#where the only person he knows best in that section happens to be miles

[crandberrysaucewithpulp]

whatever questions i’ve ever had dublin answered them all

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ …𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗔𝗗, 𝗙𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗬 𝗦𝗘𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘⎥𝗖𝗕98

Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!Crosby!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Connor and Y/N Crosby, Sidney's daughter, are in a secret relationship and are outed when she goes to the All Stars with her dad

Notes: The italics section is the flashback to how Connor and Y/N met. This is my new longest fic, and man I got carried away writing how Y/N and Connor met. Not really proofread, so hope for the best. Requested by anonymous.

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Word Count: 2.3k

It’s not exactly unexpected, for Connor Bedard and Y/N Crosby to be dating. His childhood idol, her father. Their lives are interconnected by a web of hockey players, former teammates, and friendships a mile deep. But, the caveat is, no one actually knows they are together. 

Y/N knew her dad would lose his mind when he found out who exactly her boyfriend is. From the time she was old enough to date, the rule was no hockey players, absolutely no teammates, and especially no rookies. Will he find out? Eventually, but not any time soon if Y/N has anything to say about it.

-

“I have tickets to most of the Canadian games, and I want to watch them win gold, in person. I was planning on going to the condo. No Dad, I'm fine. No, you don’t need to have Auntie Taylor come with me. I’m absolutely taking advantage of the fact that we have a place right where the World Juniors are happening. I’m seventeen for God’s sake, and I’ve been fairly independent for years. I’ll be fine.” Y/N says, on the phone with her dad. 

“I know, but you’re still my little girl. I’ll always want to protect you, no matter how old you get.” her dad, Sidney, says.

“I know dad, but this will be good practice for when I’m away at university.” She tells him teasingly.

“Uhhhg, don’t remind me.” he groans, “I trust you not to burn the place down, and try not to go overboard, with anything. The credit card for food and stuff is in the safe, and you have your own for anything else. Call me, if you need anything.”

“Thanks dad, I will.”

“Love you honey.”

Love you too, dad. Bye.”

There, that’s settled, Y/N thinks to herself. She is already in Cole Harbour, staying with her grandparents for Christmas. They already know her plans, and she convinced –not that she needed any convincing– her aunt Taylor to come with her for a girls trip. She flips her laptop open, hits play on Downton Abbey, and finishes her packing. 

“Tay, are you ready yet?” Y/N calls a few hours later. She hefts her suitcase down the stairs, shouldering a backpack.

“Yeah bug, just put my bags in the car. Bring yours out here too.” Taylor replies, “We can be on the road in twenty if we hurry.”

“Make it fifteen.” Y/N challenges with a grin.

The preliminary round of the tournament passes fast. After the shocking Game 1 loss, Canada bounces back and plows through every game afterwards. An exciting quarterfinals win against Slovakia has Canada set to play USA in the semifinals. A match up that always promises an electric game.

After the quarterfinal game, Y/N and Taylor head back to the dressing rooms and player’s entrance for a shortcut to the parking lot. They both have access, thanks to Sid. They talk excitedly about Bedard’s OT winner, a wicked 3-on-1 goal. 

“That was incredible.” Y/N exclaims. She’s no stranger to good hockey, but seeing a player that young, one her own age, to have such amazing talent is unreal to see. 

“Yes it was-” Taylor starts, but is cut off by a man in a suit stalking towards them.

“Hey! You two aren’t allowed back here. Players and staff only. Who do you think you are? Waltzing around here like you own the place? No respect anymore.” He rants before someone grabs him, pulling him away from Y/N and Taylor.

“I am so sorry about Randy. I’m Jim, by the way.” Jim apologizes, “I’m assuming that since you’re back here, you have permission. Is there something I can do to make it up to you? Wait, you’re Crosby’s daughter, aren't you? This makes a lot more sense now.”

“Yes I am, and we have permission. I can’t think of anything, it’s not necessary.” Y/N says. But Jim is determined, knowing who she is now. He offers to introduce the women to the team. They agree, and after Jim explains the situation to Randy, they all head back towards Canada’s dressing room. Talking the whole way, Jim explains that the team has a place rented for the tournament where the boys can hang out and relax. 

“If you’d like to join us, you are more than welcome. I won’t tell them who you are, I’ll let that happen naturally.” Jim says with a wink. “I want to see the look on their faces. It’s too bad your dad couldn't make it. That would really blow their socks off.” The group laughs and waits for Randy to make sure all the guys are decent, and beacons them in with a sheepish look, apologizing once again. The introduction is basic, no announcement or anything. Taylor and Y/N meet the rest of the staff first, quickly becoming engrossed in conversation. 

“So,” the head coach says, “Crosby’s daughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“And you.” Y/N replies.

“Coach, did you just say Crosby's daughter? She's here? Holy shit!” one of the players exclaims, joining their little group. “I’m Brandt, nice to meet you. Is your dad here, by chance?” He says, very quickly. The energy rolls right off of him.

“No, he’s not, unfortunately. West Coast road trip.” Y/N says, failing to hide a giggle. 

“Wanna mess with the guys with me?” Brandt asks, a scheming look on his face.

“Always.”

“Ok, I’m going to introduce you around, but not mention your last name. I want to see how long it takes the guys to figure out who you are.”

“Oh I like that.” They grin at each other, and make their way around the room. Before long, the whole team is standing or sitting close together, chatting with Y/N. The adrenaline can still be felt in the dressing room. 

“So how long are you in town for?” Dylan asks, “Hopefully long enough to watch us win gold.”

Y/N and Brandt exchange a look, “I’m planning on it. I don’t have to be back in Pittsburgh until the tenth.”

“Pittsburgh? You came all the way up here, to watch a Canadian team win? That makes no sense.” Logan wonders, looking confused.

“Oh I’m Canadian, I just live in Pittsburg with my dad. I was up visiting my grandparents for Christmas.” Y/N says. It is getting awfully difficult to keep a straight face. 

“Where do your grandparents live?” That comes from Olen.

“Cole Harbour.”

“Does that mean you've met Sidney Crosby?” Ethan asks. 

“Yup, see him all the time.” She bites back a smile. Brandt has to turn around and take a deep, shuddering breath so he doesn’t give them away. Connor sees him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Wait, you’re Y/N Crosby!” Connor says, standing up just as Y/N and Brandt burst out laughing. The rest of the boys look shocked as the two struggle to stop laughing. Connor grins, chuckling as Y/N wipes honest-to-goodness tears from her eyes. The staff and Taylor laugh amongst themselves, watching the young folks. 

“Guilty as charged.” She says breathlessly, silently wondering if Brandt is going to die of oxygen deprivation at this point. His face is pretty red. Now the questions are really flowing by the time Brandt finally regains some composure. The excited chatter doesn’t stop at the restaurant, either. Y/N and Taylor are invited to stay. As the evening winds down, Y/N finds herself with Connor, conversation flowing easily. 

“Nice goal, by the way. Dad was impressed.” Y/N says, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Really?” Connor flushes. Cute.

“Yeah, he sees a lot in you.”

“That is…I have no words.” He admits. “Do you, um, do you think you’d want to sit with my family for the rest of the games? I want to talk to you more, and um…I’m just going to stop talking before I make a fool out of myself.”

“I’d love to.”

Connor and Y/N spend a lot of time together in the following days. She sits with his family during the final, and celebrates with them after they win gold.

“We did it!” Connor shouts, picking Y/N up and spinning her around. There is a moment when he sets her down where her arms are still on his shoulders and his hands are on her waist. The noise fades away, just the two of them in a little bubble. “Can I have your number? I’d like to keep talking to you, and take you out sometime.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” She replies.

-

Now, over a year and 10 months into dating later, Connor and Y/N are both in Toronto for the All Stars. 

“Hey baby.” Connor says, putting his phone away when Y/N slips into the empty visitors dressing room.

“Hey Con.” She goes to him easily, settling comfortably into his open arms. He puts his chin on her head and tightens his hold on her. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I’m glad you decided to come.”

“Me too.” She tips her head up, meeting Connor in the middle for a sweet kiss. They go back to their hug, Y/N tucked against his chest, feeling warm again in the cold arena. They simply stand like that, swaying gently and soaking up the moment. They get so wrapped up in each other that they fail to hear voices outside the door. Connor goes to kiss Y/N again, but is interrupted by the door slamming open. Their heads snap to the door, wide eyed and scared.

“Y/N ANNA CROSBY. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” Sidney yells furiously, steam practically shooting from his ears like a cartoon character. Nate is standing close behind him, and Cale, Mathew Barzal, and Brady Tkachuk stand in the doorway. Connor and Y/N take a step back from each other, but keep their hands tightly clasped.

“How dare you not tell me about this. You know the rules, I expect you to follow them.”

“I-” She begins.

“And you,” Sid says, pointing at Connor, “I expected better from you. You’re a good kid, but I have rules for a reason.” Y/N grips Connor’s hand, squeezing three times. 

“You can’t control me like this, Dad. I’ve never had a real relationship because of you. So much of my life is wrapped up in hockey that it was easy to find my person there, and if it wasn’t a hockey-playing boyfriend, it was a hockey fan boyfriend which is worse. All they ever wanted to talk about was you, they never wanted me for who I am. Or you just plain scared them off because ‘no one is good enough for my daughter so why should she even bother’.” Y/N says back to him. Her chest is heaving and she is fighting off tears. 

“I can’t believe that you didn’t tell me this. How long have you two been together anyways?” Sid asks, still pissed off.

“Ten months.” Connor replies, voice strong and true despite the situation. He is nervous, of course, but he loves Y/N too much to let his childhood idol have much of an impact.

“TEN MONTHS!” Sid exclaims, incredulous that his daughter kept this secret, “Bloody hell. What possessed you to keep this from me?”

“This exact reaction that I knew would happen. I knew that if I told you when Connor first asked me out, you would flat-out forbid me to see him, and that wouldn’t have ended the way you wanted anyway. At least this way the two of us can act as a united front and you can see that this isn’t bad. We are both 18, legal adults. You can’t tell me what to do anymore.”

Sid stays silent. He is still angry, but the figurative steam has gone away. Nate and the others hover around the door.

Y/N continues, “I get it, Dad. You just want to protect me, and I love you for it. But I’m not a little kid anymore, I can’t be sheltered forever. And Connor’s good to me. You know he would be.” She takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I knew that if I did, you would react exactly the way you are. I wanted to be able to figure out my relationship without my dad looking over my shoulder the whole time.”

Sid’s face falls at her monologue. He can finally understand what Y/N was trying to say for years. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I had no intention for it to go that far. It is hard to watch you grow up, but I need to grow up some too and understand that you are an adult now. In my attempts to protect you, I drove you straight into what I always knew would happen. Thankfully, you picked a good one.” Sid pulls his daughter into a hug, tears threatening to fall. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me, it wasn’t fair of me.”

“Thanks dad, for apologizing. I know you meant well, but I don’t think this wasn’t the best way to get you to see my side of it” Y/N quips, a wry smile on her face. 

“I’m still pissed that you didn’t tell me, but I’d rather it was you than a lot of other guys” Sid states, reaching out to shake Connor’s hand, “but if you hurt her, I have a lot of power in this game.”

“I know,” Connor says, eyes focused on Y/N. A look so full of love even Sidney can’t deny it, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Awwww.” The trio looks up to see the other four guys with their hands clasped over their hearts, cute pouts on their lips. 

“The babies are in love.” Cale says with a grin.

[starlightsuffered]

My Boyfriend’s Sister’s Boyfriend

Warnings - panic attack

I woke up with a pounding headache to my ring tone. I looked at my phone to see it was my mother. I groaned as I answered.

"Hey," I croaked.

"I have wonderful news!" She squealed. Her shrill excitement hurt my ears.

"Not so loud please," I said.

"Sorry, it's just so amazing. You have to promise not to tell," she requested.

"I promise," I said, laying back down and throwing an arm over my eyes.

"Dillon is going to propose, he got a ring!" I sat up immediately. Marriage? He thought we were marriage material? I felt like I couldn't catch my breath.

"I can't wait. My best friend will be my co-mother-in-law! We'll be together at all the family gatherings. Your father is so excited. "

My heart was going a mile a minute. I was panting. My mother kept going on and on.

"I've got to go," I choked out. I'd let her think I was overwhelmed with emotion, which in a way I was. The emotion wasn't happiness though.

My breath was coming in short bursts. My vision was blurring. I couldn't breath! Panic was washing over me. I hugged myself, rocking back and forth. This couldn't happen. I wasn't ready, I didn't even want to, but I'd be disappointing everyone. I'd gone out with him out of convenience. I was still with him out of an urge to not disappoint him and my family. What was I going to do?

The panic attack lasted until I began to dig my nails into my palm to ground myself. I would just find a way to avoid it. I wonder how my mother knew?

My thoughts wandered to Timothée. Each time I'd tried to picture walking down an aisle to Dillon, Timothée ended up being there instead. Last night had changed me. I didn't think I was a person who fantasized about cheating, I didn't think I was a person who believed in love at first sight. This was all so surreal.

I needed to get my mind off of this. I went to get ready. I headed out the door. I didn't quite know what I was going to do. I drove down to a cute section of the city that had up fairy lights. There was always stuff to do around here.

'Cooking class' was advertised on a sign. Apparently some famousish chef was from here and she'd come to offer classes around town for only $50. It sounded like fun, and I needed to advance my knowledge anyway, I usually made the same meals over and over.

I went in and paid. They told me where to go, and I made my way to the room. The teacher was a middle aged lady with a kind smile.

"I'm so glad you joined, we have someone in need of a partner."

I nearly dropped my bag when I saw who was sitting at the table with a vacant seat. Timothée also seemed surprised to see me. I walked over, as if I were in a dream.

"Hi," I said sheepishly.

"What are the odds of this?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Slim to none," I replied. It seemed the chances of everything that involved him were slim to none

"You're supposed to put on an apron," he said, gesturing to a pile. I took one off the pile and slipped it over my head. I sensed someone was near me and I saw Timothée had come over.

"Let me tie it for you," he said with a smile. We both seemed to know what this meant. It was an unneeded gesture. We just wanted an excuse to touch one another.

I turned around slowly. I felt his fingers brush my back as he tied my apron. I had to hold back a shudder.

I turned around and faced him. We held eye contact until the teacher gave us instructions. It was obvious Timothée and I were out of our league. I'd hoped this would be a starter dish, but it was elaborate.

"I think I put in too much salt," Timothée giggled.

"Maybe she'll force you to eat the whole thing as a punishment," I whispered back.

"Students, why are we laughing? The art of measuring is no laughing matter," the teacher said and Timothée and I were struggling to hold in our laughter. The teacher was very self absorbed, and took this whole thing way to seriously. We were also pretty sure she was faking her accent.

"The art of measuring," Timothée mocked under his breath, in an exaggerated accent. I could barely hold it in.

"Your laugh is cute," he said, and I felt my cheeks heat.

"Yours is dorky, but in a good way," I told him. He pretended to be offended.

"You're telling me, Timothée Chalamet, star of the little theater down the road, coach of elementary soccer, that his laugh is dorky?" He asked.

"Sorry, I didn't know I was dealing with such an accomplished celebrity," I laughed.

"Soon, I'm going to add master chef to the list," he said, pointing to his absolutely tragic looking dish.

"A well deserved title in deed," I chuckled.

After a couple minutes of silence, I asked him a question.

"Do you really do plays near here?" I asked.

"Yeah, there's a little theater like a mile away, I audition for most of their stuff."

"Anything showing right now," I asked.

"No, but we're prepping. In like a week we're premiering with Willy Wonka, I'm Wonka," he told me.

"You could-" he said at the same time I said "Could I."

"You go first," he said generously.

"I was going ask if I could come or if that would be weird," I said.

"I was just going to say you could come if you wanted. I'd love to have you there," he said excitedly.

"It'll be weird for Willy Wonka to be hot, I watched the old one all the time as a kid," I said off-handedly.

"Ohh?" He asked, innuendo laced in his tone. I realized what I had said.

"So you think I'm hot?" He said, and he knew it was dangerous. He knew the answer and this was worrisome territory. I looked at him and his eyes were dark. I bit my lip, and I watched as his eyes dropped to my lips.

"I think-"

I was saved from answering by the teacher telling us to bring up our final product. I grabbed my dish, moving to the front quickly, to avoid Timothée's questioning eyes.

I got a better assessment than Timothée did. The teacher looked absolutely disgusted by his dish. She told him he was hopeless. We were now outside in the heat of the setting Sun, laughing about it over ice cream.

"You've got some on your lip," he said suddenly, and lifted his thumb to wipe it off. I was transfixed for a moment as I looked at him. The setting Sun cast him in a warm glow, he was practically luminous. I felt my heart beat quicken. It felt like I'd known him years. It also felt like my his heart was a magnet for mine, so attracted to its mate that it nearly pulled itself from my chest.

"I should probably be going," he said, having held his thumb to my lips for far too long.

"Alright," I said. This was the hardest part, the goodbye, because we knew neither of us wanted to say goodbye. We wanted to stay with each other forever if possible. Why did we have to meet at this point in our lives?

[sylkiddsey]

Say my name and everything just stops

Small scrap sections from a longer work that will never be finished. It acknowledges the shift from “Casey” to “Matt”

1. Late season 6:

It’s kind of like Matt’s engaged in some sort of really serious game of hide and seek, but one person is not really hiding, and the other is somewhat seeking, but also not really.

His marriage has become this game of avoidance where they just keep passing each other. They pass in the halls of the firehouse. They pass in their own home, from room to room. Even in a confined car, it feels like they’re just passing.

He and Gabby are so off kilter. Everything feels unbalanced and it’s driving him crazy. This isn’t the marriage he envisioned, and he doesn’t know how to go back.

He’s well aware they’ve always had problems. They’ve never been perfect, but he had been able to fix it. Usually, that involved him complying and going along with his very independent wife, but he’d done it.

This time, he can’t comply so they’re stuck in this holding pattern while he waits (and also avoids her) for her to do the compromising.

He can’t go along with her plan to have a child, basically without him. She pretty much implied she was going to get pregnant with or without his help which stung. He can’t give her a baby if it means having to raise their child without his wife. That guilt will kill him, so he refuses.

His refusal didn’t kill her plan. Like always, Gabby Dawson found a way around and wants a baby…wants to endure a risky pregnancy and possibly carry some other guy’s child if he won’t do it.

His own wife won’t budge and he’s not going the extra mile to solve this, so they are just passing by.

When he arrives home to the condo, he freezes in his doorway. He was expecting his wife, probably perched on a stool ready to pick another battle. He’s ready for it, but it’s not Gabby in his kitchen.

Brett’s standing at his island, wearing a faded apron he vaguely remembers was gifted to Gabby as a wedding present, mixing bowl and a big wooden spoon in hand.

Her hair is piled up on her head, chocolate smeared on the corner of her mouth, and he assumes Antonio fucked her over again. She’s probably eating her feelings and drinking wine with her best friend, but that’s not the case.

She looks up from her chocolate concoction, blue eyes widening like a cartoon. “Matt, hi. Sorry, I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.”

He stops dead in his tracks, but not because Brett has apparently broken into his home. He pauses because she called him Matt which she doesn’t do.

It’s not like he has a problem with it, but pretty much everyone at 51 calls him Casey. It’s just become this thing so when Sylvie Brett says it so casually, in his damn kitchen while his marriage crumbles somewhere else…it strikes him.

He’s not even sure she’s ever called him his name before. She might’ve in the past, but it never registered.

He’s only really Matt to his wife and his sister. Although, his wife does use his last name when she’s pissed (which has been happening often).

She finishes swirling the brown batter in one of the big glass bowls Gabby chose. “I know I shouldn’t have used my emergency key, but I wanted to make Gabby her favorite brownies just to…I don’t know, cheer her up. I should’ve asked first.”

He shakes his head, sets his keys on the hook and adverts his gaze because he’s pretty sure he makes her nervous. Brett can’t see him as anybody other than 51’s Captain which he gets. He just doesn’t want her to think he’s so uptight he’d dress her down for being a great friend.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just passing through anyway,” he explains. “I’ll be out of your hair in like ten minutes.”

“It’s your place,” Brett replies. “If someone should leave it should be me.”

He figures Gabby would rather have her friend here instead of him anyway.

“Seriously, I’m heading out the door anyway. Stay. Finish the brownies.”

She smiles a little, sweeping a loose strand of long blonde hair away from her face. “Thanks, Casey.”

Casey.

Everything shifts right back to normal where he’s just Casey, Brett’s just Brett. He’s in his home. The one he shares with someone who shares practically nothing with him and Brett’s doing what she does best; being good to her people.

It’s one thing he has always appreciated about the paramedic. She’s good. She’s good to her patients. She’s good to 51. She’s extraordinarily good to his wife.

He passes her by, ready to change from his construction job and head to Molly’s. He stops in the doorway, observing a flustered Brett as she tries to perfect the homemade frosting. She tastes it with her finger and groans when it’s not good enough.

He knows from Gabby that she’s still a little heartbroken over Antonio and a bit raw from certain ambo calls, yet she’s here…supporting Gabby with sugar and chocolate.

“Brett.”

She startles again, almost as if she’s afraid he’s changed his mind and is mad she’s here. “Uh, yeah?”

“You’re a good friend. She’s lucky to have you,” he says.

Her blue eyes look a little misty in his kitchen lighting. “She’s lucky to have you too.”

He doesn’t think his own wife believes that, but he’s grateful for the words anyway.

The oven timer dings behind her, and she struggles to pull out batch one of her brownie mission. He contemplates offering to help, but his life is currently burning to the ground, so he doesn’t have time to salvage some brownies.

Some things are better left unsalvageable anyway.

2. Early season 7:

He’s on his third or fourth beer at Molly’s. He knows drinking won’t numb the fact he wasn’t good enough for his wife, but it does help a little.

The stool next to his squeaks obnoxiously loud and he hears a quiet gasp. Pink painted nails clamp on the counter and Brett has nearly fallen off the stool.

He wants to laugh, but she looks partially embarrassed…or maybe more ashamed

“I’m sorry, Casey.”

He raises an eyebrow, dumbfounded. She has nothing to apologize for. The last shift had gone well, and he doesn’t even remember scolding her for anything. Hell, he’s not even sure he talked to her at all at the station.

“Sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have blamed you for Gabby leaving,” she mutters, pulling at the edge of her sweater sleeve.

That’s a conversation they had weeks ago. He’s completely forgotten about it. She had been blindsided and upset which he absolutely understood. God knows he felt all that with her, so he really didn’t think too much about her minor lash out

“Brett…”

“I was just hurt I guess,” she admits. “And if I felt hurt…I can’t imagine how hurt you were. It was selfish and dumb.

Sylvie Brett and selfish don’t fit in the same sentence. She’s too kind even to her own detriment.

Still, it feels good to have someone recognize how hurt he is. Yes, they all care and pity him, but no one acknowledges how much Gabby hurt him. It might not have been intentional but her constant rejection about what he wants and needs fucking hurts.

“Brett, it’s fine,” he replies. “I get it. I do and honestly, she was always going to chase bigger things. She was always going to leave, and I was always going to stay.”

It sums up majority of his relationship. Gabby was always leaving in some way. She’d leave to pursue a new career, leaving him to stay and deal with the fallout. She’d leave to adopt a child and again, he stayed and followed. She was always leaving him and somehow, he just kept staying.

Brett frowns, looking into her glass. He watches her stir the blue-ish margarita with a toothpick umbrella. “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you stayed.”

For the first time in a long time, her words soothe the crippling ache Gabby left behind. It doesn’t completely fix everything, but it feels good to know that he didn’t make the wrong decision by not following her.

At least according to Brett.

“Yeah?”

She nods, a smile passing over her face. Lately he hasn’t seen Brett very happy so it’s good to see a glimmer of their past.

“Honestly, I just can’t imagine what 51 would be like without you, Matt.”

He’s struck by the fact she’s using his name again. It’s odd because he’s been so used to Casey for so long and every once in a while, Brett calls him Matt.

There’s something interesting about the way she says it. The syllables just roll off her (now blue) tongue differently in a way he’s never heard. It feels like two different voices and sounds absolutely nothing like it does on shift, surrounded by firefighters and in between blaring bells.

Wow, maybe he’s had a little too much to drink tonight.

He nudges her arm lightly, thanking her for her kindness. He’s surprised she’s giving it to him of all people, but he appreciates it, nonetheless.

Prior, Brett has always been connected to him through association. She was Gabby’s best friend. She was Gabby’s ambo partner. She was Gabby’s brother’s girlfriend.

She’s never been anything to him, but now with Gabby long gone…he thinks maybe Brett won’t be such a stranger anymore.

“God, do you imagine if you left, and Severide became a captain or something?” She asks through a snort.

He has to admit that’s a funny picture. “You’d all be dead because he was too busy making out with Kidd.”

Brett laughs a little too hard at his pitiful joke. He starts to think she might’ve had a few drinks herself. “Oh you are so right, Casey!”

He’s too caught up in the allure of her contagious laugh to analyze the name shift. He’s heard this laugh way too much from his living room or the common room on shift, but this is the first time he’s really taken by it

Sylvie Brett has a wildly adorable laugh. Who knew?

3. 7x08

He starts to appreciate new things he hasn’t had the chance to while married. For one, he has complete freedom of his own life. Every decision is his. Plus, he has more time to spend with 51 and he surprisingly enjoys fishing with Boden of all people.

However, his newest discovery happens to be drunk Sylvie Brett. Brett’s incredibly charming on any day but mix her with alcohol and she somehow becomes more and more dorky.

He has to say he greatly appreciates drunk Brett because it’s hilarious. She can’t hold her liquor and each sentence come out in mangled fragments, but it’s not annoying. Not at all. He actually quite likes Brett when she drinks.

She’s absolutely drunk after Foster pumped her full of alcohol. He’s had the front row seat to her nose scrunch, big doe eyes and flailing hand which had turned his crappy night around.

He’s not even thinking about Naomi or what it could’ve been if he had pretended to be ready.

He had planned to go home a little early but decided to stick around to observe Brett. She’s very drunk and he’s concerned about how she’s going to get home.

Foster left hours ago. Kidd ditched too, probably to make up and make out with Severide. He expected Cruz would take her back, but he disappeared with Chloe and hasn’t returned. Even Otis has vanished.

He makes conversation with Hermann and waits for someone to get her home safely.

At some point during the night, he loses track of her just as Hermann closes. He took his eyes off to help the older man move a shipment of beer and now, she’s gone.

Shit. He hopes she’s not inebriated enough to think she can drive. Although, he’s not sure a taxi or ride share is better when she’s this out of it.

Men are assholes.

Matt hurries out the door, hoping to catch her before she disappears in some sketchy car.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to look far because Brett’s sitting on the bottom step, chin in hand and phone clutched in the other.

She tilts her head up, grinning. “Hey, Casey.”

“Hi. What are you doing out here?”

She points her turned off phone in his face. “Waiting for a cab. I’m just a teeny tiny bit drunk.”

Yeah, just a teeny tiny bit…

Again, he doesn’t want her getting in a car like this where someone could easily try something.

“I’ll drive you home,” he offers, reaching for her hand. He pulls her up, braces her stumbling with his chest and holds one hand on her arm to keep her grounded.

“No. No. You should be calling cute reporter,” she slurs, eyelids drooping lower and lower. She pokes his chest with one slender finger. “Go and make your move, Casey. Girls don’t like waiting.”

Naomi is not his concern at the moment. She’s just a girl he casually kinda sorta dated and Brett’s…well, she’s Brett. She’s an essential part of 51 and far more important than some possible girlfriend.

“She’ll be there in the morning. I’m concerned you won’t be if I don’t get you home myself,” he explains. “You’re drunk, Brett and I don’t trust some taxi driver so let’s go.”

She sticks her bottom lip out. “Fine. Fine. Fine. Lead the way, Captain.”

He steers her by the shoulders so she can’t fall flat on her face towards his truck. When he gets the door open, Brett needs a boost into the seat.

He watches one of the best paramedics he knows fumble with a seatbelt for five minutes, amused. Eventually he gives in to her frustration and does it for her.

Super talkative drunk Sylvie seems to have left for the night. As he navigates down the streets of Chicago, she’s quiet and pressed against the passenger window.

He pulls up in front of the place she shares with Otis and Cruz ten minutes later. He turns his truck off, unlocks the door for Sylvie to jump (or probably fall) out. She doesn’t make a move though, and when he looks over, she’s sleeping against her seatbelt.

He should’ve seen this coming. She drank a lot so of course the alcohol would knock her out.

“Brett?” He asks.

She snores a little in response and he can’t help but chuckle. He stays in the driver side for a few more minutes, thinking of the best way to get her inside.

While thinking, he observes her drunken sleep. Her hair is a mess, tangled against the window. She has mascara rings all around her eyes and cheeks and she’s even drooling a little.

He admires her unkept look. He’s always liked how she’s fearlessly herself and just doesn’t care if it’s well received or not.

It’s a very admirable quality.

Her neck is gonna hurt like hell if she stays in that position much longer. He climbs out his truck and goes to her side. He eases the door open, managing to keep her from tipping out with a hand against her head.

“Brett,” he says, shaking her shoulder a little. “Brett, come on. Wake up.”

She’s dead asleep, nestling further into the hand keeping her head from lolling. He can’t stand all night like this with her face in his palm.

Fine. He’ll carry her in. He undoes her seatbelt and when it clicks, she startles.

The sudden panic vanishes the second she realizes it’s him. She smiles sleepily. “Matt.”

Matt. Not Casey. All evening he’s been Casey aside from when she full named him earlier. Now that she’s drunk and tired, he’s Matt again.

He wonders if it’s purely accidental or if she consciously chooses when to change it up.

“How’d you get here so fast?” She asks, looking around the sidewalk.

“You fell asleep,” he explains. “Come on. Let me get you to your apartment. Can you walk?”

She nods and stumbles out of her seat. He braces her fall, laughing at how ridiculously uncoordinated she is after some tequila.

“Hey! Are you laughing at me?”

He helps her inside the apartment building, pointing her in the direction of the elevator.

“I’ve never seen you like this. It’s wildly entertaining.”

“Well, at least I didn’t accept a proposal this time,” she yawns, leaning her head into his shoulder as they wait for the right floor.

“What?” He asks.

She shrugs as the doors slide open. “A green card thing. I was drunk…didn’t marry him. Long story.”

Sounds like it. They make it to her door, Brett halfway asleep on him. He fishes her key out of her purse and then let’s them inside.

“Casey, hi?” Cruz greets from the kitchen. His eyebrows raise when he sees Brett. “Oh man, I completely forgot.”

He knows Cruz was too focused on his new girlfriend to look out for her, but still. She’s his room dog or whatever they call each other. He shouldn’t have left her alone.

“She needs to go to bed,” he explains, doing his best to pass her off to Cruz. She doesn’t want to leave his side for whatever drunken reason so they both have to get her into her bed.

Once she’s buried under a thousand blankets, he turns to Cruz. “Make sure she drinks a lot of water tomorrow because that hangover is gonna be brutal.”

Cruz laughs. “Drunk Brett might be fun, but hungover Brett is not.”

He can imagine. She’ll definitely be miserable tomorrow.

When he goes to leave, Cruz stops him. “Thank Casey.”

“Yep.”

It’s not like he was going to leave her anyway. He’s just glad she’s home safe.

4. Post 8x09

That night he and Gabby hadn’t just passed by but went straight through. They fell right into familiarity and slept together. She was his wife. She knew him better than anyone. Well, he’s starting to think there’s someone else who understands him better, but he’s not gonna go there.

The night is good, but just not as good as he remembered. He expected that cosmic pull (or whatever) but if anything, something is pushing him further and further from what he thought was his future.

There was a disconnect and when he left, it felt like closure. Gabby’s so happy in Puerto Rico. He’s genuinely glad she’s doing so well for herself, even without him. Plus, he’s happy too in Chicago with 51. His future is here.

Gabby leaves the voicemail about how she always has an opening for him, and the bitterness resurfaces. It’s a nice gesture, but it proves how things will only ever progress if he makes the life changes. They can have another night together if he goes to Puerto Rico.

He has no plans to do that.

Someone knocks on his door at a quarter to eleven. His best guess is Severide forgot his key and he and Kidd got in a fight.

They fight and make up a little too much.

He hauls himself off the couch and opens the door. He expects Severide in the door with a permanent frown and a string of curses. What he doesn’t expect is Brett in his doorway, mini dress on and perfectly applied make up.

She looks amazing. He’s always thought Brett was a cute girl. It’s a fact, but he’s starting to think she’s more than just cute. She’s shockingly hot.

“Hi,” she greets.

Did he black out and ask her on a date something? She’s clearly dressed for the occasion. God knows he’s thought about making a move, but he has no memory of doing it.

Even if he somehow lost his mind and did plan a date, he wouldn’t choose such a late time.

He must look as confused as he feels because she chuckles.

“Sorry. I know it’s late.” She looks down at her tight red dress and then back at him. “I had a date. I don’t usually wear this kinda stuff.”

So, someone else asked her out? He doesn’t remember hearing about anyone new. To his knowledge, Ryan was the last.

“You look…fancy,” he compliments. Other more expressive words are on the tip of his tongue, but he settles for fancy. It’s probably best he doesn’t tell her she looks hot in that dress.

“Late dinner. Completely disastrous dessert. Anyway, I’m not here to talk about my failed attempts at romance.”

He’s not sure why he’s relieved the date didn’t go well. He’ll analyze that later.

“Why are you here?”

He’s still confused about the events that have led to her stunning appearance at his place.

“I was at dinner, and I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, Matt,” she says so casually as if that’s not a completely loaded confession.

She can’t stand there in a tight red dress and roll his name off her lips like this and expect nothing. She was thinking about him? She was actively thinking about him when she was with a date?

“You…couldn’t stop thinking about me? “

Her eyes widen and she covers her face. “Oh my god. That came out wrong. I don’t mean…geez, I keep doing this.”

His racing heart slows a little because he misinterpreted her words. He thought this was heading in another direction. He thought he wasn’t crazy thinking something might be happening between them.

She brings her hand back down to her side. “I was worried because I know Gabby left today and I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Oh.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses. “Really, Brett.”

She eyes him like she doesn’t believe a word he’s saying. In hindsight, he didn’t sound very convincing.

“I worry no one checks on you,” she continues. “You’re this steady presence at 51 for everyone else and I just couldn’t stomach the thought of you all alone here blaming yourself.”

He leans in his doorway. Now that’s he is closer, he can smell her addictive perfume. It somehow smells like Christmas and fruit.

“Blaming myself?”

She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “For not feeling like enough. I can’t pretend to know what went down with Gabby, but I do like to think I know you. I know that she unintentionally hurt you by leaving and now she left again.”

“Brett…”

She edges a little closer and his heart rate quickens again. He’s half convinced she can see his neck pulse thumping from where she’s at.

“If I’m crossing a line here, let me know, but I don’t like the thought of you sitting here thinking you somehow failed,” she rambles.

He swallows, breathing in deep because she’s definitely doing something new to him. She’s not touching or anything, just hovering a few inches and God, he wants to kiss her.

Huh, that’s new.

“You didn’t fail and truthfully, I love me some Gabby, but she was wrong to make you feel like you’re…I don’t know, nothing?”

There’s a lingering question behind that confession. She’s not sure she’s reading his feelings right, but she’s nailing it. Somehow, she’s articulated everything he’s felt better than he could.

“You’re not nothing, Matt. If you ask anyone at 51, if you ask me…you’re pretty much everything there is.”

He’s shell shocked which doesn’t happen often. He’s good at reacting. He’s trained to be ready for anything, but he wasn’t ready for this.

For her.

She’s healing parts of him he didn’t even know were broken with her kindness and consideration. She didn’t have to leave a date to ease his pain, but she did.

She knew he’d need to hear it before he even did.

She’s standing in his door in a strapless dress that pushes up her boobs saying things he’s never heard from anyone. He’s not leering at her, of course, but he’s human. He spares a few glances since she’s so close.

He’s also only been Matt tonight. She hasn’t called him Casey once. Somehow, he’s hearing his first name from her more than ever and he quite appreciates the change.

Matt brings his hand to her bare arm, brushing his palm down her skin. “Thank you, Sylvie.”

He knows he should pull his hand away from her soft skin. A normal shoulder squeeze is one thing, but this lingering grip is another. He traces his thumb around a freckle on her forearm.

Her skin erupts in little goose bumps and he figures she’s probably freezing her ass off in that dress. “Do you wanna come in? I can get you a sweatshirt or something.”

She looks at her heels before gently easing out of his grip. When she replies, she looks anywhere other than at him. “No, that’s okay. I better go home before Foster goes on a manhunt for the guy who took me out. I told her I’d be home by now.”

Right. It’s probably best she doesn’t cross the threshold. He’s afraid of what he’ll do with a few beers in his system and her looking like that.

She’s sweet, kind and so empathetic while he’s just a mess.

“Yeah, good call. Foster with a pitchfork and torch is a scary thought,” he comments.

She laughs, wrinkling her nose. “You make a very good point.” She swipes some hair away from her face. “I’ll see you on shift, Casey.”

Casey again. It feels like the shift is definitely intentional. She’s creating distance.

He nods, moving all the way back into his apartment. “On shift.”

She waves and he unapologetically watches her walk down the hall. Once she turns the corner, he shuts the door.

[dyadhogs]

it had taken no time for him to set off, to throw caution to the wind and do what he did best. run. red sneakers tore up the ground at sonic’s feet, over the beach, the jungle, the grasslands. to the bridge that stretched over the ocean and delivered him to the edge of the mountainside. to the excavation site.

there were several sections to it, and it was interwoven in the reddish-orange rocky region. usually occupied, the site was oddly empty. something the hedgehog would have found weird had he not remembered that cliff and the others had taken a bit of a break, leaving amy to explore on her own. yeah, that was a great idea. the only good thing was that he had a vague idea of where she had set up camp, close to the cave she was exploring in a recess a mile or two from the main base.

he knew when he was in the right area, and he didn’t like what he found. items strewn about the rocky ground, the tent in shambles, clear signs of a struggle. and amy was nowhere to be found, and that’s when a real sense of worry hit the speedster. amy wasn’t one to go down easy, he knew that for a fact, and she hadn’t set off anything with her communicator, which was also bad. no sos, no homing signal. so either she didn’t need it, which he didn’t believe, or she had never gotten that chance. and he didn’t like that. 

and sonic knew standing there was going to accomplish nothing. she wasn’t here, and there was only one way to go by foot. it was the only thing he had and he wasn’t willing to waste time so he took it, off like a shot further into the ravine. his eyes were peeled for any sign, or clue of what had happened, or where his teammate was. or who had taken her.

he had only just turned another corner in the stony labyrinth when something collided with his stomach. hard. it sent him flying back, and his only saving grace was instinct telling him to curl in on himself. his quills took the impact as he hit the ground, bouncing before landing on his feet. and when he did, when he looked at his assailant, he gasped.

❝ amy? what are you doing? ❞

the pink hedgehog didn’t answer. in fact she hardly moved apart to straighten up again, hammer held in both hands as she stared…through him. something was wrong. very wrong. her jade hues were almost clouded, expression virtually emotionless. not to mention the fact she had just smacked him a good six feet for no reason. usually she would at least gloat about it if she wasn’t apologizing. yet before the speedster could form another word, he was cut off.

“she can't hear you, you blue buffoon.”

that was a voice sonic recognized, and he growled as he glimpsed around. there was no one there. ❝ eggman? ❞

despite the emptiness the scientist’s laugh managed to rise up around the two hedgehogs, eerily, with a knowing tone. “the one and only! you’ll have to excuse me if i’m not there to greet you in person. even so, i've really outdone myself this time if I do say so myself. you see, that crystal your little friend found had all sorts of power, enough that my sensors had no trouble picking it up. and once they did? i wanted it for myself.“

sonic‘s eyes narrowed, even as a realization hit him the longer he looked at his far-gone teammate. he knew something wasn’t right, and it was only then he spotted the bizarre headband that was resting on her forehead when things started to click. he didn’t recognize it, but he did know it was nothing the pink hedgehog had ever worn before, much less bought. she would never wear anything so gaudy. but his suspicions weren’t confirmed until eggman kept talking, and that was where the second realization came in. the doctor was speaking through that weird device. 

“of course she wouldn't just give it to me so i decided to put a new invention of mine to work. one i may have…borrowed from a mutual friend of ours.” there was a short pause, and sonic just knew that eggman was relishing in his accomplishment. “and of course, there was only one robot i could trust to really get the job done.”

never let it be said the doctor didn’t enjoy his theatrics, as hardly a second had passed before the clang of metal behind sonic announced said robot’s arrival. and he had never wanted to see those glowing red eyes again after their last encounter. 

❝ metal? ❞

eggman just laughed. “now let’s see how you handle your robotic duplicate. and your little girlfriend.”

with those words it was like a flip had switched, and just like that the speedster found himself nearly sandwiched between a metal fist and an equally solid hammer. had he not quite literally hit the ground, he would have been in a world of pain and the brief moment of confusion from both his teammate and metallic doppelganger gave him a chance to move out of the way completely in a burst of speed.

this was going to be a problem…

metal was one thing, always a little bit of a challenge but not something sonic couldn’t beat. even with the strange magenta glow from their chest, something he could only guess was that stupid crystal. amy on the other hand? he didn’t get long to think about that as he had to dodge another onslaught of that hammer, the ground splintering where his feet had been just a moment prior. there wasn’t an ounce of thought behind amy’s eyes as she did so, which caused a small knot in the speedster’s stomach. 

❝ amy snap out of it! this isn’t – ! ❞ the sudden impact of a metal fist to his cheek cut him off abruptly, and the speedster reeled back. far more than he should have from a single punch from metal and he let out a groan, trying to force the stars in his sight to go away. it wasn’t soon enough. pain flared in his back as the robot followed up with a kick, and once again it was quick thinking that saved the speedster from a third hit with the other metal fist. 

rolling away quickly, he only uncurled when he knew he was out of reach. yet, he had to wonder if that really mattered when his eyes came to rest on metal. and the large glow from their chest, a light that matched the crystal and bled into the machine’s eyes as they raised a hand to the hedgehog. one that soon morphed into a rounded barrel, and sonic didn’t need to know more than that as it too started to glow. 

okay, that was new…

as if he didn’t have enough problems. 

one by one the shots came, and one by one the speedster dodged them, barely. he could feel their heat on his fur after each shot, hitting the ground and walls around him. man, he didn't think he'd miss getting shot at by lasers so much. and yet the thought that he was thankful metal and amy were actually on the same side crossed his mind. at least this way amy was safe. deadly and didn't recognize him, which hurt, yes, but safe. still…

his eyes went back to his teammate, to the device she was wearing. he needed to get it off and hope that was all it took. if it didn’t…well, he didn’t want to think about that.

one quick sidestep saved him from another onslaught of shots, and another from the rapid approach of that yellow hammer. but he was stuck in the middle of the battle again, a twisted monkey in the middle as he dodged fists, kicks, hammer and attempted grabs alike. there was little to no room to attack back, and once the speedster nearly met that hammer head-on as he slipped on the grit at his feet.

then he had his lightbulb moment.

it took dodging the next fist from metal, but the opportunity was too perfect. he kicked, not to hit the machine but rather pitch dirt, dust and a few chucks of rocks into their eyes, effectively blinding them. that only left amy for a few scarce moments, and that was all sonic needed.

he took the chance. 

all it took was one flick of his wrist and his communicator buzzed to life with a blue glow. one that soon shifted and morphed into a tangible beam of energy. every time he used it, he was more and more thankful tails had figured out how to harness the enerbeams. and more thankful still that amy couldn’t move fast enough to dodge it as it whipped at her head, making easy contact with that headband and knocking it off and to the ground. 

there was a still moment that followed, and sonic found himself holding his breath as he watched his teammate stand there, seemingly frozen. until she blinked. once, twice and then rapidly as confusion flooded her face and she fell to her knees. in shock, maybe.

just like waking up from a surreal dream, she hardly registered where she was, what was happening, what had happened.

but she did register the abrupt sound of something moving fast, a clank of metal, the sound of her name…

and the gunshots.

[siphoklansan]

Introducing…. ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

backstory section: “Jun-Pa’s Lore” indented section

꧁𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐏𝐚 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐲𝐚꧂

จันทน์ผา ฉัตรชยา ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

“I look like someone you know, you say? It is simply just a coincidence.”

Height: 158 cm.

Birthday : 6 of August.

Age : ???????

Homeland : East of Scalding Sands (Attidaya)

Best Subject : ????

Club : ????

Talents : Black Magic, Ancient Magic, lullabies

Hobby : Weaving

Dislikes : ?????

Favorite Food : Larb Ped (spicy minced duck - ลาบเป็ด)

Least Favorite Food : None.

꧁𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜꧂

𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝗺𝐞𝐬: an ability to set an area in flames. The ability can only be activated with a powerful chant and complete focus. The maximum range is 1 square mile (640 acres). As the ability activates, ancient talismans are carved onto the ground into the desired shape that Jun-Pa needs to burn an area. When the shape is complete, the area will be set ablaze.

꧁𝐅𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐏𝐚꧂

-“She has taken a while to figure out how to add traditional patterns to my sabai. The end product is not half bad.

-“I am satisfied with how she drew my ear rings. I shall wear them with pride.

- “The arm cuffs are supposed to represent dahlias. I quite like the symbolism behind them.”

- “My limbs? I suppose they’re one of the quirks for being…dead.”

- “You look concerned for the tattoo on my neck. I shall let you guess on a scale of one to ten how much it hurt when I got them. Have you got a number in mind? The answer is 10.”

꧁𝐀𝐛𝗼𝐮𝐭 𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐏𝐚꧂

- Phew! Sorry for all the theatrics, Jun-Pa might’ve taken control a bit there😔🙏

- I’m very happy to announce the release of Jun-Pa, who is the mysterious OC that looks a lot like Siphok (they look like carbon copies of each other tbh)🥳💖

- I planned to make a big comic regarding Siphok’s lore, but due to the limited time I have and the lack of motivation, I might as well just make little snippets of the lore instead!

- But before we get into that, let’s talk a bit more about Jun-Pa since she wasn’t feeling like revealing too much about herself.

- Her name, Jun-Pa, is the name of a type of tropical plant called Dracaena loureiri Gagnep (scientific name). I just like how the name sounds and it feels quite homey because I see these trees all the time!✨

- Her last name, Chatchaya, means “victory”. The name is masculine in Thai, because it is actually her late adoptive father’s surname that she took when he passed.

꧁𝐉𝐮𝐧-𝐏𝐚 𝐋𝗼𝐫𝐞꧂

- When creating Jun-Pa’s story, I was actually inspired by a popular superstition in the northeast of Thailand about souls. It is said that everyone is born with a soul called “Kwan”and this little Kwan usually comes from the crown of our head.

*it is important to note that this is a superstition, and it is different for every household.

- The soul is known to be jumpy, especially if the person is still young. The younger they are, the jumpier the souls get. For example, when babies cry due to whatever reason like being startled, adults would say “ขวัญเอยขวัญมา“ which directly translates to “Oh soul, please come back”. The superstitions says that when you are scared or went through a traumatizing experience, your soul will basically get lost or fly away.

- For adults, back in the old times when Thai men go to war and they come back traumatized, it is said that their soul is lost, so a ceremony was created to bring souls back. The ceremony is simple, basically bringing the traumatized person around to places where they have good memories, and there loved ones would use a fishing net to scoop the air in that area as if to acquire the lost soul. There are more details to the ceremony, but I won’t go in too deep because I don’t wanna bore you all😭.

*it is important to note that it is not only men/soldiers that get traumatized, it could happen to anyone.

Jun-Pa’s case is similar to the superstition. She was an orphan that was severely abused in her orphanage, before a man decided to adopt her and call her his own.

Growing up, Jun-Pa was surrounded with martial arts and ancient magic. The man, who is her adoptive father, was a martial artist and a man who had a mind beyond his time. That said he had many great views that are considered normal today (ex: feminism, gender equality, etc.)

However, at that time, anyone who was different was frowned upon. The high elders of the section of Attidaya (where Jun-Pa and her father lived), managed to weave conspiracies on her father, accusing him of treason and practicing black magic and whatnot.

Sooner or later, her father was publicly executed right in front of her eyes, and at that moment her soul (quite literally) left her body.

At that point on, she was driven with madness and practiced many dark forbidden arts to enact her revenge. She was on the run for many years, until she publicly revealed herself to the authorities to get sentence to death like her father.

Jun-Pa’s plan was set in stone the moment she was tied to a stake. It was the moment where she revealed her unique magic. Using all her power, she managed to burn the whole section of the country alive along with her. The section is known today as “Thuli”, the place forever immortalized as ashes.

But Jun-Pa did not die peacefully. She couldn’t be reborn or go anywhere, getting stuck in limbo. In order to be reborn, she must find her lost soul.

As if luck was on her side, her soul somehow managed to find itself in Twisted Wonderland. Jun-Pa was surprised to see that her soul had taken a physical, human form; for it must’ve been reborn as a new being in another world.

The soul is, you guessed it, Siphok!

As for how Jun-Pa is going to get her soul back, we’ll have to see how the story will unfold in the future✍️✨

[historical-fin-blog]

The Confident Mind

Confident Mind

I checked out this book because I thought it might help me be more assertive in my communications. Instead, it was about how to have confidence in various abilities (mainly sport and military, but he also tried to apply it to the business world). I still gleaned some good insights from it. Mainly, you can change your narrative about yourself, your abilities, the challenges you are facing, and believe in yourself, and that actually does make a provable difference in performance.

One that stuck with me is that one can change the narrative to be comfortable being nervous. Feeling anxious, butterflies, keyed up, is not something to fear, but actually something useful, you can instead be excited about that feeling, knowing it means you are ready to perform.

Constructive Thinking in the Past

Building your top 10 list: 

You can select which inputs do and don’t become part of your memory

If you were once a big fish in a small pond, moving to a big pond is just going to let you grow bigger

Focus on your chosen field, not just ‘everything’ but everything you have accomplished in your own life qualifies 

Write down the top 10 times you really did well at your chosen field, eg: hit a hole in 1 on the 4th hole at Kinloch course in 1995

Attach a photo to it showing doing what you love or a meaningful accomplishment you are striving for 

Top - my name and the name of the team I am on or hope to join. Photo of making it happen, or immediate goal. Top 10 list. Then write down goal as a final reminder

Reflect on best part of each exercise, class etc

Constructive Thinking in the Future

I am right for this, I run a Xm mile

My steps are smooth and steady. I enjoy getting my heart rate up. 

Don’t ask yourself if you are being unrealistic with your self talk. Ask yourself if you are doing what helps you and your team right now. Being realistic’ is often an excuse for not trying your best now. It is realistic to say that you’ll make the free throw if you ever have done it, and it is just as valid as saying you won’t.

Write an affirmation or 3 (present tense, positive words, ) - ‘I love running the 1000’ and repeat it dozens of times or more each day - self fulfilling prophecy. Either ‘notebook nightcap’ where you write it several times in a notebook before bed, OR the ‘open door’ where you say it to yourself every time you walk through a doorway. Feel yourself doing the action or the sense of accomplishment an outcome would bring.

‘I am interpreting the menu and ordering dinner for my family group in a French restaurant’

‘I am buying the fruits and vegetables that I want from the green market by clearly and naturally communicating with the attendant.’

‘I enjoy chatting with locals and learning from any gaps in my vocab.’

Be able to believe the improbable for the long term, save the realism for the hour by hour activities 

Don’t question yourself on game day, ask the questions as you prepare, and then on game day, it is statements only. I am prepared, I have done enough… 

The next section was about quieting the mind to be ready to perform on those game day times. Like with meditation, it comes to the breath. He suggests a different specific kind of breath using the abs to push air out and then expanding the belly to pull air in. Huberman likes the physiological sigh, a double breath in followed by an exhale. Supposedly that one helps oxygenate you better. For stress though, both kinda serve the same purpose, to bring your attention to your diaphragm, a specific action, and crucially, what you can personally control.

[severus-snaps]

thanks for the additions!! I have some additional thoughts (ofc) on some of your points and this is so much fun to discuss:

it's not enough just to see someone's thoughts - you must be able to interpret them too, ie. have a good understanding of that person and what those thoughts might mean to them, what that person's perspective is etc. In short, you need to be empathetic enough to understand a person in order to interpret their thoughts. This also indicates to me that Snape was both a very good judge of character...

I think Voldemort absolutely had that sort of skill to know how best to 'read' (and manipulate) people; he could be charming, and popular, and offered different things to different people - and withheld different things from different people as punishment (there's also a really good meta somewhere, I think it was this one but I've not recently read the whole thing, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters as a sort of cult rather than a political movement that I think discusses this). I feel like this ties into how he uses Legilimency, but I'd need someone with a brain that cares for more than just Snape to verify if I'm on the right track

I did also have a (longer bit of) section that I lost somewhere about Voldemort's handicaps in terms of not understanding love and empathy, which I think really ties into this in terms of what Snape would've chosen to present, because...

as you say, it shows that Snape has exceptionally good theory of mind. He'd know what to present, and how best to present it, because he knows how Voldemort might interpret it in turn (they'd be absolutely brutal in a game of chess)

unrelated to everything, but just had a moment where I imagined Ron and Snape in a "Snape lives" fic playing chess and Ron insists on wearing mirror sunglasses because he's convinced that Snape's cheating by using Legilimency but Snape's actually just really good at interpreting what people might do

Sort of related to that, I've decided this is a mix of learnt skill, pattern recognition, or hyperempathy, as I headcanon Snape as autistic and he clearly lacked such skills as a child if his early interactions with Lily and the others are anything to go by

And sort of related to that, I feel that Voldemort might have been the one to teach Snape. We know he applies for a Spy position at Hogwarts on Voldemort's orders, we can infer that he kept a reasonably low profile until then. So why wouldn't the world's greatest Legilimens, in line with this, teach his potential spy (one with a slight natural ability at Legilimency and daddy issues a mile wide to exploit for the low low cost of light praise) how best to gather information covertly? Which leads me to this:

legilimency is often denoted through the description of a character's eyes boring into another's. This would indicate that Snape read Harry's mind well before he taught him Occlumency

Firmly agree; this is my favourite on the topic, and I keep thinking about Snape's glimmering eyes in this context

However, we're lead by the narrative to think that Legilimency can be perceived, because the thought being observed floats to the front of the person's consciousness - which happens sometimes, but not others. I don't have anything interesting to say about this, other than: ???

I also don't have anything interesting, but I do have a theory: minds are like onions, and they have layers

I'm joking, but only just. Legilimency can be, I think, done to different depths. (the following titles are just for effect, I haven't given it much thought before writing it so bear with)

Skimming: very surface level skimming of the mind, just a vibe check (how Snape does in early books with glimmering, boring, or otherwise described "meeting" eyes, how Dumbledore's 'twinkle' sometimes). This has no discernable effect on the person being skimmed, other than Harry gets the uncomfortable idea that Snape can read minds and that Dumbledore knows more than he should - but Harry doesn't, as far as I can tell, take this any more seriously than the average person would

'Hearing': When Snape and Harry 'duel' I don't remember there being any indication other than Snape repeatedly blocking Harry's spells that Harry could tell, or feel it, exactly - but Snape knew what words (or intentions?) were forming anyway. I like to think that if thoughts are especially clear - incantations being a good example, as they require some focus - then words can 'pop out' and be "mind read" (which Snape would hate being called that :P). I also like to headcanon that Snape, as part of his natural ability, sometimes heard people's insults even when they were left unsaid, if the thought were salient enough. Imagine in school all the girls thinking you're ugly and you can hear them even when they haven't said a word, or like a Pottermore (I think) article said he could feel Lily's budding attraction to James even if she never said (Also: "The intensity of (Snape's) gaze made her blush." makes me think it might have happened there) :'(

Invading: Snape casting Leglilimens with his wand during lessons, but only catching glimpses of Harry's life/memories. Harry can sense it, feel it, he hates it. There's a physical reaction, Harry reacts without meaning to, full-bodily, to defend himself - but it might not have been as upsetting if it were anyone else; he hates Snape, and Snape hates him, so it was probably a worse experience than usual, because...

Seeking: Snape summoning the mental image of Advanced Potions. Harry didn't react nearly as strongly physically as when Snape was "invading", but to me this is more invasive than passive viewing of memories. It's more intentional, goal-directed, and much more likely to get you into trouble. This is probably what Voldemort is doing to Snape, only Snape is sat casually at Malfoy Manor, letting him into his mind, not resisting (as such) as Voldemort does the equivalent of Googling "traitorous thoughts" inside Snape's head

Planting words/thoughts: Voldemort speaking to many minds at once, speaking to Harry, like at the Battle of Hogwarts

Planting visions: Much more complex, Voldemort planting scenes of Sirius being taken hostage in OotP

I expect you could do more with more power, like planting intentions/actions or mental torture, making things like the Imperius and Cruciatus Curses near obsolete. Loki's speech in Avengers comes to mind:

"I won’t touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you. Slowly. Intimately. In every way he knows you fear. And then he’ll wake just long enough to see his good work, and when he screams, I’ll split his skull."

Legilimency & Occlumency & Emotion

i was reading something somewhere (possibly on my binge of metas last night, but who knows) that Snape was very talented at Occlumency, but just about average at Legilimency - but I respectfully disagree, and here's a whole (3k word) accidental ramble about it, which started as an observation and devolved into how I think Legilimency/Occlumency works in the context of Snape and Voldemort, and why I interpret it differently than it being (entirely) magical dissociation and actually quite an emotion-based skill once it's more complex TLDR: I've often seen Occlumency described/conceptualised as a "shield" or some kind of suppressed emotionless state, but I discovered upon writing this that I think it can be quite a bit more complex and emotional, actually - just like Snape <3

Snape's Talents

The idea that got me rambling today went something like "Draco, who only had a handful of lessons from Bellatrix, was able to keep Snape out of his mind using Occlumency - so Snape can't have been a very good Legilimens, or Occlumency was easy to do"

And I do agree that Snape was probably better at Occlumency than Legilimency by sheer quantity of practice alone - and also that, outside of using it on Harry (and Draco) when they were up to mischief, and Snape likely wishing he could use it to work out what Dumbledore was hiding from him, Snape had no desire to see, hear, interpret or otherwise get the gist of what anyone at Hogwarts was thinking - but especially not a bunch of pubescent students, nor colleagues who liked him on a surface level but obviously were not close enough to think Something Was Up when he killed Dumbledore (which, fair in some ways, unfair in others, but I digress)

[side note: Snape can't have just not used Occlumency for over a decade before Voldemort's return, so I like to think of him and Dumbledore practicing to keep his skills sharp - although I expect that would be another 'fun' way for Dumbledore to hold Snape in chains which would make for an interesting fic]

I suspect that if Snape had chosen to, he could've invaded Draco's mind in that scene, broken through whatever defenses Draco used - but that's not a very Snape thing to do to a student, and especially not one he knows well, was a family friend of, has closely seen grow up, and probably has a soft spot for. It's very reminiscent of his conversation with Narcissa, to me. Throughout that entire conversation with Draco, Snape was trying to comfort Draco, empathise with him, get Draco to trust him, confide in him, offer support to Draco whether he wanted it or not - not further alienate him to a point where Snape couldn't help. And besides, invading Draco's mind aggressively doesn't sit very well with his vow "to the best of your ability, protect him from harm".

And as for Harry's lessons, Harry was using spells - which Snape seemed surprised, interested, and almost impressed to learn that were effective against Legilimency, which isn't surprising in itself as it's not a widely used area of magic. And since Harry had no idea that Snape (and probably Dumbledore) were 'reading his mind' for years before he learnt about Legi/Occlumency, I don't expect many people would know if Snape used it, or put up a fight using those methods - other Death Eaters probably stuck to Occluding, because it would hardly garner any favour if they cast a stinging hex or Protego at Voldemort or in a DE meeting Which brings me back to my other point as well, which was that "Occlumency possibly wasn't difficult to do". On a rudimentary level that might be true (at least insofar as any advanced magic was difficult to do - Harry was actually quite talented, e.g. casting a corporeal patronus at 13/14 or whatever, and Draco could do it after a few lessons with Bellatrix). Harry learnt almost despite Snape, because he didn't take instruction from him well and because Snape is (intentionally) abrasive in lessons (which I could go on about, since Snape couldn't really be nice to Harry when Voldemort was possibly looking through harry's eyes at any given moment - and as other metas have pointed out was another layer to Snape's rage when Harry looked at his memories). But Snape could do it without a wand, without an incantation, so he was reasonably skilled - imagine casting a full body Patronus or other impressive spell with neither a wand nor an incantation

Also we don't know precisely how long Draco had lessons for, it might have been loads and he was actually pretty good, or it might have been 3 and he was awful. But unlike Snape, who is not the greatest Legilimens of all time (that's apparently Voldemort?), it was glaringly obvious to him that Draco was using Occlumency - Snape had him sussed in like 3 seconds, and chose not to go any further for the reasons I outlined above - which interestingly he did not do with Harry, when faced with finding out where Harry learnt Sectumsempra (but at that point both Snape and Draco's life had been on the line - if Draco dies, presumably so does Snape?)

Which brings me back to Snape... How I think Legilimency/Occlumency works (sometimes)

You have no subtlety The mind is a complex and many-layered thing It is true, however, that those who have mastered Legilimency are able, under certain conditions, to delve into the minds of their victims and to interpret their findings correctly. The Dark Lord, for instance, almost always knows when somebody is lying to him. Only those skilled at Occlumency are able to shut down those feelings and memories that contradict the lie, and so utter falsehoods in [Voldemort's] presence without detection.

There's a lot to take in there, and also pretty ballsy to say to Voldemort-by-proxy (Harry), which might reduce the validity of my idea that Snape didn't want to be nice to Harry during their lessons in case Voldemort was watching, since Snape's pretty happy to give Voldemort (and the reader, more likely) a complete insight into what he's himself doing... although I expect that Voldemort has considered this, and also doesn't recognise the limits of his own power - or the extent of Snape's.

I also wonder whether the 'certain conditions' are something simple, like eye contact being made or the spell being cast, or whether there's something to the mental state of the 'caster' at the time as well, like there is with Occlumency walls/shields and being calm and empty-headed, or whether the conditions is the Occluder themselves presenting (or not presenting) some alternative things to interpret. One of the wizarding world (I think) pages says Snape trained a 'slight natural ability', so that makes me wonder more, as well, but i digress.

But my second point is this: Snape's talents weren't Occluding by total shutdown, or Occlumency 'shields' which always now irk me in fanfiction (this I'm definitely drawing from another meta but I have no idea where, so... apologies). Snape wasn't throwing up a wall in front of entire memories or thoughts, for the most part. Although I expect that between the Pensieve and Draco's example use of Occlumency, that was sometimes a function (e.g. some of the things Dumbledore told Snape to pass along, he'd have to entirely block out, alter, or otherwise adapt those memories to make it look as though Snape had passed information along of his own volition against Dumbledore's orders, or hide the fact that he'd helped Dumbledore when he was supposed to be helping Voldemort, etc).

So inkeeping with my own questionable metaphor, where Draco threw up a wall - metaphorically crumbling, last-minute, cowboy builder Occlumency where the wall would hold but you could see it very clearly and obviously; where with a lesser Occlumens the wall was nice enough, but you could see where the paint job didn't quite match up and the plastering wasn't done very evenly; Snape had the whole house set up so that you didn't know the wall wasn't there from the start, and probably had a few artfully chosen scuffs to make it seem real, or it was some kind of trapdoor under the carpet. (okay the metaphor died, but I've been watching a lot of remodelling shows lately, you get the point if you've read this far)

In another metaphor I imagine detecting a lie to be like running your fingertips along a smooth surface and finding a lip or a bump - you could then, pick at it, poke at it, tear it open. You could sense that something was being hidden, or withheld. But there were no lips or snags in Snape's thoughts; potentially Voldemort could simply not detect them, not even when he searched him openly, repeatedly, full eye contact, at the table at Malfoy Manor. Snape welcomed Voldemort into his (it's just occurred to me, but "mind palace") and Voldemort repeatedly, for years, could not tell that anything was amiss, and presumably Voldemort did this with much more ferocity (and skill) than Snape looking at Harry for 2 seconds and immediately summoning Harry's mental image of the Prince's copy of Advanced Potions Making

But it can't be down to detection alone. There's also a level of interpretation to Legilimency. So here I'm focusing on a more interesting aspect to me, which is how emotion is used in Legilimency/Occlumency. Obviously, Snape isn't Occluding all the time, and as much as I adore Alan Rickman, book!Snape was naturally a total petty, stuttering mess (love him for it) who only wishes he had Alan Rickman's gravitas, and could on occasion emulate it.

I told you to empty yourself of emotion! … Fools who wear their hearts proudly on their sleeves, who cannot control their emotions, who wallow in sad memories and allow themselves to be provoked this easily — weak people, in other words — they stand no chance against his powers!

I think this quote is interesting for many reasons I probably won't be able to connect properly and are in no particular order beyond how I thought of them

Snape is emotional here when he says it, he's angry, annoyed, upset, and it's an honest feeling, and he's obviously not devoid of emotion but can still Occlude Harry

Snape is an emotional person, much as he tries to pretend not to be, and can still Occlude Voldemort just fine even on the night he thinks he's marching to his death at the end of GoF

Much like how many other kinds of magic require lots of study and a strong emotion/will/conscious thought at the start, perhaps it become easier with experience to the point where this advice is not essential (e.g. kind of like driving, I no longer have to think about changing gears like I did as a Learner)

Snape is also talking about himself here, indicative of Snape's worldview where showing 'weak' emotions is the problem - soft emotions, vulnerability, "never tell".

"Provoke" is exactly what Voldemort does to Harry

This is Occlumency 101; Snape's teaching Harry the most basic of Occlumency - to compartmentalise, to block someone out, to throw up that shoddy but sturdy-enough wall for Voldemort to come up against, like Draco did to Snape. Harry's anger and emotion is a weakness in this basic Occlumency lesson, where Voldemort is trying to look through Harry and/or trick/provoke him; thus, the wall.

But this probably isn't the kind of Legilimency Voldemort would use on Snape (which is to see if he's lying, if his information is real, if his values are aligned, etc), and it probably isn't the kind of Occlumency Snape was doing in return, to lie or deflect suspicion or ingratiate himself. In fact, throwing up a wall is the opposite of what Snape does with Voldemort; Snape lets him in, lets him stare him down in front of an audience, all the while showing Voldemort what he wants to see. I think as well there's an element of a Legilimens 'grasping' for something, searching, "provoking", like how Snape 'grasped' for Harry's memories of Advanced Potions Making, how Voldemort appears to search Snape at Malfoy Manor - so if all Snape presents is a memory, empty, devoid of any complexity, Voldemort would question it.

In my interpretation, when Occluding, Snape displays a different type of emotional control; Complex Occlumency means you control your emotions, yes, but not block them off - Snape takes his emotions where they need to go, makes them do what they need to do, to support the interpretation he wants Voldemort to reach. He chooses to some extent what Voldemort sees if he lies outright or omits details (a well made wall, basic Occlumency), and chooses how to present it (complex Occlumency). And he does it with subtlety; he doesn't often outright lie, and there's a lot left to interpretation - in both Snape's speech (with Bellatrix) and his actions throughout the books, and presumably his Occlumency.

So I suggest that Snape, in a situation with Voldemort, must be able to "lift up" or "lean into" an alternative emotion for interpretation - the decoration around the wall, the interior design, if you will. For example, Snape couldn't tell Voldemort that he desired Lily, in a total absence of any feelings at all, without it coming across as false and thus easily detectable as a lie. And you know that when a young Snape, who's hardly made a name for himself (Snape's likely never killed, at least, and isn't especially memorable to anyone in Azkaban and is last named by Karkaroff, and other things I won't go into here) outside of overhearing half a prophecy begs for a Mudblood Order member who's the mother of Voldemort's downfall who's thrice defied him to be spared, you can bet that Voldemort will want to thoroughly find out why, so...

To me this suggests that there was a level of desire there that Snape could 'lean into', whether that desire be for Lily or someone else he found desirable to act as a kind of substitute - though given that Legilimency seems to work on mental images and memories at least in part, a memory where he desired Lily would've been useful. And I'm just using that as an example, because Voldemort would also presumably at some stage have interrogated what Snape thought of Dumbledore and Harry, and Snape would've had to lean into feelings of hatred and loathing - which he'd manage just fine for Harry, but Snape would have leant into his feelings after Dumbledore silenced him after nearly getting eaten by a werewolf and again freeing Sirius in PoA, but I digress

When Harry finally learns Occlumency (by his own admission) in the wake of Dobby's death, it's grief that helps him master it - which, for me personally, is not a detached, clear-headed feeling in any sense. It's visceral, emotional, and painful; all-consuming. It's love/grief/loss/strong loving emotion that forces Voldemort out, after he loses Sirius and again when he loses Dobby. But it's a contrast to the emotions Voldemort uses of Harry's to draw Harry out, via his fears for Sirius. But with grief, Harry's dived headfirst into feeling what Voldemort doesn't want to feel (unlike the anger), to keep Voldemort out of his mind. Whereas Snape would do the opposite, and dive right in to the feelings Voldemort would want to sense - to the exclusion of others. Would Voldemort even think to search for Snape's love for Lily, if he was first presented with something more visceral, with more negative connotations, like desire or jealousy, hurt or betrayal? These are the emotions Voldemort thrives on and can exploit, that he's familiar with, that he understands. In the context then of 'grasping' that's how I think Snape leads Voldemort down a path of believing him - by bringing honest 'negative' emotions to the fore that Voldemort understands.

this is really where I think skilled Occlumency differs from dissociation or wall-building. I think Snape would simultaneously have to dampen his 'lie' feelings and to raise the volume on the 'fitting' feelings for his chosen interpretation. My interpretation of this all stems from my experience of writing, of getting lost in music, in using those activities to "wallow" in certain feelings. Snape does not present Voldemort with his true feelings, but they are real feelings. So in that way, I feel Snape was like an artist or writer; he felt deeply, he felt conflictingly, and dived headfirst into those wells of emotion when he needed to - diving so deeply that it cuts off and hides the conflicting evidence. I feel that when I'm writing, when I'm listening to music, when I'm wallowing. And I feel a lot of sympathy for Snape, because it can feel like a real whiplash when you're midway through writing an intense scene or listening to some excellent music that really fills you up with something, it can take you to some dark places, and it's quite shocking somehow when abruptly interrupted - which would be what his life was constantly like after Voldemort's return, leaning into and shying away from/shutting down emotions and memories he didn't necessarily feel whenever he was called, and then having to return to work or meetings in that headspace, where everything feels out of touch and you're in internal turmoil. (Granted, I can snap out of it because the music or the writing is neither here nor there, really, but he'd be doing it with his own life experiences, with his own life on the line, and to repay a debt of guilt - there's a lot more emotional baggage there, and even more once Dumbledore died). And I think it would take its toll in other ways, too, which leads me to Lily...

Far from some people's cries that possessive or obsessive attraction or desire is some huge moral failing, I'd argue that you'll find a level of it in most teenagers and indeed the regular spectrum of human emotion - I know I've certainly experienced feelings of intense jealousy and whatever 'Snaters' (I'm not a massive fan of the term, but as a shorthand) accuse Snape of, whether I acted on it or not. So I'd suggest that Snape 'leant into' that for the sake of being on the receiving end of Voldemort's Legilimency. Whether Snape regularly, or actually, felt those emotions of his own free will or not is hard to say - since there's no actual evidence he did act possessive or jealous beyond the normal teenager level (and that's without addressing the fact that we didn't know how he would've ended the sentence "I won't let you -"). And I'd also go as far as to say that Snape probably, truly, had some awful thoughts (don't we all?) and so he was able to lean into some very dark and gloomy nooks and crannies of his mind, the parts we're told healthy people steer clear of acting on but also undoubtedly experience (jealousy, possession, rage, bitterness) in much the same way as a writer, artist, or musician might, to make his 'lies' and the stories he told more 'truthful' - which was why Voldemort trusted him so much.

TLDR: Snape's a man of many contraditions and very much emotional depth, and he manipulated his own emotions (likely to the detriment of his mental health) for years. But just as I, a fanfic writer, can vicariously experience the bitter resentment for a person who doesn't love me, can imagine a world where he can think those thoughts, embody them, and still not take them on as part of his identity.

anyway i don't have a conclusion, I just had thoughts

[Side note not strictly related to ANY of the above: I find it interesting as well that Voldemort's skill is apparently specifically in working out whether people are lying to him, suggesting that you could specialise even further into different aspects of behaviour. But people do lie to Voldemort (Narcissa, Snape, off the top of my head, but there's no indication of Voldemort using Legilimency on Narcissa in that moment where Harry lives - Voldemort was too elated, once again caught up in his own glory). [side side note: Harry's treatment after his 'death' does make me wonder, briefly, about Snape's own treatment when he returned at the end of GoF - public torture and humiliation, an opportunity for the other DEs to turn on one of their own to 'increase their own standing' in Voldemort's eyes, crucio to weaken Snape's defences, to check that his information and loyalty true? i get the impression that Snape shared his information with Voldemort privately, given that Bellatrix didn't seem to know much about Snape's return, but who's to say there wasn't some 'fun' beforehand, or at other points during his time as spy]

[yandere-daydreams]

Not-So-Scary Moments With The Yan. Genshin Boys.

Characters: Childe, Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, Scaramouche, and Ayato.

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Borderline Shitposting, Imprisonment, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Physical Emotional Abuse, and Slight Codependency.

Childe

“Ajax?”

He stalled in the doorway. “What is it, angelface?”

“I just wanted to ask…” You trailed off, fishing the empty glass vial out of your pocket. “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Childe turned away pointedly, dropping his eyes to the floor. Despite the dark sky, despite the raging snowstorm that’d only just let-up, he was fully dressed, his attention currently focused on his boots. “Nope. No idea. What’s perfume? Some new trend in Liyue?”

You hummed, leaning against the nearest wall. “I guess you won’t mind telling me where you’re going, then.”

“Oh, it’s uh— a mission! A big, secret mission, from the Tsaritsa herself.” He was a terrible liar, especially to you. His voice shook, he stumbled over his words, and his expression gave it all away – distracted, distant, vaguely pained in a way he couldn’t quite hide with a tense smile and a stilted laugh. “The messenger just left; you must’ve missed him. It’s very, very important, and very covert, so don’t ask me anything about it.”

“The Tsaritsa assigned you a mission personally? Out of all her harbingers, she came to you?”

“What can I say? She picks favorites.”

“And she sent out a messenger in the middle of the night, during one of the worst snowstorms of the season, to your cabin in the woods, miles out from the nearest village?”

“Happens all the time. You’ll get used to it, in a few months.”

“He came, told you everything you need to know about a mission so important you can’t tell me anything about it, and left while I was in the bath? Three rooms away? Which, by some miracle, was just far away enough for me not to overhear your conversation or notice we had guests at all?” You paused, taking a step closer and crossing your arms. “And none of this has anything to do with the fact that your breath smells like Inazuman Sakura Bloom?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again just as quickly.

“You were taking so long, and you locked the door, and—” He slumped forward, pouting. “It smelled so much like you. I thought I could get away with a sip, but I didn’t realize the bottle would be so small, and I didn’t know when you’d come out, and I knew it’d burn a little but I didn’t think it’d actually hurt that much—”

“Do you want me to walk you to the healer?”

“Yes, please.”

Zhongli

“Dearest.”

No response, predictably.

“My love.”

Silence, utter and complete.

“Darling, light of my life, precious and only gem of my heart,” He sighed, knocking softly. “Please, open the door.”

You didn’t move, doing your best to keep your voice steady, monotone. “Section D, Clause IIII, Item 2.”

There was a moment of quiet, followed by a slow, agitated exhale. “But I am your husband.”

“I am married Morax, Lord of Geo, God of Contracts. I don’t know anyone named ‘Zhongli’.” A useless point of contention, but one that was easy to dig your heels into, to grasp and hold onto and refuse to let go until his annoyance bordered on anger, until you were on the precipice of earning something more dangerous than his irritation. It was petty rebellion, more a reminder of your stubbornness than any meaningful show of defiance, but after spending so long by Morax’s (now Zhongli’s, you supposed) side, you’d learned that nothing frustrated him more than being forced to play by his own rules. “You were the one who insisted that I never share my bed with anyone but my rightful, legal husband. I’m sorry you didn’t take the time to consider the weight of your demands.”

“You’re being—” A low growl, soft and throaty. “You know very well that ‘husband’ is a situational title, and I’d still technically be considered—”

“What's that? Did you die and come back as the God of Technicalities—”

There was a sharp, sudden crack from somewhere above your head – a scaled, taloned fist breaking through solid wood like damp paper. You stepped back, clasping your hands in front of you, preparing to plead innocent, but the harshness of his scowl as he tore down what was left of the ill-fated door stopped you from voicing your naivety.

“I think,” He said, taking you by your robes, his glare only growing more bitter at the sight of your beaming smile. “it’s time that we re-assess the terms of our contract.”

Diluc

A sharp inhale, followed by an airy, hitched sigh. His back arched, briefly, then he bent forward, bracing himself against the mirror, resting his forehead against the glass. He tried to breathe, but it was shallow, hitched, more akin to a gasp than anything else, anything more substantial. He was flushed, his pale skin tinted red, and when he tried to straighten himself, to regain his dignity, he faltered quickly, failed even faster, his knees nearly buckling as he struggled to hold himself up, despite everything.

You loosened your grip on the corset strings. “…are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” He snapped, barely glancing in your direction. “Keep going. I only have a few minutes before I’m supposed to be downstairs.

Right. You could already hear distant voices from the first floor of his mansion, soft music playing just loudly enough to cover the sounds of whispered conversations and aimless footsteps. You weren’t sure what the party was for, or if it was actually a party at all and not a gala or a banquet, but you knew better than to pry for details. Asking would only make you want to go, and that’d only bring on another lecture, another scolding, another day kept at a comfortable distance from every other creature with a pulse, lest you allow yourself to be swept out of his oh-so-suffocating embrace. It was better not to try. It was better not to get your hopes up.

It was better not to wonder why you still had to help him get dressed, despite knowing you wouldn’t be leaving his bedroom for the rest of the night.

Mistaking your silence for confusion, he went on, bracing more of his weight on the mirror as he spoke. “It helps with—” A pained groan as you tugged, followed by a string of muttered curses, each more unbefitting than the last. “Fuck, it helps with back support. Have you ever tried to lift a claymore?”

“Would you ever let me?”

“When Teyvat freezes over, maybe.” One last pull, more forceful than it absolutely had to be, then the final knot, a simple bow just over the small of his back. He took a second to gather himself, to roll his shoulders back, to pull his coat on and check his reflection before starting towards the door, leaving you trying futile to rub the deep, stripped indents out of your palms. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Can I assume you’ll still be here to lend a hand?”

“I’m more than willing to take another stab at choking you half to death, if that’s what you mean.”

“I can only hope you succeed.”

“What?”

“What?”

Kaeya

He was later than he usually was, tonight.

By the time you head the door to his apartment unlock, it was already well-after midnight, hours past when he said he would return. You were perched on a loveseat, your back against the arm and your attention flickering half-heartedly between the novel in your hands and the window carved into the farthest wall, just big enough to provide a modest view of Mondstadt’s residential district. The streetlamps were just starting to burn out, windows dimming before going completely dark, and if you looked closely enough, if you stared long enough, you could make out figures, knights making their scheduled patrols, drunkards stumbling home from bars and taverns. You could see stray dogs wandering through alleys, hounding shopkeepers for spare scraps, and crystalflies circling lazily around the city’s tallest spires.

You could pretend Kaeya hadn’t already found you, that he wasn’t already stumbling towards you, struggling to keep himself on his feet. It took you a moment to process why his grin was so crooked, his eyes so glazed-over, his laugh so erratic as he tripped and fell to his knees in front of you, his face soon buried in your lap. When you finally reached your realization, it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Oh, Barbatos.

He was drunk.

Again.

And happy about it, too, judging by the way he nuzzled into your thighs, how he chuckled as you placed your book to the side and raked your fingers through his hair, tilting his head back, letting him lean into your palm and remember how to use his tongue. “Pretty baby,” He slurred, an arm wrapping around your calves, forcing himself that much closer to you. “Did you— Do you know that I love you?”

“Of course. You never talk about anything else.”

“And you know that I miss you, whenever I have to leave. You're all I ever think about. I’d open you up and crawl inside you, if I could. Live just underneath your skin, so we’d never have to be apart.”

Grisly, but not unexpected. Intoxication certainly made him more honest, but sobriety had always been something he only grudgingly subjected himself to, and you were no stranger to his visceral declarations. “I’m aware.”

“And?”

You glanced towards him. He was facing you, his expression hopeful, his visible eye bright. “…and?”

“And you love me too, right?”

You could’ve said no. He wouldn’t hurt you for it – he was a lot of things, but he wasn’t sadistic, wasn’t the type to maim what he aimed to covet. He’d be dejected, crestfallen, and he’d spend a few hours locked away with a cheap bottle of wine and only come out when he thought you’d fallen asleep, when he thought he could slip into your bed and hold you close without leaving himself vulnerable, open to attack. He thought he was above you, above your misery, above caring whether or not you returned his feelings, and in his current state, it wouldn’t take much to drag him down, to leave him sobbing in your lap, to prove that you hated him just as much as you'd always claimed to. You could’ve. You wanted to. He would’ve deserved it.

But, you didn’t.

You wouldn’t. Not tonight. Not when it was already so late, and you were already so, so tired.

Idly, you carded your fingers through his hair, raking your nails gently over his scalp. He grinned, in response, drinking in your affection, your gentleness. Acting as if you’d never dream of showing him anything else.

“Right.”

Xiao

“Is it done?”

“No, Xiao.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Xiao.”

“It looks done.”

“Well, it’s not.” The water was still boiling, the ingredients only just beginning to meld together in the pot, but trying to explain that to him was useless, a lecture delivered onto deaf ears. His scowl deepened, but he kept his hands on the countertop, his narrow gaze on to steam rising from the pot. “When was the last time you cooked something?”

“Cooking is a mortal pastime. Such indulgences are unnecessary for Adepti.” You could’ve figured that out on your own. It’d taken you weeks to convince him to add a decent kitchen onto his abode, another month to coax him into bringing you something other than withered flowered and bitter herbs to actually use in that kitchen. Even now, you could tell he was hesitant, reluctant to let you use a knife or let you get too close to the open flame. Honestly, you were surprised he’d kept as much distance as he had, resigned to pressing himself against your side rather than latching onto your waist and peering over your shoulder like some overprotective, hyper-vigilant bird. “Is it supposed to be doing that?”

“How long, Xiao?”

“Several centuries.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, then batted his hand away as he reached for the bubbling water. “Be careful, alright? You might get yourself hurt.”

“You might. I can’t afford to be so fragile.”

“Whatever you say, oh great and mighty Alatus. Just try not to touch anything while it's still hot.” You pulled away, drawing back just far enough to lay your spoon over the rim and kiss his cheek – a small gesture of affection, fleeting and unsubstantial, but enough to keep him content and distracted while you moved to a cabinet along the opposite wall, to your meager supply of spices. He was stubborn, but not impossible, and with enough time, with enough promises and pleas, you could let yourself hope for something more, something less controlled. Fresh vegetables, exotic fruit, smoked meat and prime cuts of fish. A garden, even, if an adeptal realm was capable of that, if his hidden sweet tooth proved to be linked to his sparse sense of generosity—

Metal crashing against tile, water sloshing out and spilling onto the floor. A sharp cry, then a low growl, then your name called out, drawn into something cloying, something apologetic.

If you didn’t throttle him, first.

Scaramouche

“How did you get in here?”

You turned the object over in your hands, touching it with care, but doing what you could to show it as little reverence as you could. A ceramic heart, made of rough clay and painted sloppily, the red already peeling away around the harsh edges. You could remember buying it from a child’s stall in the commercial district, having the agent Scaramouche sent to keep an eye on you pay double the listed price, but you could’ve sworn he’d broken it, crushed it under his heel as soon as he’d found it – or told you he had, at least. You were sure. His threats tended to blend together until you couldn’t remember if you’d be caned or collared for refusing to let him rest his hand on your thigh. He could’ve been talking about something else. He could’ve been lying.

“The door was unlocked.” You brandished the heart, flashing it across his line of sight before returning it to its designated spot on his desk. On his desk, of all places. If you’d found it in the back of his wardrobe or lying on some over-crowded table in a room he didn’t frequent, you would’ve figured that he’d forgotten to get rid of it, set it down somewhere and didn’t deem it worth the effort of destroying. He received guests in his office, spent long hours discussing convoluted plans with minds just as twisted as his. You couldn’t imagine what it would've been like to sit across from the Balladeer, dark and sadistic and feared, and his little clay heart. “I didn’t realize you still had it.”

“My beloved brat isn’t exactly showering me in gifts.” The words were dripping with something vile and sardonic, too cynical not to make you cringe and turn away, eager to look at anything that wasn’t his unabashed sneer. “Is it so strange that I’m willing to take what I can get?”

You didn’t respond, not to that. Anything you might’ve said would only feed into his distorted perspective. “Do you still have the note?”

It’d been short, simple, the ink stolen from his personal collection and scrawled across paper you’d torn out from one of your books. ‘So Scaramouche might finally have a heart’, or something similar enough, a cheap stab at his past and his cruelty. You could’ve tried to be more clever, to come up with something more cutting, but you hadn’t expected it to matter, hadn’t thought you’d ever have to remember it again.

“Of course not. What kind of idiot do you think I am?” Needlessly cruel, but what else had you expected? He’d never been one for flowery language. “I’d be the laughingstock of the Fatui. Your behavior puts my authority in enough peril already.”

“Ah, poor thing. I didn’t realize my imprisonment was so inconvenient for you.”

“Greatly so.” He moved, stepped past you, allowing his fingertips to brush against your arm. You allowed him too, despite your better judgment. “If I had any sense, I would’ve tied you up and thrown you into the deepest trench I could find ages ago.”

“I’ll be glad I caught the eye of such a fool, then.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Ayato

“I have an assignment for you.”

A gloved hand splayed over your collarbone, your chest, pushing you back, forcing you against the stone wall. He was close, too close, his body pressed against yours, his lips ghosting past your ear as he leaned forward, closing what little space between the two of you might’ve ever existed.

“I’d hate to ask anything of my favorite little assistant, but I’m afraid it’s of dire importance.”

Your eyes darted towards the entrance of the alleyway, towards the people walking past, unaware of what dwelled in the shadows. It was unlike him to try something like this in broad daylight – in the privacy of his chambers, perhaps, or the darkest corners of his estate, but not in public, not somewhere as crowded and as open as a marketplace. He’d never been one to hold his reputation in high regard, but he liked to keep his cards close to his chest, to limit his affection to wistful glances and chaste glances pushed into the backs of hands, nothing so unveiled, nothing so blatant. Nothing so telling, certainly.

“You see, I’m desperately in need of a favor, and I’m afraid you’re the only one I can turn to.” His fingers slipped beneath fabric, his mouth fell to the edge of your jaw, and you felt warm breath fan over your skin, the faintest hint of teeth against flesh. “I’m just not sure if I can turn to anyone else with my burden. You’ve always been so kind, and so patient, and—”

“For the Shogun’s sake, Lord Kamisato,” You cut in, planting your hands on his shoulders, pushing him away. “If there's another salesperson you want me to talk to, all you have to do is ask.”

Immediately, he deflated. “She’s just so—”

“She’s pushy, and you can never turn her down. I’ve seen you speak to her, my lord.”

“And she always asks—”

“She always asks about your day, but you don’t know how to answer, and you’re afraid you’ll start rambling. I’ll take care of it, my lord.”

He fell against you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you so much. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

“Pray you never have to find out, my lord.”

[frostedfaves]

Naive (1)

Masterlist

Pairing: demon!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: Of all the humans Wanda has met, you’re suddenly her favorite.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, dark!fic, demon things™️ (be warned that this shit will get much darker in the future), subtle hand kink (don’t @ me)

A/N: special shoutout to the anon that inspired this fic series, I hope you enjoy this weird combo of AOU x IW Wanda. also if you have any previous knowledge of demons, throw it out the window before you read this because I guarantee that things will not add up here lmao

-

Wanda’s favorite thing about interacting with humans is her effect on them.

Walking through a crowd is fine. She’ll brush a few shoulders and rattle a few unsuspecting adults, flash solid black eyes at kids that either stare or scream. It’s temporary and brings a bit of fun to an otherwise dull day.

The real joy comes from direct contact. Wanda travels miles away from her apartment building, choosing different stores, restaurants and cafés just to keep things interesting. A new cashier each time. She’ll have an air of friendliness about her that isn’t exactly fake; she finds most humans to be charming, despite their fragile minds.

“Will that be all?” Roy--according to his name tag--asks with a grin and Wanda nods in response. “Okay, your total is $21.14. You can just swipe or insert your card in the machine there.”

Wanda inserts her card carefully, complimenting the decor as she waits for the transaction to be completed. After returning it to her wallet, she flashes a soft smile at Roy as he hands her the receipt, purposefully brushing her fingers with his. As his skin makes contact with one of her rings, she notices the goosebumps rising along his arm and hears his breathing pattern change.

“Roy? Everything alright?”

She hears the concerned voice of a coworker as she makes her way to a table to wait for her meal, already seated by the time Roy coughs in an effort to collect himself.

“Yeah, just feeling off I guess. I’ll be fine.”

A chuckle falls from her lips as she watches the poor cashier attempt to return to his previous state of mind, finding the urge to smile and wave when his eyes cut over to her. His voice trembles when he calls her name and he stands as far away as possible when she approaches the counter to grab her order.

“Thanks for everything, Roy.”

Sensing that he’s startled enough without it, she keeps her other tricks hidden in her sleeves and simply walks away, holding her laughter until the doors close behind her. A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

The next day brings Wanda to a bookstore around lunchtime. She takes a minute to browse the aisles, taking an exceptionally long time lingering in the section harboring books on angels and demons. The stereotypes amuse more than upset her like they used to in the beginning.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Wanda turns to make eye contact with the employee behind her, about to ask a question for the fun of it when a laugh catches her attention. Her gaze redirects to the café counter straight ahead, and a warm feeling washes over her when she hears the laugh again.

You’re genuinely entertained by the elderly woman purchasing a bagel with exact change, and Wanda manages to catch the end of the conversation as she draws near.

“Safe to say, I haven’t worn the blouse since that day.” She bids you farewell with her bagel and receipt in hand, eyes twinkling as she observes Wanda on her way past. “You have such bright and beautiful hair, dear.”

“Thank you,” Wanda responds with sincerity, attention locked on you while approaching the counter. “Hi.”

“Hey,” you greet her with a voice much calmer than the one you use with most of your other customers. “What can I get you today?”

You watch the orange haired woman turn her head to study the items behind the glass, taking the time to do your own inspection. You admire the dark red jacket that covers most of her torso, gaze lingering on the multiple rings hugging her fingers that seem to be smoothing nonexistent wrinkles in her dress, almost in a nervous fashion. It brought you a bit of comfort, assuming that she was affected in the same way.

“What do you recommend?”

“Oh, well…” You walk over to open the glass case from your side of the counter, naming each item as you grab it. “I usually have this pretzel that’s stuffed with spinach and cheese and this brownie. I can heat both of them for you, if you’d like.”

“I would love that,” Wanda responds in a grateful tone, placing a bottle of water on the counter after taking it from the fridge. “And I’ll also have one of these incredibly overpriced waters.”

You begin her order with a laugh, and she watches you ring everything up with the speed and expertise of a seasoned employee, wondering how she’d gone this long without running into you. The total price is brought to the digital screen just before her card is inserted, and she takes the time to quickly slip her rings into her pockets while you’re taking the pretzel and brownie over to the miniature oven. The last thing she wants to do is scramble your brain before she even gets the chance to explore it.

“Here’s your receipt,” you announce while giving Wanda the slip of paper, your eyes lingering on her hand for a moment before looking at her again. “Your food should be ready soon.”

“Okay, thank you…” Her sentence trails off as she searches for your name, the letters rolling off her tongue with ease when she finally locates it on the apron covering your chest.

“You’re welcome…” You trail off in the same fashion and she catches on quickly.

“Wanda.”

“You’re welcome, Wanda,” you repeat as you hand her the water bottle before she can walk away.

Less than two minutes later, you approach the table she’s taken over with two small ceramic plates and a sheepish grin.

“I should’ve asked if you were going to stay a while, but I can grab some bags if you need to go.”

Wanda shakes her head with a laugh as she takes them from you, startling you when she doesn’t react to the excessive heat radiating from the dishes.

“This is perfect.”

She takes her time with eating, and your attention is drawn to her between customers, grateful that she’s too busy with her phone to notice your stares. On the other hand, Wanda’s mind is filled with thoughts of you. What you look like when you think she can’t see you glancing over, what you smelled like when you were close. The nerves, the kindness, the desire to learn her name despite her being just another customer to you. She knows that you noticed her missing rings, but she’s already prepared with a cover story. A two minute conversation has her dying to pick your brain more, learn your habits and become more familiar with your body, beyond a simple brush of your fingertips. She already wants you to herself, just the way you came, without her interference for now; that’ll come later.

A good meal with a side of human interaction, her absolute favorite.

-

Despite Wanda leaving an hour before your shift ended, she lingers in your thoughts on the bus ride and walk home. You find yourself recalling her kind smile, fidgeting fingers and the scent of her perfume when she passed you on her way out, and you’re so deep in your memories that you end up colliding with your apartment door.

“That’s not going to get you inside any faster, dear.”

Your cheeks burn as you face Ruth for the second time today, the first time being earlier when you sold her a bagel.

“I know, Ruthie,” you respond sheepishly as you pull your keys from your pocket. “Is everything okay? You’re usually in bed watching a cowboy show by now.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I could talk to you.” She checks to see if the hallway is empty before opening her door and waving you over. “Come on, quickly.”

You scurry into the apartment behind her, taking in the scene before you while she locks the door. Having visited her before, you know she keeps the television at a higher volume, but it seems louder than normal.

“I know I might seem like I’ve lost my marbles, but I wanted to warn you about that woman you saw today....The one with the bright hair.”

“You mean Wanda?” you question, eyes widening when she nods. “Warn me about what?”

“There’s something off about that Wanda, if that even is her real name.” She snatches her arm out of her robe and brings it closer for you to see. “I’ve had these chills since I brushed against her earlier. Something’s not right with her. How do you even know her name? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assure her as you help her slip her arm back in the sleeve. “I only know her name because we were having a friendly conversation and she used mine. I was just being polite to someone I’ll probably never even see again.”

“Just be careful,” she pleads as you head toward her door again, and you offer your best attempt at a relaxed smile.

“I’ll be fine, Ruthie. Get some rest, okay?”

You hear her lock the door behind you as you make your way back to your own apartment, rushing through the process of unlocking the door and securing it once you’re inside. As much as you don’t want to let Ruth get you worked up over a stranger, you can’t help thinking about the odd little things you noticed earlier. 

It isn’t unusual for someone to linger after buying food or drinks from your counter, whether they have homework or even just a phone to keep them busy. Wanda seemed to be waiting for someone the entire time, and you remember hoping that she wasn’t on a date, despite not wanting her to be stood up. But she simply slid her phone in her pocket and departed with a friendly wave as if nothing had happened.

You especially remember her waving at you with those ringless fingers, and wondering silently where the intricate jewelry had disappeared to. Obviously you just assumed that the rings were tucked away on her person and not dumped in the trash, but she doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up on her accessories in the middle of the day. Part of you--a part that you didn’t dare to address--wondered if she’d emptied her hands to send you a subtle sign. No, that can’t possibly be it.

Sleeping proves to be difficult with so many unanswered questions floating about, but you eventually give into the act. A few hours later, you peel open your eyes when you think you hear something in the room. The digital clock that sits on your bedside and serves as an alarm and occasional radio reads 3:34am, and you’re just about to close your eyes again when you hear another sound. You raise your head to turn toward your closet, and a scream is trapped in your throat as you catch sight of a figure in the shadows.

The next time you wake, the sun is out and your alarm is blaring on the nightstand beside you. Your gaze flickers over to the closet as you reach out to silence it, your heartbeat dropping slightly when you don’t see anything other than clothes. Deciding that you must’ve been dreaming, you shake away the fearful thoughts and head to the bathroom to start getting ready for another day of work.

The only thing you haven’t decided on yet is whether you want to see Wanda again.

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[myezblog]

Kinn Porsche as a series as a story, not couple dynamics

@seannwhite

@hellolimitless

I compeltely agree with both of your posts!

As more episodes go by, and one keeps the actors at bay and their romance, what has this series given us in 9 weeks? Mafia heir meets a guy, who gets recruited as a bodyguard, and in 9 weeks they are now banging each other! Has the story progressed or given us anything beyond that?

There is ZERO depth to mafia background, ZERO depth to action scenes (this for me is the most dissapointing section because filmania teaser had kickass ninjasque fight sequence.. and i hate it because this director is supposed to be known for his fight scene.. and i don’t know if BOC interefered or iQYi.. but the same director cannot go from kickass fight in filmania trailer to a ridiculous parody of some cheap action choreography from a low budget run down film). The best fight sequence until this date is Apo’s alley fight in ep 1 when saving Kinn the first time.

Is there any build up of Major Vs Minor -> No not really. It is limited to baby brothers being jealous of older brother (be it Vegas or Vegas’s dad)

If Kim as a character did not exist, we’d never know there are murders happening or Porsche’s parents are a thing and a plot device.. or that Porsche has / had a life beyond banging or sulking over kinn

Bodyguards are not bodyguards. Just showpieces to either babysit Tankhun (which is the only saving arc, because that is what that arc truly is) or arrive in a scene or two wearing black clothes. The ONLY person who comes close to justifying his role is bodyguard Cheng.

Who is Vegas if not a joke. Some cross over of a jealous teen X pscyhopath?

If you try to deconstruct the story, it is a mess.  If you just take it as a romance drama then it is wonderful. But, the problem is this was NEVER MEANT to be just the romance drama.. it had a certain backdrop which is lost..

*************

Lastly, I understand Mile and Apo and other actors. I do. Those guys are putting in all their effort in making scenes meaningful. I definitely give Pond credit for that. he is adamant to bring some meaning to it.

But, at the end of the day, it does feel that big wigs behind the door discussed and decided “This is a BL show. Physical intimacy between lead boys sells. We need it. But, sure cover it up with whatever.. but give us sex scenes”

****************

Nothing tangible has happened. Nothing tangible has been covered. Nothing tangible will be covered. Thank god, Barcode is 17 and max we will get is a kiss... else we would have been slapped with another trick of trade by BOC and IQYI guys

***************

But does this cribbing mean anything. No. Because, i am aware we could easily be in a situation where KinnPorsche series would not have existed at all!..

So if it is business for BOC and iQYI, then so be it. We live with we have. Atleast, at the end of the day, entertainment wise it IS NOT A BAD PRODUCT. IT IS INFACT A FAIRLY FINE PRODUCT within the constraints of its genre

[itskoolest]

mandela catalogue story thoughts

alright time for more rambles, im gonna explain my understanding of and best guesses about tmc, if anyone sees this who things i got anything wrong or who knows more, please tell i wanna know. so in 1981, the first reports of alternate encounters begin, and the first basic understanding is formed about alternates, with the first warnings broadcast. a couple years before this, a young mark heathcliff is made his "scary night" story, around the intruder, which may have been the first ever report or sighting of an alternate in any form/capacity. then, in (as far as i can tell) a seperate incident, in september 1992, cesar's mum was attacked by an alternate, and so cesar takes her to the hospital and asks mark to head over and turn on the cams. mark does so before leaving, but the alternate was still in the house at the time and followed him home, where it then sat outside his door for days until he y'know, unalived on 15 september 1992. After mark's prolonged absence from school, one of his teachers alerts the police with a voicemail, and thatcher heads over to investigate, and discovers mark's body on 21st september 1992. sometime after this, the situation with the murrays occurs which results in baby adam (would be 3 or 4) being abducted, lynn committing die and jude disappearing in one way or another. personally im running into a lot of what seems like conflicting information in/about this section so i cant yet clearly understand the timeline, but that's the result. somewhere along the line, an investigator attempts to check out the house but 'pussies out', however a volunteer is able to set up some in house cameras, though despite what we see in intruder alert, thatcher doesnt see any anomalies with the findings and so has to conduct an investigation with weaver. when they check the house out, the alternate created by adam whilst watching stanley on the tv is still there, and kills weaver during the investigation. thatcher then flees for the station, but the alternate follows him there, and assaults and assimilates him as we see in the end of 333, though thatcher doesnt seem to be physically injured by the encounter, only mentally. following this, thatcher goes into hiding in an attempt to escape the alternate, and because of this, we think everyone else assumes he is dead.

in 2007, mark's sister, sarah, who was only 3 at the time of mark's death, starts the bythorne paranormal club in an attempt to understand more about what happened to her brother. adam, now 19, joins the club as well, bc he freaky as fuck idk what the hell going on with that guy im ngl, but i think the abduction might have a part in why he's like this, and he might have been under the guise of even gabriel/false shepard/literal devil himself when he was missing, although that said he failed the toddler assessment review before this even happened so i dont think we have enough info yet. anyway, him and sarah conduct their first mission on 14-15 july 2007, in which adam makes shit get crazy and sarah decides "yk what, ill just do admin and look at results instead of getting them myself", and so adam hires jonah as his new partner. vol 2 then takes place in mid january of 2009, resulting in the death of jonah but not adam, who walks for miles in the cold so he can steal his dead friends car lmao. and i dont fully understand what happens with him and the guy at the end of 4 tbh, thats the one part i cant come up with a theory for. all i know is that he is absolutely the mandela prophet.

meanwhile, evelin looks through dave's tapes, and i think the reason dave always wears sunglasses is because they protect from the effects of the alternates interacting with those tapes. knowing that evelin wouldnt have looked at these tapes with shades, he is kinda forced into firing her,or at least not being around her too much, as she could theoretically summon an alternate to their location at any time with the wrong stimuli. however during this time, dave has been speaking with a friend named o'brien, who has effectively been opening dave's eyes to the potential wonders of life outside of chasing alternates, and because of this dave decides to basically retire from the alternate stuff. eventually he agrees to meet o'brien outside of the church, to intiate whatever post-alternate plan they had been working on, and so he phones thatcher on short notice and just tells him that he's leaving. imo this is going to be a big fucking problem for thatcher, as he doesn't know nearly as much as dave did about alternates and might struggle to go alone, with potentially only evelin to work with. oh and also there is now an all powerful being after him. either way, dave goes to meet o'brien outside the church, however to his absolute fucking horror, o'brien was actually gabriel all along, posing as a friend to deter him from learning too much about the alternates, and most importantly luring him right into gabriel's trap - despite his wealth of knowledge and experience with alternates, he still managed to follow the shepard. ok i definitely missed some detail stuff but i think this gets the majority of the important plot points, even if theyre probably all horribly wrong lmao. if anyone wants to correct me on stuff or tell me things i might not know, go ahead!

[leossmoonn]

Real Artwork [Spencer Reid]

masterlist 

pairing - spencer reid x fem!reader 

type -  fluff

note / request - “first date fluff w spencer”. ok so i got this idea from @randomlimelightxxx​ (tsym btw). this museum is fictional bc there are no museums close to quantico or in quantico so lol bear with me pls. and this is pretty short, but sweet so enjoy!

summary - spencer takes you to the museum for your first date, but the painting aren’t the thing he’s really admiring 

warnings / includes - nothing really, just a little cussing and kissing lol

————

*gif isn’t mine*

You twiddled with your fingers, looking out the cab window. You couldn’t sit still for the life of you. You were beyond nervous. You were going on a date for the first time in a few months. Not only that, but you were going on a date with Doctor Spencer Reid. The Doctor Spencer Reid. The doctor that you had always stared at during the holiday parties you had been invited to that Penelope set up. The doctor that you were too shy to say hi to, even though you were all talk. 

You were surprised, to say the least, when Penelope said he had agreed to go on a date with you. Well, more like he basically timidly asked Penelope if you were single and when she said yes, he was jumping for joy and already planning your guys’s date. But you humbled yourself with the word ‘agree’. 

You couldn’t understand why he would want to go on a date with you. It’s not that you thought low of yourself - you thought quite the opposite, actually. It’s just that you two had never had an actual conversation before. The most you’ve said to each other were ‘hi’ and ‘thank you’ when he held the door open for you once. 

Nonetheless, you were very excited and ecstatic - again, to say the least - to go on this date. 

“Alright, this is your stop,” the driver interrupted your thoughts. 

You snapped your head to her, giving her a smile. “Thank you. Have a night night.” You said, opening the car door. 

“You, too, honey,” she smiled. You gave her one last goodbye smile before shutting the car door. 

You walked onto the sidewalk, standing still and staring at the museum in front of you. For your first date, Spencer had chosen it since he asked you out first. Technically Penelope had asked you, but you didn’t mind very much. You knew that he was a shy, reserved person. He had chosen the Quantico Art Museum as the location. Honestly, you were thankful he had chosen this place. You had never been there, but you always wanted to go. And now you were able to with Spencer. Plus, any date location/idea you would’ve had probably wouldn’t have been fun or interesting, anyways.

You made your way up the steps of the entrance, adjusting your purse and the straps your tank top. For you date, you had opted out for jeans and a shirt rather than a dress since you would be walking and standing the majority of the time. You had a silk, black tank top that was tucked into your jeans loosely. You wore two-inched shoes that you knew wouldn’t give you a hard time with all the standing, but still made you look dressed up. Your coat was light-weight and more like a cardigan, but it was insulated and had better pockets than a cardigan. You hoped Spencer would like your date attire.

You pulled out your phone, seeing if you had gotten any texts from Spencer to let you know that he was here. Luckily for you, he was. He had texted you that he was in the lobby with your tickets a few minutes ago. He had given you a description of his date attire, just in case you had trouble finding him. You knew that you wouldn’t have trouble with that, though. He would be the most handsome, best dressed man in the room. 

As you went to approach the door, your hands starting to get clammy. You wiped them on your coat several times before opening the door. You stepped into the museum, smiling at the few people that were exiting. Your eyes darted around the lobby as you went through the second set of doors. As you stepped inside, your eyes landing on Spencer immediately. 

And man, was he gorgeous. 

His hair was fluffy and curly around his face. He had a little bit of scruff on his face, but it shadowed his jawline well. He was wearing a plan white button-up with black slacks and a grey tie. He had his signature watch on his right wrist, and big, excited smile on face to tie his whole appearance together. You were right, he definitely was the most handsome man in the room.

Spencer’s gaze fell on you just a few moments after you found him. And let me tell you, he was stunned. No words could describe your beauty and how you made him feel. Before he saw you, he was on edge and doubts were running through his mind. But once he saw you, he relaxed immediately. His heart was still racing a mile a minute, for sure, but he felt relieved that you came and so very lucky, too.  

You smiled at you noticed his stare, biting your cheek from smiling too hard. You began to walk up to him, the muffled sound of your heels on the floor echoing with each step. As you got closer, your heart hammered in your chest. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening.  

You stopped in front of him, deciding to break the silence. 

“Hi.” You spoke. A shy, but also excited smile lighting up your features. 

His smile got impossibly bigger at the sight of yours. “Hey.” 

You two stared at each other for a few moments, admiring each other’s appearances. Spencer was the one to break the silence with a compliment. 

“You look beautiful… stunning.. um, amazing.” 

The heat rose to your neck and your gaze on him faltered. You began to find the floor a lot more interesting. “Thank you. You look handsome. Like um, really handsome.”

“Thank you,” he smiled. “Are you uh, ready?” 

You looked back up and nodded in reply. 

“Great. Uh, let’s check in. Have you ever been here before?” He asked, getting out the tickets from his pocket. 

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go,” you answered. 

“This place is so cool. It's one of my favourite museums, besides the science museum,” he chuckled. 

You smiled at his little laugh. “Well, I’m glad I got to go here with you.”

The tips of his ears turned pink and he looked down shyly. You two walked up to the front desk. Spencer handed the man your tickets. The man scanned them, handing the tickets and two red-coloured paper bracelets. 

“Put these on so our staff know you’ve been checked in. Do you two need a map of the museum?” The man asked. 

Spencer looked to you for the answer. You glanced at him, then back at the man. 

“No, thank you. He’s been here a bunch of times, he can be the tour guide,” you answered, nudging Spencer slightly. 

The man and Spencer smiled at your reply. 

“Alright, sounds good. You two enjoy your visit,” the man said. 

You and Spencer said your ‘thank you’s’, walking away from the desk. You two stopped next to a pillar, putting on your bracelets. 

“Thank you for buying my ticket, by the way,” you said. 

“No problem. I uh, I heard that if a guy asks the girl on the first date, then he should pay,” he explained sheepishly. 

You grinned, “Ah. Well, very true.”

He smiled back at you for a few moments, admiring your features once more. You two began walking again, going to the first exhibit that housed contemporary paintings. You admired a painting of what looked like to be a crowd of people dancing when Spencer spoke. 

“This artist died when he was only 37.”

Your brows raised and you looked to him. “What happened?”

“Car accident,” he explained. “Wow,” you frowned. “How unfortunate.” “Yeah. He painted this when he was only 16.”

“Talented guy,” you remarked, looking back at the painting. 

Spencer nodded in agreement, looking back at the painting, but sneaking glances at you every other second. 

You two moved on to different sections, making conversation to get to know each other. Spencer listened to you as you talked about your childhood. As he listened, he tried to keep his staring to a normal amount, but he couldn’t. Something about you was so addicting to look at. He didn’t know if it was the way you talked with your hands, the way your lips would spread into a smile when describing a happy memory, the way your eyes would light up, too. You were just so enticing.   

You noticed his stares and tried to fight off the butterflies that were swarming in your stomach. No guy had ever paid this much attention to you before. Especially not a guy like Spencer. There were times where his stare was just burning into your side, and it caused you to stutter on your words a little. 

“S-So, um,” you spoke, trying to gather your train of thought. 

Spencer just kept staring, honestly completely oblivious to how he was making you feel. 

“So um, that’s me,” you finished off with a chuckle. Spencer smiled, “Very interesting stuff.”

“No,” you shook your head, lowering your head. “No, I’m serious. I mean, i’ve never heard of someone breaking that many bones in such a short span of time,” he teased. 

You let out a hearty laugh, nodding your head and looking back up. “Yeah, well, I was a routy kid.”

Spencer smiled at your response, turning his head back to the paintings. You let out a little breath of relief. It’s not that you didn't like him staring at you. No, you loved it, actually. It was just so unexpected and you at times you wondered if there was something on your face. You pushed your doubts away, knowing that if that was true, surely Spencer would have said something. 

You decided to make a little move of your own, though. You two went up to the second floor, stepping in the elevator. You two were the only ones in there and after Spencer pressed the number two button, you moved your hand so it touched his. 

Spencer froze once he felt your hand on his. You noticed his reaction, but didn’t pull away. Instead, you slipped your hand into his, intertwining your fingers together. You scooted closer to him so your shoulders were touching. You were looking down at the floor as Spencer was looked at you, surprise written all over his face. It hadn’t expected to be touched tonight. Especially not by you. He didn’t mind it, though, not at all. 

He felt himself relax into into your touch, leaning against your arm slightly. A big smile spread across his face as you lifted your head, looking at him. You noticed his smile and mirrored it. You two didn’t say anything, the looks in your eyes already speaking the words for yourselves.  

The elevator door opened and you two stepped out hand-in-hand. Content smiles rested on both of your faces as you went to the next exhibit. The rest of the night you two kept close like this. You were either holding hands or touching arms. You even rested your head on his shoulder once while admiring a painting of two lovers kissing and surrounded by nature. 

It was at this moment where Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. Not like he could before, but he literally couldn’t. His eyes were glued to you. You looked so cute with your cheek against his shoulder, your eyes bright and wide as you looked over the painting. Your body was warm and made him feel safe and secure in the big museum, something he rarely felt in his daily life. Not to mention, you looked great next to him. You two fit perfectly together. 

“Such a pretty piece of artwork,” you mumbled. 

Spencer nodded, still looking down at you. “Yeah. It’s beautiful.”

You looked up at, surprised to see him staring at you. Your eyes widened once you realised that he wasn’t talking about the painting, but that he was talking about you. You hoped, at least. You decided to ask him to confirm your beliefs. 

“W-What?” You squeaked. 

Spencer smiled at you, looking deep into your eyes. “I said… You’re beautiful.”

Your knees buckled and you began to fall, but Spencer was quick too catch you. His hands went around your waist and your heart started racing impossibly faster. You also caught yourself on his shoulders, your hands gripping his shirt as he pulled you back on your feet. Your gaze fell on his lips and you licked your own, imagining how it would be to kiss him. Your eyes trailed back up to his eyes, your whole body now getting warm in embarrassment. 

“Sorry. I can be pretty clumsy,” you chuckled. 

“It’s alright. Me, too,” he gave you a soft smile. 

You nodded, your eyes finding their way back to his lips. Spencer noticed and started to lean in. He had been wanting to kiss you all night and he found that now would be the prefect chance.  

You noticed him leaning in and you did the same, meeting him halfway. You pressed your lips to him gently. You kissed him, quietly moaning at the feeling. Spencer’s hands gripped your waist and your hands made their way to the back of his neck, entangling your fingers in his curl, soft hair. Kissing him felt so damn good.   

You were the first to pull away, opening your eyes and looking at his. A smile crept on your face as the realisation of what you had just done entered your mind.

“You’re a lot more forward than I thought,” you remarked. 

“Sometimes people can surprise you,” he grinned. You chuckled in agreement with his comment. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me this whole time?”

“Y-You noticed that?” Spencer asked, suddenly growing shy. 

“Well, it wasn’t very subtle,” you giggled. 

Spencer smiled softly at your laugh. “Yeah, I have been staring at you the whole night.”

“Any reason?” You hummed, running your hands through his locks. 

“Because…” his voice trailed off. He had a reason he just didn’t want it to seem corny. “Well, because you’re the real artwork here.”

You giggled at his answer, feeling your heart flutter 

“What? Was that cheesy?” He asked.  

“A little?” You nodded. “But cute, nonetheless. Thank you.”

“Well, it’s true,” he shrugged. 

You smiled brightly and leaned up to place a sweet kiss to his lips. “Well, wanna keep on admiring me while I admire the paintings, and possibly you?”

Spencer laughed, nodding his head. “I’d love to.”

————

bye bc this sucks lol

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[bittersweetmorality]

— chuuya boyfriend headcannons (sfw & nsfw)+ drabble

☾ genre: SFW and NSFW Headcannons (NSFW section is marked-- 18+)

☾ pairing: Nakahara Chuuya x GN!reader (reader is given the name ‘mommy’ in the drabble)

☾ warnings: none for the SFW– general smut for the NSFW ??

☾ w/c: 1,978 words

☾ a/n: hey lol :D as a certified chuuya fucker, i just had to.  i literally have like three other chuuya drafts that i’m currently working on.  hopefully they turn out like i want and i can post them bc :| the chuuya tag is starving.  anyway i hope i can populate it just a tad.  thanks for reading bugs !

— SFW 

lemme start off by saying that he will treat yo ass RIGHT.  ON MY MOMMA.

not to bring his trauma into this already but :| my man has major abandonment issues.  he will not do anything to jeopardize your relationship, and he honestly just values your happiness above anything else

you just know how much he cares about the fellow members of the mafia– even though they don’t requite the same amount of love that he gives them, he still loves them wholeheartedly

even dazai

little shit

his love language is definitely touch and gift-giving.  no i don’t accept criticism because i’m right

you’re telling me he wouldn’t absolutely spoil you with expensive gifts ?? mans is a mafia executive– he’s making hella bank, and he is spending it all on you

he’s also definitely a pretty clingy significant other, but good luck trying to get him to admit that :|

his life is… well… yaknow

there’s always a lot going on there..... he’s stresst

he wants nothing more than to just hold you in his arms after a long day-- especially if he just came back from a hard day at work

times like this are when he’s most clingy-- he feels like he almost lost you, and now he never wants to let you go

many, many times he’s fallen asleep like this; you’re basically suffocating in his grip as his eyelids flutter closed, either on the couch or your bed

but of course you’re not going to complain

and he’s so glad you don’t

he’s also the type to almost never explicitly say that he loves you at first, it’s simply not something that comes naturally to him

instead he indulges in his love languages profusely, and he just hopes you get the message

he’s also afraid that you’ll leave him if he says something like that, so for a long time he doesn’t :(

so when you come home to a bottle of expensive wine wrapped in an exquisite red ribbon, you know he just wants to tell you how much he loves you

eventually, of course he’s comfortable with you enough to say it, and it comes completely natural

and since he’s such a romantic, he says it every morning when you wake up, and before you go to bed without fail

he’s definitely the type to show you off too

like, as he’s having a conversation with someone, he’ll suddenly get really loud when talking about you so everyone within a three-mile radius can hear

“well, you see i would go out drinking with you tonight, but i actually have a date.  with my partner.  you know them, right?  here’s a picture i took of them a few days ago, just look a-”

also: biggest hype man

you could open a jar of jam and he’d be like “holy shit, you go babe”

nakahara chuuya kiss me rn challenge

anyway, basically he’ll love and support you no matter what

like truly you’re like a walking ray of sunshine to him

anyway !!!! DATES !!!!!!!

dates with chuuya are planned.  always.

like i SAID he’s a hopeless ROMANTIC MY GOD

he absolutely loves picking you up at your doorstep and taking you for a ride around town on his motorcycle

speaking of which, your arms wrapping around his middle and squeezing him tight as he drives the bike is literally his favorite thing in the world.  oh my god you’re going to make him melt

and i know for a fact your first kiss with him was after he dropped you off at your door when your first date was at its end

it was almost completely perfect honestly, except when your faces were just mere inches from one another, his hat bumped into your forehead and fell to the ground

baby was so embarrassed-- he went bright red and picked up his hat, basically shielding his face

he just wanted the date to be completely perfect– and it was!! until that happened

but obviously you just let out a light giggle and pulled him against you, and he quickly closed the gap between your lips

also, chuuya sleeps in

he sleeps a lot <33

that being said he loves lazy mornings

it’s well past 11, but you’re still laying in his arms– who is he to get up?? and disturb the peace??????

he will not.

also!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i can’t even emphasize this enough, but please comb your fingers through his hair

there’s a chance he might melt into a puddle on the spot and never recover but still

on the rare occasion where he’s the little spoon--

(which, speaking of which, @dazai-centric​ has a headcannon that chuuya always insists on being the big spoon no matter what, but on rare occasions he lets himself be wrapped up in your arms and THEY’RE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT.)

anyway, so on this rare occasion

where his head is basically buried in the junction between your shoulder and your neck, and you just rake your fingers through his hair softly

he dead.  dead as hell.

and ERRRRM.  kisses with him are just……… wow…………

naturally, he always wants to be the best at everything-- it’s just his personality

and kisses are no exception

he has to be the BEST

and he is

so, kisses are always so passionate and rough

okay hold on maybe this should go under the NSFW category 😐

ANYWAY!!!! 19472946/10 boyfriend

— NSFW

so rough sex is very common for y’all 😁

he likes to take his frustrations out from the day like this, and honestly you don’t complain

he definitely has a high sex drive so 😁

obviously you have an established safe-word and talk about everything before anything transpires because the LAST thing he wants is to hurt you in any way

but if you ask him to spank you he is definitely not gunna say no <3 chuuya said spanking kink

speaking of kinks

bondage xoxo

this goes both ways— he likes to tie your wrists to the headboard with rope and tie your legs down if you’re okay with it

for him, he likes his wrists cuffed to the bed

but he definitely doesn’t like all of his power stripped away by having him completely tied up

also he loves eye contact

that’s why missionary and mating press are his favorite positions <3

he likes to grab you by the jaw and make you look at him when he’s fucking you

“hey, hey, princess what did we say? if you want to cum, look me in the eyes when i fuck you, yeah?”

he loves praise and degradation equally

but if you’re degrading him don’t go too far :((

degrade slightly him while he’s on the bottom and he’s putty in your hands

now, if you praise him while he’s on top, get ready to not be able to walk for the next 3-5 business days because that’ll feed his ego a LOOOT

and he’ll just get lost in the moment because he loves you....... so much

he degrades you slightly, but only during foreplay

he calls you his little slut, or his whore

“aw, so wet for me and we’re barely getting started, doll.  such a little whore, aren’t you?”

when you actually get into it, it’s all praise from him

he wants you to know how important you are to him, how good you feel and just everything on his mind

he loses his filter in the moment awn god

“so fucking perfect, i only want you.  you’re mine.  god, you feel so fucking good.”

he loves to hear you too-- it really feeds his ego

but sometimes if he’s really had a rough day, he’ll make you gag on his finger or wrap his hand around your neck

he doesn’t squeeze too hard nor genuinely make you gag, he just likes the way your eyes are barely able to meet his because he’s making you feel so good

but ANYWAY pet names are a MUST with him

he calls you doll, sweetheart, princess, baby, dove, doll

basically every sweet name under the sun during sex

he likes you to call him sir 😁

this man has no shame when it comes to noise

like absolutely none

since he’s possessive, he wants people to know he’s fucking you, and how good he feels because of you

no one else can make him feel that way and he wants everyone to know

so he’s LOOOUUUDD,,,, especially in your ear

he likes leaning down and moaning in your ear, just to get a reaction out of you

he makes fun of you for it later on, and you have his full permission to smack that smug little smirk off his face

but the amount of times you had to stop mid-way because y’all got knocks on your door from your neighbours 😐 they’re so sick of y’all

on average, you have sex at least 4 times a week

that’s not including quickies tho

did i mention that chuuya loves quickies <3

especially when it’s in his office and he fucks you on his desk

and because he doesn’t care who hears him-- you bet your ass the entire Port Mafia has heard you

he likes to go down on you for quickies more than actual sex, and he will respectfully never decline a blowjob

because he’s a gentleman

anyway

sorry to any of y’all who have a breeding kink,,, but chuuya definitely does not

he’s so afraid of having kids

moving on

onto sub!chuuya

did somebody say SWITCH 🤨☝️

chuuya did <3

now for a long time he doesn’t really let his submissive side out because,,, it’s a really vulnerable part of him yaknow?

but after a while, and after he’s completely trusted you to take care of him like that

oh boy

bottom bitch <3

still loud as HELL

except it’s less of moaning and more of whining

he’s such a whiner

and a brat

mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink mommy kink mo

also i don’t really know how else to describe it but-- if you force him to look you in the eyes and use a stern tone

..........dead.  dead as hell.

now take this drabble as a tribute to sub!chuuya

“and why should i listen to you?  what are you gunna do?” chuuya furrowed his brows at you, as if he was challenging you.

“aw, baby,” you leaned down from your position of straddling him, caging his head between your arms.  “you still have so much to say even though your hands are handcuffed to the bed.  so bold, aren’t you?” you stroked his lower lip gently, and he whimpered lowly in response.

suddenly, you sat up, getting into a position to prepare to get up off of him completely, “but, you’re right.  what am i going to do?  i guess i’ll just leave you here for the rest of the night.  go-”

“WAIT!! NO- I-” he bit his lip to stop any more words from escaping him.

“’wait’?  is there something you wanna say, baby?” your legs trapped his once again.

“... please.”

he averted your gaze, and you reached down to grip his jaw sternly, moving his head to face you completely.

“please what?”

no answer.

“you know i can’t read your mind, baby.  you’re going to have to use your w-”

“please fuck me.” the words tumbled out of his mouth, almost too quickly to even be audible, still, your lips shifted into a gentle smile.

but you weren’t completely content with him yet.

“and what’s my name?”

“...mommy.”

“and you want mommy to fuck you, is that right?”

“...yes.  please...”

you planted a passionate kiss onto his lips, and upon breaking it, you shifted closer to his ear.

“well, i can’t say no since you asked so nicely, now can i?”

masterlist

[the-cult-of-russo]

Hi!! So i just read your billy headcanon about him and reader arguing and it was so good! I loved how thorough you were and i liked how the stages are so accurate to his personality! What do you think him and reader would argue about?

Once again, my brain is total chaos. It's my chaos and I understand it but trying to get it down for others to make sense of makes my head hurt lmao

First of all, I'm gonna do two sections. One for things that Billy would start a fight over, and one that you'd pick a fight over. Basically, things you do to upset him enough to cause a fight and then things he'd do that upset you enough to cause a fight.

If you haven't seen my other headcanon about how Billy acts during a fight, find it here. I reference his Stages of Rage in this so it'll make sense if you've read it.

Also remember this is my Billy.

-

Billy:

Billy can be impulsive and he has a temper. That being said, he's learnt really well over the years how to push it down. He's got good at stuffing his anger in a box and dealing with it another time somehow. Sometimes people wouldn't even know just how pissed he is. Yet with you, sometimes you do things that drive him to the brink of insanity and he finds it hard to deal with it.

The thing with Billy is, any negative emotion turns to anger. He doesn't know how to cope with it otherwise. And the things you'd do to cause him to fight with you don't actually make him genuinely angry. They've made him upset, hurt, or scared. All feelings he loathes to feel and they morph into anger instead.

The first thing that would cause him to fight with you is jealousy. Its not that he doesn't trust you because he does. He trusts you explicitly. But for all of his outward bravado and confidence, he has a lot of deep rooted self worth issues stemming from his childhood. Those disgusting feelings of not being good enough, of not being worthy of love or happiness, of not being wanted. All of those have been buried down inside of him yet you seem to bring them out kicking and screaming.

He's terrified of you leaving him. He finally has something special, worth every bit of pain he's suffered. He's finally found happiness. He feels like he's got to cling onto you desperately, fingers bloodied as he clutches you so hard like you might float away the second he let's up.

So when you and Billy are out with friends and you go up to the bar, he watches you with a dopey smile because he can't help it. But it gets wiped off his face the second some asshole approaches you. He knows it's ridiculous when the green eyed monster rears its head, he knows because although you smile at the man, it's tense. It's a polite but awkward smile as you shake your head and clearly tell him you're not interested.

Yet Billy's chest hurts. Because what if you see something in this man you don’t see in him? What if this guy is the one who steals you away from him? What if this is when you open your eyes and realise how worthless he is and you leave him?

He's aware his brain is being overdramatic yet he can't help the anger building inside of him. The defense mechanism of turning his pain and terror and sadness into something he can deal with.

And he doesn't want to cause a scene around all of your friends. So he goes the rest of the night being quiet and a little distant. You know somethings wrong and have a good idea what. But Billy suddenly feels miles away.

As soon as you get home, he let's it loose, unable not to. It sometimes starts with The Snark, passive aggressive comments about the man at the bar and how you should have gone home with him. 

But he gets angrier.

Because you don't get it. You tell him nothing happened and that he's being stupid but you don't fucking get the agonising fear that's crippling him because he's not good enough for you. So The Loudmouth stage begins because if he's wounded, he's gonna wound you right back.

But somewhere along the way you see through the anger. You see the pain in his glossy eyes, hear the tremor in his voice. Suddenly you hear everything he isn't saying. Instead of yelling at him that he's being dramatic or stupid, you switch tactics. You reassure him. You tell him he's the only one for you and you soothe his wounds by trying to get him to see that.

Although he still doesn't believe it, he likely never will, it does bring him back to earth. And of course he says sorry for the remarks he made but you know he was only lashing out because he was hurting.

-

The other thing that will get him to fight with you is also because of fear. If you put yourself in situations where you could possibly get hurt, even if it's something small like walking home in the dark, he flips his shit. He hates it, doesn't understand why you'd be so reckless. And while sometimes he's being overboard with it, too overprotective, he doesn't see it that way.

Billy's been through a lot, seen a lot of shit, done even more. He knows how dark this world gets. So if you ever put yourself in danger, even a small bit by being reckless, you're damn right he's gonna lash out at you. He goes through every stage of rage (except the last) if you try and defend your actions because he can't fathom the fact you aren't seeing his side with this. Why you won't let him just protect you. If he had his way, he'd put you in a bubble to keep you safe.

-

Other than that, there isn't much else you do that causes him to really fight with you. He's not petty. He's not the type to pick a fight over mundane stupid shit like you leaving your clothes all over the bedroom. Even if it does annoy him since he's such a neat freak.

Anything that you do that elicits those awful negative emotions are what gets to him.

-

You:

Billy's flirting is certainly a bone of contention. And while it doesn't happen often and it's never really serious since you two got together, sometimes it slips out of his mouth like it's second nature to him. Because it is. An example of this is at an event. He pays a flirty compliment to a senators daughter thats been eyeing him. He doesn't even know he's done it, doesn't seem phased until he sees your face. But he's at work, important business and schmoozing to do and he doesn't want you to cause a scene.

But waiting until you get home only annoys you more. It was an offhand comment and you know deep down he didn't mean it. But it still hurts you because he's with you. And you knew damn well if you did that to him he'd lose his shit. But you patiently wait until you get home, giving him the cold shoulder the whole way. And he knows what's coming. It's happened before.

But the thing with Billy is that he gets defensive if he feels backed into a corner. So when you whirl on him the second you get home, he pushes right back. He thinks you're blowing it way out of proportion and honestly, if you'd approached him calmly about it, he'd apologise right away and tell you he'd do better. But the fact you’re yelling at him has his back up so he can't seem to find it in himself to see it your way at all.

At first you don't tell him the real reason why it hurt you. You're just pissed. But as the argument unfolds you blurt out why it stung so much and his anger gets sucked right out of him. He watches you, devastation on his face as he realises you don't feel loved enough, that you think he'd go behind your back, that he'd find someone else. That notion is absurd to him, like he'd ever do such a thing when he has everything he ever wanted with you. But knowing he's hasn't shown you enough how much he cares wounds him deeply.

So he comforts you, promises he'll make it up up you and it won't happen again and he makes sure to make time to make you see just how much he loves you and only you.

-

Another thing that tends to get you upset at him is Anvil. Billy works a lot, too much most times. The amount of times he's coming home when you're already asleep or has to cancel plans with you starts to weigh on you. Building up until you explode about it.

But once again, Billy feels backed into a corner. Anvil is way more than just a company to him. It's a physical manifestation of how far he's come in life. It's proof that he's come all this way and he's done it all on his own. Anvil is like his baby.

And if it ever came down to picking Anvil or you, yes he'd pick you. But deep down he might end up resenting you for it. Because Anvil is an extention of him and his work makes up who he is. You knew this when you met him. It starts to feel like you're trying to change him and that gets right under his skin. Because if you want to change him, then you don't love him as he is. And that shit hurts.

He's already tried his best to placate you over Anvil. He works less, only staying late if its imperative he does and he tries his best to make time for you. He knows it's hard and he's away more than you'd like but he's fucking trying. So it feels like a smack in the face when you do this, like you can't see how much he's ready done to try and make a life where he can have both.

He works hard to keep the company the best it can be, he has to. But he also works hard for you. Because one day he wants to buy a big house and possibly fill it with children with you. He wants to show you the world and give you everything you've ever wanted. So it makes him feel unappreciated.

He feels stuck between a rock and a hard place every damn time this argument comes up because he doesn't know what else to do. He's trying his hardest to juggle Anvil and you and sometimes it feels like you're making it hard for him. He can't change who he is and if you can't handle it then it kills him. Because he knows if you can't deal with it then eventually you'll leave and he thinks he might just die if that happens.

These arguments get explosive because of all the emotions it makes him feel and sometimes you don't speak for days after. Both of you miserable as you miss the other. Deep down you know he's trying his best and you feel bad because you know how much these fights upset him. Eventually you apologise. You knew Anvil was his world before you met, knew how hard he worked. You don't want to change him and if you're honest with yourself, he's done a damn good job of making sure there's a place for you in his life. And maybe you never imagined you'd settle down with a workaholic, to miss them all the time, but it's worth it.

-

The last thing is how Billy's past seems to have a way of haunting you both. You were well aware of his nature before you met, he'd been pretty upfront about it. But sometimes it's hard when you're at an event with him and one of his past one night stands are there or you both run into one in the street.

This doesn't cause a full blown argument. If anything it's more one sided and Billy soon learns you've been taking tips from his Stages of Rage handbook when you use The Snark on him. You can't help it. The bitter jealousy that creeps in. But he doesn't fight back because for once he's a little ashamed of his past behaviour. He never wanted to settle down, didn't see the point. But that's because he hadn't met you yet. But now he sees your face everytime he's approached by a past lover and it hurts him. It makes him worry that you'll leave him one day.

So he accepts the anger and passive aggressive comments you throw at him because he feels like he deserves them. But his unwillingness to fight back has you sobering up pretty quickly. Because you know realistically it's not his fault and you can't hold his behaviour from before you even met over his head. It comes from insecurity and its not fair to lash out at him. And you hate how sad he seems when you do this to him. So you say sorry and make it up to him.

-

The last thing I'll touch on is his last Stage of Rage that mentioned in my other post. The Snowstorm. I said how this meant you'd done some really bad. Like maybe even break-up bad. This is where he turns off his emotions because you've hurt him that much. I wanted to give an example of what might cause him to do that.

The biggest one of course would be you cheating on him. It would be a knife right through his heart. He'd want to forgive you for the fact he loves you more than anything but betrayal isn't something he takes lightly. Couple that with him already having self worth issues and feeling not good enough for you and you have a very broken Billy on your hands.

Maybe in time he could move past it after some separation and a lot of thinking. But this would be the worst thing to happen to him.