#the question now is WHO is EVERYONE ELSE????

[yailtsv]

Chapter 1: Crossing the Line

ceo!paige pushes you past the unprofessional line

»»— warnings: smut, bad grammar, bad punctuation, i don’t know how to write smut, mention of y/n once, aftercare

»»— notes: tell me what to fix on the smut please 🙏 😭 i hope this meets everyone’s expectations and if not please tell me what i should change for the future. if you have ceo!paige ideas SEND THEM IN!!! (fluff or i’ll try smut again! just send in ANY ideas)

»»— word count: 2.1k

“miss. bueckers, you have a photo shoot today at 2 for GQ” you tell paige after she responds with a “come in” to your knocking

“alright, and i told you to just call me paige, didn’t i?” paige responded back - knowing she’s told you that a million times

“yes ma’am”

“so then why aren’t you doing that?”

“don’t want to be unprofessional ma’am” you reply back after a few seconds of silence “unprofessional huh?” paige responds back smirking a little

“you also have a sit down talk scheduled at 4 for an article connected with the photo shoot.” you replied back nervously after seeing her smirk - trying to change topics but only got more nervous when paige stood up and walked towards you

paige leans over you shutting the door and locking it, making your breath hitch

“anything else?” paige says standing really close to you - invading your personal bubble, and moving her hand to push back a piece of your hair that was in your face

“um you need to turn in the new shoe drop designs tonight by 10pm-“ paige then decided to move her hand again but this time put it on your waist, lightly rubbing her thumb in circles through your blouse “go on” paige says in a low raspy voice

“once you get those turned in, we need to post teasers on the PBKicks accounts” you reply breathlessly

“that it?” paige asks moving her hand that was on your waist down to your lower back and pushing you closer into her making you let out a small breathless gasp

you turned your head avoiding eye contact before nodding your head to her question, she clicks her tongue in disapproval before moving one of her hands to underneath your chin and lifting your head up to look her in the face “use your words”

“yes, that’s it” you whimpered out breathlessly, feeling like your stomachs doing cartwheels

“good girl” you have to lean closer to paige after she says that - your knees getting weak

she chuckles at that and leans in closer to your ear whispering - “seems like someone has a praise kink, huh?” you just make a small noise between a moan and a whimper, resting your forehead on paige’s chest, to hide your flushed face

paige just laughs and pulls you to her in office couch, sitting down and pulling you on to her lap “this is unprofessional mis- paige”

“says who?” paige responds teasingly rubbing her hands everywhere across your body “rules” you stammered out fighting the urge to grind down on her

“i’m the ceo baby, i make the rules.” paige said while gripping your hips hard and pushing you down on her thigh - moving you back and forth - making you moan out loudly

paige doesn’t say anything and just takes her tie off and shoved it in your mouth “but you do still need to be quiet my love, wouldn’t want to distract everybody from their work, now would we?”

you nod your head, now moving your hips on your own with paige just watching “there we go baby, doing such a good job for me huh?”

you just let out a muffled moan in response - trying to grind harder feeling your release building up “you gonna cum? hmm?” you just nod but quickly become disappointed when paige grips your hips - stopping you from moving and from your release

she doesn’t say anything and just pushes you down on to the couch and gets on top of you.

“you wanna do this?” paige asks, wanting your consent before doing anything else, you shake your head saying yes while also saying a muffled yes with her tie still in your mouth

she smiles a little bit taking the tie out of your mouth and setting it on the couches arm rest “words” paige says again

“yes i want to do this” you whine out in a needy tone, paige leans down and connects your guys lips together, making you moan into the unexpected kiss

while you both are fighting for dominance in the kiss, paige’s hand is exploring your body before stopping at your buttoned up blouse “can i take this off?” paige mumbles against you making you nod in response

she pulls away from the kiss and sits up, unbuttoning your shirt and pulling it off, throwing it across the office, her eye’s immediately raking over your upper body

“you’re so beautiful” paige says still checking you out before leaning down and pressing her lips to your neck. paige kisses all over your neck sucking gently in some places making you let out quiet breathless moans

paige slowly trails down your abdomen, when she reaches your stomach she moves her kisses back up to your breasts

she trails her kisses to the top of your boobs gently sucking there too before moving her hand behind your back - making you arch into her, so it can be easier for her to unhook your bra

she drags your bra off throwing it in the same direction as your blouse, immediately kissing all around your chest - giving both of your breasts attention, with you arching into her more

after a few minutes of paige just kissing and sucking your chest she moves down your stomach stopping at the waist band of your skirt “can i take this off?” she asks again

“only if you take some things off, you’re to clothed” you reply back breathlessly, she shakes her head amused before standing up from the couch and taking off her suit jacket, and unbuttoning her dress shirt and throwing both of them in the same direction as the other clothes leaving her in her bra

you don’t say anything and just unbutton your skirt as a way of saying that she can take off your skirt now - which she picks up on and immediately walks closer to you and puts her fingers in the waistband of your skirt - pulling it down and tossing it

she immediately gets back on top of you, bringing you back into a kiss

while you guys are fighting for dominance again, she runs her fingers over the wet spot on your panties making you moan into her mouth “this wet already?” paige moans against your lips

“mm fuck, i can’t wait anymore.” paige says moving down your legs with her fingers at your pantie line, looking up at you again - asking if she can take them off, which you nod at, once she got the green light she immediately pulled your underwear down and tossed them with the others

she moved her eyes up and down for a little, checking you out with no shame whatsoever, before she got impatient with herself and layed down between your legs

she slowly kissed around your thighs, with you groaning impatiently and trying to push her head to where you need her the most - that did not work, as her head didn’t budge and she just chuckled amused looking up at you

“impatient are we?” paige says with that low voice again “paige” you whine out “do something please”

“only cause you asked so nicely” she says before pushing her head down and immediately bringing your clit into her mouth, sucking on it

you moaned out loud, making paige reach up from her spot and grab the tie, shoving it back in your mouth - all while still circling her tongue around you

she moved her tongue down your slit, circling her tongue around your entrance before pushing in - you putting your hands in her hair, trying to push her closer

paige groans into you at the pressure on her head, the vibration making you moan louder through the tie.

paige then stop’s thrusting her tongue and moves up back to your clit and moves her fingers down to your entrance - taking over where her mouth just left

paige circles her middle finger around your entrance while sucking on your clit, before thrusting that finger in

you groan loudly over the tie making paige let out a little giggle against you, “how many can you take mama?” she mumbles against you, you don’t say anything but you hold up two fingers

she makes a small noise of acknowledgment and takes her middle finger out, before thrusting her pointer and middle finger in together

she takes her free hand and puts it over your mouth - the tie not muffling enough of your loud moans, so she took it out and threw it.

while she kept sucking on your clit and thrusting her fingers inside of you, you started moving your hips - trying to get closer to her mouth and fingers, making her chuckle into you

“paige” you whine out with her humming in response “fuck don’t stop, please” you can feel your release getting closer and so can paige, only making her speed up more

you swore you could see stars when your orgasm crashed through you, decreasing a little bit as paige worked you through your high

your whine was the thing that pulled paige away from you - seeing that your now overstimulated and don’t need worked through anymore.

paige leans up from between your legs and bringing you into a kiss - you tasting yourself on her tongue,

your still trying to catch your breath and paige still hasn’t said anything - but she grabbed you by the waist and turned you both over, so your now laying on top of her, with her holding your head to her chest

“what about you?” you say after you finally caught your breath back “do you want to do that right now?” paige asked in your ear,

but before you could answer there was a knock at the door, making paige stand up while saying “one second” she layed you back down on the couch, and covered you with a blanket, just in case, and walked to the pile of clothes hurrying on putting her dress shirt back on properly before opening the door enough for her to see the person, and the person be able to see her, just enough for it to not be considered suspicious

“you have to leave in 10 minutes for GQ magazine, we can’t find y/n, so i didn’t know if she told you or not.” one of your interns said

“oh alright, thank you.” paige said shutting the door as soon as the intern acknowledged that paige answered and walked away

paige walked to her small in office bathroom, getting a rag and wetting it before coming back over to you, and gently cleaning you down there, with you letting out small noises from sensitivity

“i didn’t realize we were that close to time for the magazine shoot, i’m sorry” you say out tiredly

“it’s fine, we’re not late” paige said while walking over and grabbing your panties, bra, and one of her spare dress shirts that she keeps in her office in case her shirt gets dirty, and walked to her mini fridge grabbing a water bottle

she helps you get dressed in those said clothes, handing you the water after she opened it for you

“you’re gonna stay here and take a nap while i’m at the shoot-“

“no i’m fine, i’m your assistant, i have to be there!” you say cutting her off making her raise her eyebrows at you

“i’ll bring one of your interns with me, i already know you have everything written down correct?” paige asked in a knowing voice, that you just nod your head to

“great! so we will take your notes and go to the shoot while you stay here a take a well deserved nap yeah? i’ll lock the door when i leave, so you don’t have to worry about anyone walking in and seeing you in my shirt and panties, there’s snacks and drinks in the mini fridge and cabinets, just make yourself at home until i get back alright?” paige said with her hand on your bare thigh - rubbing small circles with her thumb

you just nod your head, not wanting to agree with this but also not having a choice “good girl” paige says while leaning in again and giving you a kiss before pulling away to get changed to leave for the shoot

“i never got to please you” you say looking up at her with tired eyes, paige chuckles from buttoning up a new pair of suit pants - seeing as the ones she was wearing are now wet

“maybe next time”

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

[5sospenguinqueen]

Please, Please, Please | Max Verstappen x Singer! Reader

Summary:  What do you do when your ex-girlfriend moves on with another guy? Become needy and pathetic. But, when the guy brings you to tears, Max knows it's his time to save you from further heartbreak.

Warnings: barry keogan (i couldn't find any other men with her that worked), swearing, toxic relationships, pathetic max 

Requested: yes by many of you on the previous part 

Faceclaim: Sabrina Carpenter (she was used on the last one and yes, she's used a lot but I stole her song and her job so I'm also stealing her face)

F1 Masterlist

prev. || next.

part 4 will be the last part so it may seem a bit rushed but i didn’t plan anything else. sorry! these just seem to be getting worse as well, so i’m also sorry about that 

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maxverstappen1 just posted

liked by danielricciardo, liamlawson30 and others

maxverstappen1 a good effort from the team to start on the front row tomorrow 💪 let’s keep pushing tomorrow 🇺🇸

6,633 comments 

user1 twitter is claiming that max and kelly broke up

user2 okay but i actually can’t function until i know if max is free from kelly once more

user3 max please tell us if you and kelly have broken up

user4 i need max and kelly to be done forever this time 

user5 is it true that you broke up with kelly?

→ maxverstappen1 yes. now can we focus on the race

→ user6 @/yn_ln this means you can give him another chance 

→ user7 why would she want to after he ran back to kelly

(comments have been limited) 

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yn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, actorbf and others

yn_ln surprise! if you have any questions, you can refer to my new single please, please, please 💋

13,850 comments 

user8 the two of them are so cute 

jennaortega i’ll give you all the kisses 

→ user9 i wouldn’t. not with all the men she goes through

→ oscarpiastri whoa now, there’s no need for that 

user10 don’t get me wrong. i’m loving all the new music. but my heart can’t handle all the new layers to this drama 

landonorris okay, little miss hollywood. that music video just proved you’d never do well in a film 

→ yn_ln oi, i act better than you do, mr hilton 

→ hilton we’d be happy to have you both

user11 ew, so she went from a hot motorsport driver to a subpar actor?

user12 wait, what? this wasn’t supposed to happen. she’s gone off script. max is single now, they were meant to be getting back together 

→ user13 she’s not his back-up plan. plus she’s way out of his league 

user14 don’t you think you might be putting strain on her new relationship? i doubt her new guy likes to see everyone preferring the old guy 

→ user15 hopefully that means he’ll leave and we can get her and max back

user16 has anyone checked on max?

(comments have been turned off)

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yn_ln just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, verstappencom and others

yn_ln how to lose a cake in 10 minutes 

16,334 comments 

alexandrasaintmleux the most beautiful birthday girl 

→ francisca.cgomes this dress is going to live rent free in my head 

→ yn_ln thank you for letting me show you both twenty different dresses

→ alexandrasaintmleux just wish you were taller so we could steal some of them 

→ yn_ln can’t believe you’d do this to me on the day of my birth 

→ oscarpiastri technically your birthday is tomorrow. this was just your birthday party

→ yn_ln thin fucking ice, piastri

user1 guys guys guys. verstappencom liked this. i repeat verstappencom liked this

→ user2 okay but that’s not max

→ user1 but it’s an advocate for max so 

landonorris dicaprio wouldn’t want you anyway. you’re too short

→ yn_ln i’ll make my boyfriend fight you 

→ landonorris i’m not scared of your polly pocket boyfriend

→ mclaren you can’t say stuff like this publicly, lan

→ user3 i swear none of them actually like her boyfriend 

→ user4 showing their support for max. he’s the only person who matches her beauty 

user5 no but the hand in the dress is somehow cute and hot 

→ user6 not with that guy. it should be max 

redbullracing happy birthday to our favourite popstar

replies

user7 what do you mean she had to pay for her own birthday meal on her birthday because her boyfriend wouldn’t

→ user8 not even wouldn’t but flat out refused 

→ user9 streets are saying it’s because he’s broke. not exactly like he’s raking in the job offers 

user10 so this man is lucky enough to get a chance with THE y/n l/n, then he refuses to pay for her dinner, and then he yells at her?? all on her birthday???

→ user11 he’s punching above his weight and clearly that angers him

→ user12 especially with the way she looked in that yellow sparkly dress today 

user13 someone clearly isn’t very smart. she writes a song for him - the first one she’s written recently that isn’t about max - and he does exactly what the song asks him not to do 

→ user14 how dare he try to embarrass our queen by yelling at her in front of so many people

→ user15 i’m starting to question if our girl does have good judgement. how could two men do this to her? 

→ user16 definitely doesn’t have good taste

user17 the audacity to yell at her in a restaurant of people, and then continue to do so after you were asked to leave because you were yelling at her

user18 and if i said i saw max verstappen pass them in the street, stop and turn, and start defending her, then what?

→ user18 he was literally yelling at this man whilst holding a crying y/n behind him, and rubbing her arm soothingly 

→ user19 we’d say you’re full of shit and have no tangible proof 

→ user20 this could be true because he was hanging out with charles and some of the drivers. and i just know alex sm got on the phone to her boyf and begged him to send the love of y/n’s life to save her

→ user19 pics or it didn’t happen

maxverstappen1 posted a new story yn_ln posted a new story

landonorris replied to maxverstappen1 i recognise the birthday girl's dress

landonorris replied to yn_ln who’s the 3rd person 👀 → wait why wasn’t I invited

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sorry if i missed anyone. it wouldn't let me tag some of y'all

[lilianalovespink]

Your lungs burn.

Your skin does too.

Sweat soaked clothes cling to your skin, cotton made heavy by the sheer amount of it that you've let off in the last hour of training.

But most importantly, there's a lump in your throat that aches worse than any cough ever could've- feeling like that time you had tonsillitis as a child.

"'ny more wisdom or are you done, private?"

If you cry now, he'll be kind; understanding. He always is, but that's the problem.

"I'm done captain."

~

'Unable to follow orders without questions, unable to integrate into the team.'

Sincerely and with your entire heart, you wish only the worst upon John Price. You could follow orders, you could work with them- if they let you.

A discomfort of needle like nature pulls through your muscles at that thought, considering that you had in fact voiced it and that the consequence had been the training you usually do over the course of three hours having to get done within an hour, no breaks, no warmups.

The worst part, you thought as you stepped out of the showers, is that in his view, he didn't hate you but rather...think you incompetent; a cocky amateur with too much of their chest puffed out.

You, a little child, a toddler acting rebellious or throwing a tantrum, and him, the sensible adult, strict but 'caring'.

"Shh, I know. This is too much for you. I know."

Leave it to him to make comfort a painful act; one for you to be belittled during, made out to be just another stupid teen in over their head.

Yes, you were younger than your commander, your captain, but no younger than your lieutenant or seargant.

Just not at their rank.

Your transfer to the 141 was abrupt, but by no means unwelcome. You were the best in your recruitment class, you were capable but as price, at the time you thought jokingly, put it, you weren't 'broken in'.

And boy did he have every intention of breaking you.

Training was tough, but doable except-

"You were top of your class? Again."

"There's a reason you're still a private."

"If you can't manage, leave."

And then, whenever you snap at him, show teeth at the hand that constantly strikes you, he's a saint. He's really just putting you what everyone else is going through, why are you this upset? Clearly because you're immature.

If you can hold back your urge to bite bite bite- this man, if you try to ask him stuff it's really a coin flip of what version of Captain John Price you'll get.

"You can't handle it? That's okay. It's okay, hey- no crying. Come here...yeah, that's a good girl."

Or, in case you didn't crawl between his legs like a scared puppy-

"I'm only being hard on you because I thought you wanted to be better. Was I wrong about that? Or do you want to be something other than a private one day?"

The worst part is that, the team seems to see you as a puppy as well- with you literally getting that as a monicker.

Lt. Riley wasn't as cold and mysterious as you expected when you first saw the mask, but he certainly wasn't hellbent on letting you be his buddy, let alone his comrade. He never helped you out unless you asked, but, should you make that mistake, to ask for help, he'll nod and simply guide you aside like you're a sheep and he's your shepherd. Like teaching you wasn't literally his job.

Sgt. MacTavish as well as Sgt. Garrick had initially been warm and inviting, had made you feel like this was your team- until you noticed how they'd leave you out whenever they could. Sure, neither of them were rude but- they weren't proper teammates either.

And then, of course, Captain Price.

What should you say about this man? How horrible he is? Would that do what he's put you through any justice?

As if this alienation from the people you literally had to trust with your life wasn't bad enough, the way they seemed to pity you was worse. Like you were a small child who dropped your candy.

It hurt, badly.

So when Commander Philipp Graves joined for a mission in Los Alamos and was the only one who treated you like you were on one level?

Yeah, you took the bait.

[akashirl]

- mi ♡ sei ship questions !!

↓↓ (beware the long post)

ps: i used both first and third person. i am my s/i, after all.

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

1. they first met on sei's first year and mi's second year of middle school, during basketball practice. it was the second practice miguel had attended, sei didn't show up on the first day.

2. miguel's first impression of sei was that he was an angel on earth, like some sort of divine being. it was absolute love at first sight. seijuro's first impression of miguel was that he was tall and a good player. he didn't think much of him at that time.

3. miguel was the one who felt romantic feelings first. it was immediate.

4. both of them tried to repress their feelings. miguel because he felt like he wasn't worthy of sei's admiration, and sei because he knows that being with another guy would be simply impossible due to his role as the only heir of the akashi lineage.

5. sei's life would have been ruled by his father's decisions. he wouldn't play in the nba, rather follow business like intended and put his dreams aside. his life would be quite monotonous. as for miguel, he would have succumbed to his disorder and just straight up would have died, without any kind of strength to keep going and no one to stay alive for.

6. they never left the flirting stage. sei is quite flirty in private, and it flusters miguel easily, who always tries to flirt back but fails miserably (marinette core).

7. OH BOY. miguel doesn't have a good relationship with his mother so he's living in the rakuzan dorms. his parents like sei, but they pretend to be unaware about miguel's feelings for him. as for sei's family, oh god. miguel is familiar with sei's nanny and driver, but he hasn't met masaomi personally. he's not exactly fond of him, either. so basically, neither families know that they're a "thing".

II. GENERAL

1. it was sei who initiated it. it was after my second practice at rakuzan after the absolute storm that was having to deal with my disorder... (i get way too shy talking about this) sei promptly told me that he already knew about my feelings for him, and kissed me when we were all alone and the lights were low. i didn't even have to say anything, he could read my thoughts effortlessly.

2. they didn't have an "official first date" but rather lots of casual hang outs. they spend all their free time together, be it playing basketball together or chess, studying together or going out during lunch break at rakuzan. they go to the movies together and sometimes bring the rakuzan gang along.

3. i am going to EXPLODE. this was on my first misei lore post but here it goes: it was after practice and miguel went to clean up in the locker room. sei followed him. they were all alone. mi didn't realize he was even there until he turned around; he asked if sei needed everything and seijuro simply went up to him, cupped his face with his hands and brought him down for a kiss. it all happened so fast that miguel felt like he was close to passing out. then sei pulled back, looked him in the eyes and said "don't ever scare me like that again.". how romantic, huh? crazy.

4. sei was mi's first crush, love, "relationship", and pretty much everything. mi was NOT sei's first crush (i see you, nijimura) but he was his first true love, "relationship" and whatever else.

5. back in middle school, sei was 152cm (4'11) and miguel was 167cm (5'5), that's a 15cm (5.9 inches) difference. now, sei is 173cm (5'8) and miguel is 177cm (5'9). i suppose sei barely caught up. as for the age gap, sei is 16 going on 17, while miguel is 17 going on 18.

6. well, both miguel and seijuro have an emotionally distant approach to others, albeit for different reasons. while quite literally everyone follows sei unquestioningly, miguel's reluctance provides an unusual pushback. he doesn't like being ordered around, and makes sure seijuro knows that. he keeps him on his feet, not ever putting him on a pedestal (and then fanboying about him in private but that's another story). they're like a king and his knight -- except the knight refuses to submit to the king and his shenanigans. dog lover × cat lover. milk person × black coffee person.

7. miguel's parents like sei and find him an "excellent role model" for their son. sei's father, however, thinks of miguel as just one of sei's friends from school. that is not masaomi's main focus. miguel resents him.

8. sei takes the lead in social situations, often being the one who initiates chats (he's secretly a yapper.). they're both introverts, but miguel is way more introverted than sei is. they share the same friends at rakuzan (mibuchi, kotaro, nebuya and chihiro) but miguel is strangely uneasy when it comes to being with the rest of the kiseki. he is friends with midorima and momoi, but finds it difficult to strike a conversation with the others. they're not on the same level basketball wise and it makes miguel feel a little bit out of it.

9. that depends on who's fronting. oresei is not the jealous type, but bokusei is extremely possessive. he matches miguel's freak, i suppose. oresei is confident enough not to mind that kind of thing...miguel is extremely insecure. bokusei is just naturally jealous. they're working through it.

10. [i don't quite understand what this question means. apologies.]

11. seijuro. seijuro does that. no questions asked.

12. they're extremely open about pretty much anything, sei can always tell when miguel is hiding something from him, and when it's the other way around, miguel always gets a gut feeling. though they're not the type to hide things.

13. miguel. he feels as if sei is just wasting his time on him and will eventually move on and find someone better, which he knows he wouldn't be able to handle -- but that's how he feels anyway. i mean, have you seen akashi seijuro? how did i even manage to pull such a human...? of course, he doesn't let sei know about this insecurity of his. but he doesn't need to. seijuro knows and reassures him all the time.

14. "once more to see you" by mitski, "amor de ganga" by miguel luz, "once upon a dream" by lana del rey are some of the songs in our playlist...

15. there's not a recurring argument but miguel often gets very worried with how much pressure seijuro puts on himself. he doesn't like it when sei stays at school until dawn working or when he has no time even to eat...they've had an argument before about sei's perfectionism and how it's affecting his life negatively and sei took notes. he's trying to fulfill his duties in a healthier way...

III. LOVE

1. miguel said "i love you" first, (ore)sei is the one saying it more often. i have a strange relationship with the word "love" so i don't go around saying it without meaning it...miguel is trying to become more confident in using strong words.

2. quality time, acts of service and words of affirmation.

3. miguel tries to make pick-up lines land and fails miserably. when it comes to cheesy gestures, he likes buying sei flower bouquets. after the game against jabberwock, miguel went up to seijuro and gave him a bouquet with red camellias, dahlias, white roses, red gladiolus and white chrysanthemums.

4. they cuddle almost every night at the rakuzan dorms, when everyone else is asleep. it's like the world has stopped spinning and they have all the time in the world to give to eachother. when it comes to pda, they don't do it much due to the private nature of their relationship.

5. it's often sei who initiates the kisses. sei's favorite spots to kiss: miguel's nape (where he has the tattoo), cheek, lips, shoulder. miguel's favorite spots to kiss: forehead, knuckles, lips and neck.

6. they like playing basketball, watching movies together, trying different restaurants together and playing chess against eachother.

7. sei is better at providing comfort. neither of them are very emotional, but sei always manages to make miguel feel safe -- he also tried to give advices to "solve" whatever problem miguel is facing. miguel, on the other hand, tries to distract sei whenever he's feeling down. he knows that sei's head can be quite the dark place to be living in, so he tries his best to get him to focus on something else.

8. they prefer verbal affection because it's something that they're able to do wherever, no matter the circumstances; but they've grown to appreciate physical affection too, even though it's mostly just hands on one's shoulder, slight hand brushing and timid hand holding. they're afraid of society ok. let them be.

9. what reminds miguel of sei: the sun, cats, the color red, gems / stones, gold, roses, the smell of cinnamon. what reminds seijuro of miguel: paintbrushes, silver, the ocean, clouds, the moon, apples and the smell of vanilla.

10. they like everything about eachother. they admire especially eachother's mental strength -- since both of them have disorders and are sort of "fighting their own demons", god knows what that means. seijuro likes the way miguel looks absolutely done with everything and everyone at all times, something about his aura just screams "i want to go home" and sei lowkey digs that. on the other hand, miguel likes seijuro's imposing nature and leadership. he admires the way he is confident about who he is -- and wishes he could be as confident as sei.

11. what miguel calls seijuro: sei, captain, aka-chan (when it's bokusei), or simply seijuro. he is kind of shy with petnames. what sei calls miguel: dear, my love, my knight, miguel-senpai or simply senpai.

12. sei has the memory of an elephant. miguel has the memory of a goldfish. he cannot remember anything.

13. miguel tends to be the first apologizing -- probably because he usually is the one in the wrong. sei has his arms crossed with an imposing expression, but he relaxes, gives him a faint smile and walks up to him, kissing his cheek. "alright. that's better."

14. the protectiveness scale would probably look like: bokusei > miguel > oresei. both miguel and seijuro tend to eachother's wounds...

15. miguel buys sei flowers (that seijuro keeps hidden in his room) and books, since sei likes reading a lot. sei likes getting miguel art supplies and he bought him a designer pen once. miguel can't even mention that he likes something without sei IMMEDIATELY wanting to buy it.

IV - DOMESTIC LIFE

[ au where they're 19 and 20 in college, and sei plays in the nba (lakers)]

1. both of them have a say in the decorations, but sei is quite minimalistic and miguel is into way too many medias not to decorate the fridge with shadow the hedgehog magnets. their house has some portraits of them together as well as some pictures of shiori, paintings that miguel has done all over the walls and pictures from places they've visited together.

2, 3 & 4: questions about marriage, weddings and children make me extremely flustered so i'm afraid i cannot answer them. might make a separate post about this au...

5. they're both breadwinners. sei makes loads of money from playing in the nba and miguel also makes a decent amount from his job as a psychologist. miguel cleans and sei cooks.

6. hmmm, i don't know...i don't think so. the pets stayed at miguel's parents' house and they often visit them.

7. miguel worries the most. seijuro is quite calm most of the time. he knows not to stress himself.

8. seijuro really dislikes bugs and quite literally demands for miguel to kill them.

9. that obviously depends on the holidays but (boku)sei is VERY festive as we know. months before the holidays, he is already prepared. be it dressing up, decorating the house, whatever, sei is absolutely ready. don't even mention christmas near him.

10. seijuro wakes up early and mi always convinces him to return to bed. seijuro succumbs, obviously.

11. sei doesn't move an inch when sleeping. it's almost as if he's dead (he sleeps like a man in a coffin) and miguel moves while being asleep, hogging the blanket to himself. by that time though, seijuro is already asleep and doesn't feel the cold. miguel is also the one brushing his cold feet on sei's leg. still sei doesn't move an inch. he looks as dead as a rock. and when it comes to cuddling, they tend to switch! (boku)sei has a preference for being the little spoon but other than that, they're pretty versatile.

12. miguel, he really likes to dance at parties and drags sei around. it really isn't like miguel to be so hyped up about anything, so sei dances along with him with a content smile on his face. they sing their favorite songs. it's their happily ever after.

13. they often visit sei's mother at the graveyard and leave her flowers -- then they return to water them everyday. it's common for sei to do this after he wins a game. also, after a game, sei and miguel go to a restaurant to celebrate the victory. then they walk at night while they talk about whatever's their heart's content. playing chess against eachother has also sort of became tradition to them.

14. miguel's the type to do that. "i don't know, you choose" even though he does have a place in mind and simply wants sei to guess. and seijuro always gets it right.

15. miguel drives, seijuro gives directions.

oh my GOD, this was long.

— ship questions redux (by myself + @newbordeaux)

I. PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

What was their first impression of each other?

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

What was their "flirting stage" like?

How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

II. GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

What was their first kiss like?

Were they each other's first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

What is their height difference? Age difference? Do either matter to them?

How do their personalities complement each other? How do they clash?

What is their relationship with each other's families like?

Who takes the lead in social situations? How are they around each other's friends?

Who gets jealous easier?

What are their parallels, whether in their personalities or their histories?

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other's ear in public?

Do they hide anything from each other, big or small?

Which one thinks they aren't good enough for the other, if at all?

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

What is their most common argument about?

III. LOVE

Who said "I love you" first, and what was the situation?

What are their primary love languages?

Who uses the cheesy pick-up lines, or does corny gestures?

How often do they cuddle or engage in PDA?

Who initiates kisses? Where is their favorite spot to kiss each other?

What are their favorite things to do together?

Who is better at comforting the other? How do they usually comfort each other?

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

What reminds them of each other?

What do they like best about each other?

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Who remembers the little things?

How do they make up after an argument? Who is the first one to apologize?

Who is more protective? Who would get into a fight to defend the other? Who tends to the other's wounds?

What gifts do they typically give each other?

IV. DOMESTIC LIFE

When they move in together, who gets the most say in decorations? What do they each have to have in the house?

If they get married, who proposes, and how do they do it? Would they change their surnames?

What is the wedding like? Who attends?

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like as parents? What are the kids like?

Are either of them the "breadwinner"? Who cooks? Who cleans?

Do they have any pets?

Who worries the most?

Who kills the bugs in the house?

How do they celebrate holidays?

Who is more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Who hogs the blankets or takes up more than their fair share of the bed? Who puts their cold feet on the other? Who are the big and little spoons?

Who likes to dance with, or sing for, the other?

Do they have any "couple traditions", or family traditions?

Who is the one who always says "I don't know" when the other asks where they want to eat?

Who would drive, and who would give directions?

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 2 - There's Pleasure In Pain

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts, childbirth, blood, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.

AN: Yes I know about the show 'this is going to hurt' I haven't seen it but from what I do know it's good so check it out. Also as an aspiring midwife this was so fun to write.

Part 1

Enjoy <3

You don't know how long it’s been. 

Hours? A day? 

More people have questioned you, with new questions.

‘Where was the convoy heading?’

‘Who give you the intel.’

‘What are the Americans up to?’

Some of the questions you don’t even know the answers to. Makes it all the more easier to ignore them. It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop. Death would be easier. 

You remember one of the first things you were told in training, a dead medic is no use to anyone. You remember once during a training exercise you ignored Price’s order to fall back, instead you ran into the field to pull someone out. 

It was the angriest you’d seen Price get. He screamed at you in front of everyone, chewed you out with the entire platoon watching. That was the night he told you he loved you, they all did. You’d never seen them get so emotional before, especially over a training exercise. 

‘You’re not allowed to put yourself in danger like we do. You need to keep us alive, and we’ll keep you alive.’ You remember John saying that, the way he apologised for screaming at you even though he was in the right. The sex that night was amazing. 

It makes you smile thinking about them. You’ve been thinking about them alot when you’re not being tortured. You have to assume they’re not coming for you, that's what you were taught. If you’re ever captured; don’t talk, don’t trade, don’t let them break you. Not that you have a choice over the last part, it’s all a test of willpower. 

You wonder how long it will be before they break you. You can handle the waterboarding to some extent, these people are evil though, terrorists, the worst of the worst. They don’t care about human rights, they’re not answering to any UN or even their own countries' laws. These people could do whatever they wanted to you and there is nothing you can do.

You secretly hope they’re coming for you, you’d like to imagine Simon and John tearing up buildings to find you, breaking the rules and hunting down every last person who laid a finger on you. They’re soldiers though, they have orders to follow, other people’s lives are at stake not just yours. 

You’re a liability now. They have no way of knowing what’s happening to you, if you’ve talked or where you are. You hope they know deep down you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll keep them safe, even if it is from a distance. 

The door to your room opens and you stand. A man walks in and grips your arm tight. You’ve stopped struggling, there’s no point. He walks you past the room you’re usually taken to, it makes your stomach drop. Somethings wrong, something’s changed. Maybe this is it and they’re going to kill you. 

You hear a woman scream, you dig your heels into the ground. The man says something in Arabic then continues to drag you along. This is bad, there is no way this ends well. You can still hear the woman screaming. Maybe they have someone else they’re torturing. He stops you outside a door and knocks. 

A few seconds later it opens. A man is standing there, he looks young, even with the beard, he’s the only person you’ve seen without his face covered. You hear a woman groan, he moves to the side and you see a woman bent over a table with another woman rubbing her back. 

You’re still taking in the scene when the man in front of you says something then pulls you into the room. The door is closed behind you, you look at him confused. 

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” He asks, you recognise the accent. He’s the person who patched up your arm. 

“Do I look like I know how to deliver a baby?” 

“No, but you’re a woman and a medic.” He says “She’s Khaled's wife. If this baby dies he’ll kill me.” 

“Great, he's not going to like it if I kill her.” You scoff. This can’t be happening. 

“You’re dead anyway.” He says, it’s like a knife to the heart. Now you want to help even less. The other woman rubbing her back asks something in Arabic. 

“She’s been in labor for 13 hours, I think something is wrong, she’s not progressing.” The man asks. 

“Then take her to a hospital. I don’t know how to do this, I don’t even know where to start.” You say holding your hands up. The woman screams again and it makes your head ring. You look round the room, there’s a bed and some basic supplies but not much. 

The man goes over to a book he has laid out on the bed and brings it over. To your surprise it’s in english. 

“This is all I have, I’ve done everything so far.” You scan over the book and turn the page, you see diagrams of anatomy and pictures of a vaginal birth. You try to think of anything you know that could help. You’ve seen documentaries, you’ve learnt some things, you close your eyes for a second pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Okay. Get her on the bed.” You say looking over at her. The man orders the women around, as she moves you see supplies on the table. You go over looking for gloves.

“Do you have anything sterile?” You ask, turning to look at him. He shakes his head.

“My bag, you must have taken it when you kidnapped me. It has sterile supplies in it.”

“We’ve used it already.” He says.

“All of it?” You ask shocked. There were enough supplies in there to last at least a week. 

“We needed the supplies.” He says. You sigh pulling on some gloves. What you have will just need to do. You go over to the bed and he follows, the woman's laid back hair is stuck to her face as her friend grips her hand and whispers at her in arabic. 

You let the adrenaline calm you, you ground yourself before you sit on the end of the bad. She looks down at you and grits her teeth through the contraction. Shit, you should be counting them right the time between them. You don’t have a watch you start counting in your head. 

“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” You ask. He asks the woman who replies. 

“2 minutes sometimes 5 minutes.” He says. That’s good right? Means she might be ready to push soon.

“Has she had a baby before?” You ask. 

“This is her 6th.” 

“6th?” You turn back to look at him. You’re not sure what to do with that info though, Does that make her more or less of a high risk. At least she probably knows what to do by now, she probably knows more than you. 

“Can you ask her to pull her legs up. I need to check internally.” He talks and she nods, her friend helping her get comfortable - well as comfortable as she can be. You’re not sure you’ll be able to tell how dilated she is, it’s more to check if everything feels right. Although, you’re not sure what the vagina of a woman in labor is supposed to feel like. 

You smile at her, you have to be confident, she needs to have faith in you. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can, you doubt she’s had any pain relief. You don’t envy her right now, going through labor for 13 hours like this, in this heat, you do feel sorry for her. 

“I can feel the head.” You say, it gives you a boost of confidence. “Can you ask her if she’s had any urges to push?” 

You look over at her as she nods. You pull your hand out, you look down at blood on your fingers, your stomach sinks. 

“Is that bad?” The man asks looking over.

“I don’t think it’s fresh. It could be normal, she is pushing a baby out.” You say taking the gloves off. You walk over to the table to grab a towel and he joins you.

“What should we be worried about?” He asks in a low voice even though you don’t think the women can speak English. We, there's no we, it makes a lump form in your throat.

“Hemorrhage. I’m assuming you don’t have blood.” You say, he shakes his head. So that's a death sentence. 

“The cord could wrap around the baby's neck.” He says. That could be happening right now and you have no way of knowing. You turn back to look at her. There’s no way to monitor the baby right now, you have no idea if it’s in distress and that could be why the labor is taking so long. 

“If she’s having urges to push, maybe she could try?” You say. 

“What if that makes things worse?” 

“I don’t know you’re not exactly set up for a cesarean.” You say. He sighs, you can tell he’s nervous. You should be nervous but you think the surge of adrenaline is keeping you going. Besides, what's the worst that could happen to you? They kill you? They’re probably planning on that anyway. 

There’s a knock at the door and the man goes over to answer it. You watch him out of the corner of your eye hearing him talk. You look back down at the tools. You pick up another pair of gloves and a towel and go back over to the bed. 

You lay the towel out and pull the gloves on as the door closes and he comes back over to you.

“Have you ever done CPR on a baby before?” You ask him. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“Only in practice.” You turn looking up at him confused. “I’m a doctor, well I was training to be one.” 

“You should be doing this, not me.” You scoff shaking your head

“I wanted to be a neurologist.” He says, you sigh, you don’t care, you’re mad he didn’t tell you. 

“Do you have something to clamp the cord with?” You ask looking over at him, he goes over to the table and comes back with an actual clamp. You take it from him and place it on the bed. The woman groans again and you look over at her.  

“Tell her we’re going to try pushing, after the next contraction.” You say getting yourself comfortable and moving her legs so they’re apart. You feel awkward all of a sudden, this is definitely not something you thought you would ever be doing, especially not here of all places, as a fucking hostage. 

You look down-holyfuckingshit. There’s the head. 

“Push, push, tell her to push.” You call as you move your body to get your hands into position. You’re not really sure what you're going to do. Support the head right? Don’t let it fall out of your hands. You’re shaking as she pushes and the head comes out. You see eyes, a nose and mouth. 

The lips are slightly blue, it makes you hold your breath. 

“Tell her keep going, she’s doing great.” You say. You need her to keep going, you need to get this baby out. As soon as the shoulders are through the rest is easy, it just flops out. You look up at her and smile as you reach over for the clamp. 

“I need another clamp.” You say, you place the baby on a towel. 

Why is it not crying? It should be crying. 

You wipe its face, nose and eyes. Cry dammit, you’ve never wanted to hear a baby cry more than anything. 

“Here.” He says handing you another clamp. You turn the baby on its side and start rubbing his back. You’ve seen people do this on TV before. 

“Come on, come on baby.” You mumble. When it cries you almost start too. You roll it on its back as its crying rings in your ears. You take the clamp out his hand. He has the scissors too, you nod at him. 

The woman is shuffling on the bed, she’s asking something. “She wants to know the sex.” the man asks. 

“B-boy. It’s a boy.” The words catch in your throat the adrenaline is wearing off now, you swallow hard you need to keep it together. Your hands shake as you cut the cord. The other woman has moved over to you holding her hands out. You nod, wrapping the baby and handing it to her.

You hear a knock on the door and the doctor leaves you. Or you guess he’s not really a doctor. You look back down between her legs. You’re not sure what to do now, you’ll have to wait for the after birth right? 

She’s not bleeding out though, that’s a good thing. You’re taking your gloves off looking over at the woman stroking her baby's head. You let yourself smile, holy shit you just delivered a baby. Johnny would love to hear about that. Your smile fades as you remember where you are. 

“They want to take you back.” The doctor says as he comes over to you. You nod looking at the person standing at the door. As you get up the woman calls out for you saying something in Arabic. You look over at the doctor. 

“She says thank you. And she hopes you have a safe journey home.” He looks away from you. You turn and smile at her nodding your head. 

“Congratulations.” You say and go over to the door. 

“Oh by the way.” You say turning back to him. “The placenta, when it comes, make sure it’s complete.” 

“How will I know if it’s complete?” He asks. 

“Maybe there’ll be something in the book.” You say shrugging. He nods as the man in the door reaches out, gripping your arm and pulling you out. 

___

The door to your cell opens. You watch as the doctor comes in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. Suddenly your stomach grumbles and your lips smack together as you realise how dry your mouth is. 

He sets them down on the slab of concrete you think is supposed to be a bed. You look over on the plate, there’s flatbread and what looks like hummus. You don’t care what it is, you’re so hungry you’ll eat anything. 

You look back over at him, if you eat you’re breaking down your defences, gathering your strength just so they can torture you more. You are so hungry though, the weaker you get the more likely you are to give up intel you know you shouldn’t. 

“It’s not poisoned or anything.” He says you look over at him, you hadn't even thought about that. 

“How’s the baby?” 

“Good, they’re both good.” He says leaning against the door. 

“Where did you study?” You ask. 

“America, Princeton university.” He says. 

“Fuck me, and you chose to come here?” You scoff. He doesn’t reply, pressing his lips together. 

“You should eat, you might not get another chance. They won’t leave the plate in here.” He says nodding at the food.

“What? I deliver your leader's son and I get some hummus?” You spit at him, you want the food less now. 

“Better than letting you starve.” He says. Starvation would be a pretty horrible way to die. You shuffle over to the plate, opening the water bottle first and trying not to drink it down so fast. You can’t help it though, you don’t even care that it’s warm, it feels like you haven’t had a drink in weeks. 

When you’re done you put it back down letting out  breath. You pick up one of the flatbreads and pull some off dipping it into the hummus. 

“Why’d you leave America?” You ask. 

“I couldn’t stand it. I thought it was the way to a better life. Then I saw all the abominations, I had to leave.” He says, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Why are you here fighting in a war that isn’t yours to fight?” He asks, theres hostility in his voice. 

“You keep blowing shit up in our country.” You say as you dip more bread. 

“You’re special forces or something aren’t you?” It makes you stop chewing, you look up at him. 

“I’m a medic.” You say.

“No ones ever lasted through torture the way you do. Most of them give up after a few hours, or a day.” He says. So it’s been longer than a day, you don’t know if you should be glad or not. It’s been over 24 hours and they still haven't come. 

You look down at the food, suddenly it’s sitting heavy in your stomach. You remember the feeling of ingesting all the water and the feeling of it coming back out when your stomach’s full. You put the bread down and push the plate away. 

“My name is Sayyid.” He says bending down to pick up the plate. 

"I'm not going to tell you my name." You say. He nods pressing his lips together.

"Good luck" He says, nodding and leaving the room. You don't need luck, you need to get the hell out of here.

___

The car ride went in silence. No witty remarks from Johnny. There’s no filling the deafening silence, the only noise is coming from the engine and the wheels turning on the dirt roads. 

48 hours that's how much time Lawell could realistically buy them, if Shepherd was going to send shadows after them they have to move quick. Ghost pulls the car up to the building. 

This is the closest they can get to the next town without being spotted, there's an al-qatala base there. That’s where they’ll get intel, that's where they’ll find out where you are. It’s too late now though, the journey to get here was long. 

“Gaz, Soap clear the place, we’ll wait here.” Price says as Ghost turns the engine off. There’s no reply, just the sound of doors opening and closing. Price watches them walk round the car and over to the front door. The building will be empty, as soon as they’ve confirmed that though, they can hide the car. 

“I shouldn't have put her at the back.” Price says as he watches Gaz and Soap enter the building. 

“It was the right call.” Ghost replies. Price sighs, yeah it was, he didn’t expect things to go so wrong though. Ghost's hand lands on his thigh, he looks over at him. He can see the softness in his eyes. 

“We’ll get her back, John.” 

“I know, I just hope we’re not too late.” 

Banners by plum98

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary who could blame you? the night before thanksgiving was never meant to be innocent — especially not when the boy you’ve known forever looks at you like he’s already decided to ruin you

content 18+, smut, language, alcohol

prev

The bar is loud. Too loud. Voices crash over each other, music shaking the walls, laughter splintering through the chaos. The air swirls with spilled beer, sweat, and cheap perfume. A cocktail of regret already in the making. It all clings to you, settling within your skin. 

The heat inside is nearly unbearable, a sharp contrast to the biting Ohio cold just beyond the fogged-up windows.

You push through the crowd, brushing past bodies pressed too close together, faces blurring under the neon glow. Familiar ones. Unfamiliar ones. Ones you hoped you’d never see again.

Same bar, same people, same exhausting routine playing out like clockwork.

You don’t usually look forward to this night — this annual reunion of your hometown’s finest washed-up athletes, ex-prom queens, and guys who still bring up their glory days at state championships like they happened yesterday.

But it’s tradition.

And tradition says you show up, smile when people ask about the semester thus far, dodge questions about your major, sip overpriced drinks, and pretend you care about who got engaged or knocked up this year.

This is only your second Blackout Wednesday.

Sophomore year means you’re not a newbie anymore, but you’re not a regular either. You know the drill now. The way the bartenders barely glance at the fake IDs slid across the counter, even though they grew up with half the people using them.

You’ve watched guys you went to elementary school with order rounds of shots like they didn’t once throw up grape juice in the cafeteria. Girls who used to sneer at you in the hallways now drunkenly grabbing your hand in the bathroom, slurring about how much they "missed you soooo much."

It’s all fake. A well-rehearsed play where everyone pretends they aren’t counting down the minutes until they can escape this town again.

Still, you’re here.

Because what else is there to do?

You’re halfway through your first drink when you see Joe.

It shouldn’t be surprising, Thanksgiving means everyone comes home. 

Home from his first year at LSU, taller and broader, shoulders filling out the long-sleeved black shirt stretched over his frame. He looks different, but not in a way that makes you stare, more in a way that makes you double-take.

You remember when he was deciding where to go after graduating OSU. The transfer talk had stretched through the beginnings of the year, the same names cycling through every conversation your brother and his friends had at the house. North Carolina? Nebraska? Alabama?

And then it happened:

Cincinnati.

Your head had perked up. Just slightly. Just enough for you to feel stupid about it later.

It wasn’t like it would’ve meant anything. It wasn’t like you would’ve seen him, not really. The University of Cincinnati was huge and you were wrapping up your freshman year. You weren’t sure why it even mattered. Why, for a brief second, the idea of your worlds overlapping for the first time beyond family ties, felt like something worth entertaining.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t a thought at all.

Because LSU happened.

And when his family held that small going-away gathering, there was no red and black in sight. No UC decorations, no Bearcat colors bleeding into the napkins or tablecloths. Just purple and gold. Bold, glaring, almost mocking.

You remember standing in front of the dessert table, staring at royal frosting of all things like it had personally insulted you.

Some nights, when the dorm was too quiet and your phone screen was the only light in the room, you’d find yourself typing his name into Google. Just once. Just to check.

Never interest. Never anything more.

That’s what you told yourself, anyway.

It wasn’t hard to keep up. LSU was making noise, and so was he. His name started popping up in articles, on Twitter, tucked into game recaps with words like poised and potential thrown around like confetti. You’d skim them, half-engaged, never needing to look too hard because if you didn’t see his name online, you’d hear it from your mom.

"Robin says Joe’s adjusting well down there…" she’d mention casually, somewhere between asking if you needed more laundry detergent and updating you on which neighbors had finally sold their house.

Sometimes, she’d go on. He really likes Baton Rouge… Jimmy says the coaches are impressed… Robin says they miss having him around.

But sometimes, she wouldn’t.

And when enough time passed without a mention, without hearing his name tucked neatly into conversation like it had always been, you’d find yourself searching again.

Just to know.

And then you’d close the tab, lock your phone, roll over in bed, and never think about it again.

Until now.

Because now, he’s here, standing in the middle of your hometown bar like he isn’t creeping into conversations, like his name isn’t slipping into headlines, like he isn’t the reason some guy at the other end of the counter is repping purple and gold instead of Bengals orange.

He’s different. Or maybe it’s just that, for the first time, you’re seeing him as something other than the annoying older boy who was always there, easy to roll your eyes at and even easier to ignore.

You look away.

It doesn’t matter.

Or at least, it shouldn’t.

But something lingers. The kind of awareness that prickles along your skin, that makes your fingers tense around your drink, that keeps your shoulders squared even as you force yourself to focus on something else.

He’s not looking at you.

Not that you can tell.

But you can feel him.

Somewhere past the crush of people near the bar, past the bodies leaning against sticky tabletops, past the haze of smoke and too-loud music and bad decisions waiting to happen: he’s there.

And maybe it’s just in your head, it could be nothing. Maybe it’s that he’s familiar, but not in the way he used to be.

Because you know the set of his shoulders, the way he pushes his hand through his hair when he’s thinking, the way his jaw tenses when he’s listening but not speaking.

You know him without knowing him.

And yet, the weight of his presence is pressing into you like a hand at the small of your back.

You huff and try to shake it off.

"Bathroom?" one of your friends says beside you, looping her arm through yours before you can respond.

You let her pull you along, weaving through the throng of people, past someone attempting to order another round, past a couple making out against the wall like they’ve forgotten they’re in public.

The bathroom is a war zone, as expected.

Girls pressed together in front of the mirrors, smudging eyeliner with unsteady hands, fixing lipstick that’s already faded from stolen kisses and mixed drinks. Strangers throwing compliments like candy: oh my god, your hair looks amazing and I love your dress, where’d you get it? whispered between girls who wouldn’t acknowledge each other outside of tonight.

You slip into a stall, locking the door, leaning against it for just a second.

The bass vibrates through the walls. The distant hum of voices, the occasional burst of laughter. You inhale deeply, steadying yourself.

It’s fine. 

You’re fine.

And if you say it enough times, maybe you’ll believe it.

By the time you wash your hands and step back into the crowd, your drink is gone, condensation leaving a damp circle on the table where you left it. Your friends have drifted toward the dance floor, the blur of movement and music swallowing them whole.

You decide on another drink, pushing your way toward the bar and waiting your turn only for someone to shove past at the last second, slamming a twenty onto the counter and barking out their order over the noise.

Your eyes narrow. Brandon Wilkes.

Of course it’s him. Always cutting ahead, always acting like he was owed something. You roll your eyes and shoot him a glare, resisting the urge to call him out. Some things never change.

"Didn’t think I’d see you here."

The words slip through the noise — smooth like they belong there.

Your breath catches. A pause, just long enough for recognition to crawl up your spine.

Joe.

Closer than before, the sharp angles of his face softened by dim lighting, his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they settle on yours.

You swallow, tilting your chin slightly. "Didn’t think I’d see you either."

His lips twitch. Not quite a smile, but something close. "Guess we’re all bound to make a few questionable decisions tonight."

You nod, shifting your weight onto your other foot. "Wouldn’t be Blackout Wednesday without a little regret."

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Regret, huh?"

"Regret," you confirm.

His eyes flicker down to your empty hand, then back up, considering. "What are you drinking?"

It’s not a question, more like a next move.

You hesitate for a second before giving him the answer.

Before you can even think about ordering yourself, Joe lifts a hand, barely even a motion, and the bartender is there in an instant. Of course.

You bite back a scoff as she leans in, all too eager, but Joe doesn’t so much as glance at her. Just gives your order, smooth and easy, like it was never up for debate.

And just like that, the bartender slides a fresh drink across the counter, and Joe beats you to it, picking it up before you can reach for it.

Your fingers brush when he hands it to you.

And it’s nothing.

But it’s also not.

You take a sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. "Trying to get me drunk, Burrow?"

His smirk deepens. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, quick, unconscious. He leans in just slightly, just enough to see if you’ll move. "Don’t think you need my help with that."

Your stomach flips and you hate that it does. You hate the way your body reacts before your mind can catch up. The way the bar suddenly feels too warm, the noise fading into something distant, like nothing else matters except the inches of space between you.

It’s reckless. It’s stupid.

It’s inevitable.

One drink turns into two.

Two turn into stolen glances, subtle but unmistakable. A slow, unraveling pull that neither of you acknowledge out loud.

The brush of his arm against yours, the warmth of his skin radiating through the fabric of your sleeves. The way your conversations slip into something easier than they should be, like you’ve done this before, like you’ve always known how to hold a conversation between each other.

And then a touch.

A simple thing, really.

It’s subtle at first, fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt like a passing thought, something fleeting and unintentional. But then he doesn’t move away. Instead, his hand sticks, settling against your waist, his thumb brushing over your side in a way that feels effortless but also like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away.

He leans in, voice low, threading through the noise of the bar like it belongs there. His breath is warm against your skin, steady, even, completely at ease. The conversation around you dissolves into background static, something distant and irrelevant, because suddenly, this is the only thing you can focus on. 

Your breath catches, you glance up, and that’s the moment everything shifts.

Because when you meet his gaze, when you catch the flicker of something dark, something hungry in his expression, you know.

And so does he.

All you can hear is the low thud of the bass and the shallow breath you take in when Joe shifts closer, when the heat of him presses into your side. His palm flexes just slightly, enough for you to feel it, enough to make your stomach tighten.

And then he leans in.

Slow. Unhurried. Like he’s savoring the moment before it happens.

His breath is warm against your skin when he speaks, just for you. "You gonna stop me?"

You should.

You know you should.

You should think about what happens after this, about how easy it would be to fall into something that was never meant to be.

But you don’t.

Your body betrays you first, tilting toward him, your fingers brushing his forearm where it rests against the bar. His jaw tenses at the contact, his fingers curling tighter against you, his head tipping down just slightly, just enough for his lips to hover above yours. 

His eyes flicker, searching yours, asking a question without saying a word.

And you answer by not moving away.

It would be so easy.

So easy to close the gap. So easy to give in, to let this spiral into something neither of you can take back.

But then—

A sharp burst of laughter, too close, too jarring, snaps you back into reality. A body stumbles into Joe’s back, jostling both of you just enough to break the moment. The spell fractures, and you blink, breath catching in your throat as the bar crashes back into focus. It’s loud and crowded. Filled with too many people, too many eyes.

Joe’s gaze flicks past you, scanning the room. His fingers squeeze once more against your skin before he pulls back. "Come on," he murmurs, barely audible over the noise. 

Your pulse pounds as he nods toward the door. You hesitate for less than a second before following behind him, glancing over your shoulder and realizing everyone is too busy to notice the two of you leaving together.

The air outside is crisp, sharp against your flushed skin, but it does nothing to cool you down. Joe walks ahead, his pace slow and measured like he’s thinking. Like he’s trying not to think. 

The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars left. You recognize his truck instantly, parked toward the back under a flickering street lamp and distant from the other cars.

He stops beside the driver’s side, one hand gripping the handle, the other resting against his side. He exhales, his breath visible in the air and his head tips back slightly before he looks at you.

It’s different out here.

No music to drown out your thoughts. No crowd to get lost in. Just the sound of the wind, the distant hum of traffic, the weight of his stare. The space between you feels bigger now, stretched thin by the cold and the quiet. More time to think. More time to overthink.

His gaze locks onto you like he’s seeing something he can’t turn away from and that makes his jaw shift, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s fighting the urge to move, to close the last bit of space between you.

But then he does.

A step forward. Then another.

His hand lifts, fingertips grazing your wrist first, barely there, before slowly sliding up the length of your arm. His palm finds your waist, the same way it had inside, only now there’s nothing stopping him.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but instead he dips his head, his nose brushing along your temple before his mouth finds your jaw. The first drag of his lips is barely a kiss, more of a test, a question traced against your skin to make sure this is real.

Like he needs you to know that this is happening.

"Tell me you want this."

The words come out against the soft skin beneath your ear. His lips linger, moving slowly, tracing a path down your jaw, stopping just at the corner of your mouth.

Your body answers before you do. Your fingers tighten into the fabric of his shirt, your breath hitching and head tilting slightly, giving him more. Giving into him.

"Tell me." His pulse hammers beneath your touch, a steady, thrumming beat against your palm as your hands slide higher, over his shoulders, curling around the back of his neck. Joe exhales sharply, the sound making it seem like he’s barely holding himself together.

You don’t answer him with words.

You tilt your chin up, closing the space between you, pressing into him until there’s nothing left but heat. Your lips part, hovering just close enough that you can feel his breath mix with yours, can feel the way he’s waiting, hanging onto the moment like he needs it just as badly as you do.

And then, he gives in.

His mouth crashes against yours, a searing pull that steals the breath from your lungs. His fingers tighten at your waist, flexing like he’s making sure you don’t slip away, like letting go isn’t an option. 

The kiss starts slow, but it doesn’t stay that way. Not when your nails scrape lightly against the nape of his neck. Not when he groans against your lips, the sound low and raw, before his grip tightens, his other hand sliding to the small of your back, pulling you into him.

He pulls you closer and closer until there’s nothing left between you but heat and the undeniable weight of whatever this is. His tongue slips past your lips, deepening the kiss, and you can’t help the soft moan that escapes you, the sound swallowed by his mouth. 

His hands are everywhere; on your waist, your back, your hips — all like he can’t decide where to touch you first, like he’s trying to memorize every curve of your body.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling with each labored breath. His eyes search yours, "get in the truck." 

You don’t hesitate. You climb into the backseat, the leather cold against your hands, but you barely notice. Joe follows, his movements quick and borderline impatient as he shuts the door behind him. The space is intimate, the windows already fogging up from the heat of your bodies.

Joe’s hands are on you again, laying you down gently while his fingers sliding underneath the hem of your top. His lips find yours once more, his kiss harder this time, more demanding. You can feel the need in him, the way he’s holding back, the way he’s trying to keep control. 

But when your hands slide down his chest, feeling the hard lines of his body through the fabric of his shirt, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. "You’re driving me fucking crazy.” His hands slither up your thighs, fingers hooking into the waistband of your jeans.

"Do something about it," you whisper, your voice barely audible, but he hears it. His eyes darken, his jaw tightening. Before you can say anything else, he’s pulling your jeans down, his hands rough but careful, like he’s afraid of breaking you.

A flicker of self-consciousness washes over you, but it disappears as quickly as the heat of his body sinks into you, settling himself between your legs. His hands caress your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin as he leans down, his breath hot against your neck. "Couldn’t stop looking at you all night,” he mutters, almost to himself.

You can feel the hardness of him pressing against you, the sensation stealing the air from your lungs. You lift up to capture his lips, nipping at him, unable to stop the way your hips instinctively arch to meet him. Your body moves on its own, desperate for more.

Joe’s breath hitches, his lips trailing a path of fire as they move lower, scattering kisses across your collarbone. His hands, calloused yet gentle, slide up your sides, pushing the fabric of your top higher until your skin is exposed to the chill of the truck’s interior. But you can’t feel the cold, not when his touch burns hotter than anything else.

“So soft,” he murmurs, his voice almost reverent as his fingers trace the curve of your waist. His touch is slower now, as though he’s savoring every inch of you. His lips follow, kissing a line down your sternum, his breath warm against your skin.

You shiver, your hands tangling in his hair and urging him closer. His name escapes your lips in a whisper, a sound that seems to ignite something deep within him. He groans, the vibration of it sending a jolt through you.

His eyes flick up to yours, and for a moment he just watches. His chest rises and falls with the same urgency that’s coursing through your veins, and then, without a word, he lowers his head again, his lips brushing over the sensitive skin just above the waistband of your panties.

Your back arches, a soft gasp escaping you as his hands move up your thighs, his fingers hooking into the lace and sliding them down. His touch is teasing as if he’s testing your limits.

When his lips finally meet the heat between your legs, you nearly cry out. His mouth is warm, his tongue sliding against you in a slow, skilled motion that has your fingers tightening in his hair. He’s relentless, his movements measured yet unwavering as though he’s determined to unravel you completely.

“Jesus—” he chokes out your name, his voice muffled against you. “Taste so good,” the vibrations of his words send a shiver up your spine. His hands grip your hips and hold you in place as his tongue circles that one sensitive spot, driving you closer to the brink with every flick, every stroke.

You can feel the tension building, coiling tight in your core, but Joe doesn’t let up. His pace quickens, his tongue moving faster, more urgently, until you’re gasping for air, your hips bucking against him.

“Joe, I—I can’t—” you stammer, your voice breaking as the pleasure crests, threatening to overwhelm you.

But he doesn’t stop. His hand trails up, fingertips skimming over your stomach, teasing, exploring, until he reaches the lace of your bra. There’s no hesitation, just an easy push of the cup, baring you to him. His thumb grazes over your nipple before he pinches, rolling it between his fingers, his grip firm, possessive.

The sensation sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your belly as the sharp edge of pleasure tightens, unraveling the last threads of restraint. Your body tenses, a cry slipping from your lips as the wave builds, crests, and crashes over you, leaving you trembling beneath him.

Joe doesn’t stop — not yet. His mouth still moves against you, coaxing out every last shudder, every last breathless moan. His hands hold you steady, his grip firm, grounding, as if he’s keeping you tethered to him while you fall apart.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glisten and he watches you — really watches you. For a split second, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt? Hesitation? Regret?

But then it’s gone.

His gaze darkens, hands sliding up to frame your face, thumbs tracing slow, lazy circles over your cheeks. Like he needs you to feel it, to feel him. To know he’s here.

And then he moves.

His body presses flush against yours, the heat of him searing through the layers still between you, his length hard and insistent against your thigh. The thought, the uncertainty, dissolves beneath the weight of him, beneath the way his mouth finds yours in another kiss, deeper this time, hungrier.

You taste yourself on his tongue, and the sound that leaves you is nothing short of desperate. Your fingers tangle in his shirt, gripping, pulling, needing more.

Joe groans, the sound reverberating between you as his hips roll forward, grinding against you, the friction sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight through you. His breath shudders against your lips, his hands tightening where they hold you, like he’s just as lost in this as you are.

“Please,” you beg, your voice trembling with need.

Joe hesitates, his eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in their depths. His jaw tenses, his breath uneven, and then he nods, his fingers curling around the waistband of his jeans. The sound of his zipper is deafening in the quiet of the truck, each metallic click sending another pulse of anticipation through you.

And then he’s there, guiding himself to you, his breath catching as he pushes inside.

A sharp gasp escapes you, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you, inch by excruciating inch. He goes slow, like he’s savoring every second, his forehead pressing against yours when he finally sinks all the way in. His body shudders against you, “you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice rough, almost pained.

Your fingers twitch against his skin, needing more, needing to feel him. You reach for his shirt, bunching the fabric, pushing it up just enough to reveal the solid warmth of his stomach, the defined ridges of his abdomen. Your palms slide over him, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips, the way his muscles tense under your touch.

He grunts at the contact, his body responding instantly. His hips shift, just slightly, but the movement is enough to have you whimpering, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

That’s all the encouragement he needs.

His grip on your hips tightens as he starts to move, slow at first, dragging every thrust out like he wants to commit this to memory. But it doesn’t last, his control frays too quickly and soon, he’s driving into you with a force that steals the air from your lungs.

The sounds between you; his breath, ragged and uneven, the wet slap of skin against skin, the soft creak of leather beneath you, fill the small space, drowning out the world beyond the truck.

Every thrust sends a jolt of pleasure through you, every noise he makes only fuels the fire burning inside you. His hands roam, gripping, teasing, pushing you closer to the edge until it’s too much, until the pleasure coils so tight you feel like you might snap.

“Joe, I’m—” The words are barely out before he angles his hips just right, hitting that spot that has your vision blurring, your body bowing into him, every thought dissolving into pure sensation.

He groans, his pace quickening, his thrusts turning rougher, more desperate, his breath hot against your skin. “C’mon,” he rasps, voice thick with need. “Let me feel it.”

And you do.

Your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure overtakes you, crashing through you in waves, leaving you breathless, trembling beneath him. The sound that escapes you is involuntary, raw, and it sets something off in him. Joe follows a second later, his hips stuttering, his movements turning jerky as he buries himself deep, a ragged groan ripping from his throat as he comes.

For a moment, the only thing that exists is the sound of your heavy breathing, tangled together, filling the confined space of the truck. His forehead presses against yours, his body still trembling with the aftershocks, and for just a second, everything else fades.

But then his grip on you loosens. The heat of his hands disappears, replaced by the cool air settling in the space between you. Reality creeps back in, slow but certain.

Joe exhales, shifting back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with the remnants of uneven breaths. He moves sluggishly, almost like he’s reluctant, lifting his hips just enough to drag his boxers and jeans back up. His fingers fumble with the button before securing it, and then he rakes a hand through his damp hair.

And just like that, the shift is instant.

The momentary haze shatters, and cold clarity rushes in.

Your pulse pounds in your ears, your skin still tingling where his hands had been, but the weight of what just happened slams into you all at once.

You move fast, scrambling to pull your pants up, to fix your shirt, to smooth down the mess of your hair — to piece yourself back together before it all slips too far out of reach. Your fingers shake as you fumble with the fabric, your breath still uneven, but you don’t stop. You can’t.

You need to leave.

Just for a second, your eyes lock with his. Joe doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t reach for you, doesn’t try to stop you. He just watches with an unreadable expression and parted lips, like he might speak. 

But he doesn’t. 

You don’t wait for him to. Your fingers wrap around the door handle and you push it open, stepping out into the night. The air is sobering, biting against your skin, but it does nothing to take away the feel of him.

You don’t look back, because no amount of distance can undo what’s already been done.

[fairyberkshire]

WELL, MY BOYFRIENDS IN A BAND...

PAIRING: rockstar!rafe x rockstar’sGF!reader

WARNINGS: smut eventually? angst + toxic tendencies, jealous rafe, possessive rafe, swearing + explicit language, alcohol, partying, fame + media scrutiny, abusive family dynamics, drugs (no hard drugs; just weed)

SUMMARY: Rafe Cameron is rockstar royalty—reckless, untouchable, and always making headlines. Then there’s her—his effortlessly cool, equally infamous girlfriend. She’s not a singer, not an actress, but somehow, she’s just as famous as him. Their love is chaotic, messy, and addictive—fights caught on camera, stolen moments backstage, and rumors that never die. They’re the internet’s favorite disaster, but no matter how bad it gets... they always come back to each other. Because Rafe Cameron has everything—but when it comes to her? He’s never letting go.

A/N: Sooo being a rockstar gf is my recent hyperfixation...so, I had to make this a rafe au about this, there was no way I couldn't !! Do I already have unfinished au's? Yes. But like...it's me so this shouldn't be shocking. Anyway, I hope you enjoy, and If you'd like to be added to the taglist, just add a comment saying you'd like to be added ! <3

rockstar!rafe who drapes his leather jacket over her shoulders after a late-night show, smirking when he sees her wearing it with nothing but his oversized band tee underneath

rockstar!rafe who gets irrationally jealous when guys in the industry flirt with her at parties, jaw clenching, hand tightening around his drink, until he pulls her onto his lap and makes sure everyone knows she’s his

rockstar!rafe who refuses to sleep in a different city than her while on tour, even if it means flying her out last-minute just because he “can't fucking breathe without her”

rockstar!rafe who lets her steal his rings, watches, and sunglasses, not because he doesn’t care, but because he secretly loves when she wears his things

rockstar!rafe who has her initials or a meaningful tattoo on himself for her, because they will never break up

rockstar!rafe who lets her do whatever she wants to him—paint his nails black, smudge his eyeliner, steal his hoodies—because deep down, he’s completely whipped

rockstar!rafe who is a walking contradiction, reckless and untouchable to the world but completely soft when it comes to her

rockstar!rafe who would write an entire album about their love story—because at the end of the day, she’s the only thing he ever really needed

rockstar!rafe who gets pissy when she doesn’t wear his merch to a show, acting all dramatic like, “Oh, so you’re suddenly not my biggest fan?” just to hear her roll her eyes before kissing him.

rockstar!rafe who lets her do whatever she wants in the studio—lay across the couch, mess with his guitar, scribble doodles in his lyric notebook—because even when he’s working, he wants her there

rockstar!rafe who doesn’t trust anyone else to fix his hair before a show except for her, sitting on the hotel bed while she runs her fingers through it, pushing it back just how he likes

rockstar!rafe who gets in his most poetic, over-the-top moods when he’s high, telling her she’s his muse, his everything, the reason his music even means something, before kissing her like she’s the last good thing on earth

rockstar!rafe who always makes sure she has backstage passes and an all-access to things, so no one ever questions why she’s always in his dressing room or on his lap during interviews

rockstar!rafe who does not play when it comes to his girl. Someone talks bad about her online? He’s throwing shade in an interview. A guy touches her at a party? Security is escorting him out right now

rockstar!rafe who will be in the middle of an argument with her but still reach for her hand when they’re walking through the paparazzi, because no matter how mad he is, he’ll be damned if someone thinks they’re not together

rockstar!rafe who always smells like expensive cologne, whiskey, and cigarettes, a scent that lingers on her clothes every time she steals one of his shirts

rockstar!rafe who always dedicates at least one song to her during a show, whether it’s a slow ballad or something absolutely filthy, looking straight at her like he’s daring her to blush

rockstar!rafe who gets off on the fact that she’s completely unfazed by the industry. While other girls throw themselves at him, she just lounges backstage, scrolling on her phone like she isn’t dating the biggest rockstar in the world

rockstar!rafe who posts cryptic Instagram stories of them—her hand in his, a blurry pic of her in his hoodie, a black-and-white video of her laughing—knowing damn well his fans will go insane trying to decode them.

rockstar!rafe who buys an extra hotel room just for their clothes when they travel, because he refuses to have her digging through his suitcase when she overpacks

rockstar!rafe who only sleeps well when she’s beside him, arms locked around her waist, mumbling “Where the fuck you think you’re goin’?” if she tries to get up before him

rockstar!rafe who is a complete menace when she’s in the crowd, purposefully making eye contact, gripping the mic stand tighter, even slipping in a lyric change just to watch her squirm

rockstar!rafe who talks about her like she’s a fucking religion. The only thing that matters. His world. And honestly? That’s exactly what she is

[potato-lord-but-not]

Oh geez okay hmm OH OH

What gives Oscar and Noel their first ‘butterflies’ for each other? Like, what moment/situation makes them go “Oh. Oh, it’s you.” I hope this makes sense Urgh

I think it took Noel a while to realize he loved Oscar like that (cough arospec Noel cough), once he did tho it was literally an oh moment. like all of the dots started to connect and he had no idea how to tell him. Especially since Oscar caught feelings first and was trying so so hard to hide it. like yeah sure he thought Noel was handsome at first but also extremely kind and funny and charming and caring and he doesn’t leave Oscar behind not out of pity but because he actually wants to be with him?? that was all too much and Noel definitely didn’t feel the same, right? so we’re just going to bury that for now.

I also think they started doing little, physical things that married couples do long before either of them admitted to loving each other like that. Everyone else around them was like,,,,, “you two live together,, and share a bed- yeah yeah because he sleeps better when he’s not alone but still- and you guys are inseparable and you share clothes and the way you look at each other is hard to ignore”

To actually answer your question tho- it was definitely something little for Oscar- like Noel remembering what his favorite tea is or going to help him at the soup kitchen. He was very in denial tho, and a blunt conversation with Marie was definitely what made him realize OH he likes me too doesn’t he??

And for Noel,,, he probably experienced A Cute Man Who Definitely Deserves Better Than Him Touching The Parts Of Him That Feel Most Inhuman And Wrong Affectionately. it made him sob and realize what being loved romantically actually felt like. he knew that feeling once, but it had been so long and almost entirely replaced with pain. until he got a gentle caress over an ugly scar from someone who never wanted to leave him.

SORRYY I YAPPED OOPS anyway

[lightlycareless]

the jealous y/n i promised. one of them, anyways :)

warnings: naoya used to like someone before you. the thought of it makes you... uncomfortable, by some reason. highschool au. minimal proofreading but sometimes you just gotta let things go...

It all started because someone decided they just had to mess with you on your first trip to Kyoto, during your first school exchange event.

As yearly intended, the game would be hosted on the winning school; not that someone managed to defeat Gojo and Geto, but to shake things a bit the higher ups decided to break the rules and give the opposing school a chance—maybe fighting in their hometowns would help against them.

Coincidentally, this would mark your first time participating, and what better way to do so than by going to a city you’ve never been to?

We’re you excited?

Undoubtedly. How could you not consider these past details?

However, that wasn’t the only (not the most important) notion that had you feeling such way; what actually got you all giddy was the fact that you’d be going with your boyfriend! Which secretly turned this school trip into a small holiday of sorts, a promise of a good time once he offered to take you to the city and show you all kinds of enthralling experiences you wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.

It was bound to become a memorable visit, one that you wouldn’t be able to forget, worthy enough to share with your eventual children!

And it was… but not for the reasons you expected.

“Ooooh, you know what this trip actually means, right Y/N?” Gojo would begin to stir, as usual. You do your best to ignore him. “You can ignore me all you want, but I’m just warning you, it’s going to be awkward.”

“Awkward?” You blink, taking his bait. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t say it, Satoru…” Geto warns, going against his very nature, which is to rile him further, and instead, showing genuine caution that you’d come to lament later on. “You’re just being cruel.”

“What is? Tell me!” You cry, fallen victim to your curiosity.

“Probably not as cruel as Naoya taking his girlfriend to see his crush. Or past crush, I guess.”

“Crush…?” You blink, your heart dropping to your stomach at the thought of his affections once belonging to someone else. It shouldn’t be that way, of course. Whatever happened before you met him should be beyond your concern.

And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from torturing yourself with the thought, needlessly wondering who was the lucky girl to previously obtain his attention.

Was she nice? Was she pretty? Did anything manage to happen between the two…?

…

…

Does she look like you?

You ought to know better than to ask questions you do not want answered.

“Naoya hasn’t told you?” Satoru worried. “He used to have this huge crush on Utahime, like you don’t imagine how big it was; he’d stalk her everywhere she went, turn all red whenever she was near—“

“Satoru!” Suguru condemned, but it was too late.

It’s safe to say you no longer looked forward to your trip to Kyoto.

“She was going to learn so anyways, might as well get it over with!”

“And?? That doesn’t give you permission to be an idiot about it!”

“I’m just preparing Y/N! It’s not my fault that Naoya hasn’t told her about it… which is quite suspicious if you ask me, more so since he’s been in contact with her quite recently! Did you know he asked me for her number? I think he might not be over—“

“Do you ever shut up, Satoru?” You coldly interject, retreating soon after before the tears forming in your eyes could further humiliate you.

Suguru was right, there was no need for him to be as imprudent when it came to the relationship you were clearly very happy with; but you should’ve not let his behavior affect you either, that’s just how he is—everyone knew that—since he was a little kid.

Satoru just had this need to make everyone miserable simply because he could; but now that your insecurities were stirred, all you could do was revisit Naoya’s enthusiasm for your visit… and tie it with Utahime.

Overanalyze every interaction you had with him and wonder if he ever imagined it was her instead of you.

Like when he complimented you for appearance, called you cute when decorating your hair with a bow, which after Satoru’s bold accusations, you come to find it might’ve been because of nostalgia, longing. Not because Naoya actually meant it.

Utahime’s beautiful, there's no denying that.

She's also taller than you, brighter, determined; with no patience for nonsense yet kind enough to help others when asked. You should know, on the few occasions you’ve had the opportunity to interact with her, she was nothing but gentle when explaining one of the assignments you were struggling with—even offering to tutor you if you continued to have questions.

Undoubtedly, a perfect match for Naoya; both politically and personally. A conclusion that makes your poor heart ache the longer you keep comparing yourself to her.

No one looks at her and thinks “she's too childish” or “she's unsuited for the life of sorcery”. In fact, she’s the type of person one would go to when in trouble, the one to look for when in need of comfort.

While you… well, you’re funny. And apparently, a bit childish too. But definitely not the hope for the next generation of sorcerers.

When weighing all these alleged facts, and after placing Utahime on a pedestal while desecrating your own worth, you question…

Did Naoya settle on you because he couldn't end up with her?

Or were you simply a steppingstone, a diversion while they reunite in the future?

…

…

…

Are you fated to never be good enough by yourself? Everyone’s second choice when their initial plan doesn’t work?

It's not something you'd discern at a simple glance, but when Naoya begins to act more and more secretive the closer the date of your trip got, the more you're inclined to believe so; his distance had been so glaringly obvious that the only time you’ve managed to spend with him was when accidentally bumping into each other in the hallways when going to your next class.

Still, your stubborn heart gave him one last chance. One more opportunity to deny all the ridiculous claims plaguing your mind and realize that the sole reason he’s glued to his phone is because of his family, tending his responsibilities as heir…

And not because he’s seeking another woman.

“Ah, Y/N… I'm a little behind with some of my projects right now so I don't think I'll be able to join you for lunch… but don’t let that stop you, go ahead, eat something. I wouldn't want my princess to starve because of me”

That’s when everything made sense.

Because Naoya, though he may hate paperwork, essays, and all that deviated from exorcizing curses, he was still an excellent student and always delivered on time. Might’ve coerced someone to do his work from time to time when not in the mood, but it still brought you back to the same conclusion.

A realization that sparked your anger, bitterness—jealousy.

But most importantly, sadness.

Which you could no longer hide the fateful day of your trip.

“Wait, Y/N—! Why are you in such a rush? We’re still on time for the train!” Naoya would say after catching up to you. The two had previously agreed to meet up just outside your dorm and go to the train station together from there; but alas, you were nowhere to be seen when he eventually arrived, and this caused him to be very surprised.

After all, you were virtually inseparable from him; you would’ve spent the night with him if only it wasn’t prohibited. So… why the sudden indifference?

One could only try to be compassionate when remembering this was his first, serious relationship, so there were many things he had yet to learn about having a girlfriend and how to treat her.

It’s just a misfortune he’d come to learn that lesson harshly so.

“I'm fine, thank you.” you frown, ignoring Naoya as you continue to pull your suitcase towards the exit. The faculty gave students two options, either take the provided transportation and ride with the rest of your classmates to the train station or go by yourself.

Solitude was only appetizing with the silent turmoil you carried.

Your boyfriend doesn't say much after that, though he does note the striking difference of your usually bubbly personality with this… muted version of his girlfriend.

When you once harbored excitement to travel to a completely new city, you now… well, it looked as if you'd rather get sick than do this. And it didn’t seem to be caused by anxiety either, he’d seen you nervous and this was not the way you behaved when such.

Not exactly the disposition he hoped for today's happening, and yet, he’s still light years away from figuring why!

Was it better to simply… leave you alone?

“Y/N, let me help you.” he decides otherwise, at least your stubbornness is something he’s familiar with and thus, not easily swayed to back off when you ignore him again. “Princess—”

“Don’t touch me!” You exclaim, pulling your hand away from his. “I said I'm fine, now leave me alone!”

Naoya blinks, at first startled by your sudden outburst, before growing irritated, never one to enjoy being lashed out on—less if it came from someone as important as you.

“What the hell has gotten into you?!’ Naoya scorns, trying to get a hold of your hand only for you to dismiss him again. “I'm just trying to help you!”

“Yeah, right. Just to get there quicker, huh?” you frown.

“I mean, is that not ideal?”

“You're unbelievable.”

“Huh??? Will you at least care to explain why you’re so moody out of the sudden??”

His choice of dismissing words stabs your heart in a sharp, painful way that only serves to ignite your anger even more. Naoya really had no idea, did he?

Or did he believe you were as naïve as he desperately intended to portray you?

“Oh, it’s nothing. Nothing at all! In fact, how about I just step aside so you can do everything you want in Kyoto? Go see who you want to see while I stay behind, quiet, so you won't have to worry about me?!”

“But—what?? Did you forget were supposed to spend time together over there?? Show you the city?!” Naoya exclaims. “What happens to that??”

“I don't know, you tell me!” You cry back. “No, you know what, don't tell me. I don't feel like hearing—”

“Oh, no you're not.” Naoya says, take ahold of your arm and forcing you to see him face to face—getting a good look of your red, swollen eyes from undoubtedly spending the whole night crying, that only made his determination to find out what ailed you even stronger.

And deal with whomever was responsible for this dreadful act.

Even if it was yourself, or unwittingly himself too.

“We're going to spend two hours on a bullet train which I don't intend to have by you ignoring me through the entirety of it.” He goes on.

“Naoya—”

“Who did this to you? Tell me who hurt you and I'll make sure they—”

“Just stop it already! You don't have to set up all these… theatrics just so you can feel less guilty about seeing her!”

“Her?” He breathes, of all things you could’ve sputtered, this is the least, most shocking one he could’ve received. Where did you even get this idea?? “Pray tell, who am I seeing?”

“I don't—I don't want to talk anymore.”

“Y/N!” Naoya exclaims, you flinch—a reaction that has him immediately regretting his act, softening his voice. “I can't help but feel there's a sort of misunderstanding here, just tell me what's going on… Please.”

“...I just want to know if you— if you still harbor feelings for that person before me?”

“Huh?” Naoya frowns. “Talk clearly, mochi. I don't understand a word you're saying—”

“I'm asking if you still like the girl you liked before me!” You cry. “Or perhaps never stopped liking…”

“Who did I like?” He asks back, genuinely confused.

“Are you going to make me say it?!”

“I mean, if we're to get anywhere.”

“Fine! I’m referring to Utahime! You like her, don't you?!”

“Uta—what?? Where did you get that idea?!”

“Don't—don’t act like you don't know what I'm talking about!” You insist. “Satoru told me…”

“Ah, and he's nothing but a reliable source, isn't he?”

“Suguru confirmed it too! Or at least his reaction did…”

Naoya pinches the bridge of his noise, exasperated.

“When are you going to stop believing the stupidities they spew at you?”

“Well, Satoru had no reason to lie about that!”

Naoya can think of many, thousands in fact, and they always boil down to malice…

It's hard to believe how he once used to admire him, even thought of himself as very similar to him. But now that he keeps needlessly tormenting his love, that sentiment is far gone—he’ll deal with that matter soon enough, right after reassuring you he doesn’t have feelings for his past classmate.

Not anymore, that is.

“... Just tell me if you still like her, so I can stay out of your way—”

“I don't like her, Y/N.” Naoya declares. “Honestly, I don't think I ever did.”

“Then why did he say that?”

All must’ve started back when he was still a first-year student, having just transferred from Kyoto after demanding to be close to one of his admirations.

Satoru, always the obnoxious one since the beginning of time, had the tradition of pestering all newcomers in hopes of finding a victim to let out all his frustrations on for the following years; however, his sights were specifically the Zen'in heir whom he was previously acquainted with and was quite surprised to see “interacting with the mortals”, since their families often preferred to homeschool their talents.

Of course, now that he was within reach, he just couldn't miss the opportunity of mocking him in any conceivable shape and form, beginning with questions intended to get a rise out of him.

“Are you trying to tell me you don’t like any of the girls here?” Satoru would begin, for the nth time that day. “Or perhaps left a darling back at home?”

“No, I do not” No matter the insistences, Naoya remained strong in his beliefs, much to Satoru’s disappointment. But if anything, this made it into a far more gratifying challenge.

“Oh, really? Do you expect me to believe the great Zen’in heir has trouble getting with girls?” He continues to tease. “Hm, should’ve known—the only way anyone could tolerate you people is by coercing—"

“Fine! Alright! I like Utahime!” Naoya promptly declared, making Satoru’s expectations… well, shatter. Whatever he had in mind was nothing compared with the seeming reality!

“No way, you like her???!!”

Obviously, for someone as aggravating, set to get the worst of people, he could never truly find enjoyment in Utahime that wasn’t from tormenting her.

But to Naoya… well, he’d soon find out there was more to his answer than just selecting the one he found attractive at the moment.

Just as it was stated, he found Utahime to be quite… alluring. She was fairly good looking, and conservative enough in certain aspects, at least the ones he considered his clan would care of.

Perhaps the only thing he didn’t enjoy was that explosive temperament of hers, how she always fell victim to Satoru’s provocations instead of ignoring him, as a proper lady would’ve.

But he still gave her a chance, tried approaching her, get to know what she thought of him, how much he knew of the Zen’in clan, and most importantly, if she enjoyed being a miko—because such lifestyle could prove detrimental if they got together, and the last thing he needed was more personal struggles to deal with.

Yet, as much as he insisted…as much as Utahime tried to ignore his preceding reputation and give him the benefit of the doubt, nothing would come out from someone that didn’t have the patience to see past of his rough exterior and understand why Naoya was the way he was.

Who he could truly be.

Such things were meant for soulmates, after all.

And all that could’ve been was effectively terminated the moment he decided to transfer to Tokyo.

But for the only other person who saw everything unfold, Satoru, there was still much, much more to exploit.

“...Satoru said you’d always get all flustered whenever she was around” you quietly continue. “So, if you really didn’t like her, why would he say that?”

“Because he'd follow me everywhere to tease me, it was becoming quite… irritating.” He answered honestly, but still not enough to ease your poor heart of its selfish, hurtful assumptions.

“It still doesn't explain why you were talking with her these past few days” you go on, as much as a part of you desired not to.  You just wish that whatever you found out, it wouldn't shatter you. “You’d even hide your phone from me…”

Naoya, understanding how bad this looked, sighs. Nonetheless, if he wishes to preserve your affection he cannot hold back on the truth.

“I… I didn't want to tell you, it was meant to be a surprise, really…  but, well, I managed to figure out where the exchange event is to happen, which is coincidentally, an area to which Utahime is native to. And since I promised to show you around, take you to the best places…. I thought it might've been productive to ask for her input.

I know I pride myself on being from Kyoto, quite arrogantly so, but the truth is… I barely know anything outside what my family has shown me. I wasn't much of a friendly person so I didn't have anywhere to hang out.

And I didn't want to disappoint you, I couldn't let you down, especially after instantly listening to your excitement. The thought alone of ruining your first trip to the city is enough to drive me mad, so… I believed that doing all this was the right path to take.

… But had I known this would be the outcome, I would rather face your disappointment that to never have you by my side again.”

At his explanation, conformed of genuine words and concerns, all you could do is cry.

Weep at the incredulity of your assumptions, ashamed of your distrustful behavior towards him for once again, believing the past that once plagued Naoya.

How long would it take for your insecurities to finally free you? To stop listening what others whisper at your ear, of how he was the wrong person for you?

Until he decides he’s had enough of your childish antics and leaves for good?

Naoya’s far from perfect, undoubtedly so, but he's trying his hardest and he's changing because of it: when he once cared for nothing but his needs, all he could think of now is your happiness.

Were you willing to disappoint him? Rupture this relationship and lose him forever?

You'd never forgive yourself, which is why you wept, and wept, and wept.

Because you had, right before you, the only thing you ever wanted in life— a man that loved you just as you are—and almost ruined it.

But Naoya, whom perhaps regretted this situation the most, didn’t see the reason behind your tears and instead, believed them to be caused by his own failure, the lack of oversight to realize the gravity of his acts and subsequently poorly attempting to bridge his misjudgment.

A part of him doesn’t worry about your solitude, because he knows you’ll always have your friends and family to support you.

But him… without you, he’s truly alone. And he can’t—couldn’t let you go.

 “Tell me, Y/N. What do I need to do for you to believe me? For you to trust me again?” he quickly begins to beg, spew just about anything that might earn him your compassion and forgiveness—one last chance.

Though a simple remedy was all that he needed.

“A—A—hug…!” You sob, and Naoya doesn’t need to be told twice to quickly wrap his arms around you and pull you close into his chest, hoping that by his warmth you’d be reassured into ceasing the one thing that always shattered his heart. “I’m—I’m sorry, I should’ve never distrusted you, it’s just that I—”

“You don’t have to say anything, princess. It was just a mistake.” He says, pressing his face against the top of your head.

“But I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did!” you retort. “I shouldn’t have accused you of something that I wasn’t certain of! Of something you would’ve never done, now I know…”

“Why did you believe that I’d have eyes for another woman in the first place…? Have I not shown you what you mean to me?”

“Ye—yes, but…”

“But?”

You sniffle, before swallowing.

“I guess a part of me always felt undeserving of you.” You confess. “Skeptical to believe I found someone that truly loved me, that’d be willing to do all you’ve done for me.”

Naoya at first remains quiet, starting at you in complete disbelief before letting out a warm chuckle, making you frown.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing, I just… learned we’re not so different, after all.”

You look up to him. “What do you mean?”

“I too, at times, feel underserving of you.” He confesses. “You don’t know how many times I’ve feared the possibility of you simply… deciding you were no longer happy with me; that you might realize there is someone infinitely better than me and leave.”

A certain friend of yours made sure to revive such sentiment within him whenever nearby.

But just as him, you never had eyes for anyone else that wasn’t the love of your life.

“…I guess that’s another way to know we’re meant for each other.” You quietly discern, resting your face back into his chest while Naoya laughs once more. “Does that mean you’re not… upset with me anymore?”

“Upset? If anything, I was quite delighted to see you jealous; you’re quite cute when you are, you know?” He teases, gently pinching your cheek.

“I wasn’t jealous!” You cry, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean… not without reason.”

“Have I not told you already that you are the most beautiful, adorable, gentlest woman in the whole world?” Naoya continues, you turn bright red.

“Now you’re just embarrassing me!” you gasp, pushing your face deeper into his chest.

“The list is honestly endless, but we do have a train to catch.” He reminds you, making your eyes widen and gasp.

“Oh, my god you’re right! We have to hurry!” you say, ready to fetch your suitcase, before bashfully looking back to him. “…Are you still sitting with me?”

“Unless you’re saving it for a random person.” He raises an eyebrow.

“Nope, and I do not want to run the risk of being paired with a weirdo!”  you exclaim. “You have a lot to catch up with me, anyways.”

“I know.” Naoya responds. “Though I doubt talking about preparations and schoolwork will be any exciting.”

“I was thinking something a bit more… personal. Like kisses.” You murmur, and he smirks before leaning down to peck your lips, heart fluttering in return.

“Is that a good way to start?”

You smile, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him back.

“Perfect.”

Your trip to Kyoto proves to be just as exciting as you expected, if not more thanks to all his precedent planning, that you simply couldn’t wait for the day you’d come again.

Thankfully, you’d have plenty of time to do so once convincing Naoya to take you to visit the Zen’in… much to his chagrin. But anything to make you happy, he supposes.

yes i love setting up more stories should I be blamed? NO. ahahaha

anyways, I hoped you enjoyed it 🙈 I couldn't (nor wouldn't) write anything that might be interpreted as slander against utahime cause i don't feel that way about her (though I feel incredibly disappointed that we didn't get to see more of her 😒😒😒😒) but also I couldn't write her in such way that would make one ask "well, if she was so good for naoya then why is he with y/n? lol"

yet I hope I was able to show how immature/selfish he was with her 🤣 asking questions like "I wonder if she's heard of my clan" instead of trying to genuinely get to know her and such. it's the power of love y'all.......................................

aaaah what i mean to say is, I hope you enjoyed this :') i think it's the first time I ever write Naoya taking interest in someone else, even though it was in the past 🤔 still...

take care and hope to see y'all soon!!

p.s. what do y'all think utahime's reaction was to naoya dating y/n? I have a few ideas but have yet to choose one lol.

[marauders-brain-rot]

19. De-aged

With regulus but you decide who he interacts with

Regulus

For months now a cursed object had been terrorizing the Ministry, none of their top curse breakers were able to figure out how to fix it and had subsequently turned to Regulus to figure it out. The item in question was a child’s teapot, supposedly cursed in a manner that had affected different results in everyone that it had come into contact with. 

One of the men had shrunk to the size of a matchstick, another sprouted extra hands from his arms and a third had all of their limbs switched to opposite sides. Needless to say, everyone was terrified of whatever curse had been placed on this unassuming looking teapot. Everyone that is, except for Regulus. 

He’d called for Evan and Barty to come just in case something went horribly wrong and he needed someone to fix him, knowing that James would either be too busy panicking or laughing to do it. 

He was already through one layer of protections and halfway through the second when a flash hit him in the chest, sending him flying backwards and crashing into the shelves. 

Barty

Barty, Evan and James took the steps two at a time down to Regulus’s lab, worry etched into all of their faces. Of course Regulus would be so cocky and stupid to think he could take care of a cursed object entirely on his own. 

“Reg?!” They all seemed to call out for him in unison, rushing into the smoke filled room as one unit. 

“‘M fine,” it hardly processed for any of them that the voice that called out to them was much smaller than the one they knew. Not until they saw a small body coming to them through the smoke. “Who are you?”

It was undoubtedly a miniature Regulus, the scowl on his face was undeniably the same despite his current state. He looked to be the size of a six year old, and based on the way he was reacting to them all he likely was a six year old. 

“Hi Reggie, I’m Barty,” he put on his best ‘I’m dealing with a child’ voice and knelt down in front of his tiny best friend. “I’m friends with your father.” 

“You don’t look like anyone my father would be friends with,” his scowl deepened and he crossed his arms, eying Barty with extreme distrust. “He has standards.” 

He heard laughter from behind him and had to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he turned to face them. “Well, you go ahead and try then!” 

“Hiya Reggie, I’m Jamie,” James squatted down in front of Regulus, extending his hand like he was greeting a colleague. Regulus glared at his extended hand skeptically before slowly extending his own hand to shake it. 

“How do you do?” He asked in a posh manner. 

“I’m doing just fine, are you hungry Regulus? I can have some pancakes made for you.” At the mention of pancakes Regulus perked up, all concern for who these strangers were seemed to have left his mind at the thought of fluffy stacks of sweetness. They made their way upstairs, Regulus somehow trusting James enough to allow himself to be carried by him. Within minutes of getting upstairs Regulus’s plate was stacked high with chocolate chip pancakes dripping in butter and syrup that he was trying not to make a mess with. The three of them watched him carefully while they stepped away to talk over their situation. 

“How are we supposed to fix this?” James looked properly stressed out for the first time, anxiously pacing as he looked back and forth between them and Regulus. Barty couldn’t exactly say he blamed him for freaking out, his husband was six years old again, their relationship was now a crime. 

“For everyone else it wore off after twenty-four hours,” Evan shrugged. “Honestly, it could be worse don’t you think?” 

“Could be worse? My husband is six years old! He doesn’t even know who I am!” Barty really shouldn’t have been surprised that James was loosing his cool, he’d always been over the top but then he went and married Regulus, the reigning king of dramatics (hence why Regulus was currently half covered in syrup and half in chocolate).

“Well, at least it’ll wear off! And it’s not like he’s a danger to anybody,” Barty really didn’t think this was that big of an issue. Regulus was truthfully a rather adorable six year old he thought, even as he dripped syrup onto the floor. 

“I am finished!” Regulus turned and called to them over his shoulder. The three adults exchanged worried looks that expressed that none of them were quite sure what to do with him. That was, until Harry walked in. 

“Harry, oh thank Merlin!” James all but cried as his son looked around confused. His son who now happened to be older than his own father.

“Dad? What’s wrong?” At just thirteen years old Harry managed to have some of the best and worst of everyone that had helped raise him. Barty was looking forward to watching how this would go. 

“Your genius father has turned himself into a child and doesn’t remember any of us and his lovely and attentive husband is losing his absolute mind over it.” Barty summarized for him, excited to see where this would go. Harry processed his words then looked past him to where Regulus was waiting for someone to help him clean up. 

“Oh, I’ve got it from here,” he grinned mischievously and walked around them all. 

James

Two hours. In just two hours Harry and Regulus had managed to nearly destroy the entire house. Somehow James had been under the impression that Regulus had been a reserved child, that he would’ve been quiet and sweet and put back everything as he’d found it. And perhaps that might’ve been true when he was under threat of his parents, but without a threat of punishment and under the instruction of a thirteen year old, well he really came out of his shell. 

They’d drawn on the walls, had a tea party with conjured toys charmed to talk, they’d moved from room to room meticulously destroying each one. James would’ve gotten after them, he really would’ve, but then he’d walked down the hall and heard Regulus’s little giggle and he stopped dead in his tracks. If there was one thing he knew about Regulus and Sirius’s childhoods it was that there wasn’t much light or laughter in their home, and how could he tear that from him now? 

So instead he’d sat in the room where they were putting train tracks all over, spelling some to float in the air with magically enchanted miniature people to board and ride it. After they’d set it up and Regulus was standing in the middle of it all, a look of awe on his face, James caught Harry’s eye. The look they shared told James that Harry understood how important this was for his father, to have a little bit of the childhood he should’ve had. 

That night the three of them cuddled up by the fireplace together after drinking mugs of hot chocolate and reading through books Regulus and James had read to Harry when he was the age Regulus was now. Of all nights they could’ve had, James had never anticipated this to be one of them. At the end of the day though, he realized Evan and Barty had been right, it could’ve been worse. 

[charmed-asylum]

I want to start with saying this among so many things I’m gonna say though out honey idk about u but damn u are talented like way you wrote this and wrote it so realistic so authentic so well amazing. Lee not perfect plastic version of himself or foam at the mouth monster but a more if this was everyday thing I see this and the reader too. He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

As I said we start right off the back on an odd way to start him out ( which he probably done so often ) eating lunch on watch or should I say watching her. ( which u so wonderfully done brought it back and put a bow on it ) He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. I mean it in my mind feels or looks what a ballerina would look like . All in her own little world .

We know from his little thoughts to himself that he been watching her for a long time . How long is she like 5 years younger or so and he grew up with her or longer. Fascinated !! lol like from what goes around to watching to even speaking to your parents and they didn’t see the signs probably how reader been missing it but let’s be realistic sometimes it’s like that which is probably like many others I too find myself drawn and maybe 🤔 rooting for the two .

Isn’t funny how it’s the ones that don’t do or act the same like the general does that look away . Little things and poof they draw it up to a big thing “ Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest. “ I like how you add it more of a separation then the others. Because it makes it feel idk show more realistic not just oh she different because she has brown hair and blue eyes not blonde hair and blue eyes or what not which I mean if that’s your reader good but way u write it feels more like you ( as in the reader reading it) . Then we got him talking about his little fantasies hehe man OO man this man something else

It’s so sad but true how many of us can relate again to this reader, “ It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.” And again this is a prime example of why like me why this story means so much . I mean what do we do all time from a sport to video games to online videos or simulation games we all do something to escape. It’s funny because she this adorable girl and she so innocent huh something I’m sure Lee Lee drool a water fall if he knew knew maybe guess but not knew. And she reading smut fantasy fairy tales lord if only Lee can read your mind u be wrap his chubby fingers.

In all the places I assume Lee be somewhere else but to pick her at a library lord he bold. Hehe just imagining him in his uniform between those book shelfs . But dang a lang snap me out a brown paper bag and glass cup of ice and water bc I never thought I saw this but man o man was this such a scene.

“They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him” now silly but it’s a question he was always been pleasant do you mean like she always seen him but in hindsight or in general because this kinda goes with beginning when he lays the ground work on his history with reader. So she been aware of him but still doesn’t realize it. Man o man I can’t say a thing bc I tend to act the same way.

Remember how I said I see now and agree w Lee well haha that went to 💯 percent higher after watching they laugh at her about chairs CHAIRS really shit we all need a little bit of comfort Im sure no one laugh at Goldie locks so why her I swear ooooo I will attack w my small hands and sharp nails rawwww and kick them til they are nothing bit soup 🍜. Like really really well this is the world we sadly live in . “ So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.”

Then we hear what she feels about her parents. “Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.” I mean shit this poor girl can’t win. LEE SAVE HER OR USE I NEED AN ALIBI FOR WHOOPING THIER ASS. and in walks Lee once again coming to save the day. Again once again it’s like having to take it from page one. Hehehe like he doing it all and she so use to not being treated or ask her opinion she doesn’t know how to deal with it. Small convocations complements etc etc all I wanted to do was eeek with excitement and then again pass out grab a brown bag and glass of ice water . Like way she was so into the story and ask about chickens or how she blurted out her favorite color. And he offers her how to drive ahhhhh loving it. Way he spoke to her and kept giving her words of encouragement ahhh my god or calling her cleaver or what not I am getting tattoo this story name to my heart bc I’m who always was addicted went more by now even about wanting a cat or learning to drive being lonely my god I don’t know how she made it I be dead but in all it’s smart on him getting the ability to talk to her with no way out and calling her a good girl he won just with that even though I don’t think she realizes what happening being she was like oh I will help him find a good girl but also was left a smile and was like I need to find ways to talk to him better next time in all this was such a good 1st chapter

Dream Of A Girl

Part 1

Summary: The sheriff had his eyes on you for a while, the town's joke of an Omega. You never thought you'd find love, but around him you just can't help acting on your inner instincts.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word count: 3899

Warnings: Lee, small town gossip and bullying, neurodivergent reader, slurs\insult of neurodivergent back in the day, no cats🥺, turns slightly non-con at the end, Alpha\Omega

Notes: absolutely loved writing this, got really into it, I hope you'll enjoy it, and make sure to drop me a comment, I would love to hear what you think!💕

Series masterlist

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

He was watching you again. Inside his car, on his lunch break, slurping from his milkshake as his eyes never left your form. Your head was turned down, watching the pavement as you moved, yet you seemed to be aware where everyone else was because you never bumped into anyone. He noticed that about you. How your body moved almost fluently away from others. You didn't like to be touched. You flinched if someone did.

You were alone a lot. Listening to the noises around you, or he would sometimes hear you murmur to yourself. Sometimes you made strange noises if you were excited. He knew what they said about you.

They thought you were weird.

He didn't mind. Everyone talked about him too. Granted, he was a bit shady sometimes, with his secret businesses here and there, but it was something he had in common with you. Both of you fell outside of what was appropriate.

Of course, he was the sheriff, so no one dared to say it to his face. But they did to you. He had watched you for years. With your pretty hair, and that body…

He shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. You always had an effect on him.

He loved your eyes, although you barely look up to him. You do that. You glanced past people, or talked with your face turned a different way. Some people looked at you funny when you did.

But he knows why. Your parents told him once. When you got dared into doing something naughty. You didn't like it, but told him you had said you would do it before they told you what you were supposed to do. And you needed to keep your promises.

He talked to you sternly about how wrong it was of you, and you sat there with tears in your eyes. Head down. Like you had committed the worst crime. You were a good girl. Your parents told him that. It wasn't your fault. It was those kids. They thought it was funny. School talked to them. They left you alone. But you didn't make many friends.

Too different, too quiet, or too loud. You didn't say the right things, you didn't like the right things. You were too honest.

He liked that about you. He didn't need to wonder what you thought. You weren't two faced like all the other bitches. Who smiled at him in hope for favors, or in hope he would turn his eyes away from what they were doing. You were, you.

When you were alone, or thought you were anyway, your shoulders relaxed and he could sometimes see you smiling. Most times you would if you spotted an animal. Talking to it, like it was your friend. And you were good with kids. Really good. They flocked to you and you easily handled them. You didn't like sudden noises, and you were very clear about that, and they listened to you.

That's something people did like about you, they had no problem ditching their kids on you. You were a natural.

It was one of the things he noticed first about you. That drew him towards you. Your natural motherly instincts. He knew you would do excellent with your own. And the idea of you, one or 2 kids by the hand, belly swollen with another, made him rock hard each time.

God, you would be so pretty. He imagined your children; babies with brown hair, maybe a cleft in their chin, like his. The family Bodecker. You, all soft and sweet smelling. A ring on your finger. It made him come so swiftly once he touched himself.

He was happy no one snatched you up. They all couldn't look past your different behavior and see the gem underneath. They were blind to your qualities. What fools. But it worked in his favor though. Such a good, sweet girl. All ripe for the picking.

You were growing and seemed to not be aware of him. That was okay, he was fine with letting you have this time for yourself. Just out of college, young women needed to find their own way. He didn't want you to feel like you missed out on everything once he married you. That led some housewives to turn a little crazy, he saw it all the time, married at 18 or even 16 at times, high school lovers, and by the time baby number 2 was on the way, they looked worn out and disappointed in life.

Not you though. You finished school, you had a nice job, good parents. He gave you that time. He never was far away though. Watching you. Making sure you stayed out of trouble. Or trouble didn't find you. There weren't many boys to approach you, but those with eyes did, those who were too eager to be bothered with your quirkiness. He made sure to scare them off. He didn't need the competition.

He had a good job, a job that gave him power over this town, a nice house. He could afford a family. When the time came, he could convince your parents he was a good match. But most important was he needed to convince you.

📖

You walked into the library to return your books and pick up new ones. You came here at least once a week, often twice, as you loved reading. It was the time that you could disappear in a story and live a life you were never going to get. Experiencing all the emotions and adventures safely from your own home. Romance, and travels, fighting dragons or being a ruling Queen. In real life you liked things simple, but in your head you were free to do whatever you wanted. In your head people liked you. You belonged.

Lately you got very into fairytales again. Consuming every book you could find, rereading classics, daydreaming about the magic that was both wonderful and scary. The Alpha King, and Omega and the false mate, Sleeping Beta…they were all lovely stories and you couldn't get enough. You walked through the rows upon rows of books, feeling calm and like you were amongst friends. Here you were safe. Here you were liked.

Your hands occasionally picked up a book and read the cover, lost in thought. You didn't even notice the presence next to you, until a voice shook you out of your thoughts.

“Excuse me.”

You froze and looked up. Sheriff Bodecker looked down at you.

“Oh”, you said, stepping away.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I didn't mean for you to leave. I just wanted to grab this book.”

You watched him as he picked up a faded green book. He flipped through the pages. You hadn't expected him to read. You scolded yourself after the thought. You didn't know him. It's just that…he didn't seem the type. You heard stories about him. They said he liked the booze and he loved the ladies who gave it away for free. He had always been pleasant if you ever saw him, devoted to his work, but gossip still followed him.

Gossip was tricky, though. For years rumors went around that you were stupid. That you were rude. That you were mentally challenged. They didn't understand you. And you honestly often didn't understand them. Luckily your parents loved you and stood up for you. They might not always understand but they didn't punish you the way other parents would have. They didn't make you feel bad for not always looking them in the face. Or for being blunt and too honest. How your head was in the clouds at times. Or how people overwhelmed you sometimes. But other people, they didn't get it. And they didn't like what they didn't get.

You watched everyone around you making friends and falling in love. Easily getting through events you struggled with. They got married, and started a family. It was difficult at times, to realize you wouldn't have that, but eventually you accepted it. You were comfortable with your life. You had your family, and one or two acquaintances, and you were okay. It was nice being alone. Quiet. When you were alone, no one expected something of you.

You watched out of the corner of your eye how he assessed the book, before he looked at you again. “Do you know if it's any good?”

You glanced at the title like you had to think about it. “It's a little boring. But I don't know what you're looking for.”

“Just a little something to entertain me in the evenings. I was never much of a reader, but I thought why not read a book once in a while instead of always putting the telly on, ya know?”

You nodded. “What genre are you interested in? Action? Or mystery.”

“Romance.”

You blinked. “Romance,” you quietly repeated. You're eyes gliding past the titles of books and thinking to yourself.

“I don't mind it being a little…naughty, might motivate me even more to be honest,” he chuckled.

Your cheeks heated, but you tried not to show any signs of your discomfort. A heated romance. Of course you could list a few, but it felt awkward sharing that with him. You hummed softly under your breath, more out of nerves than anything, but you grabbed a book eventually. “A little naughty, and definitely romance,” you told him.

He hummed and turned the book in his hands. “Thank you, I didn't know where to start.”

“The librarians are happy to help if you can't find anything.”

“Yes, I'm sure they are, but you seem like you know more about this stuff.”

Maybe you did. Maybe it was easier to approach a visitor than the strict ladies running this place? You continued your search, but he did not leave.

“Don't you have enough books?”

You frowned. How could anyone have enough books? And why was he criticizing you? “I like reading.”

He laughed. “ No, I can see that, but do you really read all these in a week?”

“No. Sometimes I read them in a few days.”

“Oh, really. Okay. That's impressive. I really need to catch up if I were to compete with you.”

“It's not a competition. You can read how you want.”

“Oh I know, I was just joking.”

It wasn't a very good joke in that case. “Oh.” You thought, then replied. “Do you need anything more?”

There was silence, then he answered awkwardly. “No, you helped enough.”

You nodded.

He said your name quietly and when he didn't continue, you looked to the side at him. Your eyes locked and you blinked before you looked away.

“Tell your parents hello from me, will you?”

You nodded. You would, if you remembered.

He walked away and you were left feeling a little weird about the whole conversation. Sheriff Bodecker, reading a romantic book. It seemed a little silly. But maybe he was a little lonely. He was unmarried and didn't seem to be in a hurry to get settled.

He asked for something a little naughty, though. If he wanted anything naughty he should've gone to a different section of the library. They had a few of those, although most people didn't dare to pick them up and give the ladies anything to gossip about. Sheriff Bodecker, with a naughty book. You smiled to yourself. It would be the talk of town.

🤎

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, it was a little chilly today. Maybe you were just tired. It had been a long day at work today, your hands were cramped from all the typing, and your colleagues had left you feeling a little upset. Normally you tried to not listen to their chatter and ignore if they were ever negative about you. But today…they had stood a little nearer and you had more trouble filtering their voices.

They had talked about Marcie, who had found herself a beau. If only it had stayed about Marcie, it would have been fine. But they had looked over at you and pretended to lower their voices.

“Spinster”, they had used. They giggled slightly during it. You pretended not to see them staring at you. Or how they didn't care if you heard it.

“She’s never going to find anyone, I mean did you hear her talk about the different office chairs to mr. Johnson? One would think she had to sit on spikes.

You bit your lip. You did not want to cry in front of them. They had changed the chairs two days ago, the old ones too worn out to be pleasant. But you had liked them. You were used to them. And it felt like an old friend had been ripped away from you. So you had talked to your boss if he could make an exception, if you could keep yours, and store the new one. But of course he hadn’t wanted to. And you admittedly got a little upset. Word got out, or maybe they heard you. You had cried on the toilet, but tried very hard to gather yourself and continue like nothing was wrong. It didn’t matter. They knew. And they thought you were crazy.

And now they kept bringing other things up in their conversations. Like they enjoyed your discomfort.

You did your job well, however, so you were pretty sure if you laid low for a while, mr. Johnson wouldn’t fire you. You always made sure to finish all your work, even if you had to stay longer. Got the job done.

But now, at the end of the work day, you felt exhausted. It was tiresome keeping up pretense. The constant noise of the workplace around you. A short break to try and relax and be alone wasn't enough. You knew maybe things would be easier if you sat with them and told them things you heard, so they could gossip about someone else for once. But you didn’t like them. And they were too much. You needed your break to rest before getting back to work. You often sat outside on a bench alone, or took a walk.

You took a deep breath. Tonight you were going to read your new book, and ask your daddy if he wanted to play the piano. He didn’t do it as often as he used to, but you always enjoyed his music. He would do it for you, you knew it.

As a single Omega, you still lived with your parents. It was common to do so. You couldn’t live alone with your designation and it didn’t seem like you would ever move out and get your own home to look after. Your parents were disappointed, no doubt, but they always assured you they loved you, and that it would be nice in their old day to spend it with the three of you. You wondered if they had a different child than you, if they had wanted to get another. Someone easier to handle.

You walked past the shops, occasionally looking through the windows. You liked window shopping. Seeing all the new things on display, even if you didn’t buy much. You didn’t need it. But sometimes you saw something pretty and pondered if you should get it. You should buy a new dress. Most of the ones you had were getting a little old. But they were so comfortable and new dresses felt a little tight and rough. Perhaps your mother would buy some fabric and sew one for you. She knew your tastes.

A car honked next to you and you startled. When you looked around with a beating heart you noticed the car of the sheriff. He had rolled down his window and called out to you.

“Sorry, little lady, didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walking and thought maybe you wanted a ride home?”

You blinked. A ride with the sheriff. You had never done that. “I’m fine walking.” You replied and tried to smile.

“You just look tired, is all. And it is going to rain soon.”

Was it? You didn’t feel much like getting wet. Still, this was weird. Different. What were you even going to say to him?

He opened the door from the inside though, clearly expecting you to get in, and you didn’t want to be rude. He meant well.

You clambered in, fixed your dress and your hair.

“Long day?” he mentioned. “You look tired.”

“Yes.” you answered.

“I get that, I’ve been busy since 5 this morning myself.” he sighed. “Got a call in for a robbery. Those damn Callen boys always stealin’ them chickens from the Bookers farm. Not exactly the most exciting job.”

You blinked, thought of how to reply. “Did you get them back?”

He chuckled. “Well some of ‘em. They ate at least two, but I arranged for them to work a few weeks at the place to pay them back. And I'll make damn sure they're going to show up and do the work.”

You nodded. The Bookers were cheapskates, but a theft was a theft, and you were sure they enjoyed the free labor. Those chickens couldn't be worth that much.

“You look nice today,” he mentioned suddenly.

You looked down at your dress. A little frayed around the edges. Your hair must've been less than proper because you tended to play with it if you were in thought. Maybe he was being nice. “Eh, thank you,” you mumbled.

He hummed. “That dress is a nice color.”

“Blue is my favorite,” you blurted out. You wore red today, you didn’t know why you said it.

He chuckled. “Is that right? Well I love blue.”

Your eyes looked anywhere but him, at the passing buildings and bushes. What else were you going to say? It was polite to talk back, your mother had told you. Ask about something!

“Ehm, this is a nice car,”

He turned to look at you again, not keeping his eyes on the road and you swallowed. “Well, it comes with the job, but it does its work.”

You nodded.

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Oh no. No, no. I do not.”

“I could teach you.” he offered, and your heart rate increased.

“No!...no. I don't think I can, I get nervous.”

“Well everyone gets nervous the first time, but you’ll learn soon enough, you’re a clever girl.”

You blinked at him. No one had ever called you clever before. You weren’t stupid, you werent, but no one thought you were particularly bright. “I get nervous.” you told him firmly.

He hummed “Well alright, If you change your mind, I'm more than willing.

“I don't mind walking.” you told him.

“Yeah, I see you walking around. You like looking at things don’t you?”

You looked down, ashamed, but his finger lifted your chin. You startled at the contact.

“Wasn't mocking you. I just see you sometimes. Gotta keep an eye on the crowd to make sure nothing happens, part of the job, I can’t help it. So I see you walking and befriending the neighbors cats.”

“Oh.” You didn't know what to think of this. Being watched. You always felt like you were. “I like cats.”

“I like them too. They’re a little feisty. You got one at home?”

You shook your head. “No, my parents don’t want one.”

“I was thinking about getting one. Might be nice to come home to something, you know? House is all empty.”

You understood. You’re parents rules, however, nothing you could do about it.

He sighed “ Yeah…. gets real lonely for a man by himself. You got someone waiting on ya?”

“Eh no. No, no one.” You felt nervous. You knew it was common for a girl your age to settle, or have settled already. It was embarrassing to admit.You had never even kissed before.The thought of it made you anxious though, How to even do that with a tongue, and how to move? It seemed mighty complicated.

“Me neither,” he admitted. “It’s a hard job, and not everyone can deal with being the wife of a sheriff. I’d treat her right, though. Yessir. I’d be a good husband. For the right woman. I always wanted that. A house, a wife, some kids. A nice meal when I get home…”

You hummed, like he had done before.

"You can cook?”

Your eyes moved rapidly over the car interior. “Why, yes?” it came out as a question.

“Yeah I expected you to. You’re a good girl after all. Momma raised you right.”

You felt warmth shoot through you. You didn’t know why. He was being nice. And you weren’t used to that. You actually were a pretty good cook. And you liked doing it. Relieving your mother from the hard work running a household was. And showing you cared. You know you weren’t always good with that. Often absorbed in your own head and your own feelings. So cooking was something you could do.

“Would love to have a home made meal again. It’s been so very long.”

You nodded.

He eyed you. And as the silence lingered he tsked. “Well, who knows, maybe someone will invite me someday.”

“Oh. Yes. I'm sure,” you were quick to agree. It would be nice for him. Someone cooking. Maybe Miss Oleson would, the woman was all alone and about 70, she probably would love the company.

You would ask her, so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. Miss Oleson would watch you sometimes when you were younger, and she was kind to you. She always gave you candy even if your parents had told her not too. You were fond of her.

You arrived at your house soon and you got out. He leaned towards the window again.

“If you want, I can come pick you up again tomorrow.”

You blinked. Why? Was it going to rain again tomorrow?

“You don’t have to.”

“It’s my pleasure.” he grinned. “Unless i’m being called away, but if so, I’l call you.”

“I don’t have a phone.” You eyed the laces of your shoes.

He laughed. “No silly, at your office, I can call the company.”

“Oh. Yeah that would work. I guess.”

“That’s settled then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” you mumbled and turned to walk towards the door.

As you heard him leave behind you, you suddenly remembered you hadn’t said goodbye, or thanked him. You felt your cheeks heat. You were supposed to thank someone for helping. You messed up again. Tomorrow, when he picked you up, you would make sure to thank him then. Maybe he wouldn’t think you rude anymore. And maybe you should find some questions to ask him about. So he didn’t ask you weird ones when there was silence.

You hung up your coat at the door, suddenly smelling a nice scent coming off it.

The fabric had absorbed some of his that lingered in the car. You sniffed carefully and then reared back in shame. It was kind of improper to just smell someone. You only did that to someone you knew better. Like family, or…or a suitor.

Still, the scent lingered in your nose as you walked away, and it was pleasant enough for you to feel a little lighter for the rest of the evening.

Part 2

[phighting-x-you]

this whole yandere phighting x human reader could turn into series can't wait to see your writing for part 3

valk and dom tell reader on what the phighters is about to do to them which reader obviously freak out.

I love cooking for you guys ehehehe,,,

Yandere! Phighting x human! reader part 3!!!

First thing the Flipside Brothers did was open up the Phighting! roster on their shared computer and scanned through it (Coil had showed mostly everyone how to do it after you had been transported here).

Looking through the list, they had found something interesting. Most Phighters had a small, white crown beside their names. They had learned the crown had symbolized having something called "admin commands".

"Why is everyone an admin?" Valk murmers, taking his glasses off to clearly look at the screen. "Where did Coil even learn to do this?" Dom pondered the question silently. Suddenly, he pointed something else.

"There, look!" His finger jerked towards Katana's name. It was the only name in the list lacking a crown. "Why doesn't Katana have the commands? Surely that must mean something."

"Here's what we'll do." Valk said, turning to his brother. "You stay here and make sure this doesn't disappear, I've got a phone call to make." Valk quickly stepped out of the room, fishing his phone from his pocket and dialed a number. Dom, meanwhile, took a picture of the screen incase it disappeared.

------------------------------------------------

Katana had been sitting by his fireplace, listening to the crackling as he fretted silently over the upcoming party.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Unhooking the phone from the wall, he held it up to his ear.

"Hello, Katana?" An urgent voice leaked through the phone's speaker.

"Who is this."

"It's Valk, y'know, from the Flipside. Listen, y-you've gotta come over. It's bad, really bad, what we've discovered."

"...I'll be there soon."

Katana cut the call and hooked the phone back up to its spot on the wall. Putting out his fire, he grabbed his gear - partially broken from Hyperlaser ripping it away from him - and travelled out into the night.

As soon as Katana arrived, the Brothers showed Katana their findings and told them about what would happen at the party.

"I'm aware." The samurai spoke solemnly, gazing at the photo displaying the list of names.

"Y-You knew?" Valk asked, dumbfounded. He stood up and slammed his hands on the table, exasperated. "Then why the hell didn't you-"

"I was attacked." Katana answered, cutting the smaller idol off. "I tried to warn Y/N, but Subspace and his minions found us and stopped me."

His voice was unusually shaky. Katana was known for showing little emotion, but ever since the game had become self-aware, his voice had trouble staying calm. "He wanted to kill me. And Hyperlaser..."

He stopped himself. It was silent for a few moments before Dom cleared his throat, resting chin ontop of his clasped hands.

"We have to do something. Otherwise, one of the two may happen." He declares lowly. "Y/N will either end up mutilated, or the process may kill them."

"But, even if we did stop them, how do we even get Y/N out of here?" Valk questions. "I mean, it isn't like we can get then out of the game, can we?"

"...we can-"

A loud knock at the front door caused all three Inphernals to jump. Katana froze, too afraid to move. What if it was Subspace looking for him again? Dom stood up.

"Stay here." He said, and cautiously headed to answer the front door. Valk and Katana, on the other hand, stayed put, not moving an inch.

------------------------------------------------

Dom answered the door, revealing an anxious Boombox. The eyes on his visors were big O shapes.

"O-Oh! Dom, hey! I-"

"Boombox, I'm really busy right now." Dom said, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded. Boombox swallowed, as if he was about to confess to murder. Then, he broke down completely.

"L-Look, man, I screwed up. Big time. I need your guys' help." The DJ pleaded, frantically looking back over his shoulder. Hesitantly, Dom pulled Boombox inside and locked the door. After fully locking it, he turned to face the DJ as he leaned against the door.

"What is it?" He asked, the impatience slipping off his tongue. He was caught off guard when Boombox desperate grabbed onto his arms and stared him down, tears pouring down from behind his visor.

"THEY'RE GONNA KILL-" Dom quickly clamped his hand around Boombox's mouth, afraid of attracting any unwanted guests from outside.

Firmly, he pulled him into the living room. Removing his hand, he motioned for the DJ to talk as long as he was quiet. Gasping, Boombox pulled his visor off and violently rubbed at his eyes.

"T-They're gonna kill me...! I-I said too m-much a-an-and Y-Y/N looked at me weirdly a-and I saw Hyperlaser whispering s-something to Medkit- I'm done for, d-dude!" He rambled, struggling to stop the flow of tears.

Dom put his hands on Boombox's face, attempting to steady the troubled musician. "Hey, hey. Nobody's going to kill you. What did you say that was "too much"?" Dom questioned, wiping a tear away with his thumb. Boombox leaned into his hands, as if he were a child who was desperate for reassurance from an adult.

"Well...

...I never knew you sold actual boomboxes." You said, taking a sip of your milkshake. Boombox was polishing his stock as you spoke. He looked over towards you, smiling.

"Well, being a salesman isn't my main profession, it's more of a side-hustle. Just to make some quick cash if I've gotta buy anything." He responded, sitting the newly-clean speaker on a nearby shelf.

"So, you excited for the party?" Boombox asked, sitting down beside you. Nodding your head, you smiled gleefully. He smiled back, patting your shoulder.

"I can't believe it's been half a year already, time really does fly." You mused, automatically leaning into the DJ's touch. Boombox felt his face heating up, his visor's eyes turning into spirals.

"Y-Yeah, it's insane!" He answered, focusing to much on your touch to stop blurting out the next sentence. Feels like a lifetime ago since we brought you here."

As soon as he said that, Boombox felt you shifting quickly, and that was all he needed to tell him that he had screwed up.

"You brought me here?" You asked, quirking an eyebrow in curiosity. Mentally cursing himself, Boombox quickly shook his head.

"Oh, no! We didn't!" He stumbled over his words in an attempt to save the situation. "I was just..repeating a lyric I'd written earlier! I'm taking up songwriting, y'see?"

Miraculously, you smiled, letting out a small "ohh" sound to indicate you believed him. Sighing shakily, he shook his head and grinned.

"Oh, I should get going! Sword said he was going to teach me how to spar!" You said, getting up. You and Boombox said your goodbyes before going to meet Sword wherever he was.

Sighing with relief, Boombox stood up and stretched. He loosened his tie and undid one of his top buttons, lying in the heat of the moment had made him sweaty.

He looked around, and his heart stopped. Hyperlaser was staring at him from afar, standing beside Medkit, who had a scornful expression on his face. Boombox felt sick.

...that's what happened." Boombox concluded his story, clamping his hands over Dom's for comfort. The idol sighed, pulling Boombox close, rubbing his back as the DJ began to sob again.

"You're safe here, nobody's gonna hurt you. I promise. Dom spoke, tilting Boombox's face up to meet his eyes. Boombox calmed down at his soothing voice.

"I just feel awful. We didn't even ask Y/N about the idea, we just assumed they'd like being turned into an Inphernal. A-And-"

A cautious knock on the door interrupted Boombox, startling him. He began to shake again, convinced Medkit or Hyperlaser had found him. Feeling Boombox's anxious body shivering, Dom pulled out his phone to see at his door, and sighed.

"Boombox, it's okay. It's nobody here to hurt you, it's only Y/N. They look worried." He explained, gently letting Boombox go. "I'll go let them inside, okay?" Boombox wiped a tear away as Dom went to let you inside.

Opening the door, you looked up at Dom, giving him a wryly smile. He motioned for you to come inside, and you immediately saw Boombox, rushing towards him and enveloping him in a hug.

"Boombox, are you alright? I was looking everywhere for you! Medkit said-"

"Stop." Boombox cut you off, grabbing your hands and squeezing them. Your eyes widened, confused and anxious. "Just stop. Y/N I- I need to tell you something. I need to tell you the truth."

"What truth?" You inquired, the near unfamiliar feeling of fear seeping into your stomach. Boombox looked over at Dom, who nodded his head. The idol sighed.

"Y/N. Come with us, we need to talk to you. You haven't done anything wrong, but...you might not be safe." Before you could question him further, Boombox pulled you into a lung-crushing hug, squeezing the life out of you while repeatedly whispering "I'm sorry - I'm so, so sorry."

A nearby door creaked open, getting Dom's attention. Valk was looking right at him, his face riddled with nerves. Dom sighed, looking back at you and Boombox. It was time to tell you everything.

[bitchinbarzal]

Enough | L Draisaitl

It starts with a tension you can’t quite place. A weight in the air, thick and stifling, pressing against your chest every time Leon looks at you like he’s thinking something but doesn’t say it.

At first, you chalk it up to exhaustion. The Oilers have been on a grueling stretch of games, and you know how much it takes out of him, both physically and mentally. But then, it doesn’t stop. If anything, it gets worse.

He’s distant. He doesn’t reach for your hand like he usually does, doesn’t pull you into his side when you’re sitting on the couch together. The kisses he presses to your forehead in passing lack the warmth they used to hold, and he keeps looking at you like he’s trying to find an answer to a question you don’t even know has been asked.

You try to ignore it. Maybe it’s just stress, maybe it’s something else on his mind. But then, he says it.

And your world tilts.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the thick air between you like a knife. “I get it now.”

You stare at him, confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Leon lets out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, I finally see it. You’re here for the money, the name, the—whatever else comes with being with me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in. When they do, you feel like you’ve been slapped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He’s pacing now, like he can’t even stand still. “Everyone’s been telling me, but I didn’t want to believe it. Thought I knew better. But they’re right, aren’t they? You’re using me.”

You take a step back, suddenly feeling like you don’t even recognize the man in front of you. The man who, up until now, you thought loved you. Trusted you.

Your voice is eerily calm when you speak. “Who the fuck has been in your ear, Leon?”

He scoffs. “Does it matter? It’s not like they’re wrong.”

You inhale sharply, pressing your lips together as you shake your head. “That’s the thing, though. They are wrong. And the fact that you’re even saying this to me right now—” You cut yourself off, because suddenly, there’s a lump in your throat, thick and heavy. “I can’t believe you actually think that about me.”

“I don’t—” He stops, exhaling sharply as his jaw tightens. “I don’t want to. But it makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, look at my life. Look at your life. You—”

“Stop.” Your voice wavers, but you don’t back down. “Leon, if you really think I’m here because of your bank account or your name—if you think any of that has ever mattered to me—then you don’t know me at all.”

He swallows hard, his hands clenching at his sides, and for a second, he looks like he wants to take it back. Like he regrets it already. But it’s too late.

You shake your head, exhaling sharply. “You think I need your money? That I want your fame?” Your voice is rising now, the hurt morphing into anger. “I have my own damn career, Leon. I make my own money. I pay my own bills. I don’t need you to take care of me.”

His brows furrow, and there’s something desperate in his eyes now. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“No, you did.” Your voice is firm, unwavering now. “You meant it. Maybe you regret saying it now that you see how fucking cruel it was, but you meant it when you said it.”

Leon flinches. He looks like he wants to argue, to tell you you’re wrong, but he doesn’t. He just stares at you, the weight of his own words crashing down on him.

You cross your arms over your chest, trying to steady yourself, trying to ignore the way your hands are shaking. “I have never, never given you a reason to doubt me. To think I’m here for anything other than you. But you let them get in your head, and you believed them over me.”

Silence stretches between you. Heavy. Suffocating.

And then you say it—the thing that hurts more than anything else.

“If you really think so little of me, maybe I shouldn’t be here at all.”

Leon’s head snaps up, panic flashing across his face. “No—wait, I didn’t mean—”

You step back before he can reach for you. “Don’t. You don’t get to say that now.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s laced with finality. “You already did enough.”

Leon’s throat bobs as he swallows, his eyes clouded with regret, with something you can’t quite place. But you don’t wait for him to fix it. You just turn around and walk away.

And for the first time since you met him, he lets you.

He doesn’t call that night.

Or the next day.

You don’t expect him to, but you also don’t know what you’re supposed to do with the emptiness settling in your chest.

It takes him three days to show up at your door.

You don’t want to answer. You consider ignoring it altogether. But you know Leon well enough to know he won’t leave until you do.

So you open the door, arms crossed, expression unreadable. “What do you want?”

Leon looks like hell. His eyes are bloodshot, his jaw is tight, and there’s a desperation in the way he stares at you, like he knows he might have lost you already but needs to try anyway.

“I fucked up,” he says. No hesitation. No pretense. “I fucked up, and I know I don’t deserve another chance, but I need you to know—I didn’t mean it.”

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. “You keep saying that, but you still said it.”

Leon exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I was stupid. I let other people get in my head instead of trusting you—us. And I know I hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that.”

Your throat tightens, but you stay quiet.

Leon takes a step closer, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he moves too fast. “I don’t care about money. I don’t care about fame. I care about you. You are the only thing that matters to me, and I will spend the rest of my life proving that to you, if you let me.”

You inhale shakily, hating how much you want to believe him.

He notices. He always does.

“I love you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper now. “Not because of anything you have, or anything I have. Just you. Only you.”

For the first time in days, you let yourself look at him—really look at him. And you see it. The guilt. The love. The raw, unfiltered regret written all over his face.

You bite your lip, weighing your next words carefully. “You don’t get to do this again, Leon.”

“I know.”

“No, I mean it. You don’t get to doubt me like that. To doubt us. If we’re doing this, we do it together. No outside noise. Just you and me.”

Leon nods, not hesitating for even a second. “Just us.”

Silence lingers between you, softer this time. Not as heavy. Not as sharp.

You exhale, feeling yourself start to thaw, just a little. “I love you too, you idiot.”

The relief that floods his face nearly knocks you off your feet.

And when he finally pulls you into his arms, holding you like he never wants to let go—you let him.

[izzygoesdark]

SMOKE AND MIRRORS

summary: The team is looking for an unsub who makes it impossible to create a proper profile. But maybe the answer is closer than they think. \\ pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader \\ warnings: unsub!Spencer, accomplice!reader, some fingering, so MDNI. \\ words: 1.6k

There’s always a brief, fleeting moment that changes one’s life forever in this situation, like when you flip a switch to turn off the lights. It usually goes like this; a person tells them their loved one is dead, there’s a beat of heavy silence, and then BAM, like a dam broke. Someone cries, others shout and beg, while there are some who take it with quiet dignity, holding back the tears for God knows how long.

The man in front of you is a beggar, asking the doctor to tell him his daughter isn’t really dead, that she’ll miraculously come back to him after recovering. But she won’t. Her murderer did a good job, they made sure she couldn’t be saved, even if she made it to the hospital. 

You glance over at Spencer, who takes a shaky breath, unsure of how to act now, and when his uncertain hazel eyes turn to you, you simply flash a supportive smile at him as you shake your head slightly. This is not the right time to question the father, you have to give him some time to grieve, to finally accept that his daughter is gone forever.

So, as you wait for the tears of the father to stop falling for more than a minute, your colleague moves closer to you and reaches out to squeeze your hand. He knows this case is taking its toll on you, and he’s been supportive all along, and despite his own feelings, he’s willing to put that aside to be there for you.

There’s a clock on the wall of the waiting room, which tells you it took the victim’s father a good half hour to pull himself together enough to talk to the two of you. He blows in the air from his lungs in preparation, then stands up to walk over to where you’re sitting, only to take the chair across from you.

“Can you find whoever did it?” he asks you, his voice rough but full of hope.

On your side Spencer nods in a barely visible way, but it takes him a moment to pick the right words to say. It’s a good strategy, you can’t give the man false hope, mostly because this unsub is a mystery to the entire team. 

You only connected certain murders because there’s a little detail that’s there in every single one of them, a small marble in each victim’s stomach. But that’s it. The profile changes with each case, there’s no fix point beside the marbles, and the team is getting more and more frustrated. 

Are they working in a team? Is it some challenge for gang members? Or is it the work of a single unsub? 

The number of questions keeps rising, with no answer in sight. Hotch is getting frustrated as Strauss decided to put more pressure on him to close this case quickly, while the rest of the team is mad that the unsub is playing this stupid game with you. Catching them became a necessity for your mental health’s sake, so everyone’s working extra hard to find something concrete.

And then, you hear Spencer shift in his chair as he takes a breath. “We’re doing our best to catch him, but this is an unusually complicated case, it might take time. But we won’t give up anytime soon,” he adds in the end. 

The man nods and leans back to look up at the ceiling. “That’s good to hear,” he says quietly. 

You stay for a few more minutes, but then you decide it’s time to go back to the office. The walk to the parking lot passes in silence, mostly because you’re too lost in your thoughts, and Spencer is perfectly aware of that, this is why he reaches out for your hand again.

In the past year, you managed to hide your relationship from the team, which wasn’t some conscious decision, rather the result of the chaotic circumstances. There were moments when you wanted to tell them, but there was always a new case, some drama in someone else’s life, or anything that made you reconsider. 

“Do you think we should stop?” he asks quietly as he brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

Without hesitation, you shake your head. “No, of course we shouldn’t. I just… get a little sentimental sometimes, that’s all,” you tell him with a shy smile before standing on your toes to place a kiss on his cheek. 

But that’s not enough for Spencer. Something suddenly snaps in him, and he puts one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, while the other hand lands on your waist so he can guide you better. Your back hits the side of the car soon after, and he kisses you like his life depends on it. 

His eyes darkened a shade or two in the past minute or so, you can see the hunger in them, but he’s not hungry for you. Well, not just for you. But it doesn’t bother you, after all that thing he wants is what got you together, what created a bond strong enough to make it hard to exist without him. 

Your phone rings, interrupting your little make-out session, and you both let out an annoyed groan while you check who it is. “Hotch. I guess our little break ends now,” you tell your boyfriend, then place a quick kiss on his cheek before answering the call on speaker.

Back in the conference room, the team goes over the cases and profiles again, trying to find a way to find the logic in the chaos. The unsub in an earlier case was an uneducated man in their early twenties, another time everything pointed in the direction of a perfectionist middle aged woman, and in the most recent case it seemed like the girl was killed by an impatient teenage girl. 

Hell, once it seemed like there were two unsubs. 

The marble remained the only fix point in the case, and that’s it. Everyone had their own theory, their own profile, but when you tried to find similarities between them, you came up with nothing. The method, the victims, the unsub–everything changed each time, there was no pattern to see. Even Spencer didn’t notice one.

How could he, though?

“That little feminine touch in the teenager edition was a genius idea,” you note with a small smile as you’re driving home once the day is over.

Spencer reaches out to take your hand and lace his fingers with yours. Those long, slender fingers you love so much, whether they run over a page of a book or your body’s most sensitive parts. You shift in your seat when you think about the expert ways he uses them, which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

“I am a genius, after all,” he says with a smirk, responding to your question casually, while his body does the rest of the talking. He lets go of your hand to move his own to your core, teasing you through the fabric of your pants. 

“That you are,” you breathe.

Seconds later you successfully bite back a moan when he pushes his knuckles harder against you, and for the first time that day you’re happy this is one of those days when he decided to take the wheel. Focusing on driving and his hand that is slowly slipping under the waist of your pants at the same time would be impossible.

Without thinking, you gently wrap your fingers around his forearm to ground yourself, but that’s only fuel to the fire, you’re slowly losing control of yourself. “Spence,” you whine when you feel his fingers dip between your folds.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Listen, we’ll pick a new one tomorrow morning, alright? I have a few candidates,” he coos, as if you had the brain capacity to focus on the plan right now. 

“But–”

He pushes his fingers deeper to silence you. “Shh, just relax. We’ll talk about that tomorrow. For tonight, I have a much better plan. I want to give you something you’ve been begging for lately,” he tells you with a big smile when he looks at you.

Before you can say anything, he pulls his hand away from your pants to put his fingers between his lips to taste your juices that cover them. Only then, when a satisfied gleam appears in his eyes, do you realize what he’s talking about. 

The baby project. 

You don’t even know why you’ve been thinking about this, after all, planning a baby with someone like Spencer isn’t necessarily the wisest idea. But you love him. You want to have a piece of him with you even if something happens to him due to your little hobby.

You’ve been messing with the police, but mostly the BAU, for a while now, testing their limits in every possible way. Who will break first under the pressure? Who will figure it out first? Who will realize the killer’s been one of them all along?

To Spencer, it’s just a game. A game that he desperately wants to win. 

And what’s the end game? He wants to hunt down the members of the BAU, one by one. Each and every one of them, he said once. Which raises the question: are you one of them in his eyes?

[ecrivainsolitaire]

They get accuracy scores of about 70%. You know what else gets a 70% score? A "Cs Get Degrees" student. Which statistically is most of them.

But alas, answering questions is hardly the most important thing an LLM can do, because we're trying to compare it to what we already have, and an LLM is something new.

An LLM is an interface that allows you to speak to the computer directly in a way you both understand.

An LLM is a statistical predictor of what is most likely to be typed next.

Since all computing is patterned sequences of 1s and 0s, an LLM is a prediction machine for anything that can ever be made by a computer.

An LLM is an early prototype for a type of automation we were sold with false promises ten years ago that is just starting to become viable.

An LLM is a tool that can, in theory, translate any input you can type into actionable instructions for computers, robots and machines of all sorts to follow.

An LLM is a repository of every human language ever recorded as Unicode text.

An LLM is the first of many, many steps towards artificial general intelligence.

It is said that the arrival of artificial general intelligence will take decades, but the arrival of artificial super intelligence will take 15 minutes.

An LLM is to computing what the steam engine was to transportation. It's big and loud and clunky and very dirty and wasted a lot of energy, but that's because it's the first version of it.

The Ford T, the first motor vehicle with a gasoline engine, had an efficiency of under 5%. Modern vehicles produce little to no air pollution directly, and current developments in battery technology mean most of the indirect pollution may soon be a thing of the past.

We still use steam engines. Only the efficiency now is closer to 99%.

We call those engines nuclear reactors.

We probably won't see LLMs as something useful for the next five years or less. But then, when they are useful, it will be sudden and it will give us all whiplash unless we know how they work and can adapt to a world where they exist.

Historically, there have always been people who refuse to keep up with modern technology. One of the most recent examples is the Amish and the Mennonites.

Even they are having trouble justifying to their communities a 200 year delay, and have revised their beliefs multiple times to accommodate a changing world.

You can adapt, or you can condemn yourself to become that annoying boomer in the office who decided in the 80s he would never learn to use a computer and everyone finds it insufferable to work with him.

The world will not go back because you will it so.

people who claim that LLMs are literally useless are kind of weird to me. like, theyre not AS useful as many companies would like you to believe. but theyre basically google! google also frequently lies! it's fine, youre an adult, you can check if things are true. maybe these people dont google information very often? im a big "googling information" enthusiast. if you dont like to google for information, im not sure what you would use LLMs for. bounce ideas off of?

[currentlysleepingus]

I'm bored

I want danny to find konner before YJ and kon to be smaller than he was before, like they were rapidly growing him during cloning, so when danny finds him, he's like 12 or something. Danny, of course, is there to find ellie, finds him first decides to keep him, and then gets ellie.

Konner, being young, thinks danny is his parent and calls him mum. Danny lets him. They stay together for a while, and then while kon Is in Amity, the G.I.W and camus attack. Most escape, but some didn't, and now danny and the gang have to get them. Kon comes along, and they find out he's a clone. Danny tries to take him to metropolis, but cadmus and the G.I.W ambush them and separate, each taking the one they want. The last thing kon remembers is danny on the ground bleeding while he's dumped into a cloning tube tank and wla wierd powder being dumped in to knock him out He gets amnesia, and YJ happens.

One day danny is in metropolis to see if superboy is konner and he gets to the area and asks, konner calls him mom, everyone questions it and danny comments on how much he has grown, then leaves. Everyone has even more questions. Danny walks up to superman and says that conner is his kids and he would appreciate it if he left him alone. He is confused but helps danny get custody of conner.

Konners' memories slowly come back, and he just lives with danny. Sam is still able to control plants, and tucker is a bit buffer and leaning closer to the Egyptian, roman, and Greek side of his powers and stuff, so he dresses like it sometimes. He's basically a demigod.

Anyway all three of them move to Gotham and sam befriends poisen ivy. Tucker is still a computer need, but he has pharohs voice in his head. It's like a dbzabriged version of piccolo s situation. Anyway, kon just thinks of sam and tucker of his dad's friends. Also, YJ seems to like his dad, a bit too much, the same can be said for everyone else. Konner now has to keep everyone away from his mum because everyone keeps flirting with him and YJ. Instead of helping him, they talk about how hot he is. Traitors...

Anyway konner is on a mission and YJ is finished until danny yells from on top of the building, ( he doesn't have many options for jobs civilian wise cause the government is hunting him, so he needs a job that requires a lot of publicity so people will notice if he's missing) ( he's a model part time, potentioal madscientist/ super villian the other half)

Anyway he yells from onto of the building that konner now has another mom and a dad. Konner is horrified because he failed his mission at keeping people away from his dad, YJ is laughing, and the bystanders are sad. So danny is the mom, sam is the other one, and tuckers the dad. When konner is finally taken to their doctor, they find out that he needs the sun and stuff. Que father and son bonding.

Tucker randomly takes konner to the beach and Egypt to sunbathe.

Sam tells him about the environment and how to deal with all sorts of situations.

Danny is there to coddle him with parental affection. He is also oblivious to everyone's crush on him. He is very dramatic when konner rejects said affection and will act like it was a physical blow.

Everyone knows that the forever trio used to be heroes but won't say anything. They are very embarrassing, sam still has pictures of konner when he was younger. Konners parents are now all desired. Sam is the hot goth, tuckers the needy buff dude who's into mythology, and Danny's danny. Konner now has a lot of work on his hands. Ellie adds fuel to the fire by telling people random facts about them. She is also a great sister to konner.

Konner and ember get along great and he eventually gets his sense of style. This amuses me

BTW the forever trio are like inteir 20s