path.”

“Hey, give it back!” Jo protests, sitting up and reaching for the phone.

But Paige is quick, sliding away with a mischievous grin. “Uh-uh,” Paige says, her arm extended high with the phone, like she’s playing keep-away with a basketball. “You’re not gettin’ it back until you stop being all self-destructive.”

Jo narrows her eyes a little, her competitiveness somehow managing to break through despite the whole situation she’s got going on. “Paige, I swear—” She lunges, tackling Paige’s arm, but Paige squirms away, laughing some. The sound of Paige’s laughter—loud, unrestrained, and higher in pitch—is oddly infectious, and before Jo knows it, she’s laughing too. The sound bubbles out of her chest like a small spark of light breaking through the dark pressing down on her. It feels good, to laugh like this.

Jo pulls Paige, and the blonde ends up stumbling onto the bed. It freaks beneath them as they wrestle for the phone. Jo tries to pin Paige’s arm down, but she wriggles free easily enough. “Paige, I’m serious! Give it back!” Jo protests, hands grabbing at the older girl.

“I’m serious, too!” Paige retorts, dodging Jo’s next grab with an exaggerated roll. “This is for your own good, JoJo!”

“Don’t ‘JoJo’ me!” Jo huffs, planting her hands on the mattress to steady herself before diving forward again. This time, she catches Paige’s wrist, but Paige twists her body, and suddenly they’re tumbling together across the bed, laughter spilling out of them again. For the first time since she found out, Jo isn’t thinking about Asher, or Brooke, or the overwhelming heartache that’s been sitting heavy within her. All she can focus on is the sheer ridiculousness of her and Paige’s impromptu wrestling match and the warmth that comes with it.

Paige, of course, ends up with the upper hand. With one final burst of effort, she pushes Jo back against the pillows, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists to the bed. “Ha!” Paige exclaims loudly. But then her voice grows a little softer as she grins down at Jo, murmuring, “I win.”

Jo stills, her laughter fading as she suddenly becomes acutely aware of the position they’re in. Paige is above her, her legs on either side of Jo’s hips, her hands firm but gentle around Jo’s wrists. Paige’s face is so close, her still untamed bed head framing her flushed cheeks, her lips slightly parted as she catches her breath. Jo’s heart does their weird, traitorous thing where it skips a beat, and she doesn’t know why. Or maybe she does, but she refuses to acknowledge it because the insinuation would be nothing short of absurd.

Her eyes trace Paige’s face—those pretty blue eyes that always seem to see straight through her, the sharpness of her cheekbones, the way her mouth quirks just slightly like she’s still holding back a laugh. Jo’s gaze dips, just for a second, to Paige’s lips, and then she quickly looks away, heat flooding her cheeks. God, this whole Asher thing must have given her brain damage or something.

Paige doesn’t seem to notice Jo’s sudden shift in demeanor. She’s too busy leaning closer, her expression softening as she speaks. “You are a million times fuckin’ prettier than that bitch,” Paige says firmly, resolutely, the kind of tone she uses when she’s absolutely sure of something. “But stalking her is only gonna make you feel worse. I’m serious, Joey. I’ll revoke your phone privileges if I have to.”

Jo blinks, feeling Paige’s words cutting through some of the self-loathing that’s been poisoning her brain. Paige says it like it’s a fact, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and it does actually make Jo believe her. Just a little.

Still, she can’t help the sarcastic quip that slips out. “What are you, my mother?” she asks.

Paige grins, leaning back just slightly but still keeping Jo’s wrists pinned. “Nah,” she replies, her voice light. “’M your captain. So you gotta listen to me.”

Jo rolls her eyes, but it’s more playful than annoyed. “Sure,” she mumbles, though the corners of her mouth twitch upward. She feels a little lighter now, like Paige’s words and antics have managed to patch up some of the open wounds.

But then Paige’s gaze locks with hers, and the air around them stills. They’re just staring at each other now, the laughter fading into silence. Paige’s hands are still on Jo’s wrists, her knees pressing into the mattress to keep her balanced. Jo’s pulse quickens as she stares at Paige’s eyes. There’s something in her expression—something soft and searching—that makes Jo’s breath catch.

Her thoughts begin to jumble into a mess of confusion and something else. Because why does Paige have to look at her like that? And why does she have to be so close, her presence so suddenly overwhelming? And, most importantly, why does it make Jo’s heart feel like it’s about to burst out of her chest?

The moment stretches heavily, until, like a switch is flipped, Paige seems to snap out of it. She blinks, breaking eye contact, and quickly rolls off of Jo, her movements abrupt. “C’mon,” she says, grabbing Jo’s hand and tugging her toward the edge of the bed. “Breakfast.”

Jo lets out a shaky breath, sitting up and following Paige. But as she glances at Paige’s back, a small part of her wonders what that was—and why she kind of wishes it had lasted longer.

PAIGE SITS on the couch, one leg tucked underneath her, the glow of the TV reflecting faintly off her face. The UConn men’s team is playing, but she isn’t paying much attention, not really. She’s scrolling through her phone during timeouts, trying to keep her mind from drifting to Jo. It’s not like she’s trying to smother Jo with concern—it’s just that lately, it feels impossible not to worry. Jo’s been… off. Maybe not in ways that anyone else would notice, but Paige sees it. She pays so much attention to her that it would be impossible not to.

Jo isn’t as okay as she pretends to be. It’s in the way she laughs, too loud and too often, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as everyone else that she’s fine. It’s in the way she brushes off questions about how she’s doing or jokes when someone pries too much. But Paige knows better. She sees how Jo has thrown herself into basketball like it’s the only thing tethering her to the ground, the way she pushes herself so hard in practice that she’s damn near sick afterward. She knows Jo is out at either ungodly hours of the night or ungodly hours of the morning, always trying to get more reps in. And it’s not just the basketball.

Paige can tell Jo’s forgetting meals. Lately, she’s been having to remind her to drink or hydrate herself much more often, because she can tell that she hasn’t. Paige knows Jo isn’t doing it intentionally—she’s just been forgetting, too caught up in everything else to remember she needs to take care of herself, too.

Paige knows Jo’s been struggling since the breakup with Asher, and while Jo has always been a perfectionist, always had basketball as her number one priority, this feels different. More self-destructive.

And Paige doesn’t like it. She doesn’t like feeling like she’s watching Jo slowly burn herself out and not knowing how to stop it. Jo doesn’t let people see her cracks—she’s so stubborn about it, only allowing people to see the happy-go-lucky side of her—but Paige sees them anyway. It’s like watching someone tread water, the strain starting to show in every movement, and Paige can’t shake the anxiety that one day Jo’s going to slip under.

She sighs, staring blankly at the TV as the Alex Karaban makes a three. The apartment feels too quiet without Jo here. Jo said she’d be studying with Ice tonight, but Paige doesn’t entirely believe her. It’s not that she doesn’t trust Jo—it’s just that, lately, Jo hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about what she’s doing. Paige has a bad feeling she’s at the gym or running herself into the ground somewhere, but she doesn’t know how to call Jo out on it without starting a fight.

The sound of the front door opening snaps Paige out of her thoughts. She glances over as Jo steps inside, cheeks flushed pink from the cold, her ponytail bouncing as she kicks the door shut behind her. Jo grins at Paige, breathless and bright-eyed, as she bends down to untie her shoes. “Hey,” she says, her voice chipper in a way that only deepens Paige’s suspicion.

Paige narrows her eyes slightly, sitting up straighter on the couch. “Hey…” she replies slowly, her tone cautious. Jo’s coat is still zipped up, and her sneakers are wet, leaving faint marks on the floor. Jo’s grinning, but her face is shiny with sweat, like she’s been moving hard for a while. Paige tilts her head, her eyebrows drawing together as she asks, “Were you running?”

Jo shrugs off her coat, avoiding Paige’s gaze as she tosses it over the back of a chair. “Um… yeah,” she says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Paige stares at her, incredulous. It’s nearly midnight. It’s December. It’s freezing outside. Jo is nineteen, a teenage girl running in the pitch-black cold of winter, and it’s so obviously not safe that Paige can’t believe Jo thought it was a good idea. And yet, Jo’s standing there like it’s nothing, like she’s completely unaware of how reckless it is, how it makes Paige’s chest tighten with something uncomfortably close to panic.

“Bro,” Paige says, her voice sharp, her heart pounding just a little faster as she sits up straighter on the couch. “You gotta stop doing that. You’re gonna get sick or fuckin’ kidnapped.”

“P, I’m not gonna get kidnapped,” Jo says with an airy, dismissive laugh, brushing her off like it’s nothing. Like the idea is so ridiculous it doesn’t even deserve consideration. But Paige can’t just let it go. She doesn’t like the thought of Jo out there alone, running through the freezing December night with God knows who lurking around, and the fact that Jo doesn’t seem to care—or even notice—just makes it worse.

Paige shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line as she gestures for Jo to come closer, patting at the couch cushion. “C’mere,” she says firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Jo hesitates for the briefest of moments before sighing and making her way over. She flops onto the couch beside Paige with the kind of carelessness that’s so uniquely Jo, her movements loose and unguarded. Without a word, she curls into Paige’s side, her head resting on Paige’s shoulder, her body folding into Paige like this is second nature. Because by now, it is.

Paige’s heart skips a beat, like it always does when Jo gets this close. She wraps her arms around Jo instinctively, holding her tight like she’s something fragile and precious that might slip through her fingers if she’s not careful. Her chest tightens with the feelings she never knows what to do with—feelings she’s spent months trying to suppress, trying to shove down deep where Jo won’t see them. But it’s impossible to ignore the way her body reacts to moments like this, the way her pulse quickens and her breath hitches, the way she feels like she’s holding her entire world in her arms.

“You’re freezing,” Paige murmurs, her voice soft but filled with quiet concern. She starts rubbing her hands up and down Jo’s arms, trying to generate some warmth. Jo’s skin is icy under her fingers, and the thought of her being out in this weather makes Paige’s stomach clench all over again.

“I feel good,” Jo disagrees, her tone light and casual, like she doesn’t even notice the chill seeping into her body. But Paige can feel the way Jo leans into her warmth, just a little. She’s been like this recently—minimizing, brushing things off, pretending she doesn’t need anything from anyone. It drives Paige a little crazu, but it also makes her want to hold Jo tighter, to make sure she knows she doesn’t have to do it all by herself.

For a few minutes, they just sit like that, Paige holding Jo close, her hands still rubbing warmth into Jo’s arms even though she knows Jo won’t ask for it. The TV plays in the background, but Paige isn’t paying attention to it anymore. All she can focus on is the weight of Jo against her, the steady rise and fall of her breath, the faint scent of Jo’s shampoo mixing with the cold air clinging to her skin. It’s a little bit intoxicating.

Eventually, though, the gnawing worry in the back of her mind pushes its way back to the surface, and Paige remembers something she needs to ask. She tilts her head slightly, glancing down at Jo. “Hey,” she says softly, her voice cutting through the comfortable quiet. “Have you eaten?”

Jo doesn’t respond right away. She makes a little face, her nose scrunching up like she’s just remembered something she forgot to do. “Um… this morning?” she says, her voice unsure, almost like she’s questioning herself.

Paige gives her a look, her brows knitting together in frustration and concern. “Jo,” she exclaims, her voice sharper than she intends. She knows she shouldn’t push, shouldn’t scold, but it’s hard not to when she sees Jo taking care of everything but herself.

“It’s fine,” Jo says, waving her off like it’s no big deal. Paige hates how easily Jo dismisses her own well-being, like it’s the last thing on her priority list.

“It’s not,” Paige says firmly, shaking her head. She squeezes her arms around Jo slightly, as if it might drive the point home. “You gotta eat to stay healthy.”

“I know,” Jo mumbles, her eyes fluttering shut as she leans further into Paige’s warmth. Her voice is soft, almost apologetic, but there’s something resigned about it too, like she’s heard it all before and doesn’t want to hear it again.

Paige considers pressing her, considers giving her a whole speech about how she can’t keep running herself into the ground like this, but something in Jo’s expression stops her. She looks tired, and Paige decides to let it go for now. Instead, she grabs her phone off the couch cushion and opens DoorDash, scrolling through the options.

“Whatchu want?” Paige asks, her voice gentler this time.

Jo doesn’t open her eyes at the question. Instead, she shifts a little, nestling closer into Paige’s side like she’s trying to mold herself into the older girl. “Pick for me,” she mumbles, her voice muffled against Paige’s hoodie.

Paige rolls her eyes, but there’s no real annoyance behind it. She knows this game by now. Jo says she doesn’t care, but Paige knows better—she always cares. Jo’s just too tired to bother making a decision for herself. And anyway, Paige knows her better than anyone else, so it’s not like it’s hard. Jo’s a creature of habit. She always orders the same thing: chicken tenders or a burger, fries with extra salt, and usually a ridiculously sweet milkshake.

Paige taps the order into her phone quickly, almost automatically, and then sets it aside on the armrest, her arm falling back around Jo like it belongs there. The weight of Jo against her is familiar now, like it’s just part of her life, and she wonders if Jo even realizes how often she leans on her like this. Probably not.

For a while, they just sit there, tangled together on the couch. Jo’s body is heavy against hers, the kind of heavy that means she’s suspiciously close to falling asleep. Paige feels the faint rhythm of Jo’s breathing against her side, slow and even, and she can tell Jo’s teetering on the edge of unconsciousness.

“Y’know,” Paige says softly, nudging Jo’s shoulder, “you can’t eat if you’re asleep.”

Jo frowns a little at that, her eyebrows pulling together, but she doesn’t open her eyes. “I’m tired,” she mutters, her voice thick and groggy, like she’s already half-dreaming. And then, after a beat, she adds, quieter, “And my body hurts.”

Paige lets out a sigh. She knows why Jo’s body hurts—of course she does. That happens when you push yourself as hard as Jo’s been doing.

“I wonder why,” Paige says dryly, giving Jo a pointed look even though Jo’s eyes are still closed, not even registering the glare Paige is sending her way.

Jo cracks one eye open at that, just barely, and then lifts her hand to swat at Paige’s arm in the weakest attempt at a rebuttal. Paige catches her hand easily, holding it in hers for a moment before tugging her upright, gently but insistently.

“Paige,” Jo whines, her voice taking on that petulant tone she gets sometimes when she’s tired.

“Shh,” Paige says, ignoring the weak protest as she shifts Jo around. It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually, she gets Jo where she wants her: sitting between Paige’s legs with her back pressed against Paige’s front, her head resting against Paige’s collarbone.

For a second, Jo doesn’t move, her body stiff with confusion, but then Paige’s hands find her shoulders, and she feels Jo relax all at once, like the tension just drains out of her. Paige starts working her fingers into the tight muscles there, thumbs pressing into the knots she knows are always hiding just beneath Jo’s skin.

It’s instinctive, really. She’s done this before, whenever Jo really needs her to, and she knows exactly where the worst of it is. Her thumbs trace the line of Jo’s shoulder blades, pressing firmly but carefully, and Jo lets out this small, quiet hum of appreciation, her head tilting slightly to the side.

“You’re so knotted up, Joey,” Paige mutters, half to herself, her fingers finding another stubborn knot and working at it slowly. As her own words register with her, Paige can’t help but think to herself—pause. That sounded far different than she meant it to.

Jo doesn’t appear to be thinking about that, though, instead making another little sound, something between a hum and a sigh, and she leans back into Paige more, her head tipping to the side to give Paige better access. “That feels good,” she mumbles, her voice low and drowsy.

Paige smiles faintly at that, though she feels her cheeks heat, too. Her hands move up to Jo’s neck, her fingers pressing gently into the base of her skull. She can feel Jo melting against her, her body going soft and pliant, and it’s almost too much. The closeness, the weight of Jo against her, the way her fingers are in Jo’s hair now, brushing lightly against her scalp—it’s enough to make Paige’s heart race, her stomach flutter.

“You gotta stop letting yourself get this tense,” Paige murmurs, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “It’s not good for you.”

Jo doesn’t respond, just hums again, her eyes falling shut as Paige’s hands work their way back down to her shoulders. Paige keeps going, her fingers kneading gently, carefully, until she feels the last of the tension start to ease.

Eventually, she lets her hands still, her fingers lingering on Jo’s shoulders for a moment before she leans forward, resting her chin on Jo’s shoulder. Her nose brushes against Jo’s neck lightly, and she feels Jo shift slightly, leaning into her touch without even thinking about it.

“Joey,” Paige says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper now. “I’m really worried about you.”

Jo doesn’t say anything, but Paige can feel the way she stiffens slightly, her body tensing again under Paige’s hands.

“I need you to promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” Paige continues, her words coming out softer now, gentler, but no less firm. “I’m serious. You can’t keep doin’ all this.”

Jo doesn’t respond right away, and for a moment, Paige wonders if she’s pushed too hard, said too much. But then Jo shifts again, leaning back against her, and Paige can feel the way she nods, just a little, like she’s letting herself lean on Paige for once.

And even though Paige knows Jo might not be able to do good on her answer—not entirely, not yet—she also knows that if Jo can’t take care of herself, Paige will do her best to take care of her. She always will.

IT TAKES a couple of weeks, but Jo eventually starts slipping back into healthier habits. It’s slow, gradual, almost imperceptible at first—like the way spring melts into summer. But Paige notices every small change. She notices when Jo starts remembering to eat without being reminded, when she actually stretches after practice instead of just crashing into a chair. She notices when Jo finally stops going out on late-night runs, and she’s proud to say she played a part in putting an end to that.

Okay, maybe Paige’s a little overbearing. She’s aware of it, but she doesn’t care. If being overbearing means making sure Jo isn’t spiraling again, so be it. It’s worth it, even if it means insisting on walking Jo back to her dorm every night after team meetings and double-checking that she’s actually getting enough sleep. And if that also happens to mean sharing a bed almost every night—whether it’s in Jo’s room or her own—then that’s just a bonus. Paige tries not to think too hard about how much she prefers it that way.

Jo doesn’t complain. If anything, she seems to welcome it. She lets Paige pull her into bed when her eyelids get heavy at a respectable hour, lets Paige cuddle in with her. It’s just what’s become normal.

It’s only when Paige realizes what’s driving Jo—what’s keeping her grounded—that everything else starts to click into place. Jo wants a national championship. That’s what she’s been laser-focused on since day one, the thing that keeps her going even when her body’s sore and her mind is tired. And Paige gets it—God, she really gets it. She’s been there before. Paige knows what it’s like to push through pain, to have that singular drive that makes everything else fade into the background.

And because she understands it, she steps up. Jo doesn’t ask her to, but Paige can’t help herself. She starts staying after practice, waiting for Jo to finish her drills so she can point out the tiny things—the positioning of her feet, the angle of her wrist on a jumper, the way she can seal a defender better when posting up. Paige has been where Jo is; she’s been the All-American freshman, the star on the rise. If anyone can help Jo get to that next level, it’s her. And besides, with her ACL still recovering, she might as well make herself useful.

It’s not like Jo needs much help. She was elite when she got to UConn, and now she’s something else entirely. Since Azzi went down in the Notre Dame game a couple of weeks ago, Jo’s stepped up in ways no one saw coming. She’s putting up ridiculous numbers—National Player of the Year numbers, if Paige’s being honest—and carrying the team in a way that even Geno outwardly tells her he’s proud about. Paige is proud, too. Obviously.

They’ve never been closer. Which is saying something, considering they’ve been close since basically the first day of living together. But now, it’s like their lives are so tightly intertwined they don’t know where one of them ends and the other begins. They spend almost every night together now, to the point where it’s become more unusual to sleep apart. Paige’s bed or Jo’s bed—it doesn’t matter. When they’re on the road for away games, they’ve even managed to pull off the occasional roommate swap, with Ice (Paige’s roommate) and Dorka (Jo’s roommate) begrudgingly covering for them. The arrangement works as long as CD never finds out. And while Ice and Dorka make it clear they’ll throw Jo and Paige under the bus if anyone asks, Paige can tell they don’t really mind much.

Still, Paige can’t really ignore the blatant truth at this point: that this isn’t how normal friends act. She knows that. She knows this thing with Jo—whatever it is—has gone beyond the walls of regular friendship. Friends don’t fall asleep in each other’s arms. Friends don’t hold each other like this, tangled up in hotel beds with no space between them.

But Jo doesn’t seem to notice—or if she does, she doesn’t say anything. And Paige doesn’t want to ruin it by bringing it up, especially with the breakup still fresh and still in the unknown about whether Jo feels anything at all for her. So she stays quiet, pushes her own thoughts to the side, and tells herself it’s fine. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

Tonight is another one of those nights.

The hotel room is quiet, save for the hum of the heater in the corner and the soft sound of Jo’s breathing. The team had won earlier—a conference game that Jo basically dominated—and Paige had watched from the bench, half coach, half cheerleader. She can still picture Jo on the court, the way she sliced through defenders like they weren’t even there, the way she carried the team on her back like it was nothing.

Now, they’re curled up in the same bed, the blankets pulled up to their chins. Jo’s body is warm and solid against her, her head tucked beneath Paige’s chin, and Paige swears she can still feel the residual adrenaline humming through Jo’s veins.

“Jo,” Paige murmurs after a long stretch of silence, her voice low and soft. She doesn’t even know what she’s about to say; the words are just there, waiting to spill out.

Jo shifts slightly, turning her head so her cheek rests against Paige’s collarbone. “Hmm?”

“You were really good tonight,” Paige tells her, lips brushing against Jo’s hair.

Jo doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she presses a little closer, her arm looping around Paige’s waist. “’Cause of you,” she mumbles, her voice quiet, almost shy.

Paige swallows hard. She wants to say something, wants to tell Jo how much she really means to her, how proud she is, how she’s the best thing that’s happened to this team—but the words catch in her throat.

Instead, she tightens her arm around Jo, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric of Jo’s shirt. It’s enough.

For now.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #uconn huskies #wcbb #wbb #uconn #paige bueckers angst #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers series #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers smut #ncaa wbb #wlw #nobody gets me

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gigabyte-flare · 18 hours ago

Text

The Death of Peace of Mind

[A Gigabyte Flare One Shot]

Summary: Traumatized by your time in Skyhaven, you seek the comfort and safety of the man you trust with your heart, little do you know, however, that nowhere is truly safe anymore; not even the N109 Zone.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Caleb x fem!reader (afab)/Sylus x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

WARNING, THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, Spoilers for Homecoming Wings, yandere tropes, non-con kissing, implied non-con s3x, pseudo-incest, depictions of PTSD, vomiting, mention of loss of virginity, pet names, unprotected but consensual p in v, denied orgasm, depiction of a panic attack, aftercare, implied murder, stalking

A/N: I have been totally, utterly consumed by Caleb brain rot. Sylus is still my man, but oh my god Caleb does things to me. Inspired by this scene in Caleb's main story, I was so utterly unnerved and fascinated by this whole interaction and I was immediately inspired. Beware that this is very dark. Reader's discretion is advised.

Title inspired by The Death of Peace of Mind performed by Bad Omens

Line Break Divider by cafekitsune

"What if I told you I was always like this?"

Your breath hitches as you press yourself against the back of the sofa, moving away from Caleb's outstretched hand. Caleb's face immediately darkens, his form towering over you as he cages you on the sofa with his arms.

"You're always hurling yourself into danger, whether you realize it or not," Caleb continues, his violet gaze boring into yours, "those that are after your power, you know, the ones that wanna hurt you? They should all just…"

He leans in close, his face inches away from yours, "disappear."

You can feel your heart racing in your chest as you desperately try to move yourself away from him, however, his 'cage' keeps you firmly in place, his resolve unwavering.

"The only place you are truly safe is by my side."

There is a subtle smile on Caleb's lips that unnerve you to your core and you exhale a heavy sigh in an attempt to calm your racing heart. You swallow hard, gathering up your resolve to retort his words, "I am a Deepspace Hunter, Caleb. I face danger head-on, not cower behind a façade of "safety." I don't need--"

"You don't need me? You don't need me?!" he says as he shakes his head; you hear his hands dig into the fabric of the sofa, "is that what you truly think?"

You bring your hand up to shove him away, however he grasps your wrist, squeezing it in a vice-like grip as he pins it to the couch; he leans in closer, his expression taking on a half crazed look, "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you."

He pauses before continuing. "Wanna return to Linkon? Just say the word. We'll go back to our past, rebuild our old house and move in together. If that isn't enough for you, I'll build you a whole mansion; you know, the kind with one of those large hedge mazes. I'll plant all your favorite flowers and decorate it with all your favorite things," he gently cups your right cheek before continuing, "it will be the most beautiful, stunning garden you will ever lay eyes on."

Your words fail you, all you can do is stare up at him, completely stunned into silence. A gentle smile forms on his lips before he continues once more, "where I take you, no one will ever find you again. I'll protect you forever."

You blink a few times, shaking your head as you curl up your right fist, placing it on his chest, "Caleb… you can't just--" you stop yourself, considering your next words very carefully, lest you invoke his fury, "I can't let you do that… you are very important to me, but--"

"But what?"

You take his hesitation as an opportunity to escape from his grasp. You try to stand up and push him off, but he grabs both your wrists, pinning them back onto the back of the sofa, his form looming over you once more, "ever since I first met you, I've stifled my true feelings for you every… single… fucking… day. It was suffocating."

A sudden flash of lightning, followed by a roar of thunder, causes you to jump. Your breath trembles as Caleb leans in closer to your face.

"I am done playing these games."

Without any kind of warning, Caleb's lips crash into yours in a searing, passion filled kiss. He practically devours you like a starving animal, a low moan escaping him as he pushes himself into you. You open your mouth to scream, however this just invites Caleb's tongue to delve into your mouth to perform a sick dance with yours as his hands move to slide under your shirt--

You wake up screaming, clutching your pillow tight to your chest as your eyes snap open. You take in gulps of air as your eyes dart around your bedroom, taking in your surroundings.

You're at home in your apartment in Linkon. It was just a nightmare.

You close your eyes, taking deep breaths as you calm yourself; your racing heart taking a few minutes to finally settle into a steady rhythm. You feel a couple of tears roll down the sides of your face. You slowly sit up in bed, however a sudden wave of nausea comes over you and you quickly climb out of bed and race to the bathroom with your hand covering your mouth. You barely are able to turn the bathroom light on and kneel in front of the toilet when you begin heaving into the toilet bowl, only managing to vomit up bile.

You start to sob as you continue to cough into the toilet bowl, your throat stinging as you swallow back more bile. When your stomach finally settles down, you sit back with your legs tucked beneath you. You wipe a tear from your eye when you hear it, a subtle noise coming from inside your apartment. Immediately, you're on high alert. You stand back up, stepping into the doorway leading into your living room, you peer around your darkened apartment, the open layout allowing you to see that its empty; there's no one here but you.

So what was that noise you heard?

Not giving yourself another opportunity to hear it again, you race back into your bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind you. You dart over to your nightstand, grasping your phone like it's your last lifeline and call the one person you are now realizing you can truly trust, especially at this hour: Onychinus's fearless leader, Sylus.

You press the call icon as you sit on the end of your bed. The phone barely rings before he answers.

"Kitten… what are you doing up so late? It's three in the morning; did you miss--"

"Can you come pick me up?" you ask, cutting him off.

You hear Sylus suck in a breath before he continues, the alarm evident in his voice, "what's the matter, Sweetie?"

It's then you hear another noise from inside your apartment beyond your bedroom door, "can you just come? You have the key to my apartment I gave you, right?"

"I do. What's this about? Are you ok?"

"Sylus, please…" you plead, tears once again threatening to fall down your cheeks.

"I'll be there in 10 minutes."

You hang up the call, clutching your phone to your chest, your heart once again racing in your chest as your mind wanders back to one of your last encounters with Caleb. He was someone you grew up with, trusted, and loved. You called it a miracle when he came back into your life after you thought him dead for over a year, but something happened to him. Something changed him, or so you thought. You'd never thought in a million years that Caleb would force himself on you. You shake your head as you choke back a sob, willing yourself not to think about what happened after he kissed you that night.

The only reason you're back in Linkon now is because Caleb and his fleet were sent on an expedition into the Deepspace Tunnel, granting you your only means of escape from him. While it's been a few days since you got home from Skyhaven, each time you close your eyes, you see Caleb's face, those words burned into your brain.

As you wait for Sylus, you think back on your childhood, your eyes widening in horror as you slowly come to the realization that Caleb was right. From that time he locked you in the attic to prevent you from confronting those bullies to his insistent hovering over you, he was completely and utterly obsessed with you. So why didn't you see the warning signs sooner?

"What if I told you I was always like this?"

When you look at someone through a rose colored lens, all the red flags just look like flags…

The sound of keys jingling followed by the front door of your apartment opening snaps you back into reality; you practically spring off the bed and whip open your bedroom door. You don't even give Sylus a chance to say anything as you slip on some shoes and approach him, wrapping your arms around his torso, burying your face into his broad chest as you inhale the scent of his cologne. The relief you feel is indescribable as you break your embrace and take his hand, practically dragging him out of your apartment before shutting and locking the front door.

It takes everything in you to not run to Sylus's sports car waiting outside. Sylus guides you to the passenger's seat, opening the door for you to climb inside as he walks over to the driver's side, getting in and starting the car before driving off into the night.

"Do you want to explain what this is about, Kitten?" he asks as he looks over at you, his face full of concern.

"I'll tell you once we're at the base. Just drive," you say, your voice flat as you lean your head against the passenger's side window, watching the city lights go by as Sylus drives.

Sylus reaches over, gently rubbing your thigh before placing his hand back on the car's stick shift. Seeking his touch, you place your hand on top of his as he shifts gears, your fingers intertwining with each other. Before you know it, he drives into N109 Zone territory, the red moon casting an eerie glow as he continues his drive to his base. Once he arrives, he parks the car and motions to you to stay seated. He climbs out of the car, coming over the passenger's side to open the door. He scoops you up out of the car, carrying you bridal style into the base.

Once inside, Luke and Kieran stand to attention, clearing their throats before Luke speaks, "Boss, you're back! That must be some kind of record-- Oh! Miss Hunter!"

"Ensure the base is secure, I do not want to be disturbed," Sylus orders as he carries you deeper into the base.

"Yessir!" you hear the twins reply before listening to their steps scurry away.

Sylus carries you into his bedroom, laying you down onto the bed gently before walking around to climb onto the bed next to you. He brings his hand up to your face, gently caressing your cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"Now, Kitten, do you mind telling me what's the matter?"

You take a deep breath, but despite trying to compose yourself, you break down and begin to spill everything to Sylus. You tell him about how you infiltrated the Farspace Fleet to investigate an explosion that was eerily similar to the one you had experienced that took the lives of your adoptive grandmother and your adoptive brother; only to find out that his life wasn't claimed in that explosion after all.

You tell him about the relief you felt finding out that your beloved Caleb was alive and well, but were shocked to find out he's now the ruthless Colonel of the Farspace Fleet. You tell Sylus about your growing suspicions of Caleb, about how he had drugged you to prevent you from rescuing a child that was involved in the explosion you were investigating. You told him about Caleb's increasingly unhinged behavior that eventually led up to… what had happened to you before Caleb's departure to the Deepspace Tunnel expedition. It was the first time since it happened that you let yourself recall the full details of that night.

Sylus's expression grimaces, his lips twitching into a snarl as he clenches his fists in his lap. "Was that your first time?" he asks, his voice low.

You bite your bottom lip, desperately fighting back more tears as you nod, "yes… it was."

Sylus closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before looking back over at you. Funny enough, you once feared those crimson eyes, but as you got to know Sylus, you came to love them and, in a way, fall in love with the person attached to them, although you didn't want to admit it given the fact you were a Hunter and he was the leader of the largest crime syndicate on the planet. After the incident with the Aether Core at the auction, you came to discover that Sylus was not the heartless monster that everyone painted him to be. He was always kind to you, showering you in gifts and affection; not even mentioning he always empowered you to be your best self, no matter what. He also was always honest with you.

Caleb was not.

Overwhelmed with emotion, you shift yourself closer to Sylus, gently caressing the side of his face in your hand. Sylus gives you a gentle smile before once again caressing your face with the backs of his fingers.

"If you'll have me, Sweetie, I want to take away your pain. Let me replace that horror with my love."

Smiling at him as a tear rolls down your cheek, you give him a subtle nod. Gently grasping the back of your head, Sylus pulls your face to his, his lips pressing against yours gingerly, as if testing the waters. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer and you feel yourself practically melt in his embrace. His kiss was nothing like Caleb's had been; it was gentle and loving, but also confident. Your hands caress his chest, feeling his toned muscle beneath his shirt. It's not long before your fingers are undoing the buttons on his shirt.

Within minutes, yours and his clothing have been discarded on the floor on each side of Sylus's bed. Having climbed under the sheets, Sylus positions himself above you, his mouth devouring yours, your tongues dancing in each other's mouths as his large hands grope your breasts. You moan Sylus's name between kisses, the slick of your arousal gathering between your legs. Sylus breaks the kiss, staring down at you as he slowly parts your legs, his eyes glazed in lust as he stares down at you.

"Do you want this, Kitten?" he asks softly.

Your chest heaving, you stare up into Sylus's crimson gaze, a smile teasing the corners of your mouth before you whisper, "yes, I do."

Sylus smiles as he reaches down between your bodies, grasping his throbbing hard cock and positioning it at your entrance, but as he moves his hips to sheath himself inside you, you place your hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"I'm safe here, right?" you ask, the worry clear in your eyes.

"Of course you are," Sylus whispers before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, "no one enters the N109 Zone without me knowing about it, I assure you."

"Ok," you reply, gently nodding as you remove your hand from his chest.

"You haven't changed your mind, have you? It's ok if you have, Sweetie."

You quickly shake your head as you drape your arms around his strong shoulders, "no, I haven't. I need you, Sylus…"

Sylus leans back down to kiss you once more and as he does so, he pushes himself into you, the feeling of your soft walls caressing his length pulling a soft moan from him. Once he's sheathed himself fully inside you, he pauses his movement to allow your body to adjust to his length and girth. Your breaths become ragged as your legs hook around his waist; the brief discomfort quickly replaced by pleasure as the head of his cock presses gently against your cervix.

"You can move, Sylus, I'm ok."

Smiling at your reassurance of your comfort, he begins to move his hips into you. His thrusts are gentle at first, but as your soft whimpers evolve into loud moans, he quickens his pace, burying his face into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting marks into your skin, marking you as his.

"Oh my God, Sylus…" you moan, tilting your head back against the pillow behind your head, allowing better access to your neck for Sylus, who happily accepts your unspoken invitation.

Completely lost in pleasure, you feel Sylus move himself away from your neck after a few minutes to cage your body with his. He angles his hips in such a way that the head of his cock hits your g-spot repeatedly, causing you to see stars behind your eyelids.

"Fuck…" you breathe out, "I'm gonna cum…"

You slowly open your eyes to look up as Sylus before he hurtles you over the edge, however, it's not Sylus's face staring down at you.

It's Caleb's.

"Doesn't this feel good, pip-squeak?"

You suck in a breath as your eyes widen in horror. You bring your hands up to push him off as you start screaming. You kick at him and thrash your body as you are thrown into a full blown panic. Tears stream down your face as you shut your eyes tight, refusing to look into his purple eyes. You feel hands grasp your arms.

"Hey, hey, hey! Shhh, shhh, shhh…" you hear Sylus's voice say as he abruptly pulls himself out of you, cradling your face in his hands, "I'm right here, Kitten. You're safe, it's ok…"

Upon hearing Sylus's comforting voice, you slowly open your eyes and see Sylus's concerned expression staring down at you as he gently grasps your shoulders, caressing them slowly in an effort to calm you down.

"Oh my god, Sylus… I'm so sorry…" you say, your lips trembling as you start to cry, "I'm so fucking sorry…"

"There is nothing to apologize for, Kitten," he replies as he brushes your disheveled hair away from your face, "what can I do to help you?"

"Just hold me… please…"

"Of course."

Rolling off you, Sylus wraps his arms around you, holding you tight as you snuggle into his embrace, the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep as you wrap your arms around his torso. He rubs your back, placing a kiss onto the top of your head before closing his eyes, quickly falling asleep as well.

The bodies of two masked men lay crumpled on the floor in front of the intruder, their blood seeping out onto the marble. Their positions are unnatural, as if they were crushed by some unimaginable force. Clutched in the intruder's right hand is a mechanical crow, it's neck crushed by his grasp. He let's go of the bird, its metallic body hitting the floor with a loud clank. He adjusts the hat on his head, signifying his high rank in the Farspace Fleet as he begins to walk down the hallway, his leather boots picking up the blood from the bodies and trailing it down the hall.

It only takes him a few minutes to find what he's looking for: the master bedroom. His gloved hand grabs the handle, slowly turning it as to not announce his presence as he gently pushes the door open. It softly creaks as it opens, opening up into a large bedroom. The intruder's purple gaze shifts across the room, observing the lit fireplace and a four poster bed over to the left. His brow furrows when he sees the bed's occupants: his beloved and the leader of Onychinus himself. The sight of their nude bodies embracing each other causes his blood to boil.

The muscles in his neck tensing, he slowly walks over to the bed. When he approaches, he stands at the end of the bed, staring down at the bed's occupants, watching their chests and shoulders rise and fall in unison as they slumber, completely unaware of the intruder's presence. He simply stares at them for minutes on end, allowing himself to ruminate and let his anger consume him. He narrows his eyes at the silver haired man as he slowly pulls out one of his large pistols from its holster. He twirls the gun in his hand, using one hand to check the chamber to ensure it's loaded before twirling it again, aiming the gun at the silver haired man's head.

And pulling the trigger.

#caleb x reader #sylus x reader #sylus #caleb #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #sylus smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove #tw r4p3 #tw noncon #caleb smut

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shiningjustforreid · 22 hours ago

Text

stains

glimpses through fem!reader and Spencer’s relationship, through four instances of spills.

word count: 3.5k ish

a/n: i love the idea that for some of us, our personalities are made up all the things we like about the people we know and see. the idea that we’re all little bits and pieces of the things we love, and our experiences. this sort of explores that. (also this was mildly self indulgent because much like reader i’m a klutz!) <3

warnings/tags: 18+ for implied intimacy and canon typical violence for cm, pet names up the wazoo, reader is lowkey clumsy, Derek Morgan being himself, reader gets injured but she’s fine, who’s Maeve?, anxious love confession, Spencer adores reader so so much, S1 and S6 (ish) Spencer, Spencer in and post prison, love letters, marriage, kids, and briefly mentioned pregnancy, girl dad!Spencer Reid my beloved

- ✩ -

coffee - the first stain

To be honest, at first, he’s appalled.

The mug you set down on his desk isn’t his, so God knows whose mouth was on it last. You - somewhat carelessly - plopped it down on the file he’s working on, grinning that thousand watt smile he’s secretly become fond of. You’re wearing a sweater he noticed that brings out your eyes - a berry colored wool garment that he wishes you’d wear more.

“Hey! Morgan said you were exhausted. Thought I’d make you coffee.”

You pick it up, and set it down again, for emphasis, and a few drops make their way down the side and onto his case file, surely creating a cinnamon toned half circle that Hotch will not love. You don’t notice, watching his face.

“I made it with a bunch of sugar. Just how you like it, right?”

Suddenly, he realizes he’s been staring up at you, and then his mouth is moving faster than his brain.

“Yeah, I uh, I am pretty tired, now that you say it. Didn’t sleep well, long night, you know?”

You nod, sipping your own coffee, fingers wrapped around the ceramic.

“I get that. Goes with the job, right?”

“Oh, absolutely, yeah, I- wait, Morgan said that? Did he— what else did he tell you?”

You grin, coffee mug to lips again.

Stop staring, Reid.

“Nothing, really. Just said you needed a boost. Thought I’d provide.”

Titling your head a tad, you look down, a mild panic crossing your face when you see you’ve stained his file.

“Oh my God - Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

He’s quick to shake his head, hands coming up to reassure, his eyes wide.

“No no no, it’s okay, truly, I-I made a mistake on that one anyways. I’ll need to have a new copy printed, honest.”

Frowning, you look him over, searching for a tell, something to let you know whether he’s lying or not.

“Are you sure? I can do it, I’m not that behind on mine, I could—“

Before he thinks - you’d assume, with all his brains, he would - his hand grabs your arm, that gorgeous sweater under his finger tips, his eyes locked with yours. He says your name, once, his tone more serious than he’d like.

“It’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.”

You blink, and then a slow grin takes over your face.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need more.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of his hand burning through the wool on your arm, until he lets go like you’re the one scorching his skin, like he’s just realized that he’s touching you. You laugh a little, awkwardly, and he grins with the same level of unpracticed nerves, and you head back to your desk.

He picks up the mug, and sips slowly, closing his eyes for a moment - it does have a mountain of sweetness, the saccharine liquid coating his mouth but soothing his senses. When he sets it down again, it’s on a part of his workspace not occupied by case work. Just as predicted, the file that once housed the beverage now bears a semi circle of dried java. His pointer finger traces the stain, clockwise and then counter, for a moment, before he glances up in horror to see Morgan, of all people, signature smirk in place.

“‘Thanks for the coffee’. I don’t what’s sweeter, that coffee you just got or-“

“Shut up.”

He mumbles, face flushed, small smile on his face despite the teasing. He traces the coffee stain one last time before he hastily tucks the soiled paper away in a drawer.

blood - the second stain

“What do you mean you aren’t getting a response from her on comms?”

He’s so scared, he can’t even stop to think just how breathless and afraid he sounds, as he turns to Hotch, who fixes him with a look that clearly says, Calm down, Reid.

“It could just be non-functional, or got knocked off, or caught.”

Hotch says calmly, almost maddeningly so. Spencer swallows back the protests, the arguments that swell up in his throat like bile.

They’d created, and given the profile, and once Penelope had narrowed down the couple possible properties their potential unsub owned, you, Morgan, and Prentiss had headed into an abandoned storage facility, silent and careful.

Perhaps not careful enough.

The voice in his head reminds him, almost sadly, and he grits his teeth inside tightly drawn and chapped lips. Shaky hands smooth over his slacks, again and again, as his eyes stay fixed on Hotch.

“Ask-ask Morgan again. If she’ll respond.”

He’s given a frown, dark brows pulling together in a very typical Hotch-like manner.

“Is there a specific reason you’re asking about her, Reid?”

Is there? God, he doesn’t know. You bring him coffee nearly every morning, but perhaps that’s just kindness. Then there’s the chocolate sprinkled donuts that start his work day from time to time - maybe you just enjoy pastry treats, and think of him, when you buy one. Oh, and heaven forbid he forget the way you’ll come by his desk, and ask for clarification on a piece of paperwork or a procedure - that you probably could’ve asked Hotch or Prentiss about. You listen, active listening too, eye contact, body still - when his explanations turn into rambles about statistics about this type of criminal, your eyes watching his face, your own voice quiet.

Is he deluding himself? Seeing phantom romance where there’s maybe merely nothing but platonic affection? Blinking, once, he shakes his head in response to his Unit Chief’s question.

“No Hotch. I’m just worried, she-well, she hasn’t responded, and Morgan has, and Prentiss has, and I—“

Speak of the devil, Morgan’s voice comes through, demanding and tense.

“I need a medic. Prentiss and I secured the unsub, but, not before—“

Oh God. Not before that bastard got to you with a baseball bat, to the back of the head, you unaware before your face met the concrete below. Spencer’s not even asking for permission, snatching the keys to an SUV off the desk nearby and flooring the gas pedal.

You can’t die. Not before I—

Driving there is like hell - his lungs burn like there’s smoke and ash polluting them, and fear feels like too tame a word to describe the overwhelming panic that seizes his heart the more he drives.

I’m a fool, he thinks wildly, as his knuckles grip the steering wheel like a vice. A damn fool if I don’t tell her-

He’s barely got the thing in park before he’s scrambling out the driver’s side door, Converse immediately coated from the dusty ground outside the facility.

When he finds Morgan, and you, head lolled to the side, eyes closed, face pale as his must be, he falls to his knees with little regard for his own pain or discomfort. Morgan watches, careful, his voice gentle when he speaks, trying to calm his terrified friend.

“She’s still out, Reid. Just a nasty whack to the back of her head, okay? Easy.”

Trembling thumbs trace and hold your face, like it’s made of paper, as he swallows hard to keep the ache behind his eyes from becoming tear tracks down his face. He spots the gash, trickling crimson down your ashy skin, onto his shaking hand, but doesn’t move from holding your face. A deep contusion, furious and violet-toned, on the back of your head, makes the air leave his chest like he’s been choked.

Beautiful girl, I couldn’t stop this.

He could sob, and he nearly does, until you make some sort of confused noise and force open your eyes. Light rushes through his heart, rekindled warmth as he meets your eyes, and yet, he finds himself almost frozen.

“Spencer? What, I thought-“

“Listen to me.”

He forces himself to speak - he has too. What if he doesn’t get the chance, and all he ever gets to associate you with is caffeine, sprinkles, and a listening ear? No, that won’t do. Not in the slightest.

You meet his eyes, hazy, but listening. Morgan’s brows furrow, as he protests,

“God, man, she just woke up, let her-“

Ignored, as Spencer often finds himself doing when there’s more pressing matters than banter, than propriety.

“You need to know. That I-care about you.”

Blinking, you swallow, and suddenly, the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is slightly dimmed.

“That I can’t let another sunrise or sunset go by where you don’t know that I’d give you the stars if you’d let me. Where I can’t touch you, where I can’t make sure you understand that I’ll protect the light you have inside you until I’m burnt from it. You absolute angel, I-“

He shudders, almost afraid of his own earnest, and says your name like it’s a prayer.

“I love you. Even if you don’t return it, my heart is yours.”

Morgan’s grin is wide, and he shakes his head, almost in amazement. Your own face is flushed, as you hear sirens and medics, your voice crackly and rough from pain, but still, that smile he’s grown to associate with his heart fluttering graces your face.

“My heart is yours, Spencer. Glad you’re finally realizing how absolutely in love I am with you, you goose, even if it took all this.”

He laughs a little, almost deliriously, and smooths his trembling hand over your face.

“Guess the doughnuts weren’t enough, huh?”

You manage, and he shakes his head, quick to push back.

“They were. You’re always enough for me, no matter what you do.”

Could he sound any more smitten?

Procedure says he can’t go in the ambulance with you - there’s no need, you’re just getting stitches and some ice and he can visit you at the hospital, okay? But as he heads back to the - oh dear, still running, he really was in a hurry, wasn’t he? - car, Morgan glances sideways at him, signature smirk in place.

“Pretty boy, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Spencer stares down at his hands in his lap. They’re stained, and a grimace floods his face when he realizes it’s not dirt, but your blood, coating his fingertips. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he bites back a nastier retort than his friend deserves.

“I guess I did. I can’t believe it took-“

Morgan sighs, stopping Spencer’s inevitable incoming guilt filled rambles.

“Hush. You told her. That’s what matters.”

Glancing down at Spencer’s fidgeting hands in his lap, he presses on the gas.

“Let’s get there, so you can get that off you. I’m shocked you got all dirty, with your germ thing.”

Spencer shrugs, looking out the window.

“For her? I’d-I think I’d do anything. No matter what it stained.”

Soap finds his hands at the hospital, but he finds you soon after, unable to stop the gentle press of his lips to your forehead, or the soft murmurs that follow as he tries to remind himself that much more of your blood didn’t spill.

ink - the third stain

Emily has to physically hold you back in the court room, when they take him out, his eyes fixed on you, and the team, almost hopeless.

“Then your client is a flight risk.”

You’re quite literally fighting her, suddenly terrified in a whole new way for your boyfriend, tears staining your face.

“Bail is denied.”

She’s got both arms wrapped around you, her soft, ‘I know’s, and ‘I’m sorry’s barely heard over your own pleas for her to let you go.

“Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

You hear someone sobbing - angry, fear-filled wailing - and until Emily has you turned around, your face in her shoulder, comes the realization that it’s you.

“He’s-Emily, what are we going to do, he’s not going to be okay, I-I can’t—“

The days that follow are dark. Going to the BAU without Spencer, let alone waking up without him beside you, is enough to send you into a spiral. You try to remind yourself that he’s worse off, that whatever hell he’s experiencing is ten times worse than your quiet fear and loneliness. So, to try to combat the weight that squashes your heart, you write him letters. Daily letters.

Spencer -

We have a case in Florida. Emily says it’ll be quick, but the Florida ones never are. We’d solve it ten times faster with you, you know? Geographical profiles are much harder alone, that’s for sure. The plane ride is quieter without you, and no one’s saying anything - you’d be saying something if you were here. Maybe that’s why we’re quiet. ♡

Every day. You don’t relent. If you can’t mail them in whatever town you get stuck in for work, you mail them in one big envelope when you get back home.

Spencer -

That case was rough. I cried twice - once when I spent over two hours staring at the map at the precinct and couldn’t find anything new, and once when Rossi accidentally snapped at me. He said he was sorry, that he’s ‘on edge’ right now - but aren’t we all? Emily’s working really hard to try to get you home. I wish I could come see you. I hope you’re safe. I love you. ♡

When you learn that he didn’t put you on the list of people who can visit him in that concrete hell, you almost lose what’s left your nerve, breaking down in Emily’s office, shaking. You don’t know whether you’re furious, in despair, or numb to it all.

“Emily, why? Why doesn’t he want me to come see him? If it was me, I’d want to see him every day, I wouldn’t want him to leave!”

She sighs, her face tight. Twisting your hands in your lap, you search her face for answers. Nausea claws at your throat.

“Honestly, my guess is it’s just that. He knows that if you come, he won’t want you to leave. It’ll hurt too much.”

“But Tara, and you, and his mother, and-

Spencer -

I think I understand. Sort of. I feel like there’s this pressure in my chest, and I can’t ever fully breathe. Not since you’ve been away. The weight on my heart never goes away. Missing you more every hour. ♡

Despite the slew of handwritten letters that reach him, you only get one back, after you and the team search his apartment - you keep it in your purse pocket, folded safe, and read it whenever your throat feels tight and your eyes burn. His untidy scrawl is enough to make you feel like a part of him is actually inside this letter - like he’s reading it himself to you, interwoven in the fibers of the paper.

Angel -

I wanted you to know I’m in solitary now - I made sure of it. I know you want me safe, almost more than I do. I love you beyond what I can say, my beautiful girl.

Yours, Spencer.

One night, you’re curled up in Spencer’s apartment, writing him a letter, as is your nightly routine. The ink stains the side of your hand now - an ever-present reminder of the fact that your heart constantly feels ripped out of your body. After addressing the letter to him, your phone buzzes - Emily.

Oh God.

“Hey. We figured out that- oh, you don’t care about all that. He’s coming home.”

She doesn’t need to tell you twice. Paper and ink pen tumble to the floor as you shove your feet in shoes and snatch your jacket off the coat tree. Tension is coiled in your body the entire way there. Ink still stains the side of your hand, a permanent reminder that every time you needed to just tell him something - you had to pick up pen and paper.

Heart in your throat, you push open the door with shaking hand. There he stands, your Spencer. He’s still him, you think, although his face is tight, and sleep clearly hasn’t been something he’s seen much of.

Three months.

You walk in slowly, body trembling. One hand reaches up, runs through the curls that have grown so long.

“Your hair.”

You breathe out, voice barely audible. He nods, his face almost impassive. Tentativel fingers trail down his cheek, make a path to hold his face. He nods, and then, you notice his eyes are misty.

“My angel.” He murmurs, almost in awe, and takes you in his arms with a fervor. Crushed against him, face buried in the cool fabric of his shirt, you bite back a sob, arms threaded around him.

“No. Cry, my darling girl, I’m— I’m tired of doing it alone.”

How could you refuse him? Just hearing his voice, let alone the relief you feel at being touched by him again, is enough to satisfy you for days, you think. For a bit, all that’s heard is uneven breaths, until he speaks, his voice rough and shaky.

“I need to see your face.”

He pulls back, face shining with tears, and you swallow back the lump that just won’t leave your throat.

Calloused hands - less soft than you remember - take yours, and then he frowns.

“Your hand.”

Your right hand is held up, inspected, like the blue on the inner side of it is red instead. You smile, laughing a little, still breathless.

“Ink, baby. Just ink. I was writing you a letter.”

He shakes his head, rubbing at the navy stain with his thumb, as if that will remove it.

“I would’ve kept writing. Never given up. You’d be sick of letters from me.”

“Never, sweet girl. There is no part of me who could ever find himself sick of you.”

After you’ve home, he wastes no time in pressing less than tender kisses to your mouth and jawline and the column of your throat. It’s not until he’s reacquainted himself with your contours and the dip of your hipbones and the soft way you gasp out his name when he does that, that has you next to him, so he can see your face.

He needs to see your face.

Hand in his, still faintly stained from ink, he examines it, and then, softly, hesitantly, he meets your eyes.

“You know ink poisoning is actually rare? Pens we use are designed with non-toxic ink, to decrease any chances of fatal ingestion.”

You never mind his information sharing, but your eyebrows furrow tiredly at his timing.

“Spence, I’m not saying I don’t care, but we just— you just—”

“Please. Let me look at the woman I love and pretend for a few moments that my damn eidetic memory won’t play back the last three months of my life like some wretched tape.”

You let him, as he holds your cobalt-colored hand and your eyes droop, his soft voice telling you that rubbing alcohol will probably get that stain out. It almost feels normal.

Almost.

paint - the final stain

“Spence! Can you get paint water out of carpet with any amount of ease?”

You call your husband, turning back to your mildly sheepish five year old, whose water color adventure on the coffee table has quickly done south.

In walks Spencer, not even noticing the overturned hard plastic cup or purpley-blue spill, eyes going straight to his daughter’s nearly finished picture.

“Beautiful, Penny. Looks incredible.”

He murmurs, bending to be eye level with a beaming Penelope, hand on her arm, before turning to you, mild tension and stress lining your face. His smile is gentle. It’ll wash out.

“Rubbling alcohol, angel.”

You nod, tension easing from your shoulders.

“We’ll go get it - we always clean our messes up, right lovely?”

He asks your daughter, lifting her with practiced care. She giggles, nodding, as they head from the room, letting you take a breath and set up the paints and picture in a new location - the kitchen table, with some newspaper tucked underneath because she’s five, and you of all people know spills happen.

Once she’s set up again - she really is so quiet when she’s engrossed in something - you find yourself curled up with Spencer on the couch, head on his shoulder, watching her paint and sing-song to herself.

“Think she’s lonely?”

Spencer asks, turning to you, his grin wide.

Troublemaker.

“Hmm. I think you just like me pregnant.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Maybe. Maybe I don’t want Penny to be sad, ever.”

Silence, then, for a bit.

“She’s so much like you.”

Spencer muses, his fingers drawing patterns on the side of your sweater. You smile, fondly.

“You say that because I’m clumsy. She was dancing around with that paintbrush, that cup of paint water stood no chance.”

“No, I say that because she shines like you. No matter what tries to dim her.”

That night, when you peek in your daughter’s door to see Spencer reading her A Little Princess, she’s propped up against him, hazel eyes barely open. Affection swells in your chest as his voice carries on, even though she’s clearly almost in dreamland. In you walk, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then Spencer’s. He smiles gentle up at you - this is his favorite time of the day - and keeps reading.

“Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words, and everything in the world understands it.”

Once you’re back in the living room, you check on the earlier spill from today. All that’s left is a barely visible blue spot, no bigger than a quarter.

“No one will see it but you.”

Steadying, warm arms wrap around your ribs, and soft lips press against the side of your neck, washing away any insecurity about the state of your carpet.

“Besides, stains aren’t bad, sweet girl. They’re little reminders that things happened, good things, or bad things that brought us together. Memories, attached to splotches, attached to wounds, to paper, to skin. How convenient, to carry our most impactful moments like heaven-sent tattoos.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut

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mayapapaya33 · 3 days ago

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Well at least you're disagreeing with what I DID say and not what I DIDN'T say! That's fine then, I much prefer that. Yeah, sure, agree to disagree that's fine.

As for the misogyny bit you're going for... um no. It's a bit ungenerous that you defaulted to that interpretation but ok. No, like Yeza, I am supportive of Veth's career as a strong independent adventurer lol. In your mind is there no happy medium between what happened in canon and what you just proposed? Her cowering in a basement in Felderwin forever? Do you REALLY think that's what I meant? Yeza loves her enough to not live in Felderwin in the latter part of the campaign, do you really think he wouldn't leave Felderwin for her if she had somehow managed to explain the situation to him earlier, or if finding a way to get a new body took longer than it did in canon? What if they never found an answer? What if she was stuck in the body of a goblin forever? Would she have been justified in never telling her family and never seeing them again?

Goblins are not reviled everywhere in the world, there are places they could live together in peace. And let's be real, how old is Luc anyway? Who knows? Certainly not Veth! Does he remember the terror of the goblin camp properly in his teeny tiny toddler brain? Even if he does remember, Goblins are a race of people not actually creatures so they should probably confront that at some point so that he isn't scared and prejudiced against an entire race for the rest of his life due to childhood trauma. Idk just putting that out there.

For instance, in this alternate universe where finding a spell for a new body took longer, maybe they could have set up a home base somewhere less anti-goblin for Yeza and Luc to live, much like the set up in Nicodranas during the latter half of C2 with Veth popping in and out visiting them between adventures. My point about finding a new body taking longer is that at a certain point, it does become a conscious choice to stay away from her family on Veth's part. Yes, the goblins are 100% responsible for their initial separation, but at some point, it is Veth's choice that keeps them apart. So how long does it take for it to stop being an acceptable decision? 1 year, 5 years? 10 years?

The Mighty Nein could hold off the entire city of Felderwin if they tried to start shit with Veth, so eventually it's not about her bodily safety anymore. It's about her fear of rejection. (I'm fairly certain Caleb could take the whole town by himself with a well-placed AOE lmfao). And I know they are allergic to it, but subtlety is also an option. Seriously, what if they never found an answer to get her a new body? Would she have never seen her family again? Sometimes there is no answer to life's gross unfairness, and you just have to bear terrible things and live your life anyway. That's my point. I'm thrilled for Veth that she got her wizard treatment plan and has a new body. That's fantastic! I'm saying sometimes life doesn't work out like that, and how long is it ok for her, or Anyone, Male, Female, Non-Binary, what-fucking-ever, to stay away from their family and not reconnect with them?

I hold everyone to the same standards of parenting I'm holding Veth to btw. Shitty double standards are shitty. I think Veth tries hard and does her best. But sometimes your best isn't good enough. To be blunt, she's an alcoholic who can't remember how old her kid is. Yes, the meta reason for that is because Sam Riegel can't resist making a joke and child ages are hard and he didn't think about it before the show. But Yeza knows how old Luc is and Veth doesn't. She straight up said she was drunk for most of his childhood. (1:04:26) The Mighty Nein Reunion: Echos of the Solstice.

Now, this is NOT to shame people for having a substance abuse issue, it's a serious problem and people deserve compassion and help. But it's still a serious issue that causes a lot of problems for the people around them. Again, in the entire context of the show, the scenes themselves are all very funny, but the in-universe facts of the matter are actually quite sad. Think about it, she was drunk for MOST of his childhood. Think about the implications of that.

To take the spotlight off of Veth for a moment, let's speak of probably my favorite mom in critical role, Marion. Perhaps this will clarify my stance on things, and maybe you'll still disagree, but that's ok. I love her dearly and she is a wonderful person. She is kind and caring and she love's Jester with all of her heart, but she is also not the best at parenting on the planet. She did the best she could, but her agoraphobia caused her to unintentionally neglect Jester. It's not her fault that she's mentally ill, but it was her responsibility to take care of Jester, and in that respect she failed. Life is hard and no one is perfect. Sometimes that's just the way it is. But child neglect is still child neglect, even when it's unintentional and you have good reasons. Now, I happen to like Marion as a person more than I like Veth, but I'm holding her to the same standards. Are you taking care of your kid, yes or no?

You said that Veth is indulgent because she feels guilty, yes that is 100% what it is. Which is totally understandable but doesn't exactly lead to the best parenting decisions or the best partnering decisions either. Honestly poor Yeza got volunteered into owning a dog and having their kid do combat training without even a private conversation, you'd think that would warrant a discussion between them. (I'd be annoyed if a male character unilaterally decided something like that without consulting a female character, why not extend the same consideration to Yeza?)

Here's an example, Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43): She unloads the crossbow of arrows, puts the "safety" on (lol) and stresses the importance of a balanced education, so that's great! Well done parenting right there! But she does immediately follow it up by getting the crossbow back from Luc by trading him a Grappling Hook for it lmfao. Not super safe for a 5ish year old to be playing with, those things are sharp! If she gave him extra candy or toys that would be one thing, even the dog is pretty forgivable and within acceptable levels of spontaneous indulgence given everything they've been through. I feel like THIS level of indulgence crosses some pretty firm parenting lines of Hey, maybe don't hand a 5ish year old something they could accidentally kill/maim themselves with! Maybe that's just me though?

Scene starts at C2 E71 (1:43:43) but she trades him a grappling hook at (1:48:23) hahaha.

If you watch all those family scenes again, try your hardest to ignore how funny everyone is being, which is a difficult task I'll grant you, and actually look at what is factually happening with the characters, and you'll see what I'm talking about. Or maybe you won't, like I said, it's fine to have different interpretations of things. I'm not saying she's a bad person, I'm saying she's a complicated person and she's not super great at parenting, but she does try.

Or here's a big example, how about that time Luc straight up died because Veth and Jester couldn't shut the fuck up for 10 minutes to let Caleb cast the dome to make their families safer in a completely unknown location while they were on the run from a terrifying evil wizard? You'd think responsible parenting (or responsible daughtering, looking at you Jester, your mom is right there!) would prioritize the safety of the child, rather than wandering around chatting about future plans for a detective agency in a potentially dangerous situation.

Veth IS a rogue, they could have snuck around the whole time, but they were having fun and got careless, and the cost was steep. She lucked out big time that Caduceus is THE Cleric of all time and saved a spell slot. (The blame is shared 50/50 with Jester on this one, it's just a vibrant example of the shit I'm talking about. She's reckless, makes bad decisions, and endangers people accidentally).

Again, the meta reason for this is because Sam and Laura can't stop cracking jokes, and THEY were having fun, and weren't paying attention to the volume of the conversation because the CR cast forget to do that all the time anyway. Too bad for Veth and Jester that it reflects INCREDIBLY badly on their characters this particular time. And Veth has a history of carelessness so you can't even say it's out of character, or just a one-off incident. Considering she accidentally killed both Caduceus and herself by being careless, it's a fairly consistent character flaw at this point.

(At least she pays child support though lol you are correct. Where's Relvin's child support Liliana?! Granted the child support payments from nowhere did freak Yeza out a bit so they might also double as accidental psychological warfare, but oh well, she DID try, I give her all the credit for that!)

As for the "hag thing" it's not about "thought crimes" or whatever, it's about her having the support system around her to have the strength necessary TO resist stuff like that and like Halas, etc. It's like how without the Mighty Nein Caleb would almost certainly have ended up back in Trent's web as a Volstrucker (Liam and Matt said it themselves, and that was Matt's plan if Caleb left the group) or Fjord would have ended up releasing Uk'otoa (Uk'otoa). Thinking about doing a thing, and doing the thing are not the same. I merely acknowledge the potential inside her for doing the things, and I think it's more than "just a thought" or a "moment of weakness." In the right circumstances, I think she'd do it. But she has support and love and hope and a wizard treatment plan, so she won't.

If the Good Moms of Critical Role ever learn about the shit Liliana's pulled it's on sight 😤

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virtualflowerbatathlete · 2 days ago

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Weird opinion nobody asked me for:

Several things can be true at once when talking about Leo’s arc in HOO regarding romance.

NO, Leo did not need to resolve his self esteem issues and insecurities before he started dating. You don’t have to be fully mentally healthy to date someone or be in love (Look at Percabeth! Both of them were a mess when they started dating, but they grow together.) The implication that you need to be fully recovered from any mental illness or trauma before being “allowed” to date is a dangerous one.

BUT it was incredibly disheartening to watch these insecurities lead Leo to being in a relationship where he is not as happy as he hoped he would be, and even in some cases, being abused by a girlfriend who seems almost ashamed to be associated with Leo at all. Calypso’s irritation and snipes at Leo don’t feel at all like when couples like Percabeth or Solangelo tease each other. When Percabeth and Solangelo tease each other, there’s an undercurrent of genuine affection, and also a sense that the two are on even footing in the relationship; Nico can call Will his “significant annoyance,” and Will can call Nico his “little ball of darkness.” Annabeth calls Percy “Seaweed Brain,” and he can call her “Wise Girl.” But there is no even footing with Caleo. Leo is so desperate to make things work with her that he won’t fire back when Calypso insults his interests or personality. The relationship is volatile and imbalanced, and honestly, that feels like a far more tragic ending for Leo than him being single at the end of HOO.

ALSO it was fully possible for Leo to have an arch where he realizes that he doesn’t need romance to be happy, and later getting into a romantic relationship. (Hell, it could even happen in the same book) I deeply resent the takes where people somehow see both these things as mutually exclusive. As an example of this, over time, I learned that grades don’t define who I am, and that I can build my self worth outside of them. That doesn’t mean that I have to give up on getting good grades entirely. What that does mean is that I focus more on learning the material for my own benefit than trying to get the highest score, and strangely enough, my grades started going up. In the case of Leo, a character arc where he learned to love himself and not need a romantic relationship doesn’t mean that he would stop looking for one. Instead, he would seek meaningful connections with the people around him, one of which could bloom into a romantic relationship.

ALSO it would be fully possible for Leo to have this arc while in a romantic relationship with someone. While a partner can’t “fix” you, the people we love can open doors for us to learn and grow. Hell, in the books, we see this demonstrated with Leo and Jason. Leo confides an insecurity, and Jason challenges this insecurity. This causes Leo to think, and thus to grow. Yes, they were not canonically romantic, but my point still stands that this isn’t necessarily a journey Leo would need to do alone. He could have had a romantic partner who helped in his journey of learning to love himself.

ALSO the desire Rick, and by some extension we (the fandom) had in HOO to pair every single character off with their “perfect match” is one that should be questioned. I think that Rick and the fandom have come a long way, and I think TOA really played around with this concept in a very interesting way. But the strange implication I sometimes see is that Leo having no romantic partner must mean that it’s an unsatisfying arc. As an aroace person, the implication that life and stories are only satisfying if the person involved ends up with a romantic partner is disheartening.(I say this as a Valgrace shipper) If your first instinct when hearing a character is single or learning to love being single is to go, “OH GOD, THEY’RE ALL ALONE AND WILL NEVER BE HAPPY! THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN FOR THEM!” Maybe, it’s time to examine the implications behind those thoughts.

ALSO shipping is fun and not that serious. If you like a ship, go for it. This is not me telling you not to ship Leo with anyone, as I said, I’m a huge Valgrace fan.

Anywho, if you want more extensive thoughts on Calypso, lemme know. Also feel free to add, I’m sure there’s even more nuance to talk about

#percy jackson #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo #leo valdez #anti caleo #calypso pjo #jason grace #Valgrace #again #feel free to add #just be nice

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mumms-the-word · 2 days ago

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I know I’m screaming into the void here but do not witch hunt people with AI accusations

As someone whose job for the last two years involved me reading and rereading essays and creative fiction written by my students (a group of writers notorious for using AI despite being told not to because they worry about their grades more than their skills) let me tell you straight up that detecting AI in any written work isn’t straightforward

AI detection softwares are bullshit. Even Turnitin, which is supposedly the best, has an error rate that is slowly increasing over time. They’re not reliable. The free ones online are even worse, trust me

“Oh but it’s so obvious!” Sure. If you’re trained to notice patterns and predictive repetitions in the language, sure. I can spot a ChatGPT student essay from a mile away. But only if they haven’t edited it themselves, or used a bunch of methods (Grammarly, other AIs, their friends, a “humanizer” software, etc) to obscure the ChatGPT patterns. And it’s easier with formulaic essays—with creative fiction it’s much harder.

Why?

Well because good creative fiction is a) difficult to write well and b) extremely subjective. ChatGPT does have notable patterns for creative writing. But it’s been trained on the writing that is immensely popular, writing that has been produced by humans. Purple prose, odd descriptions, sixteen paragraphs of setting where one or two could be fine, all of that is stylistic choices that people have intentionally made in their writing that ChatGPT is capable of predicting and producing.

What I’m saying is, people just write like that normally. There are stylistic things I do in to writing that other people swear up and down is an AI indicator. But it’s just me writing words from my head

So can we, should we, start witch hunts over AI use in fanfic when we notice these patterns? My answer is no because that’s dangerous.

Listen. I hate AI. I hate the idea of someone stealing my work and feeding it into a machine that will then “improve itself” based on work I put my heart and soul into. If I notice what I think is AI in a work I’ve casually encountered online, I make a face and I stop reading. It’s as simple as that. I don’t drag their name out into the public to start a tomato throwing session because I don’t know their story (hell they might even be a bot) and because one accusation can suddenly become a deluge

Or a witch hunt, if you will

Because accusing one person of AI and starting a whole ass witch hunt is just begging people to start badly analyzing the content they’re reading out of fear that they’ve been duped. People don’t want to feel the sting or embarrassment of having been tricked. So they’ll start reading more closely. Too closely. They’ll start finding evidence that isn’t really evidence. “This phrase has been used three times in the last ten paragraphs. It must be AI.”

Or, it could be that I just don’t have enough words in my brain that day and didn’t notice the repetition when I was editing.

There’s a term you may be familiar with called a “false positive.” In science or medicine, it’s when something seems to have met the conditions you’re looking for, but in reality isn’t true or real or accurate. Like when you test for the flu and get a positive result when you didn’t have the flu. Or, in this case, when you notice someone writing sentences that appear suspiciously like a ChatGPT constructed sentence and go “oh, yes that must mean it’s ChatGPT then”

(This type of argumentation/conclusion also just uses a whole series of logical fallacies I won’t get into here except to say that if you want to have a civil conversation about AI use in fandom you cannot devolve into hasty generalizations based on bits and parts)

I’m not saying this to protect the people using AI. In an ideal world, people would stop using it and return back to the hard work of making art and literature and so on. But we don’t live in that world right now, and AI is prevalent everywhere. Which means we have to be careful with our accusations and any “evidence” we think we see.

And if we do find AI in fandom spaces, we must be careful with how we handle or approach that, otherwise we will start accusing writers who have never touched AI a day in their life of having used it. We will create a culture of fear around writing and creating that stops creatives from making anything at all. People will become too scared to share their work out of fear they’ll be accused of AI and run off.

I don’t have solutions except to say that in my experience, outright accusing people of AI tends to create an environment of mistrust that isn’t productive for creatives or fans/readers. If you start looking for AI evidence everywhere, you will find it everywhere. Next thing you know, you’re miserable because you feel like you can’t read or enjoy anything.

If you notice what you think is AI in a work, clock it, maybe start a discussion about it, but keep that conversation open to multiple answers or outcomes. You’re not going to stop people from using AI by pointing fingers at them. But you might be able to inspire them to try writing or creating for themselves if you keep the conversation open, friendly, and encourage them to try creating for themselves, without the help of AI

#who knows maybe a spirit of grace is the answer here #sigh #ai #ai critical

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 2 days ago

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hit with the thought

5 headcanons for a Demon Twins AU with Dead Tired/Brain Dead

(whichever ship name you use for Tim x Danny)

1. Damian and Danny have been in contact without anyone knowing. Damian was never as kill happy as he was in canon because Danny’s love of Jazz made him want the same thing with the Wayne family. Danny was sent to the Fentons as Ras had no use for a ‘girl’ (Trans!Danny FTW) and was ‘benevolent’ enough to allow her to live. Damian and Talia kept in touch.

2. Danny needs help and Damian finally comes clean. Why did he never say anything before? Because Danny wasn’t interested and Damian wanted to respect that. Danny is his brother but isn’t their brother, like Jazz is Danny’s sister but not Damian’s. Why does Danny need help? The Fenton parents died trying to stop the GIW from killing their son, and while they did expose the corrupt organization it left Danny alone. Jess can’t take him in without help and Vlad is coming in hot.

3. Danny has had a long term crush on Tim for ages that Damian hates. Because while Damian likes Tim… “My twin can do so much better.” Of course if Danny wants the guy Damian will do what he can. He thinks Danny is way out of Tim’s league though. This thought gets out and Tim is so offended he decides to prove he’s the best boyfriend out of spite.

4. It’s only later the new couple realize Damian manipulated them into dating by the smug ass grin he has. Both love and hate their brother for it.

5. Bruce manages to find evidence Vlad is a bad guy in a way that stops him from getting out of it. Hes arrested and Jazz gets custody. They do not tell anyone Danny is Damian’s twin and luckily they look different enough that most resemblance is brushed off as how people who grew up in the same area sometimes have similar features because they shared a great something grand something or the such. Related but far enough back. Danny is passed off as an old childhood friend this way.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #brain dead

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okaysonny · 23 hours ago

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Hello love the way how you write fics it just scratches my brain so good, can i request jake x reader where reader finds out about all the bad things he did (him joining illegal gambling stuff and Scamming people 💀) ANGST if you could thank you so much

shackles ╏ jake kim

𓇼 summary: jake reminisces his relationship. #sadtimes

𓇼 details: angst, f! reader, a lot of build up.

𓇼 wc: 2k

𓇼 A/N: anon YOUR REQUEST scratched my brain so good...i love dissecting this man!

with you, he didn't feel restricted to just being jake kim, no. 1 or jake kim, son of gapryong kim. he felt like he could just be himself, with no labels. you made him the happiest man on the planet, and for some reason, you were happy with him too.

and the profoundness of it all is that meeting you happened by complete chance.

his card had declined at a vending machine.

jake looked left and right, hoping no one saw, until he heard laughter coming from behind him.

"times are tough, huh? let me get that for you" you said, giving him a small smile.

he blinked in surprise. "oh...thanks, but you don't have to"

"too late!" you beamed, stepping beside him to face the vending machine. "i made up my mind! what did you want?"

jake didn't like you. he just liked the fanta you bought him. that's what he told himself anyway.

but friendly conversation turned into an exchange of numbers, and an exchange of numbers turned into hanging out. hang out's turned into something more romantic, until you suddenly asked: "can i be your girlfriend?"

jake really should've declined. he'd have to come clean and admit he's essentially a gangster. he wouldn't have time to spend time with you.

...and you deserve so much better. he shouldn't let the bleakness, the danger of his role dull your light.

jake had all the time in the world to start a relationship with someone. it's not like it had to be with you.

still, he found himself not wanting to say no. he didn't know how much he wanted to hear those words until you asked. so...jake wasn't really thinking straight when he shakily whispered: "i'd really like that"

jake remembers when he told you what he actually does. he remembers how you laughed in his face, how you stopped when you saw he wasn't laughing with you.

"you're the leader of a gang?" you squeaked after a few minutes of explanations. "oh my god...does that mean you've killed people?"

"what?! no!" he waved his hands frantically. "we're just trying to protect the street from other gangs. big deal is more of like...a crew"

he sighed, rubbing his neck sheepishly. "look, i understand if you want to end things...it's not the most honourable occupation"

you eyed him suspiciously. "so you don't do like...illegal stuff?"

he gulped slightly. "no"

...well not anymore. so it's not a complete lie.

you narrowed your eyes, not looking convinced. "...so big deal is 100% clean?"

...jake really should've just told the truth, but the lie escaped before he had time to think. "yep. i swear"

you looked at him for a few moments before holding out your pinkie finger. "promise?"

jake linked his pinkie with yours, crossing his fingers behind his back. "i promise"

𖠋♡𖠋

jake remembers how you gave him his first kiss. how you smiled against his lips, even as his hands slightly trembled. it felt like fireworks. everything else melted away — his humour, his walls — just the flutter of something new. something he never thought he needed until now.

he still remembers the first time he brought you to the street, how everyone at big deal greeted you with 90 degree bows, how you waved your hands and told them it wasn't necessary.

or jerry's instant barrage of questions and how you sat through every one, how he gave jake his nod of approval afterwards.

or how the girls handed you a bag, giving you winks as jake stared in confusion. he remembers how beautiful you looked in the dress they gifted you, how you left him speechless.

or how he held you a bit longer than usual the night before rescuing sinu.

𖠋♡𖠋

"sinu! you won't believe it! boss jake got himself a girl!"

"what?!" sinu shrieked in excitement. "jake, you little rascal! i'm gone for a few years and you find yourself a lover?" sinu aggressively rubbed elbows with his.

jake smiled sheepishly, his cheeks flushed pink in a rare sight. "you'll really like her"

sinu smiled gently. "i already do. it's hard to find understanding people like that"

jerry doesn’t miss how jake's smile turned plastered as he nodded.

𖠋♡𖠋

"boss?"

"yeah jerry?"

jerry set his spoon down, thinking of the best way to phrase this. "...you know i'll support whatever you choose, but i think she deserves to know everything"

"...i know" he said quietly.

and jake was going to tell you. eventually.

𖠋♡𖠋

it happened a few days after sinu's return. jake remembers how you asked to meet with him, how your gaze was fixed on the sea even as he came to stand beside you.

"hey...are you okay?" he asked, immediately sensing something off.

"did you run an illegal gambling ring?"

and that's when it hit him — like a punch to the gut he wasn’t ready for. jake felt like he couldn't breathe. he stood frozen beside you, heart hammering in his ears.

you weren’t screaming, you weren’t crying, you were just…asking.

"...where did you hear that?" he said, his voice wobbling slightly.

you exhaled shakily. "this short guy with glasses came to visit me yesterday. he said you ran a gambling ring and went to prison for it"

eugene? revenge for breaking the alliance? eugene really went out of his way to do that? but in hindsight, it was the perfect way to crush him before crushing big deal.

jake remembers how dull your eyes were that day. there were no tears, no emotions, no sniffling. until he realised you did all your crying the night before.

you continued, your voice cracking. "and i said...i said he was a liar, that you'd never do that, but then he showed me pictures of you in prison"

"he said that you took advantage of innocent people...the elderly, teenagers, people trying to send their kids to college"

the memories he wanted to block came back to him all at once.

— Give me back my money, you fuckers! That money was for my daughter's university tuition! I swear to god, I'll blow this whole place up. I mean it!

— Go ahead. Do it. You don't even have the balls. So why did you bother bringing that heavy gas tank? Get him out of here.

"...he said that you profited off of prison fights, that people placed bets and you collected the money for yourself"

jake remembers how pathetic he felt just standing there and listening. there was nothing he could say.

"you promised...and we've been together for months" you said, choking on your words. "i don't care that you lied to me, but you swore that big deal was different. why did you do it?"

"...i had no choice" he whispered. "i tried everything. i needed the money to get sinu back...i had no other options"

you turned to look at him. despite the resignation in your voice, your eyes were starting to water. "that's...not the only thing he said. he said that big deal were okay to let innocent people be taken as hostages...that you just stood there and let it happen"

his blood ran cold. the summit meeting.

"at least tell me the hostage thing isn't true" you croaked. "teenage girls, a middle aged woman...even a baby...tell me he's wrong about that"

jake still couldn't bring himself to look at you. "no, it's true...it's all true"

in spite of your resolve, he heard sniffling. "why?"

"i know it's despicable. it's terrible, but...i had to protect my people. i'd...i'd do it to protect you" he mumbled.

"...protect me from what?"

...workers? rival gangs? enemies of his father? but if he hadn't brought you into his life, you'd never have to worry about that.

in that moment, jake realised he only needed to protect you from himself.

the silence lingered as you sniffled some more. jake glanced at you, the tears now streaming down your face. he reached a hand out, but quickly brought it back to his side, knowing better.

realising you weren't getting an answer, you continued. "...whatever. i don't even care anymore" you muttered.

"i understand why you did those things, but...i can't pretend to be okay with it. i would never want you to protect me if this is what it takes"

he nodded slowly, knowing what was going to happen.

"so i think it's best if we end this" you said shakily.

jake finally turned to look at you, flashing that plastered smile he hates having to use. "i understand...i'm sorry for wasting your time"

you looked at jake for a while, probably expecting more of a fight from him. but the truth is, he couldn't say all the things he wanted.

i'm so sorry. i'm so ashamed of everything. i'll be better for you. i'll never do those things again. i need you. please don't leave.

it wouldn't be true. if he had to do those things again, he would. in a weird way, jake is thankful that eugene pulled the trigger, because he's not sure he wanted to escape the lie of being a good person.

finally, you nod. "...i'm sorry i was dumb enough to believe you"

and as you began walking away, jake finally let out the tears he was holding.

just as he got sinu back, he's loosing something else. but this time, he knows you're not returning.

𖠋♡𖠋

jake should've told you from the beginning. but either way, he always knew it would turn out like this. he was being selfish, living in a fantasy where he could have you and big deal. or maybe he believed the sweetness of your relationship could erase his actions somehow, that he was never jake kim, head of the numbers racket.

he still remembers lineman asking where you went, how jake's sad smile told him everything, how he never brought the topic back up again.

jake never stops thinking about you. you're like a thorn on his side he never wants to take out. he wonders if you've ever thought of him since then, he hopes you have at least once.

sometimes he wonders what it would be like to show up at your door with flowers, saying those three words he was thinking about professing. i love you. i would do anything for you. please give me a second chance. you're everything to me.

but he can't. he can't have both.

jake still looks at your pictures together when he's alone. he still reads through your old messages. he can never bring himself to delete the remnants of you.

jake still wonders what it would be like to experience you completely. how every touch, every unveiling would be so new to him. his cheeks would've been dusted pink, clumsy in his attempts to make you feel cherished. he imagines kissing every inch of you, each kiss feeling like the discovery of something precious. he would've wondered how he got so lucky to see you like this — so beautiful, so entirely his.

jake still remembers your laugh, the one that made his chest ache in a good way, how it felt like he was the only person who could make you laugh like that. he still remembers the way your hand would hover over his, waiting for him to hold it first, and how when he did, you’d give him that little smile, like the world was okay just because you two were together.

jake just remembers everything about you.

"uh...jake?"

he snaps back to the present, glancing at daniel who's sitting on a bench near him.

"are you okay?" daniel asks in confusion. "you've been staring at that vending machine for a while...you must be pretty indecisive. in that case, i recommend the diet coke"

...

times are tough, huh? let me get that for you.

he laughs softly, shaking his head. "sorry. i was just lost in my thoughts"

today, jake thinks he misses you a bit more.

divider: @cafekitsune

#lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #lookism comic #lookism fanfiction #lookism fanfic #lookism fic #lookism x reader #lookism x you #lookism imagines #lookism angst #jake kim #jake kim lookism #lookism jake kim #jake kim x reader #kim gimyung #lookism kim gimyung #kim gimyung x reader

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quibbs126 · 21 hours ago

Text

So after the last batch of Cyberverse sketches, I tried to do more here with Cyberverse Megatron specifically, since he kind of stuck himself in my brain, at least yesterday

Admittedly I wish I drew more, but by that last corner I just wasn’t sure what to draw. I actually did draw something, yet again trying to draw that one kissing meme thing with him and Optimus, but yet again it didn’t turn out right looking, so you don’t see it

But other than that, while I’m aware my drawings aren’t the best, I do think I’m at least getting the hang of drawing this version of Megatron. I’m aware his face is still off looking, but oh well

My only real thoughts for what to draw with him were “more of body”, “him thinking “oh no that’s hot” at something Optimus is doing”, “season 3 Megs” and “he drink coffee”. And also to attempt lineless

Note on that last thing, at least on the head, it’s not as difficult as I’d thought it’d be. I could probably do it, if I at least knew what I wanted to draw

I don’t really have much to say on the drawings themselves though? There isn’t much going on that I haven’t already said. All I can say is I tried to use screenshots for references more than usual, since I thought it’d help. I did stop at some point, but still

I don’t know how I feel about Cyberverse Megatron. I think he’s really only in my head because I was searching for Cyberverse megop fanfics after finishing the show

But also, he’s sort of your typical Megatron. An asshole, and usually the cause of alliances falling short and me saying “Megatron, you bitch”. Granted he’s not as evil as other Megatrons, at least most of the time, considering he was willing to destroy the AllSpark that one time, but it’s probably also because the Autobots and Decepticons have to team up so often in Seasons 2 and 3

But then there’s Season 3b Megatron, in which he has some adventure across the multiverse and comes back to help his universe, armed with his own Matrix and actually willing to save the day and have peace with Optimus and end the war, even if the planet is split in two. And at least in his initial appearance, he seems like he’s actually become at least a slightly better person

Like on one hand, I like this idea of him becoming better on his own time, and also we can just accept that maybe he’s become actually better since we don’t know what he was up to to cause this. But in the other, I really would have liked to see what he was up to. I guess they didn’t have enough time to show us

But yeah in 3b, he’s still an ass but he isn’t causing too much trouble, and is instead preparing for a worse threat to come, and then dies not as a villain, though he got taken out too quick to be called a hero in this scenario. Kind of disappointed he didn’t really get to do anything when the other Megatron showed up, would have been nice to see

But also I’m told that’s actually what kills him? He actually dies? I guess it is a more powerful version of him, but considering the other things other Megatrons have survived, and also we never really saw him die in the episode itself, considering he made noises of pain after being attacked and we just didn’t see him again after Bee took his Matrix, it feels kind of weak to me

I don’t know, his concepts in 3b are interesting to me

Also random side note, while I wasn’t expecting it, I appreciate his fusion cannon and mace having red lights instead of purple. I’m used to the purple but the red is consistent with the rest of his colors

Also there’s the subject of Cyberverse megop. It doesn’t have TFA’s issue of being strangers, in fact they seem to have known each other for a very long time and there’s no Elita or anything in this universe to be another past option for Optimus. And Megatron does do some bad things in this series, some worse than others, but also it seems like the characters of this show aren’t the most serious about this war, at least not like they are in Prime or something. Apparently every few millennia or so Optimus and Megatron try to have peace talks and negotiate, only for it to inevitably fall apart and things to start up again, and everyone’s just used to this

I think I can ship it, they have divorced energy and both sides are just used to it, including each other. They are in essence, the core values of typical megop I think, except they were actually on decent terms by the end of things, when Megatron dies. Sad that, why’d he have to die? At least make it heroic or something so he can go out with a bang

Yeah I don’t know, thought I should sprinkle in some thoughts on this version of Megatron while I’m here. I don’t have much honestly other than I think he’s fine and neat, and so is this version of the ship

I think I’m done now

#I’m realizing I kept forgetting his fusion cannon #this always happens when I draw Megatron I swear #oh well #I guess Optimus up next? I don’t really know #I should probably draw them doing stuff as well #still need to work out what I want to draw characters doing though #transformers #transformers cyberverse #megatron #my art

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almostthursdayy · 1 day ago

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Hii!! So, I was taking a walk through your account and wanted to ask you for some Death Note headcanons :3 It can be of any character (s) you like. I'd be really happy to read them

oh i’ve got plenty!! so so many!!! these all have to do with my DEATH DAY AU btw ^^!! >> this is also really just be a grab bag of random things so characters names are bolded for anyone reading only interested in seeing specific characters !! - - thank you for asking i’ve been waiting for someone to ask this hehe!!

in order it’s light, misa, l, takada, mello, near, matt, & ryuk + rem !

🌙 LIGHT

>> 17-18 during first arc , 26 during second arc. he / him . i don’t think he could healthily love ANYONE with the way he works his brain, not with his position of power or ideals. and even sexually i don’t think he’s like gunning for anyone of any kind. but women are definitely not his forte, will he ever admit this to himself? no he shall not. . . the REAL light yagami died when they were like five under a layer of masking not yet seen by the societal eye until this child was born /dramatic.

➡️➡️ but that is to say i think light is neurodivergent, multiple diagnosis are awaiting this man. none of which he’ll ever get or are why he’s like that by the way. that i would blame completely on his upbringing and the ideals he was spoonfed from birth to believe were the ‘ correct way ‘.

>> wanted to be called ‘ THE HURRICANE ‘ at first after picking up the death note. and was much more disappointed than he let on when he instead gained the monochre ‘ KIRA ‘.

>> really wanted lobe earrings at around 15-16, and only got them because sayu literally begged their mom to let them get them so they could match!

➡️➡️ usually wore silver studs until picking up the death note. then swapped those out for the black studs he also had because ooogh lord the EDGE!

🦇 MISA

>> 19 during first arc, 27 during second arc. she / her ( also would be cool with they & it, specific neos, possibly people specific prns sets too but light keeps her from expressing that ). genuinely think she could love anybody! man, woman, off the gender spectrum, on, unlabeled- - at least my interpretation does. . . she would have fallen head over heels to whoever opened that door.

>> NOT the up-and-coming model, actress, teen girl magazine starring descending angel we see in canon. instead a total radical goth chick with tattoos and body mods with a name in japan, mainly tokyo’s, underground scene whose starred in like abunch of grungey indie flicks.

➡️➡️ she made the change towards that ‘ up-and-coming model, actress, teen girl magazine starring descending angel ‘ to be more palatable for light, hoping to gain his favor. barely worked but at least he stopped grimacing at the sight of her!

>> has multiple pets throughout the storyline. a black tomcat, a beautiful tarantula girl, lovebirds- -

>> whilst light’s treatment of her over the course of the storyline changes her perception of reality, personality, life, and other factors, i hope to never portray her as ‘ stupid ‘. she’s not stupid, she never was stupid!

🍰 L

>> 34-35 during the first arc. prefers his name the most ( minimal use of other pronouns ), but that’s too complicated and queer to explain in the early 2000’s so everyone just goes with he / him more often. no romantic labels but can love anyone romantically, sex repulsed asexual.

>> full name is ‘ love lawliet ‘.

>> the weird wide eyed freak with the hunch is only one of the many fronts L has. specifically chosen and adjusted to freak the J.T.F. & light out the most possible so they’d be uncomfortable and more likely to crack under his pressure. . .

➡️➡️ the ‘ real ‘ L ( if there even is such a thing ) is much more approachable personality wise, entertaining, calm in a cooler way, but still just as offputting upon first impression.

>> parent’s were somewhat doomsdayer worry warts who put him through survival classes & self defense courses VERY young. which lead him to being able to survive on the streets until watari found L after his parents died. and how L took down all those older kids when they tried to pick on him literally RIGHT after walking into wammy’s house 😭😭😭😭.

🎤 TAKADA

>> 17-18 during first arc , 27 during second arc. she / her. full honesty can see her kissing ladies, but that just might be her swag & haircut talking.

>> was NOT head over heels for light and wanting to be his queen or whatever. no, she planned from the beginning to sweep KIRA out from under his feet and take that title for herself. a plan that was working very well for her until the kidnapping.

➡️➡️ she doesn’t believe in everything light has her say, or that she says on KIRA’s behalf. it’s all just a part of the plan, and who ‘ kiyomi takada ‘ is known as & who she + her as KIRA are/was going to be are too wildly different people.

>> her and halle had fun little back and fourths when she was her bodyguard. some flirts were definitely made. . . often then followed by the weight behind them, which would then lead to more flirting. leaving questions about true meaning to never be answered.

🍫 MELLO

>> 14 during first arc, 21-22 during second arc. he / him ( in a queer way that’d take too long to explain ). his type between genders, or lack thereof in any way possible, is completely different. but fine with the gay man label, no it totally doesn’t tick him off a bit with how it doesn’t really fit at all !

>> mom, M ( oc ) , had him participate in a lot extracurriculars as a kid - - soccer, gymnastics, orchestra, argumentative writing competitions - - so he’d stop focusing on whatever the hell near was “ besting him at “. did it help? well, it gave him a lot of trophies he likes to look at!!!!

➡️➡️ M still keeps them all in the replica of his bedroom for when he comes back.

>> mello took out most the S.P.K. not only because he has put near’s face to his self-loathing, inferiority complex, insecurities, etc. . . but because somewhere deep inside he felt all those he could simply eradicate so easily were either too weak or too stupid to deserve to be on near’s team.

➡️➡️ he almost sent near an encrypted message that just read ‘ you’re welcome ‘ but decided that was a very stupid way to get his cover blown.

>> extreme lightweight and has a total personality change upon getting drunk. doesn’t drink a lot in public because of this, but around matt he’s fine getting all touchy feely and LOUD! good god he’s the person you have to shush and quiet down once they’re starting to feel it. SCREAMING EVERY WORD!!!

⛅️ NEAR

>> 13 during first arc, 20-21 during the second arc. she / her. crucial t4t but besides that she doesn’t care. . . not really looking for anything romantic right now, she’s kind of busy being squished inside L’s shadow. but she is actively sexual as an adult.

>> L’s only biological child with his wife, M. birth name was ‘ nate ‘ but practically since day one was called ‘ near ‘. when she asked why as an itty bitty her mom said ‘ because you’re near and dear to our hearts ‘.

>> has a weak heart thanks to her mother’s side that ended up giving out on her when she was 13. she was given a donor heart and very much so plans to test if that makes her invincible to KIRA’s trademark way of killing. . . with herself, of course, if that tells you anything about her mental state.

>> practically has trapped herself in a cycle of greif and mourning of her father. to the point she’s stuck in this weird spot of trying to become him completely so she can feel his love through herself. but it’s not exactly working because she doesn’t like herself, or her life and what she’s made it to be. . .

>> she’s an artist. she wants to be an artist again, not a detective. specifically she wants to get into sculpting!

🕹️ MATT

>> 14 during first arc, 21-22 during second arc. he / him. are you blonde, whiney if you’re a girl, bitchy if you’re a boy, some secret third annoying thing if you’re anything else, smart + secretly macabre, and on the slim side? perfect! then you are just matt’s type!!! though he doesn’t exactly stick to his type. . . just look at his list of exes! ( maybe i’ll make that someday. . . )

>> one of the few kids accepted into a wammy’s style orphanage without a traumatic past. really, he’s just a sensitive guy! - - light sensitivity, legally blind, touch sensitive, temperature sensitive, audhd & learning disabilities. . . little dude has it rough! but wasn’t exactly deeply traumatized until he met r + r + j ( ocs ). . .

>> was given up right after birth and thanks to the LOVELY FOSTER CARE SYSTEM lost all information his birth mother wanted him to be able to keep of her. which leads matt to wondering if he was unwanted because he is born different or was it just not the right time for her?

>> was born with the terrible combination of having a deep loathing for a feeling of being bored, but getting bored very easily. causing him to quickly become somewhat of an adrenaline junky. getting into trouble, hanging with the wrong people, and doing the wrong thing just for the thrill of it.

>> when scared, he smiles, when angry, he smiles, when sad, he smiles, he can’t help it! there really isn’t a natural reaction in this man to frown! which is actually terrifying. imagine being in a bar parking lot and this dude with the biggest grin is calling you a ‘ bitch ass motherfucker ‘ for not having the balls to fight him. also he laughs too, my hyena boy <3

➡️➡️ if he’s frowning he’s trying to look cool!

🫀 RYUK + REM

>> ageless immortals. he / him for ryuk , she / her for rem. ryuk likes boys and rem likes girls. also they’re black!

>> twins who in life used the death note to enact justice. but after both dying horribly, rem first, ryuk soon after, and becoming shinigami- - most things, including their mortal lives, became meaningless. . . leading to boredom.

➡️➡️ rem can sit with boredom, she likes to think, she likes to reminisce. she can make friends with any of the other shinigami and listen to their stories for hours. . . ryuk is not that. ryuk was balls to the wall in life and that didn’t go away once he died. if he’s not gambling with his bros he’s sneaking up on rem and pouncing on her like a cat. and they’re quickly start ripping eachother apart. i think i once described the sound of them fighting like 17 angry cats and a bad car engine revving up.

>> rem still went to the mortal world for the same reasons. not really caring what ryuk was doing there, not her problem. honestly it was nice being away from that bozo for like literally what felt like a second to her.

>> rem was in love with misa romantically!

>> ryuk was really fucking pissed with light when rem died and had to be reincarnated as a baby ( makes sense if you’ve seen my shinigami world lore. . . ) and basically yoinked her and carried her around in his giant claw hands after that plotline. she remained basically a baby the rest of the main storyline because ryuk didn’t want her offing herself for misa, or any pretty woman, again. so yeah he literally waited until misa DIED to show rem how to grow and regain her memories. . .

💥 MISC

>> it must be very obvious that since i cannot find a label to describe myself in any capacity outside ‘ queer ‘ i cannot put labels on most of these characters and it feel correct. . . 😭😭😭😭

➡️➡️ maybe in a couple months with some i’ll come back and be able to describe their genders, romantic preferences and sexuality better ^^’!

>> this was fun!!! if anyone liked these i have tons more for every character!! ^^ i literally jump at any opportunity to yap i love it sm!!!!!! 💚💚💚💚💚

>> this didn’t include anything MELLODONNA AU related because 1. it’s just not as well known. and 2. that au is much more canon compliant!! literally just death note if i threw a baby at mello lol! but if anyone’s interested in that i got LOADS to say about that too :3!

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foxbinnstuff · 2 days ago

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back with my crackship bullshit so soon holy crap! Anyways heres a ToriSaiKai ramble cuz my brains so dead

THIS MOSTLY GOES INTO TORIKAI AND THEIR FUNNY LITTLE DYNAMIC BE WARNED THIS IS LONG AND MIGHT BE OUT OF CHARACTER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To me, ToriSaiKai doesn’t work that well as a full on relationship, it’d be so fucked 😭 its more of a “imagine them crushing on each other/imagine how messy it’d be if they dated for a couple months” so kinda like more like a crazy fling than anything

Toritsuka would probably find himself crushing on Saiki first cuz he can legit transform into a girl and all that, but thats been done 100 times so you get the jist :3 Tori’s brain works in a sort of “if I’m getting something from you, I’ll stay around” way so he’s being clingy to Saiki and doing extra favors for him and all that stuff because he just wants Saiki to date him at least once as Kusuko, which is far from a promise, so why is he clinging around Saiki and doing extra things for him if it doesn’t get him Kusuko in return? (he’s gay for Saiki and doesn’t realize yet) So he continues flattering Saiki and all that woth the excuse of Saiki’s shapeshifting. Why not just any other girl? Because Kusuko is canonically really really attractive and I don’t think the perv would let go of that for weeks to even months. But where does Kaido come in? Well, Kaido’s always kinda hanging around Nendo, Saiki and Kuboyasu with a huge emphasis on Saiki and Kuboyasu since he looks up to them so much, and heck you could even say “fuck it” and add Kubo into the poly crackship lol anyway, so in one way or another Kaido realizes he has more than just friendly feelings for Saiki but is in super denial! He starts feeling jealous over Tori doing all these favors and even flirting with Saiki, so Kaido’s like being protective and stuff in his own little ways going “Saiki, Toritsukas apart of the dark reunion! We need to release our powers on him!” very loudly and Saiki rolls his eyes, silently agreeing with Kaido and playing into it a little in his mind cuz yeah, maybe he should ‘release his powers’ on that perv. So Tori’s very aware of Kaido’s jokes but I do think that theres a misunderstanding and Tori thinks Kaido ACTUALLY has superhuman powers like Saiki, cuz Saiki has showed that he enjoys Kaido and see’s him as at least a friend more than a few times which is so rare for Saiki when they don’t know he’s a psychic. Tori is sort of confused and shocked when he makes that connection cuz Kaido’s so weak and small, but it kind of makes sense since his spirit guardian was a out of the ordinary chihuahua! Tori starts making thinly veiled threats back about his spirit medium power, saying stuff like how he’s gonna get a world star wrestler to possess him so they can fight it out like real men! Kaido really seriously thinks Tori’s part of Dark Reunion and Tori thinks Kaido knows about how Saiki’s a psychic and therefore knows about shapeshifting, wanting Kusuko all to himself like he does. I think it’d be really really funny if Tori knew about Kaido being gay first on accident 😭😭😭😭😭 a cocky Toritsuka going “I have no need to worry, I have waay more experience than you anyways” and a flushing Kaido going “Huh?! Who said I ever wanted him like that?!”

a bit of confusion all around! Its sort of hard for Saiki to decipher cuz all the misunderstandings but he eventually does, and he actually gets amusement out of it, not stopping it because that at first.

The 2 of them go head to head, Kaido not wanting his trusted ally and greatest friend to join Dark Reunion and Tori wanting a chance with Kusuko instead. They flatter him and pamper him and such and he actually doesn’t mind being bought extra sweets and such, he just has to put up with Tori’s overly flirtatious and suggestive comments from time to time and Kaido’s try’s at expressing his love for Saiki and how much he means to him, just so he doesn’t join Dark Reunion. Saiki can see that this is sort of ruining them at first because they both hate each other so much but then they start popping up in each others heads again and again I think it starts off as a sort of “maybe I should trick Kaido with this to make him look bad in front of Saiki!” and a “Whats Toritsuka doing over by Saiki?! He’s probably got something evil up his sleeve that’ll make Saiki succumb to the Dark Reunion! What if he puts something in his food! Poison? Something worse?!” But they get less situational and more sudden, Tori see’s something light blue and thinks “I hate that dumb chihuahua!” Kaido see’s something to do with ghosts and goes “that stupid Dark Reunion ghost perv!” They don’t even need to see each other much and they’re popping up in each other’s thoughts 10 times a day! That got a little worrying to Saiki, especially when they start having frustrated rambly thoughts about each other that felt like they never stopped.

“he pisses me off so bad! Flaunting his power around everywhere but not using it in front of anyone, such a cheap ploy just for chicks probably! Not to mention his cute act, how he probably uses makeup just to appear cuter and less threatening! That dark reunion crap is so annoying, every word out of that guys mouth carefully articulated to sound insane! He probably thinks he’s so good, that damn goody twoshoes! He drives me insane!”

“does he really think he’s so slick?! What did he even join Dark Reunion for?! To be a pervert to all the reunions women?! I should of known they’d have those kind of disgusting people, is he even a person?! His devilishly good looks, those can’t possibly be real or human! He’s some kind of undead or something! How dare he come back from his grave to haunt the JetBlackWings?! What a sick pervert!”

The thoughts lead up more and more, so does the flattery and the head to head battles. Tori pushes Kaido and Kaido punches Tori, Tori rolls his eyes and Kaido goes into a fit of yelling. Their thoughts about each other slip out but the only thing they can understand are the accidental compliments, catching them both very off gaurd.

They sort of want to understand each other and why they’re doing this after a while, Tori asking stuff like “whats your deal?! We can just take turns!” and Kaido yelling “Why did you even join Dark Reunion, to haunt him!?”

They don’t really get anywhere except they know more and more that this is all for Saiki but they want it to stop, but they really don’t want it to stop at the same time. Their little fights and nonsensical arguments replay over and over in their heads, keeping them up at night, trying understand what the other was saying, trying to understand what’s happening to their brains and why its always either each other or Saiki.

what I like about it is the huge fucking mess they have to get out of, cuz lets be real, Kaido and Tori are like COMPLETE opposites

#tdlosk #saiki k #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki no psi nan #kaido shun #kaisai #saiki x kaidou #kusuo saiki #torisaikai #saiki x toritsuka #torisai #torikai #mostly goes into torikai #MY BRAIN IS SO DEAD

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