#they are always having two conversations at once whether it’s obvious to everyone else or not

[jo-com]

₊˚.🎧 ✩｡☕ ➛ So this is love?

Max Verstappen x Fem!Sainz reader

Summary: The man who always put racing above anything else; not even caring or investing about others because he thinks it’s a waste of time—What did you do to him to make him change his mind?

Genre: Cold!Max x Persistent!reader

Note: Grammatical errors and this is not proofread!! Enjoy thoo

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚💕 ─ ───────

Max stared blankly at his mates as he tuned out the noises that they spoke. His eyes narrowed and brows knitted in a frown— obviously not invested in their conversation.

“Yeah, she’ll be coming here, so be nice guys” Carlos spoke,his tone laced with a warning, glaring back at other drivers who he thinks will scare you off.

And of course he was staring directly at max.

Max cocked a brow,“What?”,he was clearly not listening to them, so why the hell are they looking at him?

The other driver rolled his eyes, “i said don’t be batshit crazy and be nice to my sister”.

“Crazy?” Max scoffed, “i don't even give a damn about her, so why do i have to be nice?.”

The room then fell quiet at his words; no one even muttered a single sound as the heavy atmosphere intoxicated them—awkwardness spreading across the drivers as they stare back and forth at each other.

For a whole five minutes, none of them had the courage to speak up and end the insufferable silence.

Not until Charles let out a scrappy cough, making the others sigh in relief from his boldness.

“Carlos didn’t mean it like that, he meant that you should just be a little nice, his sister's pretty sensitive, you see” Charles exclaimed, his voice shaking from the previous tension.

Max tutted in response, mumbling a low ‘whatever’ before standing up and leaving the Ferrari garage.

…

It was finally the day of your arrival, everybody were excited to meet the you… well almost everybody.

Max just slumped in the corner, his body leaning against the wall with his usual scowling face— avoiding others that tries to converse with him.

He was minding his own business and letting his mind wander off.

What’s so special about her that people kept fussing over her.

His train of thought quickly got interrupted as people swarmed the front door, their voices echoing and colliding with one another making a god awful sound.

He rolled his eyes with judgement as he stared abruptly at the doorframe— not even bothering to check or give the slightest interest on you.

But as you walked closer to his eye range, his breath seemed to hitch and his jaw slowly hung opened.

He doesn’t know how or why, but as soon as his eyes met yours it felt like his world suddenly turned in slowmo and all the others that surrounded you, now disappeared— it was like there were only the two of you.

Max never felt something like this before, it’s a weird and uncomfortable feeling. How the hell do you make it stop?

His once cold and composed look now turned into a love sick fool expression.

“Hey man you okay?” Logan asked, his tone dripped with pure concern over his fellow driver.

Max suddenly jumped from Logan’s presence. He never even saw that he came and leaned besides him. It was so unusual for him to be that unattentive.

Max lets out an awkward cough, “yeah, i am good, just looking like everyone else.”

“Looking? Dude you look like you want to get down on your knees for her” the other joked, easing up to max.

But to him it wasn’t a joke, he was conflicted on why he looked like that and was it obvious to everyone?. What the actual fuck is happening to him.

He then raised his hand and gently lay it to his forehead to check whether or not he has a fever. Damn no fever.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Logan responded, his eyes curled into a soft concern gaze.

Max didn’t answer and flickered his eyes back to yours. His face suddenly heats up as you stare back and smile at him. Your smile that was radiant like the sun and eyes soft like sky.

After that short and subtle interaction, he can’t seem to keep his focus and just let his thoughts wander off that lead to that moment.

…

“You’re max right?” You greeted, tugging the excess hair to your side and smiling softly at him. Having him a clear view of your angelic appearance.

Max could feel his whole face being flushed, god he wishes you don’t notice, “uhm yeah” he spoke, his tone that was always high and mighty now turned into a low and shy ones.

You hummed in response and puckered your lips with a pop, “well I’ve been seeing you all day and you’re always avoiding me, is there something wrong?”

Max’s eyes widened, “no..i-uhm there’s-“ he stuttered; trying to find the right words but nothing came out right.

You examined his actions and then let out a few giggles at his antics. You didn’t understand why they call him mean, to you he was just adorable.

…

After that day, the two of you often hang out with each other and would hear whispers and murmurs about you guys, but always brushed it off and ignore people.

“Here try this max” you beamed, handing him the mango that you were holding— smiling from ear to ear as you share your favorite fruit to someone speacial. You loved mango, i mean how could you not? It’s tasty and delicious.

He gave you a look of uncertainty, he never liked mango, it’s weird looking and nothing will ever change his mind about it, even you.

But maybe one bite won’t hurt.

“Haha sure” he replied, taking the fruit from your hand and gently taking a bite out of it. He then gulped it down his throat and stared back at you— your eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, as you await for his response.

“It’s alright” he answered, giving you a thumbs up to which you retorted with a happy clap.

“Thank god you like it, I wasn’t sure whether or not you’d like one of my favorite fruits”

Hmm maybe mangoes aren’t that bad.

…

It didn’t take long before max realized how inlove he was with you and as soon as he did, he asked to court you.

Of course you agreed to it, you as well fell for him but you also wanted to get the approval of both your parents and brother.

That’s why Max took it upon himself to make your parents like him, though he knew that the real obstacle was Carlos.

“So, you’re telling me that you want to date my sister?” Carlos asked, his voice dripped with sarcasm and anger.

Max smiled nonchalantly, “yes”

“You want to date her with that attitude?” Carlos spat, his teeth gritted with each word.

“Yes” he answered again bluntly.

He was getting on Carlos nerves and you could tell.

“Haha uhm Max can you come here for a sec?” You laughed dryly, grabbing Max’s sleeves and dragging him to the side.

��What did we talk about? I told you to be nice” you scolded, rubbing the bridge of your nose to ease your stress.

“I was being nice” max grumbled, his brows knitted in a frown out of habit.

Unbeknownst to them, Carlos was in the sidelines listening, laughing silently at his fellow driver, ‘hehe he’s done for, he never admits his mistake and apologize’ he thought.

“Sorry, I’ll try okay?” Max mumbled, making you smile and kiss his cheeks in response.

Carlo’s jaw dropped, What the fuck, why was THE max verstappen apologizing, is this real??

The two of them came back hand in hand and faced Carlos once again.

“I am sorry for being rude, and yes i am dating her so please approve”.

Carlos was still in shock, never in his life had he seen Max act like a puppy and apologize to anyone.

“No uhm it’s okay we’re good” he replied, his voice shaky from disbelief.

So that’s what max is like when inlove. Damn he’s like a lost puppy.

…

Sorry for not uploading too much🥹🥹 I’ve been busy but i hope you enjoyed this!!💋

[shdysders]

supposed to hate you

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: in which tara can’t stand you—or at least, that’s what she keeps telling herself as her feelings start to betray her.

word count: 4.2k

Tara hated you.

She always had, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why. There was no big moment, no obvious reason, just an unshakable irritation that bubbled up whenever you were near.

It was the way you'd slide into a room like you owned it, or that casual grin you wore like it was a personal insult to her bad day.

And, God, did it get under her skin when you'd laugh too loudly, making yourself the center of attention without even trying.

It was as if everything you did was meant to grate on her, whether it was intentional or not.

Even the smallest things—like how you'd hum under your breath or that habit of fidgeting with anything in reach—felt like they were tailored to press every one of her buttons.

And you knew she hated you.

Somehow, Tara was sure you’d caught on long ago, because why else would you keep doing all those little things that drove her up the wall?

The smug smile whenever she entered the room, the way you’d throw playful jabs at her to get a rise out of her, or that habit of smirking at her determination as if it were a joke.

She could swear you were doing it all on purpose.

But somehow, despite all this, the two of you had ended up in the same friend group, circling each other with forced politeness for everyone else's sake. And for some reason, none of them understood the tension between you and Tara.

Yet the two of you never seemed to have a normal conversation; every exchange was a battleground of snarky comebacks and teasing remarks.

You had this way of throwing her little digs back at her, always one step ahead with some sly remark that kept the tension alive. It was like you'd both accepted that bickering was your default, each ready with a retort before the other had even finished talking.

What made it worse was that, for some reason, the rest of the group found your dynamic entertaining.

Mindy, especially, seemed convinced that Tara's irritation ran so deep because, deep down, the two of you were practically the same.

She'd even pointed out once that, with your stubbornness, quick wit, and constant arguments, you were basically Tara's double. But that idea only made Tara's anger simmer hotter.

The thought that anyone could see her in you was something she refused to accept, and it left her even more determined to despise you.

And it was no different now, as Tara sat in the middle of her English class, which was already dragging when the second bell rang.

Mrs. Jenkins was already droning on at the front of the room, her slow voice making it impossible to keep focused.

Mrs. Jenkins was the type of teacher whose voice could lull anyone to sleep within minutes—a slow, monotone drawl that somehow never wavered, no matter the subject.

She was a small, wiry woman with glasses perched precariously at the tip of her nose, always casting a critical gaze over the top of them as if searching for the next pair of students to corral into cooperation.

Tara usually found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, pinching her wrist to keep her focus whenever Mrs. Jenkins launched into another long-winded explanation.

Mrs. Jenkins was also notorious for her obsession with partner projects. For some reason, she'd decided that her students could never be trusted to work alone, and she always seemed to pair people up in the worst possible combinations.

Almost like she thought throwing everyone into random pairs would somehow force them into cooperation or something.

Tara was just settling in, halfway through mindlessly tapping her pen against her notebook, when you pushed open the door.

You strolled in, two minutes late, looking completely unfazed, like walking in after the bell was some kind of statement.

Just seeing you made her want to roll her eyes.

Her eyes drifted to the empty seats around the room, her stomach sinking as she realized the only free one left was right next to her. She clenched her jaw.

Of course that would happen.

Of course Anika had to stay home with the flu. And of course Tara couldn't help but blame nobody but Annika for her luck, not Mrs. Jenkins for not separating the seats.

You looked around, smirked when your gaze landed on her, and started making your way over. She braced herself, already annoyed as you dropped into the seat with a casual grin that somehow felt like it was just for her.

She shot you a look, voice low but sharp enough to make her irritation clear.

"Do you ever show up on time?"

You shot her a sideways grin, unfazed. "Wouldn't want you getting bored without me."

And there it was again—the familiar spark of irritation, mixed with something else she didn't care to admit.

She crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed.

"Trust me," she shot back, arching an eyebrow with a cool stare that could cut glass. "You're not that interesting." Her voice had that hard edge to it, her words clipped as if she hoped each one would hit its mark.

She felt a flicker of satisfaction at her retort, a sense of determination to get the last word in—just once.

But even as the words left her lips, she knew how this would end. She never got the last word with you; somehow, you always had a comeback ready, some sly remark that kept her on edge, just a half-step behind.

It was infuriating, knowing you'd already won this exchange before she'd even finished talking, and yet, she couldn't seem to stop herself from trying.

So of course, her comeback only made you chuckle softly. You tilted your head, still studying her with that amused glint in your eyes. "You seem to be paying me a lot of attention for someone who's supposedly not interested."

Tara clenched her jaw, already thinking up a response, but before she could say anything, Mrs. Jenkins cleared her throat at the front of the room, pulling everyone's attention.

She held a stack of papers, her voice filling the room as she announced, "Alright, everyone. Today, we're starting partner projects," she announced, eyeing the class as she held up a stack of papers.

"You'll be working in pairs, and since we're short a few people"—her gaze swept over to you and Tara.

And, of course, with Annika out and no one else nearby, it was clear who Tara's partner would be.

"The two of you can work together." She gestured loosely at the two of you with her whole hand, her glasses slipping to the tip of her nose as if she was sealing your fate herself.

Tara's stomach twisted. Just her luck.

Out of all the people in the class, she had to be stuck with you. She could already feel the annoyance creeping up, the certainty that this project would be anything but smooth.

Being around you always felt like walking a tightrope—every word, every look somehow irked her in a way she couldn't quite explain.

She let out a quiet sigh, bracing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew would come with working together.

Mrs. Jenkins continued pairing the rest of the class, her voice droning on as she named off each group.

You seemed to watch each pairing, eyes following her hand as she pointed out partners as if every decision mattered. Of course you were paying attention to all of it, Tara thought, irritated. That was just like you.

Not that she cared who anyone else ended up with. Because right now, all her energy was spent swallowing down the frustration of being paired with you, knowing she was in for a long, drawn-out project full of the exact same tension you'd just exchanged.

Mrs. Jenkins, satisfied with her pairings, stepped back up to the front of the class. She cleared her throat, waiting for the murmur of voices to die down, before adjusting her glasses and lifting the stack of papers in her hand.

She started explaining the assignment, something about analyzing a passage from a novel they'd been studying, breaking it down in pairs to present next week.

Tara tried to focus on the instructions, but she was painfully aware of your presence beside her, the faint tapping of your pen on the desk as you listened with that half-smile still lingering on your face.

She could feel you glancing her way, as if you knew how much this was getting under her skin, and it only made her determination to prove you wrong even stronger.

Once Mrs. Jenkins finished talking and handed out the assignment sheets, she walked around, checking in with pairs as they began discussing the project.

Tara looked over at you, already preparing herself for the inevitable back-and-forth she knew was coming, her expression set.

"Do you even remember what novel we're supposed to be working with?" she asked, her voice edged with irritation.

You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms with that familiar look of feigned concentration. "Oh, yeah. The Great Gatsby, right?"

She stared at you, her fingers tightening around the edge of her notebook. Just when she thought you couldn't be more infuriating, here you were, throwing out the wrong title like it was nothing.

How could anyone be this clueless?

But before she could bite back, you let out a soft, breathy laugh, that glint of amusement flashing in your eyes. "Relax, I'm kidding. It's Wuthering Heights."

Her jaw clenched, annoyance sharpening into something colder as she shook her head. "Right," she muttered, her tone dry. "Because it would kill you to just answer like a normal person."

You tapped your fingers idly on the desk, a smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Alright, so how are we splitting this? Or should I just sit here while you write the entire thing and glare at me for breathing too loud?"

Tara shot you a look, eyes narrowing. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure I'll be doing all the work anyway," she snapped, unable to keep the edge out of her voice.

Your smirk widened as you put your hands up in mock surrender, leaning back in your chair. "Well, if you're insisting on it, I really can't stop you."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, words caught in her throat as she considered snapping back.

But before she could come up with something biting enough, you tilted your head, dropping the playful tone just slightly. "So, realistically, whose place are we doing this at?"

The question made Tara's irritation deepen into something heavier. The idea of having to work on this project outside of class with you felt exhausting.

But you both knew very well that Mrs. Jenkins' lessons were always cut short by the schedule, leaving too little time to actually make progress in class.

Tara already dreaded the awkwardness and frustration of dealing with you here; the thought of it extending into her free time was worse.

Bringing you to her house was out of the question. Sam would almost definitely be home, and knowing Sam, she'd make a point of chatting with you. It was infuriating that Sam didn't seem to share her distaste for you.

But going to your house? Tara's mind reeled for a logical excuse—something about it felt even less appealing.

Without looking up from her notebook as she jotted down a few notes to avoid meeting your eyes, she muttered, "I was thinking the library, if you've ever set foot in one of those."

You chuckled softly, that amused glint back in your eyes. "I didn't know you cared about my literacy so much. But sure, the library works."

You paused for a moment, leaning a bit closer. "You free after school, or is that the time you reserve for taking that stick out of your ass?"

Tara's jaw clenched, eyes snapping up to meet yours, her pencil threatening to snap under the pressure of her grip. You'd agreed, sure, but you'd managed to infuriate her all the same.

"After school's fine," she said flatly, before turning her attention pointedly back to her notes, wishing the bell would ring already.

Fortunately for Tara, it did, just minutes later, the sharp clang cutting through the tension that had coiled around her like a vice.

It seemed to be the only stroke of luck she could count on for the week, at least.

As soon as the sound echoed through the room, Tara was up, shoving her notebook into her bag with quick, agitated movements. She didn't waste a second, her movements brisk as she ignored your casual, "See you later," tossed her way.

Without waiting for anyone or pausing to catch her breath, she pushed her way through the bustling hallway, weaving between groups of students and dodging backpacks that jutted out into her path.

The sooner she was away from you, the better.

When she reached a spot far away from everyone, she exhaled a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and yanked her phone out of her pocket, still walking. Her fingers flew over the screen as she typed:

guess who i'm stuck working with for the english project?

The response came almost immediately, as if Mindy had been waiting for some kind of drama to break out.

Spill.

Before Tara could type a response, her phone buzzed again with a string of messages from Mindy.

Bryan who always falls asleep in history?

Loud chewing Hannah?

Victor?!

Tara let out a breathy laugh despite herself, rolling her eyes at the rapid-fire guesses. Mindy's knack for dramatics never failed to pull her out of her own frustration, even if just for a moment.

She was about to tap out a reply when she spotted Mindy leaning against her locker, arms crossed and a curious look already on her face.

"Finally," Mindy said as if she hasn't been waiting for no longer than two minutes, pushing off the locker with a grin. "So, who's the lucky partner?"

Tara snapped her phone screen off and glanced over, still holding onto her irritation. "You won't believe it," she muttered, janking her own locker open with more force than necessary.

Mindy's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Oh! Don't tell me it's Brian from algebra—you know, the one who still counts on his fingers."

Tara's lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk, but she quickly suppressed it. "Worse."

Mindy leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Worse than Brian?" She tilted her head, rattling off another guess. "Please don't say it's Becca from gym class, the one who makes breathing into a competition."

Tara let out a humorless laugh. "No, but I'd take Becca over this."

Mindy's grin faltered as she studied Tara's expression. Realization dawned on her face, and she gasped dramatically. "Wait, no. Y/N?"

Tara's silence was answer enough.

Mindy's mouth dropped open before she broke into a chuckle. "What, did Mrs. Jenkins draw names out of a hat and decide to create chaos?"

Tara groaned, closing her eyes for a second. "Feels like it."

Mindy nudged her shoulder playfully. "Hey, maybe this is your chance to finally work out whatever weird tension is between you two."

Tara's glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. "Don't. Even."

Mindy laughed, raising her hands in surrender but couldn't help adding, "Come on, Tara. It's like fate's way of telling you to loosen up. Maybe you need a challenge."

Tara shook her head, slamming her locker shut and pushing past Mindy, muttering, "The last thing I need is Y/N's smug face outside of class."

Mindy's voice followed her as she walked away. "Or maybe it's exactly what you need!"

"No," Tara muttered, shoving a stray book into her bag with unnecessary force. "And I don't want to."

Mindy leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "This is your chance. Come on, Tara, look at you—you need to ease up. You need a good—"

"Stop," Tara interrupted, the flush on her cheeks deepening as she scowled. "Don't even go there."

Mindy's grin only widened, unfazed by Tara's glare. "A good fuck," she finished, drawing out the words with a teasing lilt.

Tara's eyes widened in shock, the blush on her cheeks turning a deeper shade of crimson. "Mindy!" she hissed, glancing around to make sure no one else had overheard. The hallway was busy, students rushing to their next classes, but Tara still felt exposed.

The comment sent a wave of nausea through her as well. "Are you out of your mind? That's not even funny," she shot back, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and anger.

Mindy just laughed, the sound light and carefree. "What? I'm just saying what everyone's thinking," she said with a casual shrug. "You've been wound up tighter than a drum, and now you're paired up with the one person who gets under your skin the most. Tell me that isn't some cosmic joke."

Tara rolled her eyes, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. "It's not a joke. It's a nightmare," she muttered, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

Mindy reached out, stopping Tara just before she could turn away. "Hey, just... think about it," she said, her tone softening for a moment. "Maybe it won't be as bad as you're expecting."

Tara pulled her arm away, shaking her head as she started walking again. "It'll be worse," she whispered to herself, willing her heartbeat to slow down as she disappeared into the crowd.

___

It wasn’t worse.

Despite Tara's initial dread, working with you at the library hadn't been as unbearable as she'd anticipated.

Sure, there were moments where your casual confidence and the way you smirked at her when making a point still made her grit her teeth.

You'd tap your pen absentmindedly while explaining your ideas, a habit she found irritatingly distracting. And then there was the way you'd throw in a playful jab every now and then, your eyes glinting with amusement when she huffed in response.

But, to Tara's reluctant surprise, you were sharp, insightful even, when it came to analyzing.

The discussion had gone more smoothly than she'd expected, with ideas bouncing back and forth faster than she'd thought possible.

It struck her, in a fleeting moment she wasn't prepared for, that you weren't as infuriating now as you'd always seemed within the confines of the friend group.

You were still you, with your annoyingly self-assured manner and the smirk that made her want to roll her eyes, but it didn't seem so intolerable when it was just the two of you.

She had tried to shake off the thought, feeling a flicker of annoyance that she even had to acknowledge it.

But just as she had felt they were getting somewhere, her phone had buzzed in her pocket.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how she looked at it—Sam had been calling, the texts piling up with increasing urgency, wondering where Tara was and why she hadn't come home yet. Tara's stomach clenched as she skimmed through the messages, noting the slight panic in Sam's words.

Realizing she couldn't ignore it any longer, she had packed up her things, muttering that you'd have to finish another time.

You didn't seem bothered, giving her a nod and a quick, teasing smile that left her more annoyed than she cared to admit as she left the library.

When she had gotten home that night, sleep eluded her. She had tossed and turned, frustration simmering just beneath the surface as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Thoughts of your discussions swirled in her mind, mingling with that annoying realization that you weren't as insufferable as she had always believed.

Over the following week, she had found herself paying more attention to you than she intended to. It wasn't like she had tried to; it just happened.

You were there, cracking jokes during lunch, your laugh ringing out louder than anyone else's, and Tara caught herself stealing glances when you were busy chatting with the rest of the group.

Even when you weren't around, she found herself thinking about you, which irked her more than she cared to admit.

It was infuriating how often you popped into her head, making her wonder what you would say in any given situation, or how you would tease her if you were there.

Tara gritted her teeth at the thought, refusing to admit how much it bothered her that she couldn't stop.

She hated that you had gotten under her skin, and she wasn't sure what it meant. All she knew was that it felt wrong to be so intrigued by you, and yet, here she was, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about her too.

It was confusing. Annoying, even. Tara hated the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about you lately.

But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they seemed to cling to her. It wasn't just that you were smart-mouthed and quick-witted, though those things had always gotten under her skin.

No, it was something else—things she hadn't noticed before, or maybe things she had noticed but refused to acknowledge.

The way you smiled when you thought no one was looking.

Tara had started to notice that your smiles were different when you weren't throwing one of your usual smirks in her direction. When you smiled genuinely—like when you were talking to your friends or when you thought something was genuinely funny—it was softer, almost shy, and it made her stomach do this stupid little flip.

She hated that she even noticed it, but she couldn't help it. That smile wasn't something you gave to just anyone, and that realization made her heart race in a way she wasn't ready to confront.

And that damn smirk.

Tara couldn't get it out of her head.

There was something about it that drove her crazy, and not in the way she wanted to admit. It was infuriating how much she wanted to wipe it off your face—literally, and, to her horror, in ways she'd never imagined before.

She caught herself staring at your lips sometimes as well, wondering what it would be like to just lean in and kiss you, to catch you off guard and see that cocky expression falter.

The thought made her stomach churn with a mix of desire and disgust. What was wrong with her? Since when did she think about kissing you, of all people?

Why was this happening? Why couldn't she just hate you like she used to?

She'd always been good at handling her emotions, keeping them locked up tight where they couldn't hurt her.

But lately, whenever you were around, that control started to slip. It was like you'd found a way under her skin, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get you out.

She hated it. Hated how her heart raced whenever you smirked at her, how her stomach twisted with something that wasn't quite anger anymore.

She'd never felt this way before—this mix of anger and attraction that left her feeling off-balance, like she was constantly walking a tightrope. It was ridiculous, disgusting even, how much she let it affect her.

You were supposed to be her rival, her annoyance, the person she loved to hate. And yet, here she was, her thoughts consumed with you in ways that made her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

She was supposed to hate you, not fantasize about something so ridiculous. But the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they lingered, haunting her even when you weren't around.

It was like she was losing herself, becoming someone she didn't recognize. How could she be so weak, so pathetic, to let these feelings take over?

The thought of you seeing her like this, vulnerable and conflicted, made her sick to her stomach. You'd probably just laugh at her, throw some snarky remark her way that would make her feel even smaller than she already did.

She needed to get a grip. This was just some stupid, fleeting attraction, nothing more.

It had to be.

She refused to believe that she actually liked you, that she wanted something more than just the back-and-forth banter that had defined your relationship.

Because if she admitted that, if she acknowledged the truth, it would change everything.

And that scared her more than anything.

So she did what she always did—pushed those thoughts down, buried them deep where they couldn't hurt her.

She'd pretend that nothing was different, that she didn't feel her pulse quicken whenever you walked into the room, that she didn't think about your stupid smirk when she was alone at night.

It was easier that way. Safer.

But deep down, she knew she was just lying to herself. And as much as she hated it, those feelings weren't going away. They were only getting stronger, no matter how hard she fought against them. And that terrified her more than anything.

Because she was supposed to hate you.

[weasleys-wizard-writes]

Return {O.G}

Synopsis: You and Ominis are finally reunited on the Hogwarts express after several weeks apart. The only problem is, you're running late, and Gaunts are not known for their patience...

Note: Here's a little (fairly unedited) Ominis fluff blurb for you all to help tide everyone over until the next big fic is ready for posting <3.

"He's been waiting for you"

Sebastian teased as you all but stormed toward him, that smarmy grin of his making you wish you could recall the spell you'd learned to temporarily move one's mouth elsewhere.

You scoffed, giving him your most unimpressed glare,

"Of course he has. Doesn't he always?"

Except both of you knew what the slytherin had meant when he said those words, and you could tell by the look in his eye that he was more than aware of your understanding.

His grin morphed into something far more akin to a smirk than anything else, and you briefly searched the depths of your mind once more for any recollection of that mouth relocation spell, though you came up with nothing after a few moments of contemplation.

You sighed. There were much more pressing matters to attend to anyhow, it seemed.

"Quite."

Sebastian all but purred in response to your previous remark, shooting a less than subtle wink your way before gallivanting off in the direction of a bickering Leander and Garreth, no doubt hoping to stoke the flames of their already less than friendly conversation.

Rolling your eyes, you pushed open the door to the compartment that you and your friends had sat in for every trip made to Hogwarts thus far.

It was an unspoken rule, after all, that this particular car was favored by the ever particular and oddly intimidating Ominis Gaunt.

And, as things went, Ominis tended to be granted that which he was selective enough to vocalize aloud, whether he ever truly recognized it or not.

"Omini-"

"You're late."

You flinched softly at the obvious displeasure in the young man's voice, not for fear of his doubtless nonexistent retribution, but out of discomfort at the mere thought of being the cause of such a tone.

You wondered if Sebastian ever had the sense to care about such a thing, but found you would rather not know after a moment or two of deliberation on the subject.

You did not need yet another reminder of the ways in which your friendship with the youngest Gaunt heir differed from the one he shared with the sole remaining male Sallow.

Sighing, you nodded, knowing full well after so many years together that the blond sitting before you would sense the gesture regardless of his lack of sight.

He had a way of knowing such things, after all, particularly when they pertained to you and your movements.

He always seemed to know exactly where you were, as if attuned to your every breath.

"I know, I apologi-"

"I had to call in two favors to keep this train from moving without you, you know."

Ominis bit out before you could finish, immediately all but stunning you into silence.

Cutting you off twice in one conversation? Perhaps you'd upset him more than you'd initially realized.

"I mean honestly, late for the train in your seventh year? Was I foolish to believe you might have learned better by now?"

He all but scoffed, continuing with his tangent whilst crossing his arms and fixing his face with a scowl so cold it very nearly had you shivering.

"Probably not,"

You began a few moments later, allowing the sliding door to rest against your shoulder as you stood in the opening, your carry bag of necessities slung haplessly over your shoulder.

"But you know timing was never my strong suit."

Ominis rolled his eyes, immediately causing a small smile to tug at the corners of your lips in spite of your best efforts to keep it at bay.

"Far from it, as you've so kindly shown."

He muttered beneath his breath before turning his head toward you wordlessly, expression a rather amusing mixture of exasperation, confusion, and dwindling frustration as he opened his mouth to speak up once more after a few seconds of silence.

"And just what in Salazar's name do you think you're achieving by standing in that doorway, hm? Have somewhere else to be that you've conveniently neglected to mention?"

In response to your friend's accusation, you found yourself having to bite back a bout of laughter.

He would never admit it aloud, but Ominis was immensely fond of your quiet train rides back to school with one another, regardless of where he was returning from, and clearly he was concerned that you'd made other plans for your afternoon journey back to Hogwarts.

And of course, you would never admit it aloud, but doing such a thing was so inconceivable to you that it nearly made you burst out laughing, as evidenced by your present struggles.

After all, why would you ever want to spend time with someone else when you had Ominis Gaunt so impatiently waiting for you in the train compartment furthest from the rest in the second car down?

The answer, of course, was that you wouldn't.

"Certainly not."

You replied casually, amusement coloring your tone as the blond sitting before you scoffed once more, his cheeks glowing with a pink so faint that you could scarcely make it out, even in the brightness of the afternoon sun that beamed through the windows from high above the valley you were passing through in that moment.

"Well then what in the hells are you waiting for, a written invitation? Sit down already, you're letting far too much racket in standing there with the door open."

He huffed, averting his unseeing gaze away from you and toward the wall that sat opposite him as you shook your head with a grin and did as you were told with an eagerness you were glad that Ominis couldn't make out.

Making yourself comfortable within your place beside him, you couldn't help but take in the sight of his familiar profile, illuminated ever so slightly by the light filtering in through the glass.

It was always like this on these long rides back, you quietly admiring your friend as he sat, none the wiser, in the spot beside that which he always saved for you.

And, as an easy silence filled the room for the first time since your delayed arrival, you watched as the blond finally relaxed a bit in his seat, massaging his temples in slow circles until you finally leaned forward slightly to place a gentle hand just above his knee, the fabric of his perfectly tailored and painstakingly pleated trousers somewhat rough against your soft palm, though you found that the warmth radiating off of the man wearing them more than made up for that fact.

"I really am sorry for being late, you know."

You assured quietly, watching as the boy sitting beside you sighed and nodded almost imperceptibly, his cheeks now pink enough that you could make the color of them out with ease.

You tried not to think too hard about how happy the sight of that color upon his flushed skin made you, nor of just how much the fact that you had caused such a reaction was driving said happiness.

"I know."

Ominis replied gently, his hand finding yours, warm flesh upon warm flesh, the feel of his palm much softer than the fabric that was presently pressed against your own.

"I was simply worried that something had happened to you. It isn't typical to miss the train entirely, even for someone as truant as yourself."

His voice had a teasing lilt to it now, but you could still hear the strain hidden just beneath it as he spoke, poorly concealed even as you squeezed just above his knee encouragingly, reminding him of where you sat, perfectly safe at his side.

He seemed to deflate slightly at the gesture.

"Well, no need to concern yourself with my whereabouts anymore, Gaunt. I'm here, aren't I?"

Ominis chuckled under his breath, rolling his eyes with an exaggerated exasperation that you could tell he wanted to convey far more than he actually felt.

"Yes, I suppose you are."

And with that, you smiled, leaning your head familiarly upon the shoulder of the young man sitting just to the right of you before closing your eyes fondly when you felt the weight of his own atop it.

The two of you stayed like that, shoulder to shoulder, head against head, until eventually, the train began to slow, and the door burst open to reveal Sebastian, who grinned rather obnoxiously as he took in the sight before him.

"Well well well, not waiting anymore now are we, Ominis?"

"Oh sod off, Sebastian."

[moniericreative]

The Saddest Tragedy of 2/2; Damned Regardless of Choice

Wasn't sure if anyone else already talked about this, but after going through the Persona 5 Royal Artbook a while back, and again recently... Something about the whole situation just really struck with me.

Obviously, spoiler warnings ahead for Persona 5 Royal, specifically Third Semester's Februrary 2nd.

So, unsurprisingly, I'm referring to Maruki's Deal.

It's a common interpretation that Akechi's 100% gung-ho against it.

But there's two separate moments that show a rare bit of... Wavering in his resolve.

The first is the Phantom Thieves meeting in Maruki's office with Lavenza:

Out of all of the Phantom Thieves, the only one to play devil's advocate and remind the group that Maruki's actions benefit them too is... Akechi, of all people. Not Joker, not Makoto, not Lavenza or anyone else.

It's solely Akechi who brings that fact up.

In the same meeting, beforehand he was very upfront and crass about how manipulative Maruki was being, and how the man played the other thieves like a fiddle...

And yet he says this in spite of all that.

There was no reason or prompting for him to, and Ryuji even rejects him politely afterwards too.

So surely this was just an off-line of simple pragmatism, right?

Well, here comes moment number 2, in one of the optional Jazz Jin hangouts you can get with him:

He plays it off as some idle food for thought with no deeper meaning, but... It's Akechi. He usually doesn't just say things just to say them.

There's always a hidden meaning to his words.

It's pretty obvious he's referencing his space in the Phantom Thieves, a group that's civil with him but doesn't particularly have any inclination to be friends with him... But it does beg a question...

Is he happy? Now that he's no longer being controlled by Shido, or burdened by a lifelong revenge?

By the sheer existence of this conversation at all, directed only towards Joker and in a place that he's comfortable in (second to Leblanc) it's pretty safe to say he is, but has reservations about it (i.e. 'If their happiness hinges on the group's unhappiness.')

Now where does the artbook come in? Well, inside the P5R artbook, there's a handful of interviews that expand on some parts of the Royal exclusive content.

What was the one bit that stuck with me?

(Thanks to VeskScans on Twitter for the high-quality scans of the artbook: https://x.com/VeskScans)

Per fan-translation:

Creator's Comment: "When I think about how Akechi's wish is to play chess with the protagonist after school, I want to tell him 'You like the protagonist after all, don't you?'"

Akechi's Wish.

He has a wish that Maruki actually does grant him, and it's to essentially be friends with Joker. It's mutual to Joker's own wish to be friends with him.

So add up the context of all three, and it paints a very depressing picture already:

Akechi is genuinely happy for once in his life, but doesn't think he deserves it at the cost of everyone else's. It runs opposite to his own sense of Justice, and his negative views on himself as a "cursed child," and that fuels him to keep denying it.

So with him being split between the two sentiments... It's unsurprising that he would rely heavily on Joker to make the ultimate decision; Whether to accept, or to deny. Because he himself can't, and Maruki knows full well of that.

Sure, he keeps pushing Joker to deny Maruki... But why?

Is it because what Maruki's doing is wrong, and he needs to be stopped? Is it the closest thing to a punishment for all of his actions, which has been constantly denied to him up to this point? Is it the closest thing to a confirmation that he's undeserving of such happiness, especially with how much blood is on his hands?

Who knows.

So how does any of this tie into Maruki's Deal on 2/2? Isn't Rejecting a false reality the obvious choice here?

Well... It's simple.

You're not really picking between a true reality and a false one.

You're picking between:

The acknowledgement of Akechi's growth (Hereward), the righteousness he carries as The Justice arcana, and his freedom from being under someone else's control his whole life.

And this:

Think about it. Maruki gives you multiple opportunities to accept his reality, and they become increasingly personal to Joker with each one.

First is the happiness of the general public.

Second it's the happiness of the other Phantom Thieves, especially Sumire.

Then finally, it's the happiness of both Joker and Akechi.

If the first two couldn't sway Joker's decision, why would the third?

Because you want Akechi to be happy and no longer suffering. You're the one in control of making that decision as the player, remember?

And both he and Joker are also fully aware of that, given how they look back at you in the "Accept" ending.

Not to mention in spite of how he reverts back to his "Detective Prince" mannerisms, almost as if he was a different person entirely... We never actually get any indication that he goes off to fight Maruki alone, or try to fix everything himself, do we?

Sure, he says "... Well. I have your answer. There's nothing left I can say. Our deal's off."

But what can he say? Once again, you've exceeded his expectations.

And once again, he's left as speechless as his "you really are..." moments.

You chose him over a "true reality." You told him to his face that he matters, you accept him as he is in spite of everything he's done, and you want to keep spending time with him as equals. As friends.

There's no anger, betrayal, shock, or even hurt in his voice. Just quiet acceptance because after all they've gone through together, he knows Joker wouldn't lie about that.

It's a truth he has to accept, even if it conflicts with his image of himself. He's wanted by someone else, for the first time in his life.

Of course he has no need for a deal anymore. They were always the closest things he was willing to get to a friendship, without establishing a close tie that could potentially hurt him in the end.

Why would he need one when you chose your bond over all else?

You proved to his face that it's not just some temporary truce with mutual benefits. It's a genuine bond for both parties, not just to him.

... It's just a shame that something you've done with him up to this point with genuine intent has been perversed into a means to sway both boys and you into compliance.

Ultimately though... You're the one stuck between two choices for him:

Forsake Akechi's happiness, and finally being wanted for who he is and not whatever pleasant image or service he can provide.

Forsake his freedom, and all the growth and accountability he's accumulated thus far from his own sins.

This teenage boy is damned regardless of the decision you make. All because a man with a Jehova complex noticed that he matters to Joker (and by extension you as the player), and uses him as an ultimatum to get Joker (and you) to comply.

All because said man is well-aware that Akechi's actual fate is vague. Did he live? Did he die? Who knows, neither he or Akechi actually confirm it. They just dance around the subject and leave the assumption up to you. But he'll take full advantage of the vagueness to justify his actions to you, and show why his goals and yours are "truly in alignment."

And the worst part is that Maruki's doing this with a genuine intent to make his life happier afterwards, much like youself. It's not out of malice, or a sick sense of delight, or with the airs of playing god.

He's distorted. He's a man with good intentions that have become so distorted that he inadvertently perverses the very desire to do good for the world.

And just like Shido, and Yaldaboath, before him...

Akechi's the number one casualty.

You're just forced to decide which part of him the gun is aimed at this time.

Because this boy can't have both. It's one or the other.

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Crushing!Jihoon

Fluff - Woozi x gn!reader

I have a crush on that boy, but what if he had a crush? 🤔

Word Count: 1k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────୨ৎ──── ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jihoon cannot look you in the eyes. He usually is good about eye contact because he is very polite, but if he catches your eyes, he will quickly avert his gaze anywhere else. He still likes to talk to you, but he gets overwhelmed and lost in his thoughts if he’s looking straight into your eyes. Sometimes, he tries to look at your nose, so it will at least seem like he’s looking at you, but he still finds it too cute when you wrinkle it to laugh, so he ends up looking away anyway.

Jihoon rambles. A simple “Hello” will turn into him oversharing about his weekend, favorite show, or work. He cannot stop and your patient smile only encourages him to keep going. He eventually will realize and let a sentence trail off as his face turns red. He only stops being embarrassed when you reply with the same energy. You both end up yapping as much as possible, going from topic to topic almost randomly. Anyone listening in on the conversation would get lost because it’s like you have your own language together.

Jihoon can’t flirt. At all. It doesn’t come naturally to him. If he tries to be cute, he just gets embarrassed. He’s also afraid of being seen as a creep. You lightly flirt with him and he doesn’t notice. If you turn it up a little, he either misinterprets it or gets really awkward. He claims to be a direct person or the type to just be straight-forward and tell you, but, in reality, he will take his secret crush to the grave.

Literally everyone notices when Jihoon is crushing. He doesn’t realize how obvious he is when every other topic of conversation is you or what you like or what’s going on in your life. The other members joke about it quietly, but they make sure he doesn’t know or else it would end their favorite entertainment. They find it super fun to watch him get flustered around you then turn around like nothing happened. They even try to get him closer to you or leave you two alone together, just to eavesdrop or peek into the room to witness him freak out a little.

Jihoon writes a ton of love songs. They probably won’t see the light of day and some of them are just sentences in his notes app, but every beautiful melody he thinks of is inspired by you in some way (and some of the horny ones too). Fans would say that these types of songs were written with a pink glitter gel pen which is only true in vibes. He isn’t kicking his feet and writing in twirly handwriting, but his heart is whether he likes it or not.

Jihoon pretends to be nonchalant but remembers super specific things about you. Like, he’ll hand you your favorite obscure candy from your childhood that you told him about one time four months ago, and say something like “don’t make a big deal out of it” or “i just saw this and remembered”. In reality, it took him forever to find it and he wasn’t even sure if it was discontinued or not. He was about to look up a recipe for it to make it from scratch, but he found it, ordered it, then waited like a kid on Christmas for the package to arrive. He gives maximum effort for small details and pretends like it’s nothing.

It’s a lot easier to get Jihoon to open up than you think. He claims that he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his emotions when they are heavy, and he doesn’t always want to share his feelings so outwardly, but if you ask him like twice, he’ll tell you all about it. You can visibly see his shoulders un-tense when he tells you about his struggles. He trusts you and can’t keep anything from you. He’s also just bad at lying, so you can tell something is up with him almost immediately.

Jihoon doesn’t like physical touch BUT ONLY when he isn’t expecting it. He has to initiate the touching for it to be okay. You once tried to place your hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off instinctively. Later, he held onto your arm absent-mindedly. You learn to give him his space and wait for him to start anything physical. Once he does, you can reciprocate easily. He likes to put his arm behind you while sitting on the couch. You lean into him and he doesn’t flinch or move or anything. He touches you more often than anyone else which makes his crush on you so painfully obvious.

Jihoon has a Libra Venus in his astrology chart. From the moment he realized he liked you, he immediately envisioned your entire future together complete with four versions of a wedding, a life with kids, a life without kids, what your cat’s names would be, and every time he could tell the world that a song was dedicated to you. He thinks about different ways he could ask you on a date like he’s Doctor Strange looking into possible realities. It was easy for him to get a crush on you, and he can’t help but imagine it when he closes his eyes.

Jihoon is oblivious. You obviously like him and everyone can see it except for him. You always smile when he talks or laugh at his stupid jokes. You’re always caught up on his favorite anime (which you enjoy as well) just so that when he finally does watch them, you are ready to talk about it at a moment’s notice. You call him every night to make sure he’s wrapping up at work, and you offer to buy him food if he hasn’t eaten. You are one of the only reasons he takes a day off or goes outside to have fun when he’s not working. You’re always ready with a plan to hang out together. You want to be with him all the time. You stick to him like glue. And he just thinks that you're his really good friend. He can’t imagine that his crush likes him right back.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Then, Can You make a fluff oneshot between Beidou and Make Reader with kuudere Personality and Cryo vision?

Beidou with a cold reader

characters: Beidou x gn!reader

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: I haven't written for Beidou in… a while. So if I got some aspects of her character wrong I’m really sorry! If it shouldn't be to your liking, tell me and I'll try again once I have the time/motivation!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Beidou

While you had your moments, your general attitude matched your vision to a tee. All in all, it was rare to see you wearing anything but a pokerface on your face, no matter if at a celebratory meal with the rest of the crew or while fighting monsters and storms on the sea, you remained unfazed, always looking disinterested and yet never refusing to participate in anything Beidou suggested.

Even if some outside observers might have found it difficult to imagine any reasons for two personalities as clashing as yours and your captain’s to get along as well as you did, Beidou herself could think of at least a dozen. From a professional standpoint having a number two as collected as you helped to balance out her… more enthusiastic personality. But there were also more than enough reasons for the two of you to get along well in private. Including but not limited to:

No matter how uninterested you looked, you were still a great listener, letting Beidou talk your ear off whether she was sober or not while somehow managing to remember more from your one-sided conversations than she did herself. You were good at making sure she didn’t overdo it during her more reckless moments and most importantly: the way you managed to tell any story from your adventures in a completely deadpan and unimpressed manner proved some of the most unexpected comedic entertainment either she or the rest of the crew could ask for.

“Come onnnnn, pleaseeeee", your drunk Crewmate begged you, slurring while holding on to your arm as if his life depended on it, only for you to briefly close your eyes in slight annoyance, grabbing your vision with your free hand before pressing it against his until the cold became too much for him to bear and he was forced to pull away.

“You were there as well. Tell them the story yourself”, you refuted, only to almost immediately make out the sound of several other of your drunk companions to start whining to you.

“I’m too drunk”, he retorted, and while he was obviously telling the truth, his argument was still far from convincing you in the slightest.

Just as you were about to tell him he should have told the story before drinking then however, a sudden weight on your shoulder caused your attention to shift towards it, only to be greeted with the sight of Beidou standing next to you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on her hip, the blush on her cheeks making it obvious she herself wasn’t sober in the slightest. And yet she was still a thousand times better off than any of the others.

“That and you’re just the best at telling stories”, she added with a smile. 

If it was anyone else, you would have brushed off the compliment as flattery and nothing else before quickly turning them down, and yet whenever it was Beidou that asked you, you found yourself considering it.

You had never really understood why they always wanted you to be the one to relay their adventures. When you had asked her however, she told you that while everyone else tried to embellish their stories and make it sound even more impressive than it already was, the way you did the exact opposite and made even the most epic fight sound like it was just another tuesday was more entertaining than anything the others had to offer. And while you still found it difficult to understand just why exactly that was the case, you had the sneaking suspicion you wouldn’t be able to get a more satisfying answer no matter who you asked.

“Alright”, came your brief answer, only for everyone to huddle up in earshot almost immediately, and yet all your mind paid attention to was the small cheer coming out of Beidou’s mouth as she removed her hand from your shoulder, placed it on your head, and ruffled your hair for a moment before sitting down next to you.

Thankfully everyone was too drunk to remember the small smile that broke across your face.

[withahappyrefrain]

For the ship ask game!

48. …out of habit + a bob of your choice!

This prompt screams secret relationship, and what better Bob to do that with than Cobalt Eyes & Sweet Smiles Bob?

Bob knew he shouldn't be jealous. You weren't paying Jake any attention as he bragged about the latest air maneuver he mastered. Your eyes were focused on putting together a burger.

Soon enough, one of your fathers' old Top Gun classmates would whisk you away, no doubt to marvel at how much you had grown up, reminiscing on how you used to toddle around at this yearly cookout.

The worst part was Bob couldn't even be mad at Jake. Because he told Jake that all that happened after you two met was that he walked you to your car.

Which was partly true. Bob did walk you to your car. And then exchanged numbers after making out in said car. Which led to going on a date, which led to Bob secretly dating you.

Turns out, dating the daughter of your bosses is complicated.

Once the current mission was over, it would be easier to come forward. And decidedly less weird to think about.

Though Bob was still worried that once the secret was out in the open, he'd wake up the next day to find he's been deployed to Australia.

So all Bob could do was sip on his diet Coke as he tried not watch Jake fail at hitting on his girlfriend.

"I'm going to go...." Your eyes lingered on Bob. God, he looked so good in that blue shirt, it was unfair. But wouldn't that be too obvious?

"Somewhere that isn't here," you finished, walking away before Jake could even speak. The temptation to tell the blonde pilot you were dating Bob grew stronger everyday.

But Jake also had a big mouth and seemed like the kind of dick to mention something to one of your dads, if not both.

Technically, you weren't breaking their rule. They said no pilots and Bob wasn't a pilot. He was a WSO.

But it certainly made things awkward as Bob was working with Dad. And Pa was his boss.

Well, wanting to get away from Jake Seresin wouldn't raise anyone's suspicions.

Bob tried to hide his excitement when you stood next to him. He tried to act casual, but nothing could hide that smile of his.

Not that you mind. In fact, his sweet expression sent warmth throughout your body.

"Got tired of hearing how much better he is than everyone else?" Bob joked, causing you to nearly choke on your burger.

"The best don't brag, they let their work speak for themselves," you explained, a sly smile on your face. It was so hard not to make eye contact with him. Truly unfair how he had eyes bluer than the ocean, deeper than the sky-

"Is it too much if I asked you to accompany me to the Hot Dog station? Figured it would be nice to have someone who understands all the toppings." With that lopsided smile, how could you say no?

"It is an intimidating amount of choices," you chuckled as you led him over to the station.

"Alright, so I know it sounds weird, but the Olivier-Russian potato salad- that Pa makes is actually pretty good. The chili Slider makes is good, but unless you have a stomach of steel only take a little. Oh, and Hollywood says the candied jalapeños are mostly sweet but that's a lie. It's mostly spicy."

Bob couldn't help but be memorized as you rattled off facts about the various condiments. Whether it was about work, a personal belief, or yes, even hot dog toppings, you always spoke with such passion.

He loved it. He loved you, but that conversation is still a few steps away.

For now, Bob was happy to settle for counting down the days until he could hold your hand in a gathering like today's. Even if it terrified him.

Yes, technically, he wasn't a pilot. But considering who your dads were, a technicality didn't bring Bob much hope.

According to Bradley, the idea of you dating someone in the military, much less a naval pilot, had been vocally met with disdain.

But today Bob wouldn't focus on that. Instead, he focused on your bright smile and how cute you looked in that sundress.

"What's your go-to?" He asked, ready to take the valuable information to heart.

"Chili with some of the candied jalapenos and a dash of ketchup."

"No mustard?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You had to stifle a laugh, "No mustard."

"Alright, I trust ya." His words, laced with a slight twang sent warmth throughout your body.

Without saying a word, you took the ladle from the chili bowl, serving it onto his hot dog. You gave him a sweet smile as an explanation, one that Bob took happily.

"Thanks darlin'," He leaned in to peck your lips, neither of you thinking about it.

It wasn't until he broke away to grab the ketchup that you both froze, realization washing over you.

Fuck.

"I'm gonna, um, go." You said quickly, grabbing your plate.

"Uh yeah, good idea," Bob quickly put down the ketchup, turning around to walk away from you. His face was bright red as he practically ran back to Mickey and Natasha who were currently chatting up with some of Pete and Tom's old classmates.

You looked around, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. No one standing in shock.

Alright, good. That was a good sign.

"Hey, did you see that?" You asked Bradley, who had been roped into grill duty.

"See what?" Your pseudo-brother shrugged, his eyes remaining on the grill, unaware that you were on the verge of having a panic attack.

"Bob and I kissed. It was an accident, like neither of us thought about it! It just felt natural and we forgot where we were!" You hissed.

Bradley was the only one who knew. The first time Bob spent the night at your place, the universe decided that Bradley should be the one to pick you up for family brunch. In hindsight, better he than one of your dads. Thankfully, you had enough dirt on Bradley to buy his silence.

"Oh," Bradley shrugged, as if it was nothing. Truthfully, he didn't know why you two insisted on keeping it a secret. It wasn't like you were dating Hangman (thank fucking God for that).

"I didn't notice anything," He said, which accurately reassured you.

"Although...." His words made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Although?" You gritted through your teeth.

"I mean, that would explain why Slider was running into the house. I thought he just had to piss."

God. Dammit.

"You good Bob?" Mickey asked upon seeing his fellow WSO, beet-faced and nervous.

"Huh? Oh! Me? Yeah, I'm great. Swell actually!" Bob said, unconvincingly.

Natasha knew Bob was dating you. It was obvious when you showed up to one of the beach football games. How anyone else failed to notice was beyond Nat.

But she knew not to say anything. Instead, she gave Bob a raised eyebrow. Whatever it was (concerning you), she knew it was better to ask in private.

"Lieutenant Floyd? May I speak with you in private?"

Bob's blood ran cold as he turned to face Captain Mitchell, who had his arms crossed.

"Um, I..." He could pretend to pass out. There was no current or former medic here. So he would just need to play dead as if his life depended on it, because it did. Claim it was from the heat. Yeah. Blame the sun, he was pale enough to do so.

But his knees were locked. Bob couldn't run, couldn't pretend to pass out. Fuck, it was too early to fake food poisoning.

So instead, all he could muster up was a weak nod as his legs carried him inside the Mitchell-Kazansky house.

He was fucked. Utterly fucked. He should just leave now so he can go pack up for Australia. Would he even get that far? He had been sneaking around with their daughter, death was probably the only option.

Even if your dads didn't kill him, your honorary uncles will. Fuck, was his will updated? Would you even get anything? Well, Bob did tell Bradley to give you the ring in his drawer should anything happen to him. It was his grandma's, given to him so he had a ring to propose and-

Why was the Admiral whose callsign was literally "Iceman" hugging him?

"Thank God it's you. We thought she was seeing Seresin."

Oh.

That explains a lot.

"Um, no offense sir, but you raised your daughter to have better standards than Seresin," Bob barely got out, now receiving a hug from the much shorter Captain.

"We knew she was seeing someone. We're all glad it's you."

When you ran into your childhood home, you were expecting many things. Mainly Bob's head on the floor.

Receiving hugs from your dads was not on the list, but man was it a welcoming sight.

Bradley shrugged, "I don't know why you were so worried about them knowing."

You rolled your eyes, "The same reason why you haven't told them you have a fiancé."

Wait shit, that was not supposed to be said out loud.

"You have a what?"

[tiredfox64]

Can you write about the reader being close friends with Smoke for a long time and both secretly have feelings for each other but could admit it to each other out of fear until one day the reader came back from a mission injured and Smoke freaks out, confesses his love for the reader?

Don’t Go, Please

Prior notes: Oh Tomas, how you make my heart ache. You know what else makes my heart ache, this damn speech!

Pairing: Tomas x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: This is possibly angst with a happy ending

Born as a hunter, raised to be a Lin Kuei assassin, built the Shirai Ryu with Kuai Liang, yet can’t confess his feelings.

You’re no better.

It’s so painful obvious to everyone that you and Tomas like each other. You two spend so much time together whether that be training, eating, or just hanging out.

To Tomas, he saw you as a great fighter and a good person overall. He never felt scared to talk to you about anything even if it involved his past. He even cried in front of you once when he talked to you about Bi-Han betrayal. He was scared at first since he thought you would find him weak for crying. But he was pleasantly surprised when you held him tight to you and soothed him. Thank goodness you two were alone in your room. Ever since then that’s when he knew he truly was in love with you. He just never said it out loud.

And for you, you knew you liked him the moment he spoke. At first he seemed so scary to you with his big muscles, that mask, and those piercing eyes. But when you heard his voice your heart melted and you realized there’s nothing to be afraid of. On the outside he may look intimidating but you realize how sweet and considerate he is. Your conversations would last for hours. You would be so lost in them you wouldn’t realize that you stopped training.

He’s a good man, a good man!

But confessing your love seems like a hard task. The risk is too high. You’re afraid of getting hurt. You can heal from physical wounds but emotional wounds can take a long time. You can’t afford to have a weakened emotional state and neither can Tomas. So you both force yourself to be happy with what you guys have. A close bond, a friendship.

Now get yourself ready, you have a new mission to get accomplish. Put your best gear on and be prepared. Slow down for a sec, Tomas would like to say something to you.

“You better be careful out there.” He warned.

“You’ve been saying that for so long yet I always come back.” You replied with a big smile.

“I mean without a kunai stuck in your leg or a big rash on your arm from poison ivy.”

“That was one time!”

“Yes, but it happened a month ago.” We all make mistakes.

“Ah whatever. Look, I have to get going. I promise I will return in one piece.”

Before you walked away you felt Tomas grab your hand. You looked back at him with a look of surprise. Even he seemed surprised he did that. There was just one more thing to say to you.

“Promise me that you will come back to me.” Tomas said softly.

“I will, Tomas.”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Even the best make mistakes.

You and some of the other Shirai Ryu members were ambushed by Lin Kuei assassins. It was double the size of your group. Yet you fought victoriously.

You did your best to protect yourself and the others. At some point, however, you stopped protecting yourself. You protected everyone and made the remaining Lin Kuei assassins flee. But at what cost.

You were down for the count too early in this mission. Pushing forward would only result in further injuries. Your group helped you up and brought you back to the Shirai Ryu temple.

Tomas was the first to see your group return and his heart dropped. Seeing your limp body being carried back was already a bad sign to him. Paying little mind to what he was doing before he ran up to take you into his arms. What a horrific sight it was.

There were so many slashes on your arms and legs. It ripped your sleeves and pants to shreds and soaked them in your blood. He could already see bruises forming on your body which gave him the idea of how hard you were beat. There was already one coming in on your cheek. A cheek he always dreamed of kissing being stained with a nasty red surrounded by purple. It angered him to see someone else he loved get hurt but what could he do now. All he can do is bring you to the infirmary and hope they can patch you up.

Everyone was hustling to get you fixed up and see what they could do for you. Tomas placed you on a bed and let the others take care of you. Yet he couldn’t leave no rip his eyes away from your body. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing there was little motion in your chest. Kuai Liang had to drag him away as he couldn’t stand to see his brother sad.

The next few hours were rough.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

When Tomas was finally let back in he was somewhat relieved. You looked much better than when he last saw you. There were bandages wrapped around your arms and legs. Seems like no bones were broken which is great. He still can’t get over how they hurt you. He can get over the bruise on your face but when it came to the reason it was even there he can’t.

He pulled up a chair and placed it next to the bed so he could be close. His hand went up to remove any loose hair that was around your face. He knows that can be annoying to you.

Tomas sighed before taking your hand and just holding it. His thumb rubbed over your palm like he was trying to comfort you.

“I understand why you did what you did. You were protecting others as you always did. It’s who you are. Do you even realize how much you’ve scared me? If I lost you too, I don’t know what I’d do.”

He lifts your hand to press it against the side of his face. The thought of you actually holding his face and looking at him with love always brought warmth to his heart. He felt as is started to race as his emotions screamed to be let out. And then a tear dripped onto your hand.

“Do you even realize how much I love you? How I want to hold you and never let you get hurt again. It’s too painful to think about and even worse to witness.”

Tomas started to cry a little harder. The thought was too painful and brought back memories of the past. He can’t lose you. Never.

“I never met someone who I loved this much. I don’t want to find someone else to love, I just want you. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long and I don’t know if I’ll ever be strong enough to tell you. I don’t want us to get hurt over this.” He said before he felt something.

Your thumb rubbed his face gently. Your thumb moved slightly so it could wipe away his tears. Yup, you were awake. And you’ve been awake since he first entered. You were still a bit woozy from the incident you didn’t want to open your eyes. When Tomas touched your hand you immediately knew it was him.

When he started to confess you wondered if this was all a drug-induced dream. That maybe the medics gave you something to help with the pain and it made you imagine things. That’s not how it works over here and his touch felt too real. Your heart flutter when you heard him say the words ‘I love you’. It’s like you always imagined. You felt it was right to now do something since he started to cry hard. Your beautiful eyes were open and looking at him.

“It’s okay, Tomas. I’m fine. I told you I would come back. I always do.” You responded weakly.

“You’re awake! Ah, but how long were you awake and how much did you hear?” He questioned.

“All of it. I thought it was best to stop you now to show that it’s okay. No need to cause anymore pain. And yes, I heard all of it.”

Tomas didn’t know how to feel. It felt good to get that off his chest but he was scared of your reaction. You seemed calm but that could be because you’re exhausted.

“The thing is…I love you too. I have for a long time now.” Your eyes shifted away awkwardly as if you were the one who confessed first.

This was fantastic news for Tomas. His pale skin showed a hint of pink in his cheeks. The person he loves the most loves him too. He was still a little embarrassed that he was caught confessing to you but it all worked out in the end. He went in to hug you lightly, not wanting to hurt your already injured body.

“You have no idea how happy you just made me.”

“I think I actually do. There was always a little sparkle in your eyes when you got happy.”

That only made his cheeks turn from a light pink to a pinkish red. Your hands went up to hold his face, not caring about if it hurt or not to move. You just wanted to look at him and of course kiss him. You brought him close and gave him a gentle kiss. If only you could have seen his eyes it was like fireworks went off in there. He felt like the luckiest man in the world. You pulled back to look at him again before saying something.

“You wouldn’t mind staying here with me, right?”

“Why would I ever mind being with you.” He said lovingly.

He did just that. Tomas stayed with you for hours where you two talked. It almost made you forget you were injured. He brought so much comfort to you. Things died down at some point and the exhaustion of the day’s events hit you both.

Eventually, Kuai Liang came around to try to find Tomas. He knew he was probably in the infirmary with you. When he looked inside he saw Tomas resting his head on the bed with your hand rested on top of it. It looked like you were petting him before you two knocked out. It was an adorable sight and Kuai Liang felt like there was no reason to disturb you two. He silently closed the door and walked off.

You know what they say, love always finds a way. It found its way towards you two, didn’t it.

After notes: So it’s Mavado and Phen-228 who are bringing in the karma for me. Weird combo but they both serve cunt (don’t ask me about Phen or else I’ll laugh). So yeah I wanted to push this out because I’m a people pleaser which means I’m still not done with a lot of my work. But now that I have this out I can focus a little better…hopefully. To the person who requested I hope you are satisfied and if not you can make me watch the boiled one phenomenon at night.

[armpirate]

Is it the water or is it me? || JJK

pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, public sex, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob.

Summary: You and Jungkook have been working together for quite some time, which ended up with him growing a crush on you that was one sided. Or so he thought.

There you were again, walking around with that radiant smile that made everyone instantly smile at you, as if you brought with you a ray of sunshine in your pocket. Jungkook wasn’t sure about the rest, but he for sure thought his morning would get better only with the idea of seeing you there.

He wasn’t sure of when his crush on you started, but he knew that something clicked in his brain when you first stepped in the office, starting your practices there. And he remembered how hard it was for him to focus on something else when his boss assigned him to be your mentor. He tried to keep his focus on the screen, but his eyes kept running over your body, tracing the subtle way your curves formed under your floral dress.

And while he thought it was a temporary attraction because you were the new thing, it only kept evolving as you grew closer together.

As time went by, you two became the type of coworkers that would be constantly together in the workplace, and that would get more touchy than you should -sometimes his hand would reach to your nape, under your hair, to give it a playful and soft squeeze; sometimes it was you the one who touched his arm or playfully laid your head on your shoulder as you laughed together. Not to mention those “colleagues dates” you would have randomly, out of the office, just to catch up with rumors and gossip when you weren’t on the same shift. And more than once, Jungkook finished the day feeling guilty for not taking the chance on you. He wasn’t sure whether you’d feel comfortable or not. He could easily be misinterpreting your too friendly behavior. Maybe you were like that with everyone you were close to -although he didn’t see you acting that way with anyone else from the company, whether it was a man or a woman.

You both were attending the annual company dinner your boss prepared at the end of the year, but even then he knew nothing would change. And chances of him leaving earlier were high. Confirming that idea when you showed up with a tight black dress that lifted higher on your thigh when you sat next to him. His hand wanted to reach to your skin, and the amount of times he had to stop himself from doing it was insane.

His mind tried to concentrate on other things, as he desperately engaged in conversations with the others, until you laid your hand on his thigh, supporting your body when you leaned closer, pressing your breasts on his arms when you tried to reply to the man who was sitting next to him. If he didn’t know you, he’d have thought you were doing it on purpose.

Well, it seemed like he didn’t know you indeed, because your intention was pretty obvious. And it might have been for a few months already. Always meeting up with him, trying to finish your hang out with a kiss even. Yet you always came back disappointed when he left after giving you a friendly hug.

You went back to your seat, earning a sigh of relief from the person on your left as he moved uncomfortably, noticing one of his hands was trying to place his pants properly, before he tried to completely hide the lower part of his body under the table.

The rest of the dinner went by as a rough challenge for him, trying to test his limits before he jumped on you in front of everyone. Although all that control would only last until you all moved your party to a club near the restaurant you were at. Having to see you dancing with random guys all night wasn’t what he was planning at all, and he blamed himself for staying longer than he was intending to only because you insisted on him going.

During one of those glances he aimed at you, he was sure he caught you looking at him over the guy’s shoulder, and he swore your eyes squinted because of the smile you were hiding when his jaw clenched.

You were playing with him that night. And that annoyed him just as much as it turned him on.

Looking around him, making sure neither of your colleagues would mind your business -either because they were already too drunk or because they were somewhere else-, he started walking in your direction.

“Y/n, I’m going home” he screamed over the music.

He didn’t have to tell you, he could’ve sent you a text as he left… Yet he walked over to you, in a little hope you’d leave with him.

You frowned your eyes, finally stepping back from the blond guy that was still having his hands on you “Already?” you frowned confused “It hasn’t even been an hour since we came”.

One hour of seeing you flirt and be surrounded by men constantly, while he stared from afar hoping he had as much confidence as they did. “I don’t feel well” he lied.

Convinced you’d just shrug your shoulders and turn again, he was surprised when you held his wrist and dragged him to the restrooms, leaving behind the man you’d been dancing with for the past fifteen minutes. His feet battled to keep up with the speed of your steps, being surprised by how you were walking that fast so neatly while wearing heels.

You entered the ladies restroom, being welcomed by a few surprised looks from the women that were retouching their makeup. He was waiting for you to speak, but you had no intentions to. You knew he was feeling fine, and what bothered him was the fact that you paid no attention to him all night. You were acting bittersweet on purpose, just to get a reaction from him. Getting some water on your hands, only making them humid enough, you spreaded the tiny drops on his forehead, drenching his locks a bit when you pushed his bangs back. Your fingers felt so good when you lowered them on his cheeks, and dangerously close to his lips.

“Feeling better?” Jungkook nodded, eyes closing under your touch “Is it the water or is it me?”.

Your question made him open his eyes wide, surprised by the suggestive tone you were using. Although he didn’t know that smirk would make it way worse. “Y/n…” he whispered. “Because if it’s me, I think there are better ways to make you feel good” your doe eyes, feeling so innocent in contrast with your voice was making it difficult for his brain to work properly.

He wasn’t sure if alcohol was speaking on your behalf, but he discarded that idea when your breath smelled fruity from the only drink you’ve gotten ever since dinner started.

This time he was the one dragging your body to one of the cubicles, pressing your body to the door he had just locked. Both of his hands on both sides of your head, as he leaned over you to know what was up with your attitude that night “You’re making it so difficult for me to hold back”, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

It was ironic he was the one saying that, when he reached out to you in the middle of the dance floor to make sure you wouldn’t leave the place with that other guy.

“Who says you should hold back?” you raised an eyebrow, getting back control on the conversation.

His neck flinched when one of your hands reached his nape, digging inside his locks, at the same time your warm breath was gently caressing his throat. His cock grew bigger inside his pants as his skin welcomed the humidity of your tongue, tracing his jaw. “I want this just as much as you do, Kook” you whispered when you reached his ear.

Your voice sent dangerous alarms into his brain, something that he wasn’t able to control before he was cupping your face in his hands to lean into a sloppy and messy kiss. Feeling the taste of your saliva, mixed with the pineapple flavor of your drink, on his tongue was driving him crazy. Your hands tugging his blue shirt, and digging under it was rotting his brain with full images of everything he wanted to do to you. You didn’t know what you started.

His tongue twirled around yours, while your lips sucked on his like your life depended on it. You both had wanted this for so long, and you were finally giving in to all your wishes.

Jungkook barely gave you time to process the kiss, before he was already attacking your neck with wet open mouth kisses. Hands sneaking down your back to squeeze your ass and keep you in place. You still had room to move though, letting the thin strips of your dress fall off your shoulders, just to get your arms out of them and be able to lower your dress, exposing your tits.

Attracted to them like a magnet, his lips closed around one of your hard nipples, while his tattooed hand pinched and pulled your other button. He kept switching, making sure he’d get enough taste of the both of them.

Even if you were drunk in pleasure and excitement, too absorbed in how your clit throbbed for attention, you went to his pants instead, unzipping it and lowering them just enough to let his hard cock jump free. His teeth digged in your sensitive button as soon as your thumb started circling around his tip, getting it wet with his own precum. His cock only escaping from your fingers momentarily when he took your panties off, and circled his wrist with them.

Jungkook made sure to get his fingers wet and ready before they slid through your folds, deviously caressing you until they reached your needy clit. He felt how tight you were when he dug them deeper down your entrance, and he could only think of how it was better than he ever had imagined. You held back your moan, finally feeling being stretched by him, your walls hugging him tight and perfectly, while your brain could only picture the way he was so deep inside you that only the character on his knuckles would be the only thing visible. “You’re so tight, baby” he whispered, slowly moving his fingers in and out.

“Just imagine how tight I’ll feel around your cock” you replied back with a smirk, hearing him groan when your fingers started working on his cock again. Both of you kept moving in sync, as if it were a little heads up for what was to come.

Jungkook started walking backwards, with his fingers still stretching your pussy as much as he was able to. He dragged you on his lap when he sat on the toilet, making you straddle him. He was eager to feel you, and it was written all over his face when you dropped his cock.

Lips parted, holding back the moan that came out as a gap when you felt full again, feeling every inch of his cock invade you and stretch you out so perfectly. Both of you groaning low when your pubes finally touched, while you gave each other time to adjust to that new sensation.

Although, not even a few seconds later, Jungkook was urging you to move, fingers digging in your flesh as he pushed you upwards. Every move of your body was making him like he was in heaven, as your insides kept hugging him. Your hands held onto his shoulders, trying to get used to that new sensation that made little stars float in front of your eyes.

You felt his hips raise, trying to get deeper into you, trying to hit that right spot that would make your knees weak and barely possible to hold back your moans. Your lower lip hid under your teeth, which were biting hard on your skin, trying to keep any moan from escaping while Jungkook kept groaning against your neck and throat. Far from making you stop, though, it only encouraged you to go faster, making the tank behind him move constantly, hitting the wall and joining the sounds of your flesh clapping against each other.

“You feel so fucking good” he said, “Way better than I could ever have imagined” his lips let out a groan, and seemed like he was more careless about being heard than you were. “Fuck, keep riding my cock that way” Jungkook kept moving his hips up against you “You like it?”.

“Fuck, yes” you finally moaned lowly, moving even faster when your pussy started clenching around his cock.

That ticklish feeling in your belly was going hard on you, just a few more moves and you’d feel it showering over you, from head to toe. “Cum, baby. Cum with me” he managed your hips, controlling your movements with both of his hands, until you both exploded together.

You hugged him tight, hiding your face in his neck, biting it hard just to keep your moan from sounding louder than it already is, when you felt that sticky liquid fill your loads just as fast.

“Fuck, baby” he sighed, trying to get his breathing back to normal “Shit” he threw his head back. “I can’t believe I’ve missed on this for so long”.

You smiled against his neck, feeling exactly the same way he was “Well, I think we should make up for the wasted time tonight”.

“Let’s get out of here”

[agerefandomstuff]

Caregiver headcanons about Dean Winchester from supernatural?

• Hugs from him are tight and all consuming since he always a pours his heart and soul into them. They take all worries away—at least for the moment.

—speaking of; forehead kisses. Started with the occasional feather light one during hugs, turned into kiss attacks on your cheeks to make you laugh.

-hes also just fantastic at making you laugh. Games, teasing, silly dad jokes, bickering with Sam, tickling, playing dress up, whatever he does he knows just how to get you into a giggling fit.

- He loves costumes and getting you in on them.

—and while he may pretend he doesn’t like all the touchy “chick flick” affection, he’s a liar and everyone knows it. He loves cuddling and rocking you.

• He’s strong enough to pick you up and carry you and man.. it’s hard to get him to put you down once he’s got you on his hip.

—He likes being close to you and being able to have you in his arms. He feels like he’s actively protecting you in that moment. Like he can keep all harm away by just holding you.

-Car rides all the time. Whether it’s to clear his head or yours or just to help lull you to sleep to the sound of soft rock and the hum of the road.

-music! His lullabies are all rock songs.

• The toys and outfits he gets you are car themed or rock themed until you state you want something else. (You will have to help shop because he states “doesn’t know what he’s doing.”)

• Cartoons are something he insists on because he likes them. Scooby-Doo is the most obvious one but anything you may request he will get sucked into.

• He likes to cook and bake for you if he can’t because he likes the domesticity of it.

—also sweets. Sweets! Sweets! Sweets! Sam has to intervene occasionally and remind you both that you have to eat real meals other than pie, cake, candy, and whatever else you two have gotten into.

—But Dean can’t say no to giving you desserts when he wants them just as bad.

• He likes caring for you in general because he loves having a family and while he still struggles with the trauma of having to grow up early to be a dad for Sam, he still has the desire to care for someone that needs him completely.

• Being in his life means being in everyone he loves’ life. Sam, Cas, Bobby, etc. Everyone is aware of you two. And as long as you don’t cause world ending trouble and you make Dean happy they can’t complain. Hell they may(absolutely will) even start liking you too from seeing you regressed around him and how he treats you.

• He cares so much. It’s nearly overbearing and it sometimes is misread as being aggression or distrust but he’s just worried and a bit insecure.

• Sam will always be his number one but this all started because he saw his little brother in you so much he couldn’t help his caregiver instincts from taking over.

—He wants to just take care of you forever. Keep you from harms way. From the monsters and horrors of the world that the adults take care of. You’re too little to have to deal with that. So you’re not going to if he has any say in it. And, boy, does he have a lot of say.

—(Sam helps deescalate some of the tension that stems from this recurring conversation, calming Dean down a bit since he knows how it feels to be a target of Dean’s extreme concern.)

— If you get hurt he is all over it. He’s fixing you up before your first tear can even fall.

-But then you get lectured about being careful.

• He freaked out initially when you called him something like “daddy” or “papa.” He hadn’t been expecting to have gotten that attached to you and that intertwined with your regression that you would view him like a father.

—He shut down for a few days and was more distant from you while he processed it. He was afraid of being a dad due to everything in his past and really really didn’t want to become his father.

—It took a “chick flick” heart-to-heart with Sam involved and some tears to get Dean to comes back and try again with you.

—But after a while he warmed up to it entirely and even refers to himself as “daddy” or “papa” or something.

-“I knoooow, kid, but Papa wants to take a nap so you’re coming with. Bring a stuffie to cuddle and complain to.”

- “Daddy and Sammy are gonna have to head out for a little bit. Will you be good and stay right here? Or should I drop you off at Bobby’s to be babysat?” “You want Cas to babysit you? Kid… he— well..angels are busy doing— don’t give me puppy eyes! Did Sam teach you that??”

[lightlycareless]

Since Naoya dyes his hair, do you think his kids would have some sort of confusion(when they’re of a younger age Ofc) when others around them would say they have their daddy’s hair or do you think maybe for a period of time he’d stop dyeing his hair to match with his kids lol. Idk this is a silly thought 🙈

ahahhHHAHAHAH yessssssss This just gave me all sorts of ideas of how to embarrass Naoya as a dad lmao!! It's you know, mandatory. We've all felt that way once in our life!!

But let's start with one thing first 🤭

I want to say that he’ll grow out of it, but honestly, I don’t think so; that man was 27 and he still dyed his hair lol.

But moving on…

At first, yes. They’re going to be a bit confused as to why his dad has this bright yellow color on his hair, when everyone else’s is dark. But once they surpass that confusion, in true innocent nature, they’re going to be nothing but intrigued by it—and hey! Maybe they’ll say “wow, I want my hair like that too!”

Also, they grew up seeing Gojo, and sometimes Nanami (NOW I WANT TO WRITE HIM MEETING NAOMI someone coerce ME QUICKLY) so unusual hair colors don’t surprise them anymore lol.

But as always, when your children begin to grow aware of their surroundings, start questioning things… is when “issues” with Naoya arise.

In other words, the infamous “second-hand embarrassment” towards their parents.

Now, it’s happening for both you and Naoya no matter what you try to do to avoid it. But as of right now, it’s more onto him because he’s the most obvious out of the two.

I mean, the piercings… the hair—it’s screaming “please drop me off two blocks away from the school entrance so my friends won’t make fun of me.”

What they once thought cool, now they can’t stand the sight of it 😂 and it really, really upsets Naoya.

“Why do you paint your hair, dad…?” Naomi would ask one day, dying to do so for like… years now.

“Because I like it.” Naoya responds. “…why do you ask?”

She twists her lips, as if skeptical of his answer, before shrugging and leaving. He’ll tell you about this interaction later that day, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that Naomi once confided in you that she thought it was a bit… weird, mostly since it’s obvious yellow is not his natural color.

Yet, no matter how much you tried, he still gets to hear about it from someone on the staff and boy, does it finally break his heart.

“You don’t like it?” he asks Naomi one day after picking her up from school.

“…No one else has it.” She eventually admits. “My friends think it’s… funny.”

“Do you think it’s funny?” Naoya insists, Naomi simply looks away; she never liked being put on the spot like that, and the conversation ends soon enough.

He sighs, and all he could think of is:

«It’s already started, isn’t it?»

It’s certainly a long way from the days where Naomi was nothing but enthralled by his appearance, admiring him with those big adorable round eyes of hers as she reaches for one of his strands and pulls at it, as if trying to decipher whether his hair was real, or not—or how she’d do the same for his piercings, gently removing her little hands from them so she wouldn’t hurt him, reminiscing on the day you brought her press-on earrings so she could look like him.

Luckily for Naoya, that’s only one stage of their life, for when they grow a bit older and stop caring about those trivial things, they’d actually being to look up to him for advice on how to dye hair or where to get their ears pierced without having to worry about infections and such; the moment the tables turn and they begin to admire him for his style when he was younger, Naoya feels nothing less than amazing, and a bit cocky too 😂.

“Come on daaaad, tell me!! How did you manage to keep your hair with that tint and without it looking like trash???” Naomi would whine; no other color seems to have stuck the way she wanted it, always washing off after one shower or two. “Like, I remember that you even went on missions, and it would still look good!!”

“Ah, so now you like it? What about the kids that thought it was funny looking?” Naoya teases as if that hadn’t hurt his feelings; Naomi rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever… if you don’t want to tell me I guess I’ll just go with Gojo or something, I’m sure he knows a few places or some—”

“No, wait! Don’t go to him! I’ll tell you all you need to know!!”

Just to name a few interactions hahaha.

But either way, I feel that around… probably late 30s Naoya is going to outgrow the whole hair dyeing thing and just let his hair return to its natural dark color.

Everyone around him will take a while to get used to his new appearance, specifically his kids, since it was always blond for as long as they could remember… but they get used to it soon enough. As for you, though, you’re the one that likes it the most and you make sure to let him know whenever possible—he rewards you appropriately that night, I dare say, Naohime was born out of that lol.

“We finally look like a family.” You’d jest one day—as if all his kids didn’t look exactly like him: dark hair, golden eyes…

If anything, you’re the outcast here 😂

Ngl, I wonder what a much older Naoya would look like; would he still have piercings? Grandpa out there still rocking the blonde hair lmao!!!

Ahhh thank you so much for sending in this ask!! While writing this two ideas came to me on the type of dynamic Naoya would have with his baby when she's all grown up; one of them is sweet, the other one is a bit sad :'( we shall see which one I write first 😏

Once again, thank you so much for sending in this!! I had fun :> Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

[poetic-pearls]

Fusebox survey

let's be real for a second: fusebox isn't going to listen to our opinions anyways.

But I obviously took the survey just to be sure, and I'd like to share my "What would you like to see in the new seasons?" answer. I'd love to hear your thoughts or if you have anything to add.

(Don't judge this is my first post)

- Fewer diamond options = having to spend fewer diamonds (it makes me consider not playing anymore)

- Fewer scenes where people want to drag us away to have one-on-one conversations

-The love interests having their own personalities/different things happening/conversations depending on the LI

-better female love interests

-slow-burn romance options

-love interests/other characters not acting like they are married off after being paired up for a few days/weeks

-Love interests who are there just for fun/who might be distant due to uncertainty regarding whether or not they are deserving of love (slow burn??)

- love interests who are sassy (not in a cringey way)

-love interests who don't actually want to be there

-love interests that just want the money

-the possibility of coupling up with friends (to prevent being dumped)

-Teaming up and pretending to be a couple to fool everyone to win!!! (Maybe they fall in love?)

-angst!!!!!!

- Female love interests that are like Angie (the best love interest to ever exist)

- A female love interest who is like Kat (maybe she's in denial about being attracted to women?)

- Female love interest who has internalised homophobia/makes comments towards the player -> character development

- Please stop always creating a female character that hates the Player (I swear they're basically the same person over and over again).

-The possibility that unlikable characters actually talk it through with the Player (ONCE!!!) instead of reverting to the same behavior repeatedly

- Better-looking and free character customization

- Better and more free clothing options

-The possibility of getting compliments for our outfit even if we didn't choose a "diamond" option.

-other characters having multiple outfits

- having actual best friend options (not being forced to be friends with someone)

-being able to be besties with guys

-being able to just be friends with Love interests

- Being able to actually turn down love interests (make two options for turning someone down that sound the same but mean different things: I'm not interested (don't ask again); I'm not interested (might change my mind if you ask again)).

->These options should be available not just the first time, but every time someone makes a move on you

-every love interest being obsessed with the Player when she's locked in with her partner/someone else (stop making everyone act like they are in love with us and then they turn around and reassure their partner how badly they want them when the player doesn't choose them/turns them down (it makes every character seem disloyal and makes people want to stop playing).

-Again: make a female love interest like angie!!!!!!

-more Angst!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-please make another character like hamish

-please, please, please make (obvious) arab/south asian love interests/characters in general

-more country options for our character

-more and better career options (stop making the same ones over and over again)

-LET OUR CHARACTER HAVE A FLESHED OUT BACKSTORY

-PLEASE let us have a 'survey' before the first episode really begins where we can answer questions about our character (many options) that influence/define our backstory (not questions like 'what's your type on paper' more like 'what's your relationship with your parents')

-take more time to fully flesh out the story -> don't immidiently upload another season after the end of the last one-quicker Updates maybe (wednesdays AND sundays/saturdays or two episode at once)

-older love interest options (MOMS!!)

-let us maybe already have children

-being able to choose our age

-LET US HAVE A DISTINCT PERSONALITY (players can have different personalities that influence our choices and journey in the villa/how other perceive us), stop making the MC the same in every season (personalities: bubbly, laid back, unlikeable/just outright rude (no one likes us), nice/people pleaser/doormatt, etc.)

-bigger variety in ages (other characters)

-clothes: streetwear, (lacoste, adidas, etc.) tracksuits, traditional clothing options, elegance (not tacky/ugly glitter dresses), y2k (ayesha erotica), juicy couture, more and better sneaker options (i just want EVERYONE to be able to express themselves and not just always the same style of clothing)

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter three — mickey's diner

WORD COUNT — 2,575

WARNINGS — none

NOTES — i should mention that while the mickeys pictured above IS where i got the name for the diner i uh. i always picture the inside of that diner from riverdale when i write

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

The final few days of the week passed quickly, homework and classes already putting stress on your mind as you did your best to start the semester off on the right foot. Even though the teachers were more forgiving here, were nicer than your previous ones, the workload was the same — if not worse, and you refused to fall behind. 

You suspected that it was mainly due to small classroom sizes. There were less expectations put on you in the city schools, less connection with the teachers. There were just too many kids for the teachers to care that much about everyone’s grades, and that made things easier for you, as you were more likely to get good grades without the teachers hovering much. Here, it was like the teachers had you all under microscopes, and with you being the new kid, that didn’t make things much easier. Everyone wanted to get to know you, and you just wanted to stick with Thomas’ friends.

Despite all of it, though, you were getting consistently closer with the rest of the group. Brenda sat beside you in all but one of your classes, the exception being chemistry. You were so horrible at it that you needed to have Newt sit beside you to walk you through everything — but even then, you never really understood it. He was an expert on the subject, and even though he promised to try and help you, you wondered when he would realize that it was a lost cause. 

Speaking of, you had spent quite a bit of time with Newt over the week. You and the rest of the group swapped numbers via the group chat they’d started a while ago which Thomas added you to after the first day of school. You spent a lot of time talking in the group chat, but most of the time you and Newt talked privately. He had been eager to get to know you, and for you to do the same. Most of the conversations lasted hours, stretching into the night and past both of your usual bed times, and they never dulled or became dry. It was starting to feel like you’d been friends for longer than the five days you’d known him. 

For the entire day, you were on edge. All you wanted to do was get out of school, to go home and later go hang out with everyone at the diner, and to see what else the weekend had in store for you. The girls often talked about how weekends in town usually went, and aside from the obvious rest days you would likely have to yourself, you quickly realized that there would rarely be a day where you didn’t have someone to hang out with or something to do, whether that be causing general havoc, doing homework together, or just hanging out in silence. 

You carried a tense knot of anticipation and excitement in your chest for the whole of the school day on Friday, which quickly turned to boredom once you got home, finding that you had nothing to do aside from bother Thomas until you could leave to go get Teresa, but even that got boring quickly. If Chuck hadn’t been spending the night at a friend’s house, you would’ve gone to spend time with him. 

In fact, you had gotten so bored that the minute the clock struck 6:45, you were practically dragging Thomas out the door, eager to get the evening started. 

The excitement had kicked up again, and you were basically bouncing in your seat as Thomas picked up Teresa and headed to the diner. It felt like he was driving 5 miles an hour, and you practically leapt from the truck when he parked in the spot next to the diner’s door. You were the first of your group through the door, and in a booth to your left, two spots away from the door, sat your friends. 

The warmth of the diner washed over you with a welcoming feeling, the smell of food wafting your way as the bell above the door jingled softly. Everyone greeted you as you approached the booth, finding Gally, Minho, and Newt awaiting everyone. 

You took the spot at the end of the booth next to Newt, who sat next to Minho, while Gally sat on the other side. 

“Sonya, Brenda, and Harriet said they’d be here soon,” Newt told everyone as you sat down. 

“Harriet?”

“Sonya’s girlfriend,” Teresa told you. “She was on a trip with her family, they didn’t get back until this morning.” 

An easy conversation sparked between the six of you as you all waited for the remaining three girls to arrive, who showed up not long after you did. You greeted Harriet as Brenda and Sonya pushed one of the small tables together with the booth and took their seats. Brenda sat next to Teresa, with Sonya on the other side next to you and Harriet at the head of the table. 

You were given several recommendations for what to eat, and eventually settled on the special — the meal that you were told Mickey’s was known for — the loaded burger combo. 

“Has anyone noticed how Mr. Henley’s been more bitchy this year?” Gally asked, fiddling with a straw. “The semester barely started and I already want it to be over, man.” 

Everyone started commenting on the teacher’s behavior, voices overlapping, seeing as you all had him at one point during the day. 

“He sounds so snarky when he calls on me during class,” you mentioned, “it’s like he’s trying to get me to mess up. Jokes on him, though, econ was one of my best classes last year.”

“Yeah, he has been getting more annoying,” Thomas agreed, slouching in his seat. “It’s only because him and Mrs. Henley are getting divorced, I think.” 

Gally scoffed, “I don’t care how much his wife hates him, he just has to stop being such a bitch.”

Another chorus of agreement rang out across the group, and quickly settled when Mickey came over to take everyone’s orders. The chatter continued, and you took a second to step back and simply enjoy what you were experiencing. Even with your friends in the city, outings like these were rare. There was no spending a Friday night in a diner without the worry of a curfew or of crime, and lack of both of those things was a blessing. 

Soon enough, the food came out and a momentary silence settled over everyone as they took their first few bites. It quickly resumed, though, jokes and stories being tossed around even with food in people’s mouths. Random topics of conversation usually turned things around, keeping you on your toes for most of the meal. 

You wondered what thought process led to Minho asking the group whether or not bones were actually wet, but it did throw a wrench into the conversation as everyone broke out into an argument, as this seemed, somehow, to be something that the group was deeply divided on. 

There was no real conclusion to the argument, though, and soon the topic shifted once more as everyone finished up their food. The conversation continued, and you were beginning to participate less and less as your body digested the large meal you’d just eaten and began to lose energy. 

The post-meal drowsiness began to set in quickly, and you ended up placing your head on Newt’s shoulder, the sherpa lining of his collar tickling your ear. For a moment, the noise and chatter of the group fell away as you let your eyes close, enjoying the warmth that seemed to radiate from Newt’s body, along with the occasional shaking of his shoulders and vibrations from his lungs as he laughed. 

You were brought back from the edge of sleep when Newt shook your arm. When you lifted your head, you held back a yawn, blinking the haze from your eyes as you focused on the blond.

“We’re about to order dessert,” he said, “and after that we’re gonna go to the park nearby.” 

For the moment, all you could do was nod. Mickey soon came back to the table to take everyone’s orders, all different flavors of the wide variety that the diner ordered. You were still coming back from the almost-nap you had taken on Newt’s shoulder, and the vast dessert menu seemed to overwhelm you.

Then, as if she could see it on your face, Sonya leaned in from the other side of you and whispered, “Get the double chocolate milkshake, it’s the best one on the menu.”

“Okay,” you whispered back, before looking up at Mickey to place your order. The smile that twitched on his lips was nothing but warm as he wrote down your order, and you immediately understood why this was the group’s hang out, apart from it being the only place that stays open late. 

Mickey left with one final tap of his pen tip to the pad of paper, and with his departure came the return of the chatter. You continued to half-listen to the conversation happening around you, favoring your phone as a means to help your mind wake up. 

You finally looked up when a milkshake glass was placed in front of you, and you were amazed at how it looked, vibrant in color and almost cartoonish. With the glass cup, red and white straw, a mountain of whipped cream and an Oreo placed on top — you felt as though it came straight from an Archie comic. The glass was filled to the brim with chocolate, darker than the shade of Newt’s regular chocolate milkshake, the rim and inside of the cup covered with chocolate syrup drizzle. Along with the Oreo, there were chocolate shavings, melting into the whipped cream. It looked like heaven in a cup. 

Thomas practically begged you for your Oreo, and you knew you would likely not have room for it, so you let him have it to dip into his vanilla milkshake. 

But as soon as you’d taken your first sip of the drink, you knew you’d be taking Sonya’s word for things a lot more often from then on. Just as it looked, it tasted like heaven, and you couldn’t get enough of it. You wondered if just one milkshake would be enough, but realized about halfway through, as the whipped cream and chocolate shavings were melting and mixing with the milkshake, that the thickness and sweet taste of the drink was causing your stomach to flip, and not in a good way. 

By the time everyone was ready to go, you decided to take the rest of the shake in a styrofoam to-go cup, fitted with the diner’s logo, paid and tipped, and walked back out into the cold behind Brenda. The diner was on the main road, shared with most everything else in this town, including the fork in the road that led to the bingo hall and the park, so everyone decided that the five minute walk was easier than driving their vehicles over. 

It took no time to get there, and what you thought the fork in the road would look like — lined with trees and paved — was nothing but. The road itself was gravel, and while one end of it was marked with the tiny bingo hall and connected park, another path deviated just before that to what Harriet told you led to the berry fields, a graveyard (of many, for some reason), and a pond no one swam in anymore. 

The park was closed off by a chain link fence, a little to the left of the bingo hall. The inside of it was laid with gravel, too, and you noticed that the park entrance was closed. Minho, however, quickly took care of it, digging a key from his khaki pockets and unlocking the gate. 

“How…?” You asked. “Where did you even get that?”

“My parents own the bingo hall,” he shrugged. “I got this copy made like… three years ago? They never noticed, I never said anything. As far as they know, the park stays locked up until 8am, and gets locked back up at 8pm every day.” 

“Oh,” you nodded, watching as the gate swung open with a loud creak. 

Stepping inside the park, you were met with a slightly rusted merry-go-round ahead of you, with a tire swing to the left and kiddie swings along the fence wall to your right. Directly on the other side were four sets of swings to choose from. A picnic bench was placed to the right of the merry-go-round, almost as though it was the centerpiece of the park. Near the swings were two independent slides, one metal, and the other a dark blue tube slide. Toward the back, you spotted spring riders, some old, some new, a few teeter totters, and a climbing dome. 

Your main focus, however, quickly turned to the jungle gym that acted as a barrier between the spring riders and teeter totters, and the rest of the park. The plastic pieces were faded in color, the paint flaking and sprinkled with rust, but it looked fun, with climbing spaces, a fireman’s pole, two slides, monkey bars and still rings. 

The park was dark, with no street lamps or other lights around, and it was too out of the way for any other lighting to be of real use to the area. The tall fences blocked out the hills of forest that seemed endless and aided in the lack of light surrounding you. 

Everyone quickly headed to their own areas, most of them heading to the jungle gym. You and Brenda decided to take a rest over at the swings, casually kicking yourselves off at first, talking as you swung and giggled, feet scraping at the gravel beneath you. 

After a little while though, when Minho came over, things got competitive. You weren’t sure how it happened exactly, but you ended up in an adrenaline-inducing swinging competition with Brenda as Minho pushed her, leaving you to call in Gally for help. Over the wind rushing in your ears and the laughter spewing from yours and Brenda’s mouths, you could hear the rest of your friends cheering you both on until you decided to stop before you were flung from the swing set. 

From there, you and Brenda sat on top of the picnic table to recenter yourselves and calm your bodies down, talking with Gally, Sonya, and Harriet for a while as the rest of the group did their own things, whether that be goofing off in the jungle gym or trying to stand on top of the tire swing. 

After your body returned back to normal, Thomas convinced you all to get on the merry-go-round while he and Newt spun it. Despite knowing it would end badly, you got on, and watched as they picked up so much speed that the world around you blurred into nothing but color and laughter. 

By the end of it, you were tripping over your own feet, dizzy and feeling drunk off the fun you’d been having, stumbling along the gravel road under the little bit of yellow lamp lights that acted as your group’s guide back to Mickey’s. 

As you waved the group goodbye from the rear driver’s window of Thomas’ truck and everyone parted ways, you wished every night could be like this one.  

series masterlist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine (open!)

[skinzchoerim]

I keep wanting to rant about give me the lOve bitxx, because I can't be the only one who finds this song inherently contradictory, right? Everything is at odds with itself, including the actions and thoughts of the narrator. I can't put my finger on his motivations, on which lines are sincere and insincere, and it's giving me a headache.

I'm always conflicted whether I should approach their songs about women with a queer lense or not. It makes sense to dig deeper into angel and the instinct part 1 songs where religious guilt ties in nicely with the queer themes, but obviously they have plenty of songs about women that don't require a look into the subtext and can be taken as what they are on the surface, aka bi anthems. In the case of this song, I think it makes the most sense to approach it through the lense of what they can't say, and the amount of internal conflict here feels very queercoded to me. On the one hand, it seems like it's from the perspective of someone who cares about the person he's singing about and is aware he wouldn't be a good partner because of his emotional issues, so he warns her not to get too close. On the other hand, it feels like the narrator isn't sure he's attracted to women and he feels annoyed with this woman who keeps clinging to him, but he admits he doesn't actually want her to leave, likely because he wants to maintain a veneer of "normalcy".

The sound of the song itself is sweet and innocent, but the title is passive aggressive. He demands to be given love even though the majority of the song focuses on pushing her away, and calling her a bitch comes across as resentment. The lyric beginning the song and every chorus is "don't make me pull the trigger", which is a very manipulative threat - he puts the blame for wanting to hurt her on her. As @atozmoongazer kindly pointed out to me, the imagery in the chorus is that of a holdup - freeze, give me your treasure, don't make me pull the trigger. The treasure in this case would likely be the titular love, and taking into account the rest of the song, he's not very keen on reciprocating it or treating it gently.

Her covering his mouth when he's talking could be read in two ways (once again thank you @atozmoongazer for pointing out to me what I missed - it's a reference to Yoojung's mouth being covered in the teaser, therefore a pretty important line). One interpretation is more literal, that she interrupts him, makes him feel like his words don't matter, maybe she prefers to kiss him instead of having a conversation, and all of that on top of the fact that he doesn't like how clingy she is results in him feeling bad and resentful in this relationship. The other interpretation is that he feels silenced whenever he's around her, and he blames her for his own inability to express what's on his mind. She could just be the scapegoat for everything and everyone else that's making him feel this way, all the heteronormativity and homophobia that surrounds him.

Even the lyrics that mention constantly thinking about her face and feeling strange could be read in two ways. The obvious one is that you normally think a lot about the person you like, but I know from experience how confusing it can be when you constantly think about a person you know you're supposed to like, but aren't sure you do. I spent a lot of time in the past going back and forth between "If I actually liked this person, I would know it and be certain of it, and since I'm constantly questioning whether my feelings are real or not, that means I clearly don't like them" and "I'm constantly thinking about them and wondering whether I like them or not, therefore I must like them since I've got this weird obsession with them". When he talks about hiding his feelings, playing dumb and feeling numb because of it, on the surface it might refer to making sure his romantic feelings don't show, but to me it feels much more like a continuation of the lines about feeling broken when they're near each other and continuing to put up with it.

Basically, I think this internal conflict and confusion are an intentional feature of the song, similarly to skinz. The narrator wants to hide behind a veneer of a sweet-sounding boy group love song and make sure you don't understand him just as much as he doesn't understand himself, but lying to the listener about everything makes him feel too silenced. Since he can't hold back all the negative feelings he's bottling up, it's easy to look through the cracks and catch a glimpse of everything waiting to pour out of him, and end up feeling just as conflicted and confused as he does.

[xsparklingravenx]

world’s end [1]

Title: world’s end

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Kaveh, Alhaitham

Rating: T

Word Count: 7,073 [total]

Summary: The world is coming to an end for the fourteenth time in a fortnight. Penniless, homeless, and friendless, Kaveh decides to ride out the apocalypse by drowning himself in alcohol.

Enter Alhaitham, but whether he holds salvation or the second coming of Khaenri’ah in his hands is another matter altogether.

AO3 

1 / 2

The world was ending for the fourteenth time in a fortnight, and Kaveh was riding out the apocalypse in the only place he could cope; the tavern. Alcohol he couldn’t afford stared at him pityingly, though nobody else gave him the time of day. People moved around him, each caught up in their own joy, their own excitement, their own fun. They had no idea of the cataclysm happening in their space, no idea of how everything was crashing down.

And why would they, when he was the only one caught in the disaster zone?

He pressed his fingers into his temples, begging for the alcohol to dull his thoughts and numb his emotions. It had worked every other day these past two weeks, had let him grow merry and cheerful alongside his fellow tavern-goers, had returned his lost drive and passion to him. Tonight, it hadn’t had the same effect. Instead, all he’d succeeded in fogging was his own inhibitions, in driving his misery further into his skin, in loosening his lips when there was nobody left to talk to.

It was his own fault. There was no one else he could blame, not when he was the one who’d driven everyone away, when he was the one who’d built his life’s work over a Withering Zone, when he was the one who’d thrown everything away to resurrect it from the ashes elsewhere. It was his fault that he was penniless, friendless, homeless, and it was his fault that there he had no family to turn to either. Just another error to add to his comedy of them. Just another day of being the grand architect, Kaveh.

A shadow descended over him, someone bodily blocking the light. Kaveh didn’t say anything at first, too busy caught in his own melancholy. But the minutes drew long and the presence remained, oppressive and overbearing. Kaveh drew in a careful breath, straightening up on the stool he occupied, every joint creaking. The bag he wore, containing just his sketchbook, pencils and last couple of Mora, weighed on him. “Ever so sorry to bother, but you’re quite in the way—”

Kaveh stopped short as he locked eyes with the man who’d been standing over him. First, he doubted his vision, which had become hazy with inebriation. Then, the colours sharpened, a shade of green he associated with anger and finality, the golden glint of hearing aids that heralded words Kaveh never thought he’d hear from the mouth of a friend. Dread, cold and heavy, settled in his gut. His hands began to tremble. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.

He was too sober for this.

“You’re drunk,” Alhaitham said, his tone stiff and cool, just as Kaveh remembered it. It had been years since Kaveh had last seen him, yet that hadn’t changed in the slightest. Neither had the brutal cut of his eyes, the eternal down-turn of his mouth, the fierceness of his frown. Like he was looking down on him. Like he was always looking down on him.

“How could you tell?” came Kaveh’s curt response, It escaped him before he could think better of it. This had to be a joke, Celestia itself having a cosmic giggle at his expense. The world was ending for the fourteenth time in a fortnight, and now his once-best friend was watching from a front-row seat.

“You’ve slurred every word you’ve said.” Alhaitham said, which was unfair. Kaveh was certain he was speaking with as much eloquence as he always did. There was no obvious emotion on former friend’s face, though that meant little. Alhaitham felt just as strongly as everyone else, he just didn’t like to show it. “You don’t look well.”

Kaveh didn’t want this conversation. He didn’t want this particular ear to listen in on his woes. He didn’t want Alhaitham in any way, shape, or form, which was a lie through and through. Beneath the dread, beneath the anxiety, beneath the cold horror of being perceived by one person Kaveh hated most, there was a hint of hope, a hint of relief. Time felt frozen. He was fumbling, fumbling, fumbling.

(How often had he wished for a chance meeting like this? One where Alhaitham dropped his mask and apologised for cutting Kaveh to the bone, one where Kaveh apologised for biting back in turn? How often had he wondered, could things have been different? Was there a way out of that conversation where we didn’t stab each other in the jugular, only to flee before we bled out?)

“Kaveh?” Alhaitham said.

The simple sound of his name shattered Kaveh’s resolve to keep his mouth shut. “The world is ending.”

He expected Alhaitham to scoff, laugh, roll his eyes. He did none of that. He didn’t drop his mask and apologise either, because life didn’t play to a script. Instead, he drew up the stool next to Kaveh, resting his head on his hand, elbow against the countertop. “It always is when you’re involved.”

“Typical!” Kaveh turned away from him, grabbing hold of his drink once more. “Writing this off as me just being me, is that it? Of course you are, that’s what you always do, always did. You only ever look at things from your own blunted perspective.”

But he doubted that the moment it left his mouth, uncertain if that was truly the case anymore. Kaveh could see his own reflection in the glass. He looked no different to normal, maybe slightly flushed, but otherwise himself. He didn’t look homeless. He didn’t look distressed. He didn’t look like a man who’d lost everything, but Alhaitham had still approached. Had still sized him up. Had still said, you don’t look well.

“Why are you even here?” Kaveh asked. It came out more helpless than he would have liked.

“I came to get a particular drink,” Alhaitham replied. “And you?”

“I came to get drunk. You might have noticed I’ve succeeded.” Now Alhaitham had pointed out his slurred speech, Kaveh became self-conscious, slowing himself intentionally. He wondered just how many words Alhaitham’s ears were actually picking out. His aids, while incredible, were just that; aids. They enhanced sounds, but they were not infallible.

Alhaitham himself, on the other hand, was. His reply came as quickly as a knife in the dark. “And have you succeeded in much else, lately?”

Kaveh engaged his drink in a staring contest. He could name the tavern’s very own second floor as an acomplishment. The Palace of Alcazarzary. More. Project upon project, architectural might built upon architectural might. Alhaitham had to know that. Word travelled around and the Akasha Terminal did the rest. There wasn’t a person in all of Sumeru who didn’t know what Kaveh had achieved.

But at the end of the day, it meant nothing. The world was still ending. Kaveh was still penniless. Still friendless. Still homeless. His mother was too far away to call on. His father was even further still. No less than the heavens crashing into Teyvat would reunite them, and even Kaveh knew when he’d blurred dream with reality.

“Would it please you to hear that the answer is ‘no’?” Kaveh asked, feeling small. His hands were still trembling. His eyes felt hot. The alcohol wasn’t working. He was drunk, yes, but not in the way he wanted.

“Not particularly,” Alhaitham said, like it really did mean nothing. For some reason that irritated Kaveh more. At least, if Alhaitham had said yes, he could feel justified. He could even feel a little less terrible for taking the dagger that Alhaitham had put in him all those years ago and stabbing him in the back with it. “You always did like thinking the worst of me.”

“Lucky for me, then, that you don’t care in the slightest for what anyone else thinks.”

“Lucky indeed.”

He hadn’t changed. Neither had Kaveh, and that was both a comfort and a curse. Alhaitham was the Akademiya’s Scribe, and had been for years now. Kaveh was busy running himself into the ground with every completed project, and had been for years now. They’d both stagnated without the other present. It twisted Kaveh’s stomach into knots.

“If this is just a chance meeting, if I won’t see it you again past tonight, can I at least talk at you?” Kaveh said, hands clasped around his glass. He was going to regret this later, he already knew it, but his inhibitions were low enough to not care now. “You don’t have to listen. Turn your aids off if you’re so inclined. Just, just let me get this weight off my chest, because you’re right. I’m not well.”

Alhaitham didn’t reach up to his aids. He simply shrugged his shoulders, saying, “I’m rarely wrong.”

“You—ugh. Arrogant, self-important—forget it.” Kaveh took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Where did he even start? How was he supposed to fill in everything that had happened in the short amount of time Alhaitham would permit him? “Do you ever miss your parents?”

“Maybe I would, if I remembered them.”

Kaveh winced. Bad opening topic. Alhaitham had mentioned that before, a long time ago, before they’d fallen out. Unlike Kaveh, who’d lost his father at just the right age for it to destroy the foundations of his youth, Alhaitham had lost both his parents at just the right age for him to emerge unscathed from their passing. “Your grandmother, then?”

“Is this about your father?” Alhaitham said. “Because we’ve had this discussion before, and if I recall, it was our final debate.”

That was an unusually nice way of framing the death of their friendship. Kaveh rolled his eyes. “My mother remarried recently.”

“I’m happy for her,” Alhaitham said, which Kaveh knew was a nicety that he didn’t mean. He did that from time to time. Parroted phrases he knew he was supposed to say to appear friendly or placate the mood, though he’d never done it with Kaveh, not when they’d been friends. It upset him that he’d seen fit to do so now, but Alhaitham spoke again before he could snap at him. “What does that have to do with you drinking yourself to death?”

“It doesn’t.” Kaveh rested his head on the desk. “Alright. Maybe it’s a contributing factor, because she left me everything she had in Sumeru. The house, all to myself. Wonderful! Fantastic! Amazing! Except I couldn’t even open the front door without wanting to break down. It wasn’t my home. It hadn’t been since everyone left. It was just empty. I hated it.”

His chest felt crushed, like someone had taken his claymore and caved his ribcage in with it. It was the first time he’d ever admitted that fact aloud. It was the first time he’d let himself come to terms with the fact that the place he’d grown up in had become foreign and cold. He felt like he had shards of glass lodged in his skin. How had it ever come to this?

“Then leave it behind,” Alhaitham said, ever pragmatic, ever ready to cut straight to the heart of the matter without care for anyone else’s feelings. “You’ve never had any problem with doing that before.”

“That’s what my mother did.” Kaveh ignored Alhaitham’s attempt at instigating an argument and ground his teeth, unsure what exactly he was angry with. Himself, for not having the courage to do so? His mother, for doing so? Alhaitham, for showing up out of the blue and dredging up bad memories all of his own? “But the house isn’t even the problem, because it’s gone now. Everything is. All my Mora, all my passion, all my drive. I gave it all up for the Palace, and though I know it was worth it, I’m…”

Adrift. Dried up. Lost. He could fill the space with so many words, too many words, and so he left them unsaid. Alhaitham would know. He was too intelligent not to understand. It was what Kaveh had once found so brilliant about him, and on the flip-side, what he’d eventually come to loathe.

“Where are you sleeping tonight, then?” came the question that Kaveh didn’t want to answer. He kept quiet as to avoid it, but Alhaitham was nothing if not stubbornly persistent. “Kaveh.”

“I’ll figure it out somehow, don’t you worry about me.”

“I’m hardly worried.”

“Of course you’re not. You never are. I don’t understand you at all, I never have.”

“I could say the same about you. You push and push and push when you could give half the effort for double the reward. Why do you still choose to care so deeply about the little things when it only exhausts you?”

“Why don’t you care at all?” Kaveh was tired of the debate already. They would go in circles at this rate; they’d done it before, days spent going back and forth, the two of them trying to meet in the middle and instead skating right past one another. There had been a time, once, where they’d had something. Where they would talk and magic would happen, where Kaveh would grow excited to see him, where Alhaitham would acknowledge him across the halls of the Akademiya with more than just a raise of his eyebrows. Those memories were long in the past, long lost, just like Kaveh’s father or Alhaitham’s grandmother.

“If you think I don’t,” Alhaitham said, “then that’s your prerogative. Not mine.”

“If I think you don’t,” Kaveh said, lifting his head from the table, his voice rising like the tide, “then that’s your fault, not mine!”

The swift outburst drew attention. Heads turned. Muttering drifted around them. Alhaitham had no interest in other people and it showed; he didn’t look bothered in the slightest that they’d attracted the gazes of half the tavern. Kaveh, on the other hand, still had enough of his dignity to feel shame. He turned away from Alhaitham, only to feel a hand grip him by his upper arm.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham said, and, oh, Kaveh had missed that so much. Hearing his name on someone else’s lips, not out of adoration or admiration but just familiarity, someone who knew him for him, the man behind the architecture. “If you’re done putting words in my mouth, I need some air. So do you. Let’s get out of here.”

That hand was an anchor. Kaveh, ever so adrift, ever so lost, could do nothing but focus on its weight. “But I haven’t paid.”

“You have now.” A jingle of coins. Alhaitham, paying both of their ways. He didn’t give Kaveh the time to protest, pulling him from the chair like he weighed nothing.

Sumeru’s crisp evening air struck like a whip against Kaveh’s flushed skin. It wasn’t fair. Kaveh had dreamed of this meeting over and over, of the two of them dressing the wounds they’d left in the other, of starting again with an even playing field where they could finally understand. But it had only ever been a dream; for it to become reality, it required a world where they had both changed. Both grown. Both allowed themselves to see a perspective other than their own.

“We were supposed to be friends,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Alhaitham frowned.

“We were supposed to be friends!” Kaveh hissed, louder this time. “But you didn’t understand that, did you? All you do is pick and pick and pick! I tried, Alhaitham. I tried to hide my weaknesses, but you have never been able to help yourself! You saw straight through me, and then you struck where you knew it would hurt most!”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Alhaitham still sounded too calm, too at ease, too unbothered. “You’re far too emotionally fragile. You take everything as a personal attack when you know as well as I do that I—”

“I don’t know anything!” Kaveh had long since given up any pretence of subtlety. So Alhaitham wanted to put pressure on the fractures in his armour just like before? So be it. He would repeat the past in kind. “So what, if it wasn’t a personal attack? How am I supposed to differentiate between friendly fire and collateral damage when they all sound the same? You still hurt me, you don’t get any right to say that you didn’t!”

His stomach rolled. Nausea slammed into him. A moment later, he was doubled over and retching. Little more than bile came up; he’d eaten very little since the apocalypse had descended. Weak in the knees, he crumpled, pathetic, snapped in half.

But Alhaitham went with him. Scooped Kaveh’s hair out of the way, blocked prying eyes with his broad back. “It only hurt you because you didn’t want to hear the truth. You were too busy burying your head in the sand, just like always.”

And, as usual, Alhaitham was right. Because for all it had hurt, Kaveh had only snapped back that day because he’d been unable to refute it. Get your head out the clouds, Alhaitham had said, and it had been the only time Kaveh had heard his tone shift from stiff to outright cold. You work yourself to the bone for others because you feel like you killed your father. Your charity is born only from that very fact. It won’t bring him back, and it won’t make your life any easier. You have so much potential, but all this misplaced guilt just chains you in place. I can’t work with that.

It was agony to remember, the wound gaping, ripped open anew. Kaveh swallowed back his nausea. He had to patch it closed, had to stop the bleeding. “And what did you want me to do that day, Alhaitham? Just say, yes, you got me! Clap you over the back and tell you you were right?”

“I might have preferred that over what you actually said.”

Kaveh laughed, a broken sound slipping past his lips. “You still remember that?”

It was impossible. Alhaitham didn’t care. He had no interest in what people thought of him, whether they revered or hated him, it was all the same water off this fish’s back. Once, Kaveh had swung an arm around his shoulder in the Hall of Daena after overhearing a small crowd of students badmouthing him. He shook his head with a sharp click of his tongue before declaring, “The nerve of it! They talk and talk and talk, but they don’t know a thing, do they? You’re as emotive as anyone else, they just don’t bother to get to know you.”

Alhaitham had merely shrugged, far more interested in his book than he was the muttering of others. “It’s meaningless background noise.”

“Yet you still decided to listen in on it.”

“Because it might have been useful. If it was, I’d remember. If not, then just forget it.”

Yet he’d remembered this, the last words Kaveh had snapped at him across a table, throat raw from shouting, hands red where he’d slammed them against the wooden surface. Your intelligence belies your arrogance! Who are you to say you know me? Who are you to tell me I’m wrong for being kind, for daring to give a damn? Well! I suppose that’s my mistake for involving myself with you when everyone else already knew what kind of person you are. My mistake, for thinking you could be anything other than what you've already proved yourself to be!

Kaveh regretted it as he regretted most things he did when he was at his lowest. He regretted his impulsivity, regretted his tendency towards alcohol, regretted selling everything for the project, and then regretted regretting that too. His head was a mess. His heart was a mess. Everything was in pieces and he didn’t know where to even begin in putting them back together.

Alhaitham didn't give him an answer to his question. He still had one hand in Kaveh’s hair, still blocked the view with his own body. In the end, he changed the topic. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know. Go back to work. Build something new. Make someone happy. Make my dreams a reality. Realise every ideal I’ve ever held.”

“And how has realising your ideals gone for you so far?”

It was a brutal thing to ask when Kaveh was on his knees, still on the verge of dry-heaving, drunk and bankrupt and without a single thing to call his own. It was Alhaitham through-and-through. Kaveh sank against him, head knocking into his chest, eyes slipping shut. “How do you think, Alhaitham? You’re so smart. You already know.”

“So even with nothing, you’ll still carry on?”

“Of course I will. I’m not wrong. I just…made mistakes this time around. As we all do. I’m only human.”

“We all make mistakes,” said Alhaitham, to which Kaveh snorted softly. Hearing him say such a thing was ludicrous when the man had never made one in his life. “Where are you sleeping tonight, aside from on me?”

“Again with that question? I’ll figure it out.”

“While so drunk that you’re airing every grievance you’ve ever had?” Alhaitham shook his head. “Can you walk?”

Could he? Probably, if he put his feet under him and swallowed back his nausea. Did he want to? That was another matter entirely. “Is it not enough to just pray for the ground to open, for Sumeru to swallow me whole?”

“I wonder if it hasn’t already,” Alhaitham said, wrapping one of Kaveh’s arms around his shoulders. He was warm, a shield against the cool breeze. Kaveh didn’t have the energy to fight with him anymore, nor did he particularly want to either. How long could he shout before he ran himself ragged, before he said something else he couldn’t take back, before he became someone he wasn’t?

And Alhaitham seemed to agree on that, at least, because he didn’t instigate any further. He helped Kaveh up, kept most of his weight on him as he walked him away from the tavern. Kaveh’s stomach flipped again at the movement, but there wasn’t anything left to bring up.

“Where are we going?” he asked when he found his voice again. “I told you, I sold everything. I don’t have a home. You can’t take me there.”

“Contrary to what you think of me, I’m not going to just leave you here,” Alhaitham sounded a little put-out. It had to be a trick of Kaveh’s ears, the alcohol warping the sound. “You can sleep on my sofa, then work out whatever you’re doing in the morning.”

“Morning?” Kaveh snorted softly. “Didn’t I tell you, Alhaitham? The world is ending.”

“As it does every night. I’m sure there’ll be something to salvage in the morning.” Alhaitham paused, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Isn’t that what happened with the Palace of Alcazarzaray?”

And he was right. Right like always, infuriatingly and inevitably. But, for once, it was exactly what Kaveh needed to hear. Not cutting brutalities, not cruel truths. Just a kindness, rare, yet all the more valuable for it. It was unthinkable from Alhaitham, but reality all the same.

“I suppose so,” Kaveh replied. “Thank you.”

“What was that?”

“You heard me.”

“You mumbled.”

Kaveh didn’t know if he was joking or not, but relented in the only victory he would relinquish. “I said thank you. This is more than I could have asked for.”

“You’re welcome,” Alhaitham said, and there was his home down the street, sitting by its lonesome. It looked like any other place in the city, the same rounded roof, the same rainforest-green, the same familiar foundations. It had been theirs, once, before Kaveh slid like a fault line in response to the pressure and torn himself from Alhaitham’s side. Both of them had their names on the deed. If things hadn’t played out the way they had, maybe it would have still been theirs, even now.

But Kaveh had spent his entire life entertaining what-ifs, and he knew better than anyone that they helped nothing. So he kept quiet, let Alhaitham drag him through the front door, did his best to get his own boots off while Alhaitham pulled pillows from his bedroom to throw on the couch. It didn’t feel empty. It didn’t feel cold. The couch was flat, but the pillows were soft.

“Just for tonight,” Kaveh said as Alhaitham hovered in the doorway, fingers caught on the lamp as he made to turn it off. It was—as much as he didn’t want to admit it, it was a comfort. To know there was someone else who would be just a room away, someone else filling the space, someone else simply existing with him.

“Just for tonight,” Alhaitham echoed.

The light went out.

[manslaught]

based on everything shauna told her nearly a year ago, mikayla's surprised the two of them have lasted this long— since then, she's been waiting, praying, for a falling out between the two of them, simply because she would have enjoyed watching jackie struggle without shauna. it's not the same now, because she's not sure if they need to deal with that drama on top of everything else, even if it still feels inevitable, especially with how useless jackie's proving to be. “ yeah, probably. we're not as annoying. ” and they don't try to make shauna be someone she's not. despite all the effort she's put into not ever laughing at anything tai says the past few years, mikayla doesn't stop herself from giggling at the joke tai makes at jackie's expense, sounding lighter than she has in months because, for just a few seconds, she's able to feel normal again.

she rolls her eyes, not at tai, but at everyone else, because tai's probably right. it almost makes her consider slamming her fist down against the floorboards, just to hear some of the others freak out downstairs, but this is the first civil conversation she's had with taissa since they were kids, so she's not eager to end it just yet, even for a laugh. “ oh, you're giving me permission? ” she scoffs, brows knitting together. “ i was going to keep coming up here whether you wanted me to or not. i don't have to listen to fucking misty or jackie up here. ” maybe she's exposing herself, because her distaste for those two has always been genuine, but she's seemingly so quick to forget that, just yesterday, she appeared to hate tai, too.

it makes her nervous, being close to tai like this, but she forces herself to be brave, rolling onto her side to face her, too. she's finding it hard to believe they'll actually be rescued in time to not have to worry about what might happen with shauna and her... problem, but she's not going to voice that concern, not when she's sure they both feel the same. “ yeah. right, ” she mumbles, shifting uncomfortably. that discomfort only worsens when tai mentions her relationship with shauna, because it's far more complicated than the two of them just never talking before, but it's not something mikayla wants to revisit, especially with her. “ she's going to be okay, ” she says, mostly just to convince herself of it. “ especially if she has two of us. ” not that the two of them could actually stop it all from happening, or keep jackie from finding out once it gets more obvious, but if mikayla's friendship with nat has shown her anything, it's that having someone does help, even if it doesn't actually fix anything.

taissa’s nose immediately crinkles at the thought,  because though she would have appreciated any sort of company last night,  the thought of shauna and jackie walking up here together might have only made it worse—  there’s something about shauna without jackie that was surprisingly comforting,  and taissa and jackie had only butted heads since they got here  ( and, really, for years before. )   ❝  — i can tell,  ❞   she says,  easily reassuring mikayla that she’s not wrong to say it out loud.   ❝  and,  honestly,  i think she’s better off with us.  ❞    that’s not to say her whole friendship with jackie is doomed —  taissa hopes it isn’t, for their sake —  but she can still tell shauna needed it.   ❝  i don’t think she’s ready to tell her all of that.   and it’d probably be good for her,  anyway.   having a break,  ❞   she insists with a soft scoff.  ❝  plus,  if jackie was up here,  she might’ve summoned a ghost for real,   just to tell her to shut up, ❞    she jokes,   a laugh spilling from her lips as she tries to focus on that and not the idea of actually summoning a joke—  because of course, taissa turner doesn’t believe in them.   

she gives her a look of admiration for saying that,   like it was validation she was desperately seeking.    mikayla’s wrong, though.   taissa isn’t willing to admit it to herself yet,  but she feels the same way the others feel—  like she’s trapped in a horror movie,  the feeling of dread clinging to her ever since she found that dead body,  haunted by how lottie had a bad feeling about the cabin that taissa quickly shut down.   and she’d do it again,   just to keep telling herself that that’s nothing,  but she's starting to fear it’ll only get worse.  ❝ yeah,  well,  we’re stuck out here with a bunch of children who’d jump if i stomped my foot too loud up here,  ❞   she points out,  rolling her eyes.   she doesn’t even have it in her to hit her back with a similar insult that she would’ve months ago — even just yesterday— instead,  she grins back at her and shrugs her shoulders.  ❝  guess you can keep sleeping up here, then.  turns out you’re not as bad as the rest of them, either,  ❞    she admits.

she instantly raises a brow, her head leaning back dramatically in shock— already being annoying, despite having said anything yet.  as mikayla lays back down,  tai takes a breath before joining,  this time laying on her side to face her.   ❝  yeah,  well,  can’t say it was my favorite class, either,  ❞    she mumbles, shaking her head.   ❝  hopefully we won’t have to worry about that.   we’ll—  be out of here before we get to that point,  ❞    she claims,  though her confidence is shaky,  because it’s getting harder to believe.   ❝  just,  for now,  you know, i think she trusts us.  which,  is like,  a lot,  considering you two don’t talk and she and i have never exactly been best friends.  just as long as she doesn’t feel like she’s alone,  she’s not going to do anything to hurt herself.  ❞    at least,  she hopes.