#have interviewed and asked questions and more

[iamhisgloriouspurpose]

In all seriousness: this is a great question to ask in the interview, albeit in a more professional phrasing. If the interviewer answers honestly, it gives you information you would not have otherwise.

"Is this a new position, or a replacement hire?" If it's a new position, find out what led them to create the position, what needs it fills at the company, and how they expect it to develop. If it's a replacement hire, and they don't say anything further, you can politely inquire, "Is the person formerly in this position still here, and would they be available to answer questions during the new hire period?" This requires them to tell you whether the person was promoted, fired, or quit. They may be cagey about phrasing, but you can figure it out, even if they are vague with their reply. It might also be an expansion—that is, the role itself is not new, they just need more people filling that role now. That, too, is useful information.

“why do you have a gap in your resume” idk why is there a gap in your staff. worry about that

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you go to your first basketball game and didn't expect something more

You were exhausted. Not in the tired of life way, just the overwhelmed by glamour kind of way. The Formula 1 movie premiere had been a blur of flashbulbs, champagne flutes, and glimmering gowns. You weren’t a driver, but you may as well have been with the way the cameras hounded you and Charles from the moment you stepped onto the red carpet.

It never really stopped, that attention. Not when you were the younger sister of Charles Leclerc and one of the very few women working as a Formula One race engineer—let alone one who’d made it onto the Ferrari team by twenty-three. People were interested. People always had questions. And your face? Apparently marketable enough for every tabloid to want it next to your brother’s whenever you were in the same city.

So, yeah. You were exhausted.

Which is why the idea of going to a basketball game sounded... almost rebellious in its normalcy.

You leaned your head on Charles’s shoulder as the car rolled through Manhattan traffic, humming under your breath. “I still can’t believe you dragged me into that afterparty last night.”

Charles snorted, relaxed in his seat with Alexandra curled up against his other side. “You say that, but you were the one doing shots with Lando.”

“I did one shot with Lando,” you corrected, “because he said I was too uptight.”

Alex laughed softly. “He also said you should be in front of the camera instead of hiding behind pit walls.”

You groaned. “He says that every time. I fix your telemetry one time during qualifying and suddenly I’m Angelina Jolie.”

Charles grinned and gave your hand a squeeze. “You just hate being famous.”

“I don’t hate it,” you murmured, lips quirking. “I just hate not being able to disappear.”

And that was really it. You hadn’t told anyone outside your inner circle about your plan for today. A quiet trip to the Barclays Center. Just you, Charles, and Alex.

You’d mentioned it in passing after breakfast this morning, still sipping your iced coffee, eyes puffy with sleep.

“I’ve never seen a basketball game in person,” you said, squinting at your phone. “New York Liberty’s playing tonight.”

Charles blinked at you across the kitchen island. “You want to go?”

You shrugged. “Kind of curious. I know nothing about it, but the atmosphere seems cool when I googled it.”

“You google everything,” Alex teased you, whited you just shrugged at.

“Alright.” He pulled out his phone. “I’ll text my manager. We’ll sort it.”

And of course, being Charles, he sorted it within half an hour. Three courtside seats. No fanfare or sponsor ties. Just you three, sitting down to watch women throw a ball around and, hopefully, scream at each other with intense athleticism. It sounded oddly soothing.

Now the black SUV pulled up to the Barclays Center and the street buzzed with energy. The pre-game crowd was thicker than you expected. People in teal and sea foam green jerseys stood in clumps on the sidewalk, others in navy and silver.

You read a few of the names on the backs of shirts. Jones. Ionescu. Bueckers. That last one you pronounced in your head like “Buckers” before second-guessing yourself.

As the door opened, Charles stepped out first, always the gentleman, offering a hand to help Alex out next. You slid out after them, a little disoriented by the shift in atmosphere. Less polished than the premiere, but more alive somehow. No tuxedos or gowns—just sneakers, t-shirts, music blasting from speakers along the entryway.

You adjusted your sunglasses, even though it was nearly evening, and tugged your denim jacket tighter around you. The press hadn’t followed. No one here really cared mush about who you were. A few teenagers glanced at Charles—probably Formula 1 fans—but no cameras. No interviews. No one asking how Charles thinks of the season so far, how no one asks you about updates on the cars.

Just... peace.

“Didn’t think there’d be this many people,” you said under your breath as you approached the VIP entrance.

“Basketball’s apparently big here,” Alex replied, brushing her hair over one shoulder. “The Liberty are kind of a big deal.”

You tilted your head. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Enough to pretend,” she said with a grin.

“Perfect. I’ll follow your lead.”

Security ushered you in quickly once credentials were checked—Charles’s manager had arranged everything—and the cool of the arena swallowed you whole. Air conditioning, the sharp scent of popcorn and floor polish, and the distant thud of basketballs echoed in your ears.

You followed a staff member through the lower tunnels, emerging out into the blinding brightness of the court.

And just like that, you were courtside.

It was... closer than you expected.

You could see the lights glaring off the court. Hear the rubber of sneakers squeaking with warmup drills. Players darted up and down the court, long-limbed and agile, even just jogging. You didn’t know who was who, but one team was in blue warm-ups and the other in black.

Someone was shooting three-pointers with precision. Another sprinted from baseline to half court and back, ponytail whipping behind her like a comet trail.

“Bloody hell,” Charles muttered beside you, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “They’re fast.”

“Mmhm,” you said, barely hearing him.

One of the players jogged past, close enough to see the tiny bead of sweat trickling down the side of her face. She didn’t look over, too focused on her footwork. Her jersey read BUECKERS in crisp blue letters across the back.

You blinked.

Oh. That name again.

You leaned toward Alex. “Is that... Buckers? Like the jersey we saw outside?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah. She’s really famous, I think. Played for UConn. Supposed to be a big deal for the Wings this year.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “How do you know that?”

“Google is a wonderful tool, hermana.”

You studied the woman as she slowed to a jog near the bench, catching a water bottle and tipping it up with ease. Blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, pale skin, strong arms that flexed easily with every movement. She had a kind of presence. Not in the way F1 drivers did—loud, cocky—but... quietly intense.

You tilted your head. “She looks like she could stare through someone’s soul.”

Charles chuckled. “Don’t let her stare at you like that. You’ll explode.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it.

The arena began to fill. The crowd’s energy ramped up with every minute closer to tip-off. Announcers boomed over the speakers. Lights dimmed, and spotlights painted patterns across the hardwood.

You settled into your seat, tucking one ankle over your knee and balancing a bottle of water between your palms. The back of your neck buzzed with anticipation, though you couldn’t say why. Maybe it was just the unknown—this whole world of sport you knew nothing about. Maybe it was the air conditioning. Or maybe it was the fact that Bueckers, whoever she really was, had just glanced toward your row like she knew exactly who you were.

But she didn’t. Did she?

It started with a tap.

A quiet one, like the soft thud of a butterfly wing against your skin. You were distracted by the sweep of pregame lights moving across the ceiling, the slight back and forth between Charles and Alex beside you and by the rhythmic sound of basketballs echoing like thunder on the court.

You didn’t notice the two players breaking away from warmups at first, not until you caught a shift in the atmosphere. Like energy moving in a new direction.

And then, there it was. A gentle, almost tentative voice near your shoulder.

“Hi. Um. Are you—are you Charles’s sister?”

You turned and blinked.

It was her.

Bueckers. The name you’d only just learned a few minutes ago. She was taller than you’d expected up close, but not by much. Her cheeks were flushed from warmups, blonde hair tied in a tight ponytail. Her jersey was still partially tucked in, and she was holding her water bottle in both hands like it might anchor her to the moment.

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your mouth. “Depends who’s asking.”

She let out a soft breath, something between a chuckle and a sigh of relief. “Just a fan.”

That surprised you. “You’re a fan of me?”

Paige shook her head, then immediately nodded, then looked like she regretted both. “No, I mean—yes. Not like in a weird way. Just... I’ve seen you on the screen sometimes during races. You always looked beaut—uh, I mean—focused and serious.”

You blinked again. “You follow Formula 1?”

“Arike’s girlfriend is obsessed,” Paige replied, glancing quickly over her shoulder. “She’s a huge Ferrari fan. So Arike’s always hearing about your brother. And I guess I kind of got sucked up in it once I moved to Dallas.”

You glanced past her. Sure enough, one of her teammates—the one with the wicked jumper during warmups, now confirmed as Arike—was enthusiastically talking to Charles. She looked slightly overwhelmed, and very excited, holding her phone in one hand as she grinned up at him like he’d just won her a car.

Your eyebrows lifted. “Wow. That’s not something I expected today.”

“Yeah,” Paige murmured, and when you turned back to her, she was already looking at you again. “Me neither.”

You didn’t know what it was, exactly. Maybe the nerves in her voice, maybe the way she rocked slightly on her feet like she was resisting the urge to bolt—but it made you soften.

You held out your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

Her smile grew. “Paige.”

You nodded. “Ah, Paige. It’s nice to finally know the first name.”

She laughed. “You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you said, tipping your head. “Just kept seeing Buckers jerseys everywhere.”

Paige’s ears went a little pink, and she tucked a loose piece of hair behind one ear, fingers fidgeting with the elastic of her jersey. “Um, it’s Bueckers actually. The ‘u’ is silent.”

“Bueckers. I apologize,” you said.

“It’s okay,” she gave a shy smile. “You, um. You’re really here for a game?”

 You glance back out to the court, where the rest of the Wings and Liberty were still running drills. “First one ever. Thought I’d see what all the hype is about.”

She grinned. “You picked a good one. Liberty versus Wings is never boring.”

“I wouldn’t know,” you said lightly. “I’ve never watched basketball before. Been surrounded by race cars all my life.”

Paige laughed again, lighter this time. “That’s okay. I know nothing about racing except that I can’t even go-kart without spinning out.”

You smiled. “Maybe we can teach each other.”

The words hung in the air, light but charged. Paige’s eyes flickered to your mouth before quickly darting away again. You didn’t miss it.

“So,” you said, shifting in your seat so you were angled slightly more toward her, “are you just saying hi, or are you here on official wingwoman duty for Arike?”

She groaned softly, but she was smiling. “She begged me to come over. She got too nervous and didn’t want to go alone.”

“Too nervous?” you asked, genuinely curious. “Charles is like... a walking golden retriever. He’s the least intimidating person I know.”

“I think that’s why she’s nervous,” Paige said, leaning slightly closer. “She wants to make a good impression. Her girlfriend’s always saying how cool he is. Especially his girlfriend. Plus, Arike’s not great with... subtlety.”

You snorted. “I can tell. She’s practically vibrating.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer before she pulled back slightly, clearing her throat. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t be bothering you before the game.”

“You’re not bothering me,” you said easily. “I feel like I’m the one that’s bothering you. But this is already more fun than I expected.”

She grinned. “What did you expect?”

You shrugged. “To sit here awkwardly while everyone screamed around me. To not understand what was happening. To check my phone halfway through the second quarter.”

“And now?”

You looked at her, really looked, and smiled softly. “Now I kind of want to stay until the very end.”

Her blush returned, stronger this time.

The crowd began to rise in volume as the clock above the court ticked closer to tip-off. Music pulsed through the speakers. A Liberty player dunked during layup lines and the crowd roared. Paige glanced toward the bench.

“I should probably get back,” she said, sounding reluctant.

You tilted your head. “Are you starting?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “But I’ll—um. I’ll try not to trip in front of you.”

You smirked. “No promises from me. I might cheer for the other team just to keep you on your toes.”

Her mouth parted like she didn’t know whether to laugh or challenge you. “You wouldn’t.”

You lifted a brow. “Wouldn’t I?”

She bit her lip. “Well... if you change your mind, I’ll be number five. Wings jersey. You know. Just in case you decide you want to cheer for the right side.”

You leaned back, eyes gleaming. “We’ll see how you play.”

She took a few steps back, still facing you, then finally turned around just as Arike finished her impromptu photo with Charles and bounded after her.

You watched her go—watched the easy way she moved, the subtle glance she cast over her shoulder before disappearing behind the bench.

Alex elbowed you gently. “So. That was a very long conversation for someone who only came over because of Arike.”

You tried for casual. “She was being polite.”

Charles snorted. “Mon dieu. She was flirting and she was terrible at it.”

“She was sweet,” you corrected, still smiling faintly.

Alex leaned in. “And you liked it.”

You didn’t say anything. Just sipped your water, eyes trailing back to where Paige now stood with her teammates, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, gaze already scanning the court—but every now and then, flickering right back to you.

And each time it did, your heart fluttered a little faster than it had on any starting grid.

It wasn’t obvious at first.

You weren’t sure what to watch during a basketball game—when to focus on the ball, when to look at the off-ball movement or when to just follow the flow of the players gliding across the court like it was muscle memory. The speed surprised you. The precision. The sheer athleticism of it all.

But what surprised you most was how often your eyes were drawn back to her.

She moved like she didn’t need to think, like the court was just an extension of her breath. One second, she was at the top of the arc calling for the ball, the next, she was slashing into the paint, drawing a defender with her before dishing out a no-look pass that made the crowd gasp and a teammate drain a three.

You leaned forward unconsciously. “She’s really good,” you murmured.

Charles glanced sideways. “You mean Paige?”

“Mhm,” you said without looking away. “She plays like she’s solving a puzzle no one else can solve.”

“She has vision,” Alex added. “Like a driver who sees the apex before the turn.”

You nodded, eyes narrowing slightly as Paige picked off a lazy pass and darted up court in transition. She didn’t rush, didn’t force anything—just read the defender’s body language and timed her steps perfectly before finishing with a layup that rolled off her fingers like silk.

The scoreboard ticked up in the Wings’ favor.

And Paige—oh, Paige—jogged back on defense with a half-smirk tugging at her mouth. Her eyes scanned the front row, just briefly, but when they landed on yours, they didn’t move.

You didn’t either.

Her gaze lingered a second too long. She gave the smallest shrug of her shoulders—barely noticeable—but it said everything. That one was for you.

You blinked. A beat passed. And you smiled, just a little.

Timeout.

The coaches called for a break, and both teams huddled by their benches. Paige wiped her face with her towel, bouncing on her toes, sipping from her water bottle, listening with half an ear to what her coach was saying.

But her eyes found you again.

You didn’t pretend not to notice.

She raised a hand and waved—quick, subtle, a flick of fingers from low by her waist like she didn’t want anyone else to see.

You lifted your brows, amused.

She smiled again—shy, still—but different now. Confident in a way that felt like a quiet dare.

“She’s waving at you,” Charles said, practically choking on his soda.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, thank you, Cha.”

“I’m just saying,” he replied, grinning like an idiot. “You’re distracting a professional athlete in the middle of a game. That’s impressive.”

“I’m not trying to distract her,” you muttered.

Alex smirked. “You’re not not trying.”

You crossed one leg over the other, resting your elbow on the armrest between you and Charles. Paige was back in the game now, standing on the wing waiting for the inbound pass. She glanced toward you again.

You didn’t wave, didn’t smile. You just raised one brow and tilted your head like Alright, Bueckers. Show me something.

And she did.

She moved off the ball like she was built for it—cutting, darting, changing direction so fast the Liberty defender couldn’t keep up. She caught the pass mid-motion, turned, and let it fly from just beyond the arc.

Swish.

The net barely moved.

Half the crowd screamed.

The Wings bench stood up, cheering.

And Paige? She jogged back, biting her bottom lip like she was trying to hide a grin—but didn’t try that hard. Her eyes met yours again, and this time she winked.

Winked.

You could feel Charles and Alex practically vibrating next to you.

“Ay dios mío” Alex said under her breath. “You’re in so deep already.”

“I’m not,” you said quickly. “I just met her. I didn’t even know how to say her last name.”

“You know,” Charles said, “I always imagined you’d fall for someone complicated. Mysterious. Dangerous.”

“She plays basketball,” you said flatly.

“She’s clearly dangerous to your self-control.”

You ignored him. Sort of.

Because you were watching her again. Watching the way she locked in when she played. The way her teammates looked to her instinctively. The way she trusted her first move—no hesitation, no overthinking. Paige Bueckers played basketball the way you did data analysis mid-race… fast, decisive, and like the margin for error was nonexistent.

And every time she made a big play, her eyes flicked back to you.

Like she wanted to know if you’d seen.

Like she needed you to.

By halftime, your heart was pounding harder than it had in any garage on race day.

You’d come here for something simple. A distraction. A break from being Charles Leclerc’s little sister or Ferrari’s engineering prodigy. Monaco’s Princess. 

Instead, you got Paige Bueckers.

And every time she looked at you, it felt like she saw right through the noise.

The final buzzer sounded like a sigh.

The game had been close—closer than anyone had predicted from what you gathered in the crowd chatter around you. Liberty fans were loud, but by the fourth quarter, you started to hear more Wings chants pick up momentum. You didn’t understand every foul or call or play, but you understood Paige.

You understood how her team trusted her. You understood how she handled pressure like it was gravity. You understood how, after every big moment, her eyes found you.

And now, it was over. Scoreboard locked. Jerseys drenched in sweat. Fans buzzing in that familiar post-sport high.

You stayed seated as most of the arena stood to leave. Charles was scrolling through his phone, nodding occasionally at a fan who called his name but otherwise keeping low-key. Alex sipped the last of her drink, curled comfortably against his arm, while you just… watched.

The court was still alive.

Paige was surrounded—first by teammates, then reporters, then fans pressed against the rails. She was gracious with each person, smiling wide in photos, laughing at something a little girl said, holding her sharpie with care as she signed the backs of posters, jerseys, and phones.

“She’s got that same energy you do after a podium,” Alex said gently.

You glanced at her. “Huh?”

Alex nodded toward Paige. “A little exhausted, a little adrenaline high, kind of glowing but pretending not to notice.”

You looked back. Paige was crouched to take a photo with a kid in a Wings jersey two sizes too big for him. She gave the camera a thumbs up. Her pony was messy now, strands of blonde hair falling loose around her face.

She glanced toward you. Saw you still there.

And smiled like it meant something.

You felt it like a pull.

Paige whispered something to a staffer and took a final photo, then jogged toward the bench. Her teammates were heading back to the locker room, but she lingered. You stood as she approached, not sure what you were expecting.

“Hey,” she said, a little breathless. “You’re still here.”

You smiled. “I said I’d stay until the end.”

Her eyes flicked to Charles and Alex, who were now standing just behind you, watching quietly. Paige’s cheeks flushed, but she held her ground.

“I, uh—I have to do post-game interviews,” she said, almost apologetically. “Media stuff. Probably fifteen, twenty minutes. But I was wondering…” She shifted, bouncing slightly on her toes. Her voice was softer now, meant only for you. “Would you wait?”

You blinked. “Wait for you?”

She nodded. “I just— I’d really like to talk more. If you want. I don’t know if you’re going somewhere after or flying out soon or—”

“I’m here tonight,” you said, cutting gently through her nerves. “We’re in New York for another day.”

“Oh. Good. Okay.” Her smile was so honest it made your chest feel warm. “So... would you?”

You could feel Charles and Alex still watching, but they didn’t say a word. You tucked your hands in your jacket pockets and tilted your head.

“You want me to wait around in an empty arena just so you can talk to me again?”

Paige met your gaze. Didn’t back down. “Yes.”

The answer was so simple it made you grin.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll wait.”

Relief bloomed across her face. “Cool. I won’t be long. Promise.”

She started to turn, paused, then hesitated before glancing at Charles.

“I’m a big fan of yours, by the way,” she added quickly, cheeks turning red. “Both of you. You guys looked really good in Monaco.”

Charles lit up. “Merci. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear most of that conversation earlier.”

Paige laughed nervously. “Noted.” Then she looked back at you. “Be right back.”

You watched her disappear into the tunnel, every bit of her confidence lingering behind in the way she glanced at you over her shoulder one last time.

When she was gone, Charles bumped his shoulder lightly into yours.

“Does she always look at people like that?”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Like you’re the only thing in the room worth seeing.”

You shrugged. “Maybe she just appreciates a challenge.”

Alex grinned. “You’re such a liar. You’re already gone for her.”

You didn’t answer. Just sat back down and stared at the empty court where she’d just been.

And waited.

It was quiet by the time she returned.

The kind of quiet that only settles in after the world has exhaled. Most of the crowd had gone home. Security lingered by the exits, sweeping the rows. Staffers rolled carts of used towels and half-empty water bottles down the tunnel. The court was bare now. Just the hushed hum of the arena winding down.

You were still there. Sitting courtside. Jacket draped over your shoulders, fingers absently spinning the cap of your water bottle. Charles and Alex had wandered off somewhere to give you space. You hadn’t asked, but they just knew.

And then you heard footsteps again—softer now, not game shoes. Slides against the polished concrete.

You looked up.

There she was.

She was fresh from the locker room, face clean, blonde hair damp and tied loosely now. A W hoodie, oversized, sleeves pulled down over her hands. She wore simple black shorts and Nike socks pushed halfway down her ankles.

She looked like herself in a way that tugged at you—like all the edges were finally rounded off now that the lights were dim and the cameras were gone.

“You waited,” she said, quiet.

You gave her a small smile. “I said I would.”

She sat beside you, one seat in-between, giving you space but close enough for your knees to brush if you shifted.

Neither of you moved.

For a while, you just sat there like that. Silence stretching between you like a breath held, but not tense. Not awkward. Just... present.

She finally spoke. “So… be honest. What’d you think?”

You looked at her. “Of the game?”

Paige nodded.

You took your time. “It was like hearing a language I don’t speak, but still knowing exactly what everyone meant.”

She blinked at that. “That’s... really poetic.”

You shrugged. “I’m around fast cars all day. I don’t get to be poetic very often.”

Paige smiled to herself. “You said you’d never seen a basketball game before?”

“Never.” You glanced out at the now-empty court. “I came in expecting to get bored halfway through. I thought I’d be checking my notes on my phone by the second quarter.”

“And instead?”

“I forgot I even had a phone.”

She turned her head toward you, expression soft. “Because of the game, or...”

You looked back at her. “Do I need to answer that?”

She didn’t blush this time. But her eyes dropped for a second, and when they lifted again, they held something steadier. More certain.

“I’m glad you came,” she said.

You studied her. “You mean that?”

“Yeah. I—” she hesitated, exhaling through her nose. “I know it sounds stupid, but sometimes when you play so many games, they all blur together. It becomes muscle memory. You forget what it feels like to want someone in the crowd to see you. Like, actually see you.”

You didn’t speak, not right away. Because that hit somewhere you weren’t ready for.

“Does it get lonely?” you asked softly.

Paige blinked. “What?”

You looked down at your hands. “Being known. By everyone. But not really known by anyone who isn’t part of the circle.”

She was quiet. You risked a glance at her. She was already watching you.

“It does,” she said. “It really does.”

You nodded. “I get it.”

“I figured you would.” She shifted in her seat, angling toward you more. “You know what it felt like tonight?”

“What?”

She paused. “It felt like you weren’t here for the show. You weren’t waiting to be impressed. You were just... there. Watching. Like it was already enough.”

You held her gaze. “That’s because it was.”

You saw the breath catch in her chest before she tried to play it off with a quiet laugh. “You’re really dangerous, you know that?”

“Because I said something kind?”

“No. Because you meant it.”

That silenced you both for a long moment. You let it happen. Let the silence linger and swell and settle. Eventually, Paige leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, looking out at the court.

“Do you think you’ll come to another game?” she asked.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you mirrored her posture, your shoulders touching ever so slightly. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether you’ll be there.”

She let out a small breath of a laugh, low and fond. “God, you’re gonna wreck me.”

You smiled. “That’s not my intention.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why it’s worse.”

The lights overhead dimmed a little more as the staff shut down sections row by row. A janitor passed with a sweeping broom. You didn’t care. You had nowhere else to be. Not in that moment.

She looked at you again. “Can I give you my number?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That was inevitable.”

“I didn’t want to assume,” she said, grinning now, eyes crinkling. “You could’ve been not interested. Or just—”

“Paige,” you cut in gently. “I waited for you.”

She smiled slowly.

You reached into your jacket and pulled out your phone, unlocking it and holding it out. She entered her number carefully, then hesitated before handing it back.

“What?” you asked.

She looked slightly sheepish. “Just thought my contact name should pay tribute to our first interaction to each other.”

You checked it.

Buckers

You laughed. “Wow. You’re not gonna let that go, huh?”

“Nope. It’s part of you now. You gonna change it?”

You didn’t. You saved it as is.

“I like it,” you said. “It’s us.”

You both stood when security finally made a quiet gesture that the arena was closing up. Paige stretched her arms above her head and gave you a look like she didn’t quite want to leave.

You didn’t either.

“Hey,” she said, more serious now. “Can I call you tomorrow? Or tonight? Or whenever it’s not weird? I just... I’d like to talk more. Without a clock running.”

You nodded, heart softening. “I’d like that.”

And then you leaned in—just slightly—and kissed her cheek. Slow. Intentional. Close enough that your lips brushed the corner of her mouth.

She froze. Exhaling softly.

When you pulled back, her face was pink, her eyes shining.

You whispered, “I’ll be waiting for that call.”

[saetiate]

call it what it is. (or, the five times sae and you are "just friends". and the one time it stops being possible to deny what this really is.)

itoshi sae x f!reader fluff. friends to lovers, first kiss, how love happens, reader goes by she/her pronouns and has some personality (sorry, i couldn't get around it bc of The Plot but i kept it as minimal as possible) word count: 2.3k author's note: you both have a whole dinner date, go to events together, take care of each other, and then get surprised when people think you're dating??? okay so the sound of fireworks are less obvious than whatever yall have going on

Bitterness churns at the back of your throat. Is it from the roasted beans of the coffee you've been slamming into your system for the last few days, or from the lack of sleep?

Not that it matters. You've worked OT, both your team and your clients are unhappy, and according to your Excel worksheet, you're on your 85th job application. So really, it doesn't get worse than —

The doorbell rings.

Who the actual —

You breathe out the biggest sigh at the pretty face standing before you. It's definitely the lack of sleep, isn't it? Either you really should've checked the peephole and put on something a little more flattering, or he's a hallucination.

Let's hope it's the latter. You move to close the door, and his hand reaches out lightning-quick, holding it still. In a spark of annoying rebellion, you press all of your body weight against the door, and it doesn't budge an inch.

Right. Athletes and their stupid, stupid strength.

"You didn't answer my calls."

They say sighing is a necessary part of your lungs, that one of the struggles of artificial lungs was getting them to sigh. You wonder if it meant this many times in a day. "Sae, I'm busy. Wait, I didn't answer your calls? You don't answer my texts 90% of the time."

Then he's in your entryway, because of course you can't argue where your neighbors can hear, that's rude. But then he's in your kitchen, washing his hands, opening your fridge.

"There's nothing in here. When's the last time you took a shower?"

"You come here just to insult me?"

A towel hits your face with an oof before it falls into your arms.

"Sae," you try again, as the towel slides down your cheek, "You can't just barge in here and —"

20 minutes later, there's two steaming bowls of katsu curry rice on your now-clean desk. Sae opens up the little ziplock of togarashi, leans it against your bento box with more care than you'd expect.

"Itakadimasu."

~

It's the strangest thing, walking into your place only for someone to already be in there. How the noise cuts through, something unbelonging but welcomed.

"You know, giving you the key wasn't so you could just walk in here whenever you want. It was for emergencies only."

The only answer you get is the smell of onions being caramelized, crackled sparks of savory in the air.

"I answered your call," you continue, undressing behind a half-open door. "So this can't be an emergency. And you have a much nicer place than this."

Sae barely glances at you as your head peeks into the kitchen. "You could stay there."

"What, with you? Like we're roommates? Nah, you'd see what a mess I am."

"I'm already seeing it."

A spatula waves in little circles around the pan.

“What are you doing here, Sae?”

Like he's already braced for the question, the refrigerator light beacons out into the descending night. Your favorite wine passes from his hand to yours.

"Got gifted it," he responds before you can even ask. You could've caught him looking at you, but the gold label glints with stars in your eyes.

"How'd you get gifted icewine? You've never talked about it in an interview."

He doesn't tell you he asked his manager for recommendations, that he knows they let it slip to someone looking for a brand deal with him. Instead, he watches as you struggle to pop the cork open, the xylophone clink of ice into twin wine glasses.

"So you do like sweet things," you comment as the nectared drink meets your tongue with a smile. There's a reverence to it: how he watches you chop the vegetables before sliding them into the pan, how the last remnants of today's sunlight filter through the window and past your hair.

Sweet things. He supposes he does like something like that.

~

"This event, is it a big deal?"

He vaguely hears a ruffle of clothing behind the half-shut bathroom door, lightstream swept across the floor. He offered you what he knows his teammates get their wives for these events — stylist, makeup artists — but he watched you stand in his bathroom layering on eyeshadow for yourself anyways.

I don't trust anyone else to touch me. A simple statement made stark.

"Sorry, Sae. Could you help zip me up please?"

Maybe it's that implication, that hidden trust you place in him, that makes his exhale a little shaky as one of his hands wraps around your waist to hold the dress down, the other carefully pulling up metal piece up.

You've often thought athletes would naturally be aggressive. You've seen Sae make a fast pass across the entire field without breaking a sweat. But when his hands are on you, they're always light. You think of the falling of snow, its soft and silent touch that comes unexpected, the easy descent it makes before it melts into the ground.

Love is a little like that, maybe.

~

It's a common feeling, to feel as if you're completely alone in this world. Easy to get into your own head, to see only yourself within four walls again and again and forget that there is a whole world outside. It's logical, well-researched, known. It's because of that that you can factor out the feelings when it hits you.

The four walls has never felt as striking as now, coughing into the hollow quiet. The morbid thought strikes that if you died here, no one would know. They'd find your body days later, after the smell starts to waft out.

But you chose this. To move and to fight and to create a life worth living. You, with your ambitions and heavy heart and endless survival faith that makes you somehow believe you can still make it. Sometimes you have to force a door close before wrenching another one open with nothing but your bare hands. Sometimes you have to swallow all your pride and roll up your sleeves and pray to no higher gods you worship that the decision you made is worth it.

You think you hear something click as your mind fogs back and forth into sleep. You hope whoever's burgling you will at least leave you alone and only take what they need. You hear your name, and then a shuffle, and god this is really the worst time to have a stalker.

The back of a hand over your forehead is cool to the touch, the night's breeze still pressed between the molecules.

"You're sick."

Thank you, intruder, for pointing out the obvious is what you want to say. But instead, your head lulls heavily to the side. "I just need to rest for a bit."

"You need a hospital."

"I'm fine. I'm just- being dramatic. But I'm fine."

Your world tips on its axis, warmth blooming into your side. He lifts you into his arms soundlessly. You almost envy how effortless it is for him; the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself.

It's only halfway towards his car that you find yourself processing, finally speaking, "Thank you, Sae."

There's a sharp intake of breath from him, the hard line of his body protecting you from the night's chilled-sweet air. His heartbeat against your ear is as steady as the shore, the way it waits for the kiss of the tide.

"Just call me next time."

~

Sae's not sure how he feels about this.

It's his first time being late when he's meant to be taking you to this event. He moves fast through the crowd, searches with keen eyes. Chandeliers flicker and crystal-light dances —

Only to find you propped up against the wall, Rin leaning down close.

Sae might be less confused if Rin didn't look — for what might be the first time at an event ever — like he actually wanted to be there. He's listening to you with all his attention, has no problem being in your space.

Sae only approaches once you've been whisked away by Bachira.

"Why were you talking to her?"

Rin whips around, and instead of looking guilty, he's in wide-eyed shock, and then narrow-eyed annoyance. "Ha? She's your girlfriend, isn't she?"

Sae blinks. Did he say that? He would've remembered, wouldn't he?

"You good-for-nothing older brother," Rin's voice is a grunt, nothing like the sweetness he gave you. "You didn't even introduce me. I had to fucking find out through Isagi."

"How does Isagi know?"

"Oliver."

"How does Oliver know?"

Rin gives him an begrudged, deadpan look. "He's your teammate?"

That explains nothing. Actually, Sae is even more confused. He has about a dozen more questions.

"She's nice." Rin mumbles low, playing with the stem of his wine glass, watches as it almost tips before swooping it back up.

"You like her?"

"I think she's nice." Rin grits, and Sae really doesn't know how Rin gets away with faux passes on the field when his reactions are this obvious, because he watches how his eyes grow with realization as another thought passes through his brain. "You don't like her?"

"I like her." Sae accepts quickly.

"Ha??? Then what are you asking me for?!"

~

If Sae's being honest, he knows he has more than enough. He wonders what this thing is that he's had since he was born, never satiated even as he reaches the top. He thinks about how Bachira describes his 'monster', a childlike wonder, whether this is his own version of something like that.

But even the blackhole-depths of his greed doesn't anticipate wanting you. Like remembering the sea upon the drink of an oyster. A second breath, heart soaked with knowing.

What am I doing, sleeping in his bed? The night grows darker with every step, so the invite was innocuous enough. You sink into the mattress and the blanket of night muffles the fear, the thought that love is never so easy. There will be complications and contracts —

You turn to him and all the braveheart strength seeps out of you. Maybe you can put it down here, just for a moment.

He looks at you love-first, in a thousand colors, something he can't find with anyone else. He brushes the hair from your face so delicately, you find yourself stuck between watching his relaxed expression and fluttering your eyes shut to absorb the feeling. The back of his fingers caress your cheek, a butterfly's wing.

"Are you happy? Satisfied?"

Sae is not abstract. It's a vague but concrete question. You understand him at first glance.

"Not yet," you exhale honestly. "I have more to do. I'm gonna get there."

I'm gonna be the person I want to be. And by that time, I'll also be —

I'll also be the kind of girl you'd consider worth dating.

"Just wanna be worth it," you smile weakly instead.

He looks at you with a tenderness that feels dangerous. You think of a bird's first flight, the swoop of the fall. The crackle of a flame before it eats the firewood.

"People are worth something the moment they're born," he recites with no inflections.

"I know that."

"You're the one who said that." It's not accusatory, it's a reminder: your own truth, a perception of love you've been made the exception of. It's too heavy with degradation for him to feel comfortable focusing on, so instead he asks something he knows.

"If you had everything you want now, would it be enough?"

You sit up, his eyes following you. Your body heat no longer pressed against his feels like a loss, something he's sure to correct.

"No. You know that's not how it works." You should know, better than anyone.

He does know. That greed is a bottomless abyss, ambition an infinite sky. There is no amount of good enough that could ever make it all feel worth it.

His hand circles around your wrist, pulls you in on top of him until you're chest to chest.

Love is not your right. Shattered somethings cradle your heart. Trees can grow around items. You wonder if your heart is the same — muscle grown strong around fractured glass, a whisper of a cutting edge with every beat.

If you're always going to want more, be better, go further —

Could you have a little something in the now?

He's so close to you now that it fills your mind completely. He's not naked but he feels so bare under you, your hands framing his cheeks, soft skin brushing against your fingertips. One of his hands skates up your back, the other slides up your jaw, cups the back of your neck.

You wonder when you started letting him touch you like that.

He treats you so gently, so unlike the overwhelming emotion that crashes into you. Both lightweight and heavy, you feel swept under, you just want to anchor onto something —

His lips touch yours and everything falls into place.

~

"How'd you know about her?"

Oliver could make it easy for him. He won't, because getting a reaction out of Sae is much more fun. Instead, he tries and fails to feign ignorance. "Who?"

"My girlfriend."

Oliver leans his head back against the wall, a playful smile over his face. "So she is your girlfriend. Loyal too."

Sae narrows his eyes.

"Relax. I just talked to her at one of those events you brought her to."

"You talked to her?"

Oliver gets the sense that Sae is trying to make it sound like a normal question, but all it sounds is exactly how annoyed he feels.

"She just said she's waiting for you."

notes: unbelonging is not a word, i used it anyways on purpose to strengthen the idea of something not belonging. nectared and lightstream are also not real words, but i like them. twin wine glasses is kind of a reference to twin flames, though i do think you and sae are actually soulmates. i wonder if people can be both. "the weight you carry is so heavy when you're carrying it yourself" is a double meaning, not just your body weight but everything else you carry too.

call it what it is: / a love created, hand-sculpted to fit. / a silent reprieve, / to be seen, / constellations bursting at the seams. / unfounded heart, / a tepid start,/ an easy, soft-sweet thing. / say what this really is. / place it on the justice scales of the abyss. / what you're meant to be / versus what you choose / you can decide you have a right to this.

[nogutsnogloria]

summary: there’s always someone to believe in you when you don’t believe in yourself.

a/n: this is just strictly platonic all around-family telling you you can do something even when you don’t think you can.

michael robinavich x jack abbot x dana evans x reader

your standing at the nurses station getting your cases ready for handover when you are brought out of your work by your favourite drink being waved in-front of your face. you look up to see dr. abbot leaning over the counter with the drink in his hand looking like he needs to ask you something.

“what’s that for?” you ask with eyebrows raised, because even if he’s brought you a treat for no reason before the look on his face screams this one comes at a price.

“we’ve been called up” he’s extending the drink in his hand so you finally decide to take it. “called up?” you’re at the end of your shift and you know if you thought about the sports reference long enough it would maybe click but you need him to spell it out for you.

“robby and gloria are conducting interviews for dana’s replacement with the dayshift nurses who are on this morning, they need some backup until about noon. that’s us. we are the backup. it will only be five extra hours and yours have been pre approved for double time. the job is just covering the nurse having their interview, like a floater.” you nod at what he is telling you and answer “okay no problem, you didn’t need the drink to ask that but i do appreciate it”

you’re honestly shocked at the news that they haven’t picked a replacement yet. any nurse you talked to about the posting had applied as soon as they heard about it, and it feels like said posting went up forever ago.

dana’s final days as a contracted charge nurse are coming to an end. she has decided not to fully retire, but to be given casual privileges so that she can choose when she wants to work and be with her family more. you are happy for her, if anyone deserves to slow down it’s dana. she has been there for you since your first days in your practicum as a nurse, and she is the reason why you picked emergency medicine when you finished nursing school almost ten years ago. however the first line you got was for night shift and you never looked back, you occasionally covered days when asked, but you were comfortable on the night shift.

the raise becoming a charge nurse would be nice, but you decided to not apply because dana will have some unbelievable scary, huge shoes to fill.

your standing at handover listening to the doctors speak on the cases you’ve been working with all night. when night shift breaks off and day shift can have a pre-shift meeting. it’s the usual updates on the standard of care that upstairs is really pushing down here. robby finishes up the meeting with “and remember we have the outdoor patio reserved at the pub down the road after shift today. i hope everyone can stop by and enjoy time with each other away from the hospital.”

you hang back to check in with dana. “anywhere specific you need me?” she smiles at you over her glasses. “nah kid i know you know what your doing. hop in wherever you see fit, we do have some baby nurses on today who might approach with questions, and if you tell any of the other nurses here i will deny it-but you give the most approachable energy so i am just warning you in advance with that one. oh and i really appreciate your help here, if you want to stay even later than they told you be my guest.” she looks at you to let you know that she’s kidding she doesn’t expect you to stay after an extended shift “oh, thanks for the offer dana but no thank you, i am taking my five hours of double time and im running” you both laugh at that.

you’re finishing up checking on vitals on an intubated patient waiting on an icu bed when one of the aforementioned baby nurses is approaching you looking like someone stole her puppy. “are you available to help me? the patient is a bit agitated and is making it really difficult to get an iv started.” you completely understand being in the emergency room stinks but you aren’t going to let some asshole ruin a new nurse’s whimsy. “of course! lead the way. i will just be there as back up okay? you know how to do the job you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. don’t let some grump tell you how you should be doing it.” you say to her as she leads you to the exam room.

she opens the curtain and the guy looks less than impressed to see you with her and raises his voice at you. “look i already told the little bitch, unless there’s a painkiller in that drip no one is coming near me with a needle, she didn’t need to call mommy to come help.” you see jack and robby making their way over to the commotion. you put your hand up to signal that you’ve got it. the other nurse turns to you a bit shaken. “dr. mohan didn’t prescribe a painkiller. it’s just fluids, he was brought in by the police unconscious and inebriated-he can’t leave until care is done.” you now feel the need to protect the younger nurse after his little outburst so you step in between her and the hospital bed and look at the patient in the bed with a raised eyebrow.

“mr. roberts you really shouldn’t speak to my nurse like that. she’s just trying to help you. your doctor didn’t prescribe a painkiller but she did prescribe a bag of fluids that will help with the headache. now you can cooperate and let her do her job or i can get someone in here to restrain you, and she still does her job, either way she’s giving you the fluids. one of the ways doesn’t give you mobility to get up and use a bathroom when the fluids start working. you give him a bit of a screw you smile to tie the whole thing together. the patient sits back and grumbles but ultimately lets the nurse start the iv, you spend extra time with her to show her the easiest way to stick a dehydrated vein and both of you leave the exam room.

“thank you for that, honestly i was losing the battle in there.” you look at her “it takes time to stick up for yourself, we can’t make everyone happy, some people just enjoy being miserable.” that makes the new nurse relax a bit. “well thank you again for helping.” you pat her shoulder and head in the opposite direction.

next couple of hours pass and you just float where needed. noon is approaching which means your long awaited shower and bedtime is also approaching. “hey we need your help on an incoming gsw to the abdomen, four minutes out. surgery is meeting us down here.” dr. langdon rushes past you with dr. santos and dr. king following behind.

you meet dr. abbot at the trauma bays and get gloved and gowned up. you do your job while langdon, santos and garcia bicker. you watch as they do, but you can tell its becoming a bit much for dr. king so you tell her she’s doing a great job, once the patient is stable enough they are still puffing their chests with one another battling over who actually stabilized the patient so you finally pipe up. “what does everyone need? gold stars? applause? we’re backed up enough as it is down here can you get this guy upstairs and into surgery please?” that gets everyone moving. you didn’t notice robby sneak in and stand with jack to observe at the end so when your turning around and disposing of your gown you bump right into him. he’s biting back a laugh at your comment to the duelling doctors. “oh dr. robby sorry i didn’t see you there.” he catches you so you don’t bounce right off him. “no worries kid, just came to let you and jack know you’re free to go. interviews are all finished, thanks for the help today.” you walk towards the locker room to grab your things.

jack and you live pretty close together so you usually walk to and from work with one another when you can. while waiting for him by the desk you pull on your hoodie pulling your ponytail out from the neckline. “are you coming to the pub later?” dana asks you. “oh that seemed like a dayshift thing.” you say non committal. jack walks up behind you “and what shift exactly are you getting off of?” you raise your eyebrow and grab your bag putting it over your shoulder. “an extended night shift.” you give him a look you hope conveys you absolute dummy. that makes everyone laugh including robby. “no the invite was extended to everyone in the team huddle, abbot seems to think he was included, that means you are more than included as well.” you nod “yeah, sure i can come for a bit after i take a nap, i guess i will see you all later.” with that you head home.

its about eight when you find yourself heading to the pub. you are quickly greeted by jack “i owe you a drink for today” you roll your eyes at that “you really don’t, but i won’t say no” he gets you a beer and you two head over to where robby is sitting and take a seat. “how were the interviews today man? you have someone lined up yet?” jack asks as you both sit down. “well we actually had 56 out of the qualified 57 nurses at the hospital apply so it took a bit to get through it all.”

you can feel both their eyes on you as you take a pull of beer from your bottle trying to look anywhere else but at either of them. abbot has argued with you every time you told him you weren’t applying, and now you are starting to suspect that he went behind your back to throw your hat in the ring anyways. “well lucky you that’s a huge pool to choose from, i’m sure someone fits.” your kind of afraid to look at robby because now you think the two attendings are about to interrogate you about your choices so you decide to get ahead of it.

“was today some weird audition. jack was telling you lies about how i could be a charge nurse so you set this up to see me in action. did you even have interviews today?” you take another stressed pull of your beer.

“see robby i told you she was smart.” jack can’t help himself. he put a hand on your shoulder “and i’m not kidding or lying when i say you could do the job and you could do it well.” you turn to look at him “you really don’t want to work with me anymore?” he shakes his head at you “that’s not it, just can’t stand to see you waste your potential.” you groan and lay your head on the table. “who are you? my dad?” you can now here dana laughing behind you too. “oh great! were you in on this too? is there no one i can trust?” dana sits on your other side and rubs your shoulders. “kid i hand picked you years ago when i first met you, you can blame jack and robby but i am being the difficult one here.”

you lift your head up from the hiding spot. “there is seriously no one else? i don’t believe for a second that watching me work for a handful of hours made up your mind about me” robby shakes his head. “we could offer it to someone else but from all the stories i have heard about you from these two, you just picked up the extra hours today without complaining about it, the way you helped anyone who asked and kept everyone on track that is exactly what i am looking for in a charge nurse. the job is yours.” you sigh. “what if i crash and burn? can i go back to my old job?” robby nods. “all of us just want you to succeed, and if you try and it doesn’t work-which i don’t see happening by the way, you are more than welcome back to your old job.” you bite your lip and then release it, thinking. “okay so do i need to officially apply? or is hr going to reach out with the contract?”

[mitchelimarns]

wait i saw ur trevorjamie? post and i am INTRIGUED what is that?? who are they? what is the backstory? please enlighten me??

hi op!! thank you for asking this question that i am Completely Normal about it. sending this ask is like asking the Cocaine Guy for some cocaine. of course i have some! now come take my hand and engage in ethically gray fandom practises with me. warning: this is going to be overly long (it is actually so long, i'm SO sorry). you might feel like i am actually a Cocaine Guy at some points because of the euphoria you will achieve (or because of how insane you might think i am). another warning: 99% of this based in fact and the other 1% is based in that beautiful gay area between fact and fiction.

trevorjamie is the hockey rpf ship between former (!!) anaheim ducks and now current (!!) philadelphia flyers forward trevor zegras, (drafted 9th overall in 2019) and former anaheim ducks and current philadelphia flyers defenseman jamie drysdale (drafted 7th overall in 2020)

an aside on trevor zegras

before we go into the backstory, i think the key to understanding the appeal of trevorjamie is to understand the appeal of trevor zegras. when i say appeal, three reasons come to mind:

his career can, as of right now, be divided into two parts: Trevor Zegras, Wonder Kid and Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential. trevor the wonderkid spans his his first two (and a half if you count 20-21) seasons: back-to-back 60+ points (that's Really Good for a rookie/young player). finishes second in the rookie of the year voting. also appears on the 2023 NHL EA video game cover, which is A Big Deal, especially for such a young player. even makes a guest appearance at the 2022 NHL All-Star Game where he scores a goal blindfolded in the ugliest red and yellow get-up i've ever seen while NHL team mascots pelt him with dodgeballs (no, i am not making this up.) here's the video. throughout his first two years, he makes insane plays, including multiple michigans (a lacrosse style move that's really hard to land in hockey, much less NHL-level hockey). here's a webweave about trevor and Hockey that i think about Every Day. here's a video of his frankly mind-boggling highlights from his first two years. here's another. here's a webweave with quotes on how talented he is. from 2021 till 2023, trevor zegras is, for all intents and purposes, the young, sexy and talented face of the nhl. Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential starts after he injures his ankle in 2024 and his goals/assists production falls off majorly for the next two years (we shall go more into why & how of Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential later.) but either way, his hockey is always in the spotlight for being creative and unique.

the second reason is his personality. nhl players are notoriously criticized for being boring "robots" with no emotion and so when trevor zegras, the Lover Boy who wears his heart on his sleeve comes along, people are captivated by how open and genuine he is. he’s like that frat boy who was always admired and never loved. here's a post about a coach talking about how much trevor talks. here's a youtube compilation of his interviews (very old but it's all i could find). fun facts: he once tried to pick a fight with sidney crosby, probably the Most Respected hockey player on earth. he dated dixie d'amelio for a bit. he went to the 2022 & 2023 montreal grand prix (and repped mclaren with his nhl friends!) his instagram username is 'Z' and he posts like an influencer. in conclusion: he's just a twink tiktoker and tattooed greek man from the suburbs of new york who is occasionally Haunted By The Demons. and we love him for that!

the third and final reason that i personally love him is because he is a part of the 2019 U.S. National Team Development Program draft class (the 2001s.) the USNTDP was started as a junior program for elite highschool hockey players across the US, meant to foster team-bonding between american players from a young age and also give them a taste of the pro-life before the NHL that isn't college hockey or a foreign minor league. it is famous in the hockey rpf fandom for spawning some of the most codependent homoerotic friendships, from dylan larkin & zach werenski to will smith, ryan leonard & gabe perrault and of course, trevor zegras and his friends: jack hughes, cole caufield, alex turcotte, etc. the reason that this particular group/USNTDP class is so famous is because they are soo co-dependent that jack hughes (and his brothers who are also elite NHL players, luke & quinn hughes (quinn has the funniest beef with trevor)) bought a lakehouse in michigan (where the program is located) so that the boys can summer there every off-season. the lakehouse has now expanded to include a revolving door of The Hughes Friends, including umich (luke & quinn hughes' alma mater) & other college hockey players. this has, of course, spanned many fics across many ships and is an integral part of The Lore. the lore behind cole, jack and trevor's friendship is also insane (please peruse @/whirlpool-blog’s jhtz tag), but that's a problem for another day (if it intrigues you, have a scroll through the usntdp tag generally too). but yes, the dynamic between trevor & his friends is another fan favourite, with countless interviews and instagram #moments, if only because all rpfers yearn for one direction. (jack is zayn, trevor is harry and cole is niall. no i don't take constructive criticism).

tldr: trevor zegras is a loud, controversial, talented and loved player. now, in my opinion jamie drysdale - in contrast - is quiet, sweet and soft-spoken, aggressively canadian, a guitar player who also likes to cook and hates mornings. however, there are other takes out there like this one that beg to differ and make for an even more interesting dynamic. either way, together, they compliment each other. one is Insane and the other is So Nonchalant. we must fundamentally understand that to understand the appeal of trevorjamie.

now onto the actual question: the trevorjamie backstory.

now before we begin, i have taken a lot of help from the wonderful primers of @/somewhatinvested, linked here. i highly recommend a scroll through their blog, (esp their tzjd lore tag) as well as @/whirlpool-blogs, @/teex, @/bliksemflitsenblog, @/f1vegas, @/sergeifyodorov and @/zeegras because i am but an amateur and they are phd experts conducting their second thesis.

but here's my take, which includes Recent Happenings A.K.A. trevor is traded to philly A.K.A. the greatest moment of my life A.K.A. yaoi always wins.

the beginning: 2020-2021 season

even though they were drafted in 2019 and 2020 respectively, trevor and jamie first actually met when they played against each other in the 2021 world junior championships (which is A Big Deal for young hockey prospects) where trevor (who played for the US) was spotlighted for two reasons:

winning MVP of the tournament, after leading the tournament in scoring (and actually tying the all-time US world junior record)

making the most cocky comments, including saying this about the canadian team: "i don't think they've been tested by a real time yet.” right before the highly anticipated US-canada final.

jamie plays for the canadian team. the usa won the final. trevor had 2 goals and 1 assist in the final. jamie was, understandably, Pissed. now this was A Problem because they are going to be teammates and are also flying to anaheim together on the same plane (along with other californian prospects but that's irrelevant.) jamie allegedly did not want to talk to trevor at all on the flight. trevor forced them to make amends over chick-fil-a after. hence began the most epic enemies-to-roommates-to-lovers arc in 2021 as they roomed together in a hotel in irvine. they spend this time mostly playing for the minor league affiliate of the ducks, the gulls (if you do not know what a minor league is, think gulls is the f2 team of the ducks, an f1 team).

throughout the (shortened) 2020-21 season, they bounce back & forth between the ducks and the gulls. the whole time, they stay together in a hotel in irvine (along with two other prospects) even though they only overlap for 13 NHL games over the course of the 2020-21 season (they are called up at different times to the ducks). one of their other roommates, perrault, says that the two of them were the closest between the four roommates. when trevor is first called up to the NHL, he wears the suit that jamie wore to their US-canada final game (insane). despite playing only 13 NHL games together, they score their first NHL goals in the same game (jamie's first NHL game), only minutes apart (breaking the record for the closest NHL debut goals). jamie has a secondary assist on trevor's first goal. jamie is interviewed after the game and says that "it was a good night for our household." the photo of them celebrating trevor’s first goal is re-created by a fan. the painting is later hung in their shared apartment by trevor. they wear matching rose pins on the anniversary of their first goals a year later. #gay

jamie Panics: 2021-2022 season

when the new season starts in 21-22, trevorjamie have established themselves. they are ready to move on from the land of Hotel Nomads and Buy A House. trevor said that he assumed jamie and him were going to live together. however, jamie is asked by an older teammate to live with him and says yes. i wonder Why.

trevor ends up first living with two other teammates for a week and then later moves in with cole york, the older brother of one of USNTDP cult bros, cam york (remember the name because it will come up later). during this time, trevor adopts a lizard. no, i am not joking. i can only imagine the Yearning reached catastrophic levels. HOWEVER! the Hockey Gods intervene and jamie's roommate is traded halfway through the season. it is confirmed that trevor moved in with jamie at the end the season. #lovewins

the 2022 offseason is incredibly famous because of the troy terry (one of their teammate)'s wedding, where we had some prime trevorjamie moments. see @/somewhatinvested's primer. take particular notice of this photo, allegedly taken after the wedding when they are both hungover in a ski-lift in aspen:

boyfriends: 2022-2023 season

2022-2023 is notable because yes, trevor & jamie live together in an apartment (yes, that apartment where trevor hangs the fan painting of their celebration). but also because jamie gets injured after playing only eight games and instead of going home back to canada, like a normal player would, he stays with trevor in anaheim. for the rest of the season (a solid five months). truly insane. this gives us some amazing Domestic content, such as jamie cooking for them both, jamie playing the guitar for trevor, watching sunsets together on the rooftop connected to their apartment (including jamie allegedly taking the most romantic sunset trevor photos), cuddling on valentine's day together and of course, the infamous shared rooftop playlist (preluded by the apple music JamieTrevor playlist), which trevor and jamie both confirmed they listen to while watching the sunset together. some of the music in this playlist is truly insane. (side note: i highly recommend checking out jamie's spotify (it's actually his mom's spotify) playlist "California" because it is. insane. listening to those 11 songs with the implications of trevorjamie is a Crazy experience. also jamie has only added like 13-15 songs to the “Rooftop”playlist and the summer trevor got a girlfriend he removed “Lover” by Taylor Swift and added it to his “California” playlist. god they make me unhinged)

in the 2023 offseason, trevor, jamie and USNTDP buddy cam york (there he is again!) go to stagecoach together. trevor and jamie are, predictably, weird about each other. trevor sets up him and jamie up with two models. stuff gets messy. here's a primer. here's more lore about trevorjamie being weird about their girlfriends. here, i put my rpf goggles to speculate that perhaps trevor Panicked this time.

the horrible, very bad, no good trade: 2023-2024 season

in 2023-24, they are not living together. maybe stagecoach has something to do with it, maybe it doesn't. either way, 2023 continues to give us content, such as trevor posting a photo of jamie with a winky face emoji after Contentious Contract Negotiations and dedicating his michigan goal to jamie.

but then on january 8th, the news breaks that jamie drysdale has been traded to the philadelphia flyers.

now, this is shocking because both trevor and jamie are good players: they're high draft picks who are faces of the franchise, touted as part of the ducks' rebuilding core and they just signed contract extensions. but it is even more shocking to trevor zegras, who is going to be separated from His Guy.

now hockey trades are famous for Being Chaotic but this was next-level: the ducks were on a week-long roadtrip, preparing for a game against nashville. trevor and jamie were allegedly together in a dive bar in nashville when jamie got the call. jamie's mind "was in a daze." he flew out of nashville at 5:45 a.m. trevor allegedly reached out to his USNTDP bro on the flyers, cam york (there he is again again!) to connect with jamie. jamie moves in with cam york (!) and another teammate. he picks #9 to play with the flyers, the same number trevor wore on the US world juniors team. which could mean nothing.

the day after the trade, trevor is supposed to be interviewed before the nashville game but allegedly refuses. a rinkside reporter stated that "trevor is the person who will miss jamie the most..was visibly glum... was his very best friend... I don't think he has fully processed it this morning...he said it doesn't feel real yet...they're going through it, they're going to remain close friends for the rest of their lives." trevor is uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole ordeal: no goodbye post, not even a story. later on, he states that him and jamie "peed together, got injured together, slept together," which goes viral. trevor likes a post of the quote.

in his first shift in his first game after jamie leaves (which is also trevor's 200th NHL game), trevor immediately breaks his ankle and is helped off the ice. he misses the rest of the season. he later says that the injury hurts less than the trade.

jamie's first game is flyers' pride night. afterwards, trevor likes the flyers post of the game and reposts it, with the same winky face emoji that he used when jamie got resigned to the ducks. here's screenshots of the two stories (the second one is the flyers story. yes that’s jamie wearing a dog mask. no, don’t ask.)

danny briere, fujoshi extraordinaire: 2024-2025 season

now before we move on to recent events, we must go back to trevor. specifically, Trevor Zegras, Wasted Potential. so i mentioned that after the ankle injury in 2024 (the one he got immediately after jamie was traded), trevor’s goals and offensive production drops massively. his name comes up in trade rumours throughout 2024 and 2025, including a trade to the flyers. critics point to his defensive game as a back-end liability. people say he takes shifts off and takes games off, which basically mean he plays with no heart. they say he’s rude and disrespectful in his chirps. he hardly celebrates after goals anymore. people say he's lazy and overconfident, all flash and no substance, too scrawny to play in the league and annoyingly talkative to top it off.

all of this stems from many reasons, including his head coach, greg cronin, having an old-school style of hockey that encourages "grit" and none of the showboating and puck handling trevor is good at and loves. during this time, the ducks general manager pat verbeek (trevorjamie fandom’s Resident Evil Man) moves trevor from his natural, life long position of centre to right wing, which is another factor in his dropping production. gone are the days of trevor zegras, all-star rookie. people call him washed up and a draft bust. rpfers say he is broken-hearted.

this is worsened when he, just starting to find his groove and show flashes of defensive capability in 24-25, suffers a torn meniscus and has to undergo surgery for six weeks, missing majority of this season. when he comes back, he violates player safety rules despite and is suspended for six games. in first game after the suspension, he immediately tries to fight someone (which he never does) and loses very badly.

in contrast, jamie is thriving. he is maturing and growing defensively, he buys his own house in downtown philly, he hard launches his long distance gf (the one who trevor introduced him to at stagecoach) and spends his time with his philly best friend, cam york (the one who trevor introduced him to). during this time, jamie hardly mentions trevor, except for a flyers social media video where he says the most famous person on his phone is trevor zegras (full government name).

him and trevor also allegedly have dinner together after a ducks-flyers game in philly in 2025. trevor did not play in the game due to his injuries but still waited outside the flyers locker room “quietly and patiently” and later said the dinner was like “jamie never left.” fun fact (said with the air of a Crazy Person): due to trevor’s injuries and the distance between the two teams (they are in separate conferences), trevor has actually never played an NHL game against jamie.

that brings us to today, when trevorjamie fans across the world collectively lost their minds when it was announced that the flyers had acquired trevor zegras.

trevor's only public acknowledgement about the trade (besides liking a bunch of posts) is this photo of him & jamie posted to his instagram, no caption and no acknowledgment to his other buddies on the team such as cam york (there he is again again again again!). nope, trevor needs everyone to know that this trade is about His Guy and His Guy Only.

you may notice some similarities to a certain pic on a ski lift in aspen. but whilst they were Just Bros in that one, they are definitely Not Bros in this one. just the semantics of taking a pic from two years ago, when we know trevor has pics of him, jamie and cam york at stagecoach... oh trevor zegras, you are the biggest idgaf war loser.

besides this photo, trevor also did a virtual press conference (video here) and went on a local philly podcast. jamie has only liked the post saying goodbye to the teammate that they traded for trevor and no posts related to trevor at all. he has also not posted anything on instagram.

but that doesn't matter because trevor zegras is So Back, baby. he will be playing under #46, the number he used to play on the gulls (he used #11 on the ducks). he is free of his Demons (the #11, pat verbeek and playing right wing). he is going to the land of brotherly love, matvei michkov (known for doing michigans, trevor's MoveTM) and travis konecny (known for being a yapper like trevor).

so where does this leave us now? well, both jamie and trevor will be playing the next season together (!!!!!!!). hopefully, we shall see trevor have a breakout year, a la dylan storme. both of them will be on the last year of the 3-year contracts they originally signed with the ducks. we don't know if either will resign with philly. but one thing can be sure: they will definitely, definitely Be Weird About It.

TLDR: trevor and jamie are insane about each other. i am insane about them. come join us!

if you've made it to the end, congratulations! i hope this enlightened you! if you have more questions (either about trevorjamie or anything else mentioned here), my ask box is always open! have a great day!!

[uhuhmaries]

Just One More Question, Mr. Stan | S.S.

Warnings...... another smut, of course. Let me COOK! Romanian Accent kink... 🙂‍↕️ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

The lights are blinding, but you've done this before. Professional, composed, mic'd up. You smooth your notes out of habit, crossing your legs as the floor manager counts you in.

"Interview with Sebastian Stan. Thunderbolts press tour. Keep it sharp, playful, not too thirsty."

Too late for that last one. He’s already sitting across from you — blue eyes watching, hands folded, that damn smirk tucked just at the corner of his mouth like he knows something you don’t.

“And we’re rolling in three… two…”

The red light goes on.

“Today, we’re joined by none other than Sebastian Stan— star of Marvel’s upcoming Thunderbolts,” you say, all smiles and charisma. “Welcome back.”

He leans forward slightly. ��Thanks for having me. I feel like I’m always here when something explodes.”

You chuckle. “Well, with this cast, I’d say you’re the least dangerous one.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he murmurs.

There’s a flicker in his gaze, just for a second. You move on quickly, asking about stunts, returning cast-mates, his workout routine— all the pre-approved, polished questions. He answers like a pro, charming and funny, but not too much. That balance only seasoned actors pull off.

Until you go off-script.

“Okay, so— Mr. Stan…” You glance up, lips quirking. “You know I have to ask. The fans love it when you do the Romanian accent.”

He gives a small laugh, head tilting. “Oh, do they?”

“Apparently it breaks the internet every time. So—” you lean in slightly, tone teasing, “for research purposes… could you say something? Anything.”

He watches you. Like really watches you.

Your breath tightens when his voice drops, smooth and deliberate: “��ți place cum sună, nu?” (You like how it sounds, don’t you?)

Your body betrays you—you absolutely cannot hold up a conversation in Romanian but you do know a few words and sentences, picking up from movies, shows, music, etc.

You slightly twitch— the way your knees shift, spine tenses, lips part. It lasts no longer than a heartbeat. But it’s enough.

He doesn’t miss it. You see it in the way his lips twitch, the way his eyes narrow with sudden, dangerous amusement. You’re sure your face is still composed, but something inside you is not.

Sebastian chuckles softly, leaning back, voice still velvet.

“You alright over there?” “Oh, I’m great,” you lie.

The rest of the interview is a blur. You do your job— ask questions, smile, wrap it up. But your skin feels too warm. Your thoughts, disjointed. He thanks you like a gentleman, and the crew claps. You unclip your mic, standing to stretch.

The floor clears quickly. You’re packing your notes, distracted, when a low voice behind you says:

“You didn’t answer my question.”

You spin.

Sebastian stands at the edge of the set, hands in his pockets, just watching. The studio’s mostly empty now. His team? Gone. Apparently, he told them he’d stay back for business.

Your pulse jumps. “What question?”

“That one in Romanian.” He takes a slow step toward you. “Îți place cum sună?” (Do you like how it sounds?)

You try to laugh it off. “You’re really going to interrogate me after I just grilled you for twenty minutes?”

He doesn’t smile. Instead, he closes the distance until he’s inches away.

“You tensed up when I said it,” he murmurs. “Thought I didn’t notice?”

“I—” you start, but he cuts you off, voice low:

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-four.”

There’s a pause. He breathes in through his nose, gaze darkening.

“Jesus.” You can’t tell if it’s frustration or temptation.

“You?” you ask, even though you know.

“Forty-two.” A beat. “This isn’t smart.”

“Probably not.”

His smile sharpens. “You into older men, then?”

You nod before you can stop yourself. It’s the truth. “I am.”

He exhales like he’s just made a decision. The next moment, his hand is on your jaw, thumb brushing your lip. “That why you got all squirmy when I talked like that? You want the older guy with the sharp suit and the accent to bend you over the desk?”

You gasp, breath caught in your throat. “I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to.”

And then he kisses you.

It’s not sweet. It’s rough, hungry, like he’s been waiting all interview to do it. His mouth claims yours, warm and commanding, tongue sliding against yours as his hand fists in your hair.

You grip his jacket for balance, moaning into him when he presses you back against the wall behind the interview set.

“You should stop me,” he breathes against your lips.

“I don’t want to.”

That’s all he needs.

Sebastian lifts you effortlessly, hands strong under your thighs, and you wrap around him instinctively. He drops you onto the interview couch like you weigh nothing. His jacket comes off, followed by yours. His hands roam over your body, precise and possessive.

“You’re trembling,” he says, almost pleased.

“You’re—fucking intense.” You whimper.

His laugh is dark. “Wait until I’m inside you.”

You gasp as he kisses your neck, hot and biting. He murmurs something in Romanian against your skin.

“Te voi strica pentru toți ceilalți.” (I’m going to ruin you for everyone else.)

You shiver violently.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Say that again.”

He does — slower, darker. And then he's between your thighs, pulling your clothes down, leaving a trail of kisses along your inner thigh.

“You’re soaked,” he murmurs, fingers sliding through your folds. “Is that for me?”

“Yes—fuck—Sebastian—”

“You’re not gonna forget this.” He slides two fingers in, curling perfectly. “I’m gonna make sure of it.”

His mouth replaces his fingers a moment later, tongue flattening against your clit, working you with precision. You moan — loud, raw, no longer caring who might be nearby.

“You taste so fucking sweet,” he growls, voice vibrating against you. “Keep moaning. Let them hear how good I make you come.”

Your orgasm hits fast, sharp, wracking through you as he sucks you through it.

But he’s not done.

He undoes his belt with a dark look and pulls his cock free— thick, hard, flushed at the tip.

Your eyes widen. “Holy fuck.”

“You can still take it, right?” he teases, lining up. “You’re a big girl.”

You nod, breathless.

“Good.”

And then he thrusts in.

The stretch burns in the best way, and he gives you no time to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm that has your hands clawing at his back.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he growls. “Ruining you already.”

Every thrust drives his point home— this is not some lazy hookup. He’s wrecking you on purpose, fucking you so thoroughly that no one will compare.

You cry out when he hits that spot again and again, hands gripping your thighs wide open.

“Come for me again,” he orders, voice hoarse. “Let me feel it. I need to feel you fall apart.”

You do—shaking, crying his name, scratching down his arms. He groans, hips stuttering.

“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps. “Gonna fuck my cum into you so deep you dream about it.”

And he does—thick, hot, hips buried deep as he groans your name into your shoulder. You feel every pulse of it inside you, raw and real.

After, there’s only silence and heavy breathing.

He stays inside you for a moment, forehead against yours.

“You okay?” he asks, softer now. You nod, dazed. “I’ve never—no one’s ever—”

“I know.”

He pulls out slowly, careful, and helps clean you with a laugh when you nearly collapse trying to stand.

“Ruined?” he asks with a smirk.

“Destroyed,” you whisper. “Absolutely fucked.”

He kisses your cheek, then your mouth. Tender, this time.

“Good. Now maybe next time…” he murmurs by your ear, “you’ll ask me to speak Romanian sooner.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹ ࣪ ˖₊˚⊹⋆ ⊹

I LOVE SEB!!!!!!! AAAARGHHHHHHHHH

[hikarimiyanaga]

The Surprise

Sequel.

Uh. I forgot to say this was a Normal!AU in which they're all just kpop bands but with F!reader amongst them.

They're all humans.

Rumi and Jinu are just rivals.

And Mira and Zoey are going out.

You were at your house and scrolling through different job offers.

It's been a month since you quit.

When you quit being Huntr/X's assistant, you had enough savings to last you a decade of not working. If you didn't splurge or buy games.

But you did do those two things for like a whole week.

So that decade was halved and now here you are.

You sigh for the fifth time as you consider a manager gig.

"Fuck no. I don't want to see Rumi anymore." You say out loud but you know that it's an impossible thing to do. After all, she was a superstar. One for out of your house and you will somehow hear their newest single or one of their classics.

And it doesn't help that the trio somehow finds a new number everyday to call you.

You look through your house and sigh.

"Time to be productive." You clean your house that day while you wait for more job offers.

-

Rumi looks at everyone around the table and sigh.

"Still won't talk?" Zoey and Mira shake their heads.

"When she hears it's you, me or Mira, she immediately hangs up." Zoey says and Mira nods in agreement.

"Bobby?"

"She blocked me too! I was going to offer her a managerial job too."

"She probably doesn't want to. She probably wants to avoid Rumi as much as possible." Jinu says and Rumi scoffs at him.

"Shut up."

"I was just stating facts. If it was me trying to move on from someone who can't even tell the public that they love me? I would want to avoid them as much as possible." Everyone nods in agreement.

"You're not helping." Jinu holds his hands up.

"Just saying." Zoey gets a bright idea.

"Have YOU tried calling her?" Everyone looks at him.

"Hmm. I should give it a try."

-

You hear your phone ring and pick it up, hoping for another interview or job offer to come through.

"Hi. You've reached Y/N Y/LN. How can I-"

"You sound polite." The voice makes you freeze. It was familiar and not familiar.

"M-may I ask who this might be?" You sit on your couch.

"Jinu. I'm the leader of the Saja boys."

Ah. Rumi's new boyfriend. The one she told that you were just her assistant.

"Ah. Can I help you?" You can hear his chuckle.

"What a sudden change. You must hate me, right?"

"I don't hate you, Mr. Jinu. If this all you called for then-"

"It's not. Make sure to watch the Huntr/x's portion of interview later tonight. You'll find a surprise waiting for you."

"What?"

"I informed you. Oh. And one more thing. I absolutely have no interest in Rumi. She and I are purely work rivals."

"I-" He hangs up and you look at your phone.

"What the fuck?"

-

You were playing games on your console when you look at the clock.

The exact time those late night shows usually start.

"Fuck off. Stop thinking about her. Stop." You say to yourself but groan as you know your curiosity had already won.

"GOD! FUCK YOU, JINU!" You shout to your ceiling and save your game. You browse through the channels then stop as the screen shows Huntr/x appearing and sitting on the couch.

"Welcome back, everyone!" The host greets them warmly and the trio greets everyone.

"So. Your new single has been absolutely fire. Takedown has reached new records this week."

"It has truly been a blessing. Writing Takedown took so much out of us. We spent late nights buried in notebooks, lyrics and with our instruments." Zoey muses.

"I remember you always dragging Y/N to go on late night snack shopping."

"Right! Y/N! Most of your fans have noticed that your lovable assistant has been missing."

"What? The fuck????? ME???????" You question your life.

You????? PEOPLE NOTICE YOU?? HOW???

"Well, yeah. Y/N quit." Rumi says bluntly and everyone, the hose and audience gasp at the information.

"She did? Damn. That woman has always been a force of nature. Back when you guys first started, she always made sure you guys had more than enough screentime. I think if she could, she would the editor like a hawk." Everyone laughs at that, including the trio.

"Y/N has always been protective of us." Zoey says fondly.

"I'm telling you guys, she's really the true delinquent." Everyone chuckles at Mira's joke.

"She quit because of me. I was being insensitive. I was being secretive."

"Secretive? Of what?"

"My relationship with her." Everyone gasps and you freeze at her words. "Y/N and I are girlfriends. I never revealed it to the world because didn't want her to get hurt. For our fans to come after her." Rumi chuckles. "But to my surprise when she was just gone for a week, everyone looked for her." Rumi looks at the camera. "Thank you for caring about the girl that I love." Her words make your heart beat faster.

"So, is this you coming out? Are you saying that-"

"I'm bisexual. All three of us are." Mira and Zoey nod in agreement.

"And another announcement! Me and Mira have been dating for the past couple years!"

"That one was obvious, Zoey!"

"Yeah! Everyone knows!" Zoey shows a surprised at Mira who chuckles.

"Wait. They do?"

"Zoey, #MiraZoey always trend. Baby, you should really look at trend topics more." The endearment makes their fans squeal.

"I hope Y/N is watching this." Rumi looks at the camera then bows slightly. "I'm really sorry for making you wait. For saying you were only my assistant. But you're not. You're my partner in crime. My ride or die. You and your protective nature always shielded me and the girls. I have always loved you for that."

You turn off the TV quickly and you stare at the ceiling.

Why now?

Why do this when you left already?

"We both know why." The voice in your head says and you sob.

Because you were never enough.

Because you were just average.

Huntr/x and Saja Boys are gods. Idols.

What were you compared to them?

You cry to sleep that night.

-

You wake up to a loud knock on your door. You look around and see that it was just 6 am.

"Who the fuck knocks this early?"

"Y/N!" You scramble at the familiar voice. Why is your sister here at your house in the city??

You open the door and see Yuna.

"Finally. Pack your bags."

"What?"

"I'm dragging you back home. Pack for a week."

A/N:

Second part!

Third part is probably the last.

Probably.

Don't quote me.

Thanks for reading!

Donate if you can, because I'm still broke and PH economy is fucking annoying.

Ko-Fi is on my masterlist.

[vviolets444rroses]

— bf!rafe just being protective of his girl ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

night life in the obx was kind of… boring. so when rafe offered to take you, sarah, and kie to the mainland for a night out, you didn’t hesitate. his one request? bring some guy company. you knew he meant topper or kelce, but instead—

“yeah, john b and jj can come too,” you grin, fully aware he barely tolerates them.

he opens his mouth to protest but just sighs and bites his tongue.

i mean, you did give in to the request. fair trade, right?

the club you were heading to was throwing a costume party. you didn’t have much to work with, but you pulled something together: cat ears, a black corset, the tiniest matching skirt, and thigh-high boots. not a cutesy black cat—the hottest black cat. kind of like catwoman.

rafe never cared much about what you wore. you always asked if it was too much, if he even liked it. his answer never changed. “it’s all good, baby. i can fight.” followed by kisses and an endless string of compliments that made your head spin.

after a long, cramped drive...

you’re squished in the backseat of rafe’s truck between sarah and kie. sarah’s deer antlers keep bumping the roof, and kie won’t stop adjusting her mario overalls.

everyone cheers when the club finally comes into view—then groans in sync at the sight of the massive line out front.

rafe pulls into a lot across the street, parking like a man on a mission. in the passenger seat, jj straightens his green luigi hat, while john b’s camo vest is already halfway sliding off.

you lean forward between the seats, resting your chin near rafe’s shoulder. “hey, do you guys mind waiting in line while we fix our makeup and hair?”

he hands you the keys without looking. “yeah, yeah. we’ll be watchin’ ya,” he mutters.

he’s not really in costume—just his usual kook attire: dark slacks, a fitted black polo, and a sleek watch.

“i told you to be batman,” you tease, eyeing his outfit.

he shrugs. “what? i am batman. bruce wayne.”

you roll your eyes. he smirks, knowing he wins.

the boys get out first, stretching and grumbling about the cold. john b and jj are shirtless under their costumes—something about it being more the vibe. jj swings open the door for you girls to get out after. the second they leave, you all dive back into final touch-up mode.

you check your reflection in the rearview mirror, fixing your cat ears with a smirk. “can’t believe we actually pulled these together last minute…”

“jj literally had mario and luigi hats lying around his house,” kie says, blotting her lip combo.

“my deer antlers are from a costume i wore when i was thirteen. space buns just make it look a lot less tragic,” sarah adds, dusting more highlighter across her cheekbones.

you finish with your powder and everyone piles out of the truck.

as you’re heading toward the club line, a random guy with a mini mic and a cameraman stops in front of you.

“hey! can i ask you a few questions for a youtube video?” he grins, mic already up.

ooo this oughta be fun, you think. “sure,” you nod eagerly, glancing back at sarah and kie, who are already giggling.

“what’s your name?”

you tell him, and he repeats it before moving on. “what’s something you wouldn’t want your future husband to know about you?”

you smile confidently, tilting your head. “nothing, ’cause i’m perfect. beautiful. and amazing.”

kie laughs in front of you, and sarah whistles.

you don’t even notice that rafe and jj have wandered on over until rafe speaks up.

“yo, what’s this?” he asks, stepping up next to the youtuber.

“just an interview,” the guy says quickly, eyes going wide as jj joins him, arms crossed and unimpressed.

you open your mouth to say something else, but then rafe’s hand slides across your chest— landing just over your breast. not groping, just possessive. casual, almost, like it belonged there. he uses the motion to guide you away, hand lingering just long enough to make a point.

“yeah, just doing an interview…” the youtuber repeats nervously, looking at jj.

“mhm. okay.” rafe gives him a tight smile and nod. he then pats the guy’s chest twice—firm but not too aggressive. just enough.

jj claps the cameraman’s shoulder and steers sarah and kie away too. rafe slides his hand into yours as you walk toward the line.

“you were really going to flirt just for content?” he mutters, though there’s no real heat in it.

you glance up at him, grinning. “not seriously, but maybe just a little.” he squeezes your hand, shaking his head with a soft laugh.

you all rejoin john b at the end of the line. the music’s thumping from inside the club already, lights pulsing across the street, and your cat ears catch the glow from a passing car. rafe stands behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder, arms wrapped lazily around your waist.

bruce wayne, you think to yourself, smiling. yeah, sure.

—

—

a/n: made this based off a reel i saw the other day, just gave it a little more thought. i. must. write. more. pogue. content. like or reblog if you likeyyy 🤙 and what you’d like to see!

[afroslacks]

Hiii idk if you’re still taking requests but I was wondering if you could do something where Micheal during an interview for Sinners he accidentally lets it out that when building smokes character that he had to draw from his own experiences in fatherhood. Which shocks the public because no one knew he was married let alone had a kid.

So he decided to put out at one of the premieres with his wife (reader) and nearly one year old baby (baby was born during filming in 2024)

Sorry if that doesn’t make sense🥹

Sinner’s press tour is up and running. The cast has been everywhere for the last couple of days. Michael, Wunmi, and Hailee are seated across from a female journalist who just entered the building. The journalist sits down with a warm smile on her face and white flashcards in her hands.

“Hello everyone, you all look so good today!” she says warmly, hoping to make everyone feel comfortable.

Michael is seated in the middle between both actresses, nodding his head while adjusting his chain and the special watch that has a message engraved from you. He always wears the watch because it brings him comfort on days like this—days when he’s extremely busy and wishes he could be with you and your baby girl, who was born recently.

“Thank you, we’re happy to be here,” he replies with a beautiful smile, gesturing toward the journalist.

“Truly,” Wunmi adds softly, nudging Michael’s shoulder as a subtle signal of gratitude for actively engaging—even though she knows his mind is at home.

Hailee sits there smiling as she rocks back and forth with her legs crossed in her chair. The journalist clears her throat.

“Now that we’ve got pleasantries out of the way, let’s get started, shall we?”

All three actors agree silently.

The journalist asks, “So Michael, since you’re playing two different characters in this film, how were you able to differentiate the twins, specifically in their relationships with Annie and Mary? Because the relationships are completely separate from one another.”

Michael nods as he takes in her question, preparing his response.

“That’s a good question. Stack is the more impulsive, hot-headed twin, so you can imagine his relationships with women being the same. He’s seen as a womanizer—breaking women’s hearts and moving on. But it’s also seen as a front, because Mary is the woman he wants. He has to act a certain way to deny himself his desire for her. When they do get together, you can definitely feel the tension and passion between them.”

After the first half of his answer, he clears his throat before continuing.

“Smoke, on the other hand, is the calmer twin. He typically keeps to himself. The trauma they experienced impacted him a lot more, so he retreats emotionally. I wouldn’t consider him much of a womanizer, because the only woman who stole his heart is Annie. Their relationship is deeper—they have history, and he’s the father of her child. He welcomed fatherhood. I’m the same way—”

His eyes go wide, and he shuts his mouth the moment he realizes his mistake.

The journalist furrows her brows. “I’m sorry? What do you mean you feel the same?” she asks.

Michael mentally rolls his eyes, realizing he now has to talk his way out of the mess he just created.

Wunmi quickly steps in. “What he means is, since he eventually wants to become a dad, he’s ready for the idea of fatherhood. Right, Michael?” She turns to him, giving him a flawless save.

He perks up, smiling at the interviewers. “Of course! My bad, I’m just really tired right now, so the words are coming out a mess,” he explains.

The journalist glances between the cast members, unsure if they’re being honest. After a moment, she lets it go, understanding that people make mistakes.

“Oh, okay. For a second, I thought you were a father.”

Wunmi, Michael, and Hailee nervously laugh, trying to steer attention away from Michael’s slip-up.

One hour later, after the interview is posted, Michael’s words start circulating online.

You’re sitting at your mansion on the couch, watching television while fiddling with the large diamond on your finger. The baby sleeps quietly in the crib next to you. Your best friend sends you a link to the clip with a message that says: "Check it out."

Pressing the link, you watch the clip. You scoff, shaking your head.

“I know this nigga didn’t just open his mouth,” you mutter, typing a message to your husband telling him to call you as soon as he’s free.

You and Michael have been together for five years total—dating for two and married for three. You recently had your baby after waiting a while to enjoy each other’s company. You met at a work event and immediately hit it off, but decided to keep your romance out of the public eye so you could enjoy your relationship in peace. You both agreed to hold off on telling the public for as long as possible.

But… that might not be an option anymore.

As you sit on the couch, you scroll through the comments—and people are not letting that slip slide at all:

I knew he had a family. That’s why we don’t see him much.

Michael, let me find out you’re married. I’m gonna find your wife.

Oh no, I’m not sharing my man.

Hello, I’m the wife he has a secret family with. So y’all can back off—thank ya!

It don’t matter if you’re married—we can still make it work, baby.

Whoever he’s with is lucky. They get Smoke AND Stack.

Where is the wife? I’m trying to find her.

That’s just a few of the comments. You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart.

Your phone lights up with “Hubby” flashing on the screen. Swiping green, his face appears.

“Hey, baby,” he greets nervously, noticing your scowl.

“Don’t ‘hey baby’ me. Michael, what the hell was that?” you ask, stepping into a quiet area of the house so the baby can keep sleeping.

“I’m sorry—I slipped up. I stopped myself as soon as I said it,” he apologizes, hating to see anything other than happiness and pleasure on your beautiful face.

You roll your eyes so hard they might fall out and hit the floor.

“You better do damage control. We agreed to keep this private.” The threat is crystal clear in your tone.

After a few moments of silence, he mutters, “Or… you could come with me to one of the premieres?”

You pause. Silence fills the air.

“Michael, are you serious right now?” you ask, brows furrowed.

He scoffs. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“We agreed to be private to protect ourselves from the public. And now you want to throw that out?” You clarify to process what he’s saying.

“I know, baby. But I don’t wanna hide forever. I want to let the world know I’m taken and happy—so they’ll back off. We don’t have to be super public. Just let them know one good time, then keep it moving,” Michael confesses, hoping you’ll agree.

You sigh deeply. “Fine. But the baby can’t come—it’s too loud, and I don’t feel comfortable showing her.”

“Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says, smiling.

“I love you too, punk.”

[sucker4vy]

BUSY WOMAN, UNLESS YOU CALL TONIGHT .ᐟ

PAIRING: pedro pascal x actress!reader

SYNOPSIS: Pedro and the reader have been caught together multiple times, and now, all eyes are on them more than ever after she’s spotted leaving his apartment. Though she hasn’t said or made the relationship official, she finally breaks her silence at the Gladiator II premiere when an interviewer asks about the recent sighting.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, age gap (reader is in her mid-late twenties), confusing!pedro, situationship, not technically a smau but does include comments and a few posts, the media is obsessed with reader and pedro, eventual smut, no use of yn (except for posts)

WC: 3.2k

A/N: not me taking a whole other day to finish it 😶 honestly this could’ve been so much longer than it was but next time just watch i’ll make it longer

series masterlist | next chapter

Pedro rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you to the door. He twists the lock and swings it open for you like the gentleman he always is.

As you’re about to step outside, you feel his hand slowly slip away, but it pauses when you do. Turning back to him, you ask, “I’ll see you at the premiere?” Accompanied by an awkward smile.

It’s a question you probably shouldn’t have asked, and judging by his expression, it’s one he’s caught off guard by. “You’re going?” He asks.

“I have nothing else to do that day.” You shy away from him. It was a lie but it’s one that would convince him the most.

Yet for some reason, it still didn't seem to work because disbelief flashed across, quickly replaced by skepticism. “You? Not busy?” You nod curiously at his reaction. “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, believe it,” You laugh softly to yourself and you see his lips twitch, but he’s back to his serious—no, trying to be serious self.

But he can’t help it when the room is filled with silence for another second and then he cracks. He bursts into a hearty laughter and his hand glides up to your nape, guiding your head toward his for a quick peck on the lips.

“Now, I do.” His gaze lingers on your lips, debating whether or not he should steal another kiss—just one last one. You push away before he can lean in again.

Before you turn around he catches a glimpse of a little cheesy grin on your face. “Goodnight, Pedro.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he replies. You look back at him once more as you walk away ever so slowly and you catch him eyeing your body. He notices your figure shift and is quick to look around, suddenly fascinated by his apartment complex. A hand over his mouth and body leaning against the door frame, caught in the act.

You can’t help but giggle at his little sneaky act and you’re pretty sure it’s just as funny to him too because you hear a muffled laugh from behind you. You’ll definitely tease him later about checking you out.

When you step out of the building, you feel the cool air kiss your skin, and you can’t help but wish you had covered up a little more. A skirt was not the best choice for tonight, something you realized a little too late.

In the corner of your eye, you see a white flash. Your eyes widen in surprise as you turn to confront the source, only to find yourself staring directly at a phone.

You move to push the phone out of your face so that you're able to get a look at the actual source, but before you can fully get a good look at their appearance, they're unning for dear life.

In the moment, it’s funny and you scoff at their idiocy, and in that same moment, it hits you. It his you like a ton of bricks.

It feels like everything has slowed down as your mind movesq quick, a thousand thoughts per second, a million of all the possible outcomes run through your head.

Where you are, where you’re standing outside of more specifically Pedro Pascal’s apartment. That photo incriminates you and it’ll prove something that you’ve been trying to keep hidden from the media and yourself.

Behind you, you hear doors open and close, heavy footsteps on pavement, and then a hand on your shoulder. Your head spins around so fast you felt as though you were going to get whiplash.

“Woah, did I scare you?” There’s a teasting lilt in his voice but when he sees your expression, his smile dims. “Is something wrong?”

You exhale deeply to calm your nerves. “I think we’ve been caught.”

—

Different brushes glide over your face, blenders dabbing under your eye, and fingertips gliding over your nose to blend in the highlighter as much as it needed to look perfect.

Your makeup artist, Estelle, who had been all cheery and so talkative seconds ago, is now quiet, focused on her canvas, ensuring everything is flawless. She only speaks when she needs you to tilt your chin up a little or to look that way or this way.

When she’s finished she spins your chair around so that you face her, grabbing you chin gently for you to look at her. Her hand lifts from your chin and ghosts over your nose, drawing back with an unsureness, eyes squinting.

Her face quickly brightens with a loving smile. “You’re all finished!” She spins my chair back around, now facing the vanity. I meet my reflection and I admire Estelle’s work, which she killed like always. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she asks, “You like?”

“I love.” You look up at her with a smile, one that’s genuine but fragile as well.

“You know, this whole time I’ve been doing your glam you’ve been kind of tense, what’s up?” She smirks as if she knows something you don't. “It’s Pedro, huh?”

“No, no, no,” you’re quick to deny. “It’s not Pedro.” Estelle gives you a ‘are you kidding me’ kind of look because the both you know damn well that Pedro Pascal is the reason.

Estelle sighs, walking over to where your dress is hanging. “I know about that whole ordeal, honey. You can’t fool me.” She ushers you to stand up with hand gestures and pushes the dress into your hands. You don’t move from where you stand, only staring down at your dress.

It’s beautiful, bold. Designer? Alexander McQueen. It’s silk and corseted. Though it doesn't really go with the theme of the movie, it’s still a fantastic choice.

It commands attention without screaming for it. It’ll make her stand out on her own terms and possibly, hopefully, draw away attention from all the rumors going around. Maybe everyone will be too focused on her dress and forget about all the times the paparazzi have caught you with Pedro.

But let’s be realistic, you’ll be at the Gladiator II premiere, Pedro’s movie. They’ll be focused less on your dress and more on your appearance, but lucky for you, you have an excuse for that. You’ll say you’re there to meet with the director, that you’re thinking about working with him. You just hope they’ll believe it.

Walking out of the bathroom, you’re met face to face with your assistant, Daphne, whom you call Daph for short. She gives you a once-over and nods her head, looking around and saying, “I don’t know if Pedro’s going to be able to resist you this time around.”

You roll your eyes and mutter a small, “Thanks.” She gives you a thumbs-up and a coy smile.

“Shoes on?” She asks. You nod. “Hair?” Your hairstylist rushes over to you to fix a single strand, tucks it behind your ear, and then steps away. “Alrighty, I think we’re good to go.”

You turn to your glam team, thanking them for all their hard work and then you’re off to the premiere, but not before Estelle shouts, “Say hello to Pedro for me,” which gives everyone in the room a laugh.

You let out a giggle. “Bye, everyone.” And they all give a bye in return, some shouting, “Have fun!”

—

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

You had told her it would be good for you, that you had come up with a reason that makes you look like you are strictly there for business and definitely not because you want to be one of the first ones to see Pedro Pascal in a gladiator costume, possibly all sweaty, and looking criminalally good. You could not pass up this opportunity.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

Sunday morning, you had woken up to a phone being pushed into your face, an article with the headline in big bold letters that read “FAMOUS ACTRESS SPOTTED OUTSIDE PEDRO PASCAL'S HOME.”

And it wasn’t your publicist behind that phone, it had been your assistant who had been told by your publicist.

Oh, was Daphne angry? No. She was fuming. “Call him. Now,” she said with a stern tone. And you were going to dial the number to talk things out with Pedro but you really just needed time to let everything sink in, you had just woken up for crying out loud.

You had told Daphne you’d call him later—later meaning that you’d wait for him to call you. He probably hadn’t even seen it yet, or so you told yourself.

So you waited.

And you waited

And, to your disappointment, you waited.

You would check your phone constantly. Every time you found your self drifting off during your meeting you shook yourself awake and checked your phone. Whenever Daphne mentioned something about the rumors you were quick to check your phone.

It got to a point where she literally had to rip your phone away from you just so you can get through a line from a script you were supposed to be rehearsing.

Then, just as you’re pushing your dinner around the plate, you phone buzzes. One buzz. Then another. You freeze

Please don't be a stupid notification. Please—Pedro’s name lights up your screen and you don’t even hesitate to press accept, taking a shaky breath, and brace yourself for what he’s about to tell you.

In the car, Daphne is helping you prepare for interviews. You’re sitting one seat over from her, not really paying attention since she has probably been over this a million times within two days.

She goes through a list of every possible question in every possible form, and you know she's stressed out by the way she just keeps going.

When she first found out you were going to attend the premiere, she was baffled. “After all the rumors going around? Are you kidding me?” She had said.

You had told her it would be good for you, that you had come up with a reason that makes you look like you are strictly there for business and definitely not because you want to be one of the first ones to see Pedro Pascal in a gladiator costume, possibly all sweaty, and looking criminalally good. You could not pass up this opportunity.

It’s also a chance to clear up any rumors, or at least try to. You’re just really just trying to help your publicist who’s already way too stressed, but you just keep making things worse.

You should’ve listened to Daphne when she told you not to go to Pedro’s, that you may get caught and it’ll be a big problem if you did. You wished you hadn’t ignored her warnings and simply just brushed her off saying that it would be fine because look at how wrong you were.

Now, all you can do is hope that an interviewer won’t ask about what’s going on between you and Pedro.

At least Pedro is worry-free, he just thinks that you were kidding about attending the premiere but little does he know you’re about to draw lots of attention right now.

—

Your heel hits the red carpet. No one seems to notice you quite yet, which makes you even more anxious for when they do.

Flashes go off a few yards down the carpet where one of the cast members is posing, not Pedro nor Joseph—but Paul. For now all eyes are on him and for you, there’s a fleeting moment of quiet, not literal silence, but the kind of breathless stillness that lives before impact.

You take a careful step forward and as you grow into the view of one of the photographers. He looks almost unsure at first, and he mumbles, “Is that who I think it is?” It’s loud enough for the person next to him to hear and repeat the same name, her head following his. Then one by one all their eyes fly to you as travel along the carpet.

You straighten up once flashes hit your face, smiling nice and big for the camera. You lift your chin up a little more, your arms are at your sides, one resting at you hip.

You move more down along the carpet, and now you’re standing just a few feet away from Paul. In the corner of your eye, you see that Paul notices you, and he shuffles closer over to you.

You look at him and he’s already smiling. “Picture?” He offers.

“Of course.” You lean more into him, wrapping your arm around him and he follows your movement, his hand placed in the middle of your back.

They shout for you to get a little closer together so you do. You lean your head towards his just a tad for one last photo and then he pats your back. “Thanks.” You give him a nod and follow him off the carpet.

Anyone you saw with a microphone you tried to dodge and stay out of their sight. Weaving your way through the crowds, but you couldn’t ignore everyone.

Some of the cast members came up to you and said hi. One of them was Fred, whom you worked with once. You were surprised that he even remembered, considering it had been a while since you had seen each other. Connie had also come to you to say hello, this was actually your first time meeting her. You’ve only heard of her, never have actually seen her in person before, she said the same thing about you.

Connie was so sweet and you guys chatted for a while, but the conversation was cut short when an interviewer snuck up on you. You felt a tap on your shoulder and Connie excused herself so you could be interviewed without interruption, part of you wanted to beg her not to leave you, but you couldn’t.

Where Connie was standing is where the interviewer was standing now. She introduced herself as Steph from Entertainment Tonight, and you're all rainbows and sunshine on the outside, but on the inside you're about to freak out because you know that they’re about to go in deep with these questions.

She looked into the camera, and so did you. “You, my dear, look breathtaking tonight. I have to say this dress is a moment.”

“Thank you, Steph, it means a lot. I really needed something that was bold, especially for tonight, you know?” She agrees, and then her face shifts into one of curiosity.

“We didn’t know we’d be seeing you here tonight, and we were wondering what brought you out?” She holds up the microphone to your lips.

“I have so much respect for everyone on the team and I wanted to see all the hard work they put into this movie come to life.” You continue, “The story scale, the artistry, the history. It all reminds you why you love what you do and it really inspires you.”

“Of course, of course! All of the cast members are so talented and it's such a big night for them. I love how supportive you are!” Her eyes turned away from your for a split second to give the camera a slick grin, then they’re back on you. Her voice dips, now ever so gentle, “A lot of people think your presence tonight has something to do with Pedro Pascal. You were just seen leaving his place late Saturday night. Is you being here simply a coincidence?”

You blink, smile faltering for just a second before you regather yourself. There’s a pause, then a sigh, and you know your silence speaks louder than what you’re about to say right now. “I didn’t come tonight to answer rumors. But I know that if I’m quiet it just makes the noise louder.”

Hesitating and taking a breath, you continue, “I knew that being here tonight would raise some eyebrows, especially after Saturday. I think it’s just reading a little too much into things. Pedro is someone I care about, yes, but…” You glance off to the side, searching for the safest answer. “But caring about someone doesn't mean there’s always a headline in it.”

Steph is silent for a split second, taking the microphone away from you once she realizes you’re not going to continue. “So, you’re just friends?”

Your eyes flicker toward the camera before returning to Steph, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yes,” is your answer, but your body language says otherwise when you play with the ring around your finger.

“Well, you heard it here first, people. Just friends.” She nods in assurance. “Thank you.”

You’re thankful it’s over, but you can already feel the internet writing headlines. The nerves really got to you during that interview, and you’re sure no one believes that you and Pedro are just friends after you left his house so late at night.

Daphne won’t be too happy either with your answers. You really should’ve gone with what she told you to say in case of this, instead you kind of just freestyled it.

You notice everyone beginning to head to the theatre, so you follow the crowd inside. Before the movie starts, they give a speech to the audience that celebrates everyone behind the making of the film.

One by one all the actors come up and are congratulated, given praise for their work. The whole time you only focus on one of those actors, whose eyes are searching through the audience for one person in particular. You.

He can’t seem to find you in the sea of people, and it’s too late to continue searching because he already needs to take a seat.

So, the movie plays. You sit in the dark, laughing when you’re supposed to, clapping when it’s over, and the credits roll.

To the naked eye, you’re acting normal, but inside you’re unraveling. The entire movie played on one screen, and the interview was on repeat in the other—in your mind.

What if you hadn’t swallowed the part about being more than friends? What if you had told them it was so much more than that?

Frankly, you’re tired of hiding something that has been going on for months. You’re tired of Pedro denying that there’s nothing really going on between you, or at least, you’re tired of him pretending like there’s nothing going on because there is. There’s so much more than what he denies himself.

You quite literally canceled multiple meetings for an upcoming audition on Sunday just so you could squeeze in a fitting for the dress you wore. Replacing a meeting about character backstory for one about about heel height and fabric swatches.

The script you were reading last night? That was for the same audition, now pushed to Wednesday. The meetings for that same audition you had pushed to tomorrow.

And there was a few more things replaced, delayed, or rescheduled just so you could be here tonight. Just so you could support Pedro.

He didn’t ask you to and still, you showed up.

You’re booked and busy. You have a whole career to chase. You have people to call back, scenes to prep, and so much more.

But if he called tonight?

You’d answer.

taglist: @not-the-teen-witch @namelesslosers @oystercat

[acknowledge-reigns]

Sundress Season | Jey Uso x Black Reader | SMUT! 18+

Description: Jey Uso is a big fan of sundress season.

Warnings: Public teasing, semi public play, petnames, oral (fem receiving), degradation, dirty talk, spit, p in v, rough sex, mild choking, cream pie, daddy kink, mirror sex, spanking.

My masterlists can be found here.

Jey is surrounded by reporters, answering questions with his usual charismatic smile and goofy personality. He'd been doing press at the arena for an upcoming PLE. You sat nearby, watching him with a playful smirk.

It'd been hot as fuck outside, so you'd opted to wear a cute sundress. In edition to staying cool in the scorching Florida weather, you know sundress season drives your man feral. You not so casually cross your leg, giving him an intoxicating view of your bare thigh.

Jey struggles to keep his composure. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow.

The reporter asks him another question about his current title reign and you take the opportunity to rest your hand on his leg.

Jey shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the interview while your hand continues its teasing exploration. His breathing becomes slightly uneven as you move lower.

"Yeah, uh... the title's definitely a big responsibility," he answers the reporter, his voice slightly strained.

Your hand wanders under the black table cloth, finding it's prize and cupping it. Jey still maintained his cool on the outside. The reporter notices his slight distraction but continues with their questions.

"The fans have been amazing, really showing out at every show," he manages to say, his focus on point.

You can see the tension building in his shoulders as you continue your teasing. The reporter finally wraps up the interview, and Jey stands up abruptly.

"Aight, that's enough for today," he says firmly, turning to face you with a heated look in his eyes. "Let's go."

Jey grabs your wrist and leads you away from the crowd, his grip firm and possessive. He leads you to a secluded bathroom backstage in the arena, closing the door and locking it behind you both.

He pins you against the wall, his body pressed against yours as he looks down at you with a mix of frustration and desire.

"You think you're funny, huh? Teasing me in front of everyone like that?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly.

You smirk up at him, pretending to be innocent.

"I don't know what you mean, Jey. I was just trying to support my World Champion."

He presses his thigh between your legs, applying pressure as he leans in closer.

"Ion know who you think you're playing with, baby.." Jey says warningly.

He pushes your hand away from his chest, his eyes darkening with lust as he looks down at you.

"You wanted me to lose my cool in front of everyone? To show them what a tease you are?" His knee rubs against your core through your dress, making you gasp.

You bite your lip, trying to maintain your composure despite the growing heat between your legs.

"Maybe I did... maybe I wanted to see how far I could push you, baby." You said.

Jey drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping the hem of your dress and pulling it up slowly.

"Bet. I'm not holding back no more, Ma." He buries his face between your thighs, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His tongue licks through your panties.

Jey pulls your panties aside and starts sucking and licking your clit aggressively, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you steady.

He continues his relentless assault, his tongue swirling and flicking over your sensitive bundle of nerves while his fingers dig into your skin.

Your knees buckle as pleasure courses through your body, but Jey holds you up firmly, his mouth working you closer to the edge.

He pulls back slightly, his lips and beard glistening with your arousal as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"You so wet for me, baby. Is this what you wanted? To be taken right here in the arena bathroom?"

Jey stands up abruptly, spinning you around to face the mirror and dropping his sweats and boxers. He positions himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips as he slides his cock inside you.

"Look at yourself, princess. Look how desperate you are for my cock. You're a nasty lil slut who can't even wait until we get home."

He starts thrusting into you roughly, his eyes locked on your reflection in the mirror. His hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head back so he can spit into your mouth.

You moan loudly, your hands gripping the sink tightly as he fucks you hard and fast. His other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight circles.

"Swallow it, princess. Show me how much you love being my nasty slut."

You obey, swallowing his spit while watching him in the mirror. Your pussy clenches around him as you get closer to your orgasm. "Please, Daddy... I'm gonna cum..."

He increases his pace, his grip on your throat tightening slightly as he growls in your ear.

"Cum for me then, princess. Cum all over my cock like the dirty girl you are."

Your body trembles as you reach your climax, your juices coating his cock as you cry out his name. He doesn't stop though, continuing to pound into you mercilessly as he covers your mouth to muffle the sounds of orgasmic bliss.

Jey's thrusts become more erratic as he chases his own release, his breath hot against your ear.

"Fuck... I'm gonna fill you up, princess. Make you walk around with my cum dripping down your legs for the rest of the night."

With a final deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and groans loudly, his cock pulsing as he fills you with his hot cum. He holds you against him, both of you panting heavily as you recover from your intense orgasms.

Jey pulls out slowly, watching as his cum leaks out of you. He spins you around again and kisses you deeply, his hands roaming over your body possessively and griping your ass.

He helps you fix your dress and hair, making sure you look presentable again before opening the bathroom door.

Jey gives you one last smack on the ass before letting you step out first, his eyes following you with a lustful gleam as you walk back to the locker room.

As you walk, you can feel his cum still inside you, a constant reminder of what just happened. Jey follows closely behind, his presence a mix of possessiveness and satisfaction. How in the fuck was he supposed focus on wrestling tonight with your taste still coating his lips? "Damn" He hums to himself again.

[majaloveschris]

Hey Maja,

You’re level headed, I mean that in the most respectful way. 😅

But I had to flip the situation so to speak and really ask myself hmmm what if we’re all wrong about this being PR, like what if to Chris it looks completely different. He is just a guy from Boston who happened to get famous due to talent. He’s done pr in the past yes and seemed to be authentic.

But just like life people change. Chris was never Steve Rogers, Chris is just a guy like many of people’s exes. What if he decided to do things differently and this is who he chose regardless of how it looks. Maybe he wanted to keep his fandom and image and that’s why it’s so PR looking like he’s playing the Hollywood game, but also working to help establish his wife. I just had to the look at another pov and like Lisa may indeed have accidentally liked something, it happens. Celebs are human and you don’t think they get tired of random strangers talking shit to them or stalking friends and family, you don’t think they’d see how invested online strangers are and try to play with people just to stay relevant and also just because.

Chris is simply living his life like the rest of us and Hollywood dressed him up and he’s played along, but now he’s trying to manage that plus his private life to another celebrity that doesn’t align to the image he held for so long and it’s just coming off as so badly business and fandom wise, but to him he just thought he was smarter and thought oh if I share her online people will love her, maybe he didn’t know she trolled or didn’t care if she did. Chris doesn’t know any of us to care. We assume these celebrities actually give a damn about this fandom shit, but they probably don’t.

People lie, he speaks in interviews that goes to BILLIONS of people so I don’t expect him to tell personal stuff too much more either especially these days, people are crazy. But to the fandoms limited view they see every video dissect every move to mean more that what it actually is.

I just wonder if this has spiraled and eventually we do unfortunately learn that Chris was an image while the real Chris Evans is simply human and this is real and the life he chose to live, just him and not to uphold some fake image, but he’s forced to keep playing that role as well.

If this doesn’t end by Summer or before their next anniversary, I do hope many people start really questioning reality. It’s easy to get caught up in parisocial relationships with celebs and not even know it.

Hi, thank you so much! I think it’s already crossed everyone’s mind at least once that what if this whole thing is real? And I don’t think this thought is bad; I think narrow-mindedly thinking this can’t be anything but fake is much worse, because then you will start misunderstanding everything that comes out and think everything proves something, or your point, which is not true.

Chris has never been and never will be Steve Rogers, and I don’t remember him ever stating the opposite. I never really understood why people thought in the first place that he is like him or can ever be. He is a fictional character after all, and as you said, he is just a guy, filled with flaws like all of us.

But let’s talk a bit about the theory you wrote down: what if this is real, but he is, on purpose, trying to make it look like it was PR? First of all, that would be extremely disrespectful towards his wife. If he decided to marry her, then go ahead and show her off. If he’s actually been doing that, he just made everything worse, because after a while people will realize that he was lying and playing them, and oh, that’s gonna be another shitshow. Because him playing people to make them think it’s not real and doing this just to save himself because he chose a not-so-good person as his wife is even worse than this being real. And while I don’t like Alba at all, that would be really humiliating for her as well. However, I find it highly impossible that this would be the case. I don’t think he is that bad of a human being, and you can clearly see in his body language that their relationship isn’t any more caring and loving behind closed doors as well. I mean, for example, when the NYC pap walk came out, and that random girl uploaded that video where they were seen as well, you could’ve seen how they act when they think they aren’t being recorded.

Lisa’s like, It could’ve been an accident, but considering that she didn’t really interact with her or anything like that, maybe only after this whole thing came out, says a lot, especially when you can see that she is still supportive of Minka, for example.I think these people care about what people say more than you would imagine. Half of the things that are being said and done wouldn’t have been if they didn’t care. Because of this whole whatever-ship, his career took a hit, not even a small one. People unfollowing, fans leaving after decades. His team noticed that; he noticed that. Celebs love saying that they don’t care, but they do, more than you would imagine.

Fans obviously care more than any random person who comes across an interview of his. While I agree that some things are being blown out of proportion, I do think that we can’t deny the inconsistency of their relationship. Even if it’s real, it’s clear they want to sell a love story that most likely never existed.

I do agree that after a while we need to let this story go, even if it turns out to be not real in the end. It’s funny because will we ever actually get to know what this was? Probably not. Even if this ends one day, we will never actually know the truth. But after a while everyone will get tired of this and move on with their life. They either will „accept” her presence in his life, try to forget that she exists, or leave the fandom. Either way, I hope everyone will do what’s best for their mental health because this isn’t worth yours, that’s for sure.

[kurizz]

Pink Poly Club (miromabby) Part 3

click for part 2

Summary: They successfully dashed out of the studio. But it started raining heavily outside, making it unsafe to drive. Mira, not wanting to let them know where she lives, ended up at their place instead. She needed to relax after being stressed out by that interview.

Word count: 1127

a/n: gotta clarify that it's an alternate universe where the saja boys are regular humans.

-----

Maybe she should’ve just checked into a hotel. But after that stunt they pulled earlier, that would've been a terrible idea. Without Bobby or the rest of the company staff around, people would gather and ask questions. Too many questions.

Mira sank into their couch with a weary sigh, tossing her feet up on the small table. “Don’t get any funny ideas,” she muttered. “I just needed to relax, so I took the offer.”

“Hot cocoa? Something to drink?” Romance lazily called from the kitchen, clinking around in the cabinets. “Abs, turn up the heater. It's freezing in here.”

“On it,” Abby replied, already moving.

He was right—it was getting cold.

Mira stared out through the tall windows, the curtains were pushed to the side. It displayed how the rain lashed the glass in harsh, steady bursts. Bobby was probably still pacing, worried sick about where she’d gone after ducking out of the studio earlier than scheduled. She had told him the truth. Not that it helped. It only added to his worries. 

The girls would surely want in on everything. She’d tell them when they meet. For now, her phone was shut. She needed to relax.

“Once the rain stops, I’m heading home.”

Romance hummed. She hadn’t even answered his question.

“Feet down, please,” he called out, holding two mugs of hot cocoa.

She dropped her feet on the floor quickly.

He set one mug in front of her. “Here. Have a drink.”

“I didn’t say I wanted one.”

He slowly raised a brow, “I’ll drink it then. You sure you don’t want it?”

“I…I’ll have it,” she grumbled, grabbing the mug from the table.

The couch creaked as Abby plopped down beside her, leaning in towards the mug in her hands. “Careful, it’s hot. Let me help.”

He wrapped his hands over hers and guided the cup closer to his mouth, trying to blow away the steam.

Mira recoiled, eyes wide. “Stop! You’re getting your saliva all over it!”

Abby paused, stunned. Romance slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Mira was fuming, she wanted to pull the mug away from Abby but she was careful not to spill it.

Abby let go and slumped back, turning his head away like a kicked puppy. Was he sulking now?

Romance drew in a deep breath, trying to keep it together. That earned him a glare from Abby, “You’re really enjoying this.”

Romance grinned. “Don’t be mad just because I’m her favorite.”

Abby turned his glare on Mira.

She returned it right back. “I don’t like either of you. I could’ve blown on it myself.”

“I was trying to be nice.”

“By spitting on my drink?”

Abby’s ears turned red, his glare was more of a pout than a threat. Why did that make him kind of…cute?

“Forget it.”

“I can't drink this anymore,” Mira grumbled, setting the mug down. She leaned her back onto the couch and rubbed her cold hands together. Abby got up and walked away. What, is he more upset now?

“Have mine instead. I haven't taken a sip yet.” Romance offered, sitting beside her.

“…thanks, if you don't mind.”

She took one sip and welcomed the warmth that entered her system. The cocoa tasted so good. But she wouldn't say that out loud. It helped rid her of the cold a bit. She needed the warmth from the drink that badly.

Romance and Mira drank hot cocoa in complete silence. The sound of harsh rain was filling up the room for them. She glanced at him sideways, wondering how long he’d stay quiet. Oddly, it felt comforting.

Then, there were loud footsteps. She paid it no mind and focused on her drink, knowing it was just Abby coming back to the living room. His steps grew closer. A warm blanket was draped over her shoulders, the fresh lavender scent engulfed her senses. She was pleasantly surprised. So, that’s what he was up to.

Abby also tossed one blanket to Romance. He was wrapped in one himself, a small frown still evident on his lips. He said nothing and only sat on her other side—the one unoccupied by Romance—in silence.

Mira sighed, giving in. “Thanks,” she whispered softly.

Abby pretended not to look pleased, “No problem.”

He wrapped the blanket around himself tighter. Romance was still sipping on his cup.

There it was again. That stretch of silence surrounding them. If it weren't for the rain, she would've assumed that her hearing was gone.

Normally, they were chatty. Teasing her left and right, trying to get a reaction out of her. She wasn't sure if she preferred this side over their playful side. This definitely was new. She hummed in thought, setting down her mug once she finished drinking.

“I didn't get to say thank you earlier.” she paused, waiting for them to respond. Once they didn't, she kept going. “You must've known I was uncomfortable so you took me out of there.”

“Not sure what you mean.” Romance pretended to be fascinated by his mug, he wouldn't even look at her.

“Don't start thinking we did it for you.” Abby murmured, “…because we did.”

This time, it was her turn not to respond. They did it first, anyway.

Out of nowhere, Abby rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Just a few minutes…I won't do anything else.”

His voice was low and soft. It had a mild pleading tone to it that sent a delicious shiver down her spine. He was way too close, the heat from his body threatened to consume her. She couldn't help but fix her posture—it only made Abby scoot closer.

Romance sighed, grabbing her attention. He nuzzled his head on the other side of her shoulder, “I can't help it anymore. Give me a few minutes too, Mira.”

“What are you guys…”

She didn't know what to do. That awful fuzziness she felt in her chest was clearly trouble. She doesn't need it, go away. Why is she giving in…clearly it must be the weather. It's messing up with her way of thinking.

She plopped her head back, her gaze softening as it met the ceiling. She wouldn't admit it, but this felt nice. Being wrapped in a blanket and almost cuddled up amidst the heavy rain outside made her slightly woozy, her eyelids getting heavy.

She closed her eyes, but reminded herself not to sleep. She's just going to rest for a bit. Just for a bit. It’s fine.

Minutes went by.

Abby noticed the rain had subsided, so he pointed it out.

Weirdly enough, Mira hadn't had the urge to get up and leave anymore, but she had to go. She had to go before they let the moment carry them away.

-----

a/n: still getting a hang of this thing. btw, my fingers were itching not to italicize almost everything. also, golden is just so good of a song but so hard to sing—my voice cracked like rumi in their practice. probably the only thing we have in common.

author's note? no. author's ramble.

@suzieq1948374 @unmooredandfulloftrepidation

[jekyllnvibes]

Please, be free, yap about your VotV world! About your Kel! What was his arrival to dunkeltaler like? Is your Kel based off of your playstyle? What's his relationship with his Ena? Why so many Kerfur-omegas? When the rozitals came, did he go out and get scanned by a scout? What's his favorite encounter that he's had with aliens so far? Least favorite? Most confusing?

(Free permission to yapsalot ask. Have fun!!) (Hopefully I didn't overwhelm you with questions!)

(apologies if this is the second time the ask comes through, as I encountered an error the first time I attempted to ask)

I Would Die For You Thank You-

My universe is based on my playthrough!! I also interpret a lot of the Meta aspects of the game in a very fun way that I'll get into with Kel!

My Dr. Kel is somewhat mentally prepared for the Horrors in Dunkeltaler when he arrives, and is Confident about facing them, because he's a Little Fucking Weirdo on a Very Deep Level. As a bit of background before becoming the canary, he's always been odd. He has a heavy interest in the paranormal, especially on a cosmic level (it's part of why he became an astronomer in the first place), and has had a lot of minor encounters with the paranormal in the past (he swears to this day he had an honest to god interview with Mothman on spring break in America, but really he just wrote a bunch of questions on a piece of paper and left it in the woods near one of the nuclear bunkers Mothman has been sighted at and found them all answered the next day in very bad handwriting. It definitely was Mothman.) When he gets the letter inviting him to Dunkeltaler for a six figure salary after just a few months of work, Almost STRAIGHT OUT of university he's incredibly suspicious, and decides to do a little digging on the area and it's surroundings via some paranormal hobbyist forums, and finds out that there's a Weird amount of people who've gone missing there that ASO keeps saying just. Died in accidents because they're alone in the woods handling heavy machinery and electronics with no one around to help. But also ASO never seems to hire more than one person at a time despite this... Suspicious.... As well, there's a few accounts of trespassers and people who live within about a hundred miles of the area talking about seeing weird phenomena. Lights in the forest, strange shapes in the sky. Well, Kel is a lil bit of a fucking madman with very little self preservation and a whole lot of curiosity, so he takes the position Immediately despite not trusting ASO at all with this new information in mind, because he specifically wants to get paid just to hang out in what seems to be a paranormal hot bed doing what he wants to do as a job anyways. He's already prepared for Dunkeltaler to be weird and probably dangerous, just not sure how weird and dangerous.

Additional lore for this Kel, he isn't aware of it when he arrives, (and neither is ASO or they wouldn't have sent him) but he is Mildly Anomalous. He's sensitive to the paranormal, it's why he's able to sense things in his general vicinity without seeing them or hearing them, and he's *borderline fucking indestructible on top of that.* He's had a lot of accidents that should have killed him, does things that would usually debilitate other people without even half the negative effects, he's been hit by a bus going a good 40 mph and just got up and dusted himself off with only some scrapes and sprains, stayed up for a full six days with Zero sleep running on nothing but coffee and caffeine pills and was completely coherent the entire time. As he is In Dunkeltaler, he starts to become aware of his own Anomalous Nature, and starts Abusing The Fuck Out Of It to not just Survive but Thrive there.

His relationship with Ena is great originally, they're very close, Ena graduated a little before him and starts at ASO pretty much immediately, and he gets a job with her there soon after, just lower in the chain of command/information, but once he gets the letter and does his research into Dunkeltaler, he starts being suspicious and distant with her because he doesn't trust that she's telling him everything she knows, or that she actually cares as much as she says she does. (She does care, and she DOES know more than she's letting on, but she isn't willing to risk her job with ASO, especially because she has seen Kel's indestructibility first hand and feels like if there is anyone who could be a canary without dying, it's him.)

His first few nights are spent pretty peacefully cleaning and selling the garbage for points. The first thing he bought for himself, was a coffee maker and 7 bags of coffee, so that he wouldn't need to sleep as often and could spend more time exploring and decoding the mysteries of Dunkeltaler. The second thing he bought was Kerfur Red, who he named Rascal.

Without like, writing a whole chronological timeline, Kel finds out after a handful of events that he's not just sort of weird and hardy, he's straight up some kind of Anomalous Freak, because he has Full Memory of other timelines where he's died, can sense other anomalies pretty easily, and also... Now that he does know that, he starts experimenting with how much he can do On Purpose. Every instance of the game crashing because Kel is somewhere he can't escape (the red fern dimension, the dark maze when clipping into the map, etc.) is Kel Himself just. Resetting the timeline. Though he finds that whatever Anomalous part of himself is capable of this is only capable of doing so with the help of whatever the hell is going on in Dunkeltaler too, because he can't access anything before having arrived there. Every instance of the game crashing because he's encountered an entity or event that does so however, is because that entity did it to him, and he's always pissed about it because he was "BUSY YOU FUCK- DAMMIT I JUST SENT OFF MY REPORT FOR THE DAY!" He can't lock in hard enough to do so when he's freaked out and anxious though, which is where Meta Paranoia comes in. Eventually he figures out how to exist and communicate with himself in concurrent timelines, and learns that the mailbox outside Alpha seems to exist Outside of time and space, because "of Course it fucking does, nothing in this forest is ever fucking normal- Myself included, whatever fine, cool, we can use this-" and then decides to use it to gain access to normally limited resources. Specifically, *Omega Kerfur Parts.* He tells himself he does this for the extra robotic protection, and to have multiple Kerfurs out running jobs at the same time for Extreme Efficiency, and that's true but... He's also just lonely still. Rascal and the Arirals make good company, but the Arirals aren't usually direct in communication or hanging out with him, and Rascal is out gathering hash codes, fixing transformers, and fixing servers a lot. It would be nice to have the extra bodies around. (Sidenote, after a few months in Dunkeltaler and spending time with his Kerfur's with borderline no direct communication with anyone else except through emails and the Arirals being Weird but Funny, he just says fuck it and asks to marry all of his Kerfurs, they are canonically a very weird little polycule.)

As for his encounters with the Not So Locals, his favorite interaction he's ever had is waking up to the Arirals having fed him yogurt in his sleep while staying in the treehouse. He thought it was really fucking weird, but also very funny and he THINKS it's their way of saying they Like Him A Whole Lot despite still shoving him down and stealing his food regularly. His least favorite is the first time he actually Noticed the greys flying over his base, because they dropped a corpse in the parking lot which Fucking Exploded on impact, which was both horrifying and disgusting, and he's pretty sure was a declaration of war considering they started sending the weird bio-weapons pretty soon after.

He let the Rozital scouts scan him, but was very upset and surprised when they tried to Kill Him afterwards. He's pretty sure it's because he is an anomaly, and the scouts seem to be very defensive (or maybe something else?? Maybe they consider him a *resource* to be harvested... He tries not to dwell on that because it freaks him out and avoids direct contact with the Rozitals afterwards regardless, using Whisker to observe them instead at the hole later on,) towards anomalous entities within Dunkeltaler. He has a generally good opinion of the Rozitals despite this, as they've been pretty neutral to him otherwise, and he appreciated the giant warning hologram before whatever went on with the Yellow Wisps happened, though he's also at least 80% sure the wisps were there because of them in the first place, and he wasn't happy having to reorganize and clean everything when the impact ruined all of his hard work to clean up everything.

Some extra little bits of trivia I wanna share:

-Kel has a large indoor garden in the second floor hallway because he thought it looked like a greenhouse anyways and got tired of Buying Food all of the time.

-He likes fishing in his very large amount of free time.

-He built his Kerfur Polycule in this order: Rascal, Butter, Pico, and Whisker.

-Rascal collects reports, only responds it/it's pronouns, and is easily agitated.

-Butter fixes Transformers and responds only to She/Her pronouns. She Gets Stuck the most out of all of the Kerfurs.

-Pico fixes Servers, seems to primarily prefer He/Him pronouns but will also occasionally refuse to respond unless Kel switches to using They/Them, and gets the most excited for pats and snuggles.

-Whisker is for scouting and observation, does not seem to care what pronouns Kel refers to them with, and gets themself into the most trouble. They have been taken by the vore event twice (though Kel (me,) can't remember if those both occurred in the Same iteration of their primary timeline or not,) and has been dismantled by entities more than any of the other Kerfurs.

-Kel keeps a bin full of extra food in the basement which he only uses to attract and catch roaches, because those on top of fish, are his only reliably renewable source of protein which don't cost points

-He gets excited about The Meat Rain because it's free meat, but the first time he encountered the Mysterious Meat was when Rascal was still on wheels and became possessed just to lead him to it in the woods, and it freaked him out really hard. Nothing in Dunkeltaler scares him anymore based on just it's existence though. Has to be a full threat to him bodily to make him anxious at this point.

-Kel is aware something is in the meat locker, but keeps trying to break into it anyways, because it's very unlikely any worse than anything else he's encountered, he wants to catalogue it, and he's jealous that it has access to racks of ribs and he does not.

-Kel sleeps in the bed with all four of his robot spouses, and it is never comfortable, but it does make him feel less paranoid and he likes the affection.

-Kel thinks Furfur is kinda hot and summoned him on purpose just to ogle him for a while.

Edit: YALL HELP I DIDNT KNOW YOU COULD BUY KERFUR OMEGA PARTS AFTER BUILDING ONE ONCE

[aikoiya]

Ah! I'm so sorry! I completely forgot that I hadn't answered your question!! I'll get right to it!!

But, if you want Danny's opinion of these hunters, then I'd say that he'd initially have a similar opinion of them to what he had towards the hunters from Million Dollar Ghost. He'd initially assume that they'd be just as bad.

Towards the first group, I think that Danny would be a mix of curious regarding what he's mentally calling interviews, but would find humor in how they'd run from monsters & make mistakes, while also be somewhat worried for them. After the thing with them asking a ghost about their death, I actually think that he might consider stepping in to give them a short list of dos & do nots regarding conversing with ghosts.

For the second hunter... They kind of remind me of a medium. You know, someone who channels spirits so that they can act through the medium? So, I dunno. Maybe this could be a some sort of variation on the concept?

Anyway, I think Danno would think they're kinda nuts & might try to help the lower power ghosts if they're being used against their wills.

Though, I will say that the handcuffs could just be made of silver. Silver is actually a fairly common tool against monsters due to it being a symbol of purity.

But, as far as the corporate hunters, they sort of give me merc or bounty hunter vibes. And I think that Danny might pick up on that as well.

For the last one, I think Danny would initially get annoyed with the monster, but I also think he'd secretly enjoy the witty banter.

I hope I gave a more satisfactory answer this time? And again, sorry it took so long to reply! 😓

Ghost king Danny and his hunter opinions

I saw many posts about Danny meeting John Constantine and messing with him. But I wonder about what Danny thinks of other hunters while he is the ghost king, like I want to know what Danny will do when he is in front of a paladin who is ready to banish him to the ghost world or a group of hunters who thought Danny is a demon.

To make this idea fair let's just say the GIW does not count as a hunter group because, let's be honest the reputation of GIW everywhere is bad and let us not talk about them unless they are being embarrassed by other real Hunters.

List of hunters,

Hunter from churches - Cross and holy water with bible to banish entities (ghost and demon)

Paranormal investigator - camera and some paranormal tool to help catch ghost

Scientist hunter - make weapons to hunt ghosts and monsters ( this opinion could be obvious because of Danny parents)

And more.

[lostsyren]

There’s sm bts of the end of s3, where the pogues receive the award. Of Sofia in a waitressing outfit. Of Shoupe and Limbrey. And none of these characters have an ounce of relevance in the Final Cut. Which makes me think, were they initially planning to go in a different direction for s4? Why have these actors in full costume on set if they’re not going to be in any scenes? We’ve seen Fiona say there were a lot of changes in the direction they took Sofia’s character, so I wonder what the initial plan was?

If there was another storyline, what could it have been?

It annoys me because I had these questions back during s3 when there were all these bts pics and vids of this specific scene and then the actual scene itself was a 2 min cop out to introduce the next treasure hunt. I was waiting for the pay off in s4. Like Sofia’s presence in the bts being significant. Even Limbrey. I would’ve preferred if they explored her character more rather than create all these new villains we don’t care about. But unfortunately there was no pay off and I’m stuck wondering what happened in all the scenes they’ve scrapped :/