#he wouldn't be there without Michael though

[beerok23]

BAFTA: Let's nominate David Tennant for "Male performance in a comedy"

The Comedy:

Never heard of an actor who got his nominee for The Perfect Grunt™.

[prickly-paprikash]

Pushing aside the fact that I am, quite possibly, a Kendrick fan—disregarding my biases, I think Drake needs to stop. Push Ups was a good diss. Surface level, vapid, but it possessed that mean, petty spirit that carries a diss track all the way. Even bringing up accusations that are, realistically speaking, unlikely still works because a diss is supposed to show just how much you hate a person and how cleverly you can bring it.

Taylor Made was weird. I get that it was a strategy. Drop the main diss first and then drop this one to really prod at Kendrick. Using Pac and Snoop AI voices sucks though. Distilling Kendrick as Taylor's underling also doesn't work because Kendrick only collaborated with her once (twice when they remade Bad Blood) and that's it. Meanwhile Drake is out here always looking for new, up and coming artists to pounce on their trends or cling to established artists. Then it got taken down, because of course it would have been. You used 2Pac's voice. Did you really think his estate, his family, wouldn't do anything?

So he bought Pac's ring and used his voice without permission. More and more we see just how much of a vulture Drake is.

And then Euphoria drops.

Your first diss was met with solid reactions. Your second got taken down. Kendrick drops on a random hot Tuesday, and in a matter of hours surpasses your numbers that took weeks to accumulate. Kendrick did that. Euphoria was also harsh, clever, and sounded so good that people kept replaying it over and over again. Once more, Kendrick schools you.

A few insiders then say that Drake will drop that night. Right after. But he then allegedly gets cold feet. A few hours later from when Drake was supposedly ready to drop but backs out, Kendrick drops 6:16 in LA.

In your previous disses, you begged Kendrick to drop something with quintuple entendres. Euphoria did that. But he took it a step further by naming his second diss 6:16 in LA.

June 16: Father's day. Referencing the fact that Drake has been proven to be a deadbeat father.

June 16, 1971: Tupac's Birthday. Kendrick idolizes him. Drake steals from him.

June 16, 2019: First episode of Euphoria drops. A show Drake is listed as a producer on. A show about underage girls entering a life of sex, substance abuse, and more. Things that Drake has been accused of repeatedly in the past.

June 16, 2011: in June 2, 2011, Kendrick posted on his twitter that there will be a concert at Toronto on 6/16. Allegedly this is where Drake and Kendrick first met.

6:16 AM: The time of release for this track.

6:16: Multiple possible Bible verses, given Kendrick's Christian background.

Other claims felt like reaches though, so I'll stick to that.

The final two lines of 6:16 also reference the Michael Jackson, R. Kelly, and their song "You Are Not Alone". Drake, who has always claimed he is Michael Jackson or at the very least his equal/successor, is now tied to him in a way he does not want. Because we know all of the dirt that came out after MJ's death. We all know what R. Kelly was sent to prison for. And we all know what Drake has been accused of multiple times.

Kendrick also alludes to the fact that you have a leak in your circle, Drake.

So Drake drops Family Matters. A scathing 7 minute song that makes fun of the GKMC van. Saying that Kendrick's daughter isn't his. Saying that his wife cheats on him with security. Saying that he beats his wife.

Now, these are enormous accusations levied. But Kendrick has responded before, years ago, that the DV accusations were false. He has also always been open about his faults. Adultery. Sex addiction. Insecurity. God complex. Kendrick, for better or worse, has always laid out nearly every aspect of his younger life on his songs. This also helped by the fact that in both Euphoria and 6:16, Kendrick says that Drake has spent millions on finding dirt on him but came up with nothing. Again, these accusations can still be proven true and if so, Kendrick needs to be held accountable for them.

But if not? Then Drake just adds another to the pile of "He's a liar and a master manipulator."

Drake also posts a Parody on his Insta that gains little to no attention because 30 minutes after dropping Family Matters and supposedly going on his victory lap, Kendrick drops meet the grahams.

Another thing. 6:16's cover was a glove. That meant nothing to us, the audience. meet the grahams makes it make sense by zooming out of the glove and showing off a shirt and drugs that Drake supposedly uses. Drake has not had any receipts with his accusations against Kendrick. Kendrick puts Drake's supposed prescription, his full name, on a bottle of Ozempic. Kendrick, for now, seems to make good on his threat. OvO, Drake's company, is full of leaks. And they're leaking it straight to Kendrick Lamar.

Nearly 24 hours later, Kendrick drops Not Like Us.

Euphoria was a general character dissection and assassination of Drake: Insecure about his identity as a biracial man. Culture Vulture. Blaccent user. Code switcher. Fake abs. Womanizer. Misogynist. Using black features just to feel black enough. A deadbeat dad that knows nothing of raising a child. And even revokes Drake's ability to use the N-Word (I have no stake in that I am Asian so I will keep my brown mouth shut for that).

6:16 in LA was an ominous threat that slowly reveals that Kendrick has insider information on Drake. That he is ready to leak so much more should Drake continue.

meet the grahams is a brutal open letter to Drake, his parents, and even to Adonis, Drake's son. Saying that Kendrick could be a better mentor to Adonis. Saying that Drake abandoned you and that's not your fault. Don't be like your father—whatever anyone says, for better or worse, you are a black man and don't code switch just to make yourself feel better. He says that Drake failed his mother for what he did to women. Saying that Drake's father is the cause of his gambling issues. Drake is a body shamer. Leaving the mother of his children to rot. And of course, the reveal that Drake has a secret daughter, the same way Pusha T revealed Drake has a son. Adonis.

And of course, now. Not Like Us. Where Kendrick goes all in on one topic that he has alluded to in every diss track before. Drake is a groomer. A pedophile.

I am sick. I should not be tuning into this beef. But my fever can go ahead and end me, I need to know how this ends.

[mx-pastelwriting]

hi how are you hope you are well

I wondered how the slashers would react if you hugged them from behind (^-^)/

Oooooo I like this one its so cute to imagine!

I would definitely want to make a full post later down the line with this prompt! As I'm not taking request for full posts at the moment. But heres a bit of what I think!

Slashers x GN! Reader

Summary: Prompt up top^ Small Headcanon!

I'm not open for requests, but little asks on thoughts on something is okay~

Thomas Hewitt: If it were the first time, he would jump a bit, but when realizing it was you, he would melt in your arms. He is such a gentle giant when it comes to love. Learning from it, he would do the same when he caught you with a turned-back.

Michael Myers (78 Michael): Would not understand what you were doing or trying to do. When asking what he was doing by the tone of your voice, he would understand it was another show of affection. Still working on getting used to the feeling of love and how it works, he slowly looks forward to you coming up behind to hug his waist. Little by little, considering trying it himself.

Jason Voorhees: Ticklish, for sure. Hearing him laugh a little as he squirms at your arms wrapped around his waist. Leaving you to tease him a little about it. When doing it again, you learn to do it quickly, making it less ticklish. Jason would only attempt it when having come home and cleaned up, not wanting to get mud and sweat onto you.

Brahms Heelshire: Would love it. Really love it if you get what I'm saying. Putting aside his touch-starved state, he would beg for you to do it again after that. Rarely does it to you, wanting to be the one receiving the hug. Tall man is needy.

Bo Sinclair: Spooked by it. Makes him blush hard, worse when you kiss his neck or back, making his face burn a hot red. Though rarely lets you see him in that state, Bo loves it from the first time you do it. Does it to you as well, attacking your neck and shoulder while chuckling.

Vincent Sinclair: If it wasn't for Lester's romance movies or Bo's special movies, he would have no idea what you were doing. Understanding mostly from Lester's movies to be a loving act, he smiles under his mask, though continues to do what he working on. Moving less to not spook you into letting go.

Lester Sinclair: Getting all blushy and mushy about it. Stopping what he was doing just to melt in your arms. Asking if you could just stay like that for a little longer. It would become a daily thing for the both of you taking any chance to embrace each other.

Hannibal Lector: Wouldn't physically react, greeting you as it happens and smiling, loving every one of your affectionate acts. Continuing to work on whatever he was doing, allowing you to hang onto him, whether in silence or talking about each other's day.

Will Graham: Would chuckle at you hugging him from behind, feeling as his muscles relaxed against your touch. Preferred to let the air stay quiet, with your arms warped around his waist, feeling the fabric of his flannel shirt smelling of aftershave and dog.

I didn't proofread this one too much, but I did put it through a grammar checker, so if there are any mistakes, blame Grammarly.

Hope you liked this little headcanon!

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does give consent to "reblog," sharing links to direct work, and being in recommend lists.

[anglbnny]

You bouta have ALL my babies ♡ Multiple blue lock

.ᐟcw: suggestive, mentions of doing it, mentions of pregnancy, fluffy stupidness

Isagi Yoichi

He FREEZES. Like mid-bite of his sandwich, just blinking at you. You casually go, “Yeah... I’m marrying you. You’re about to have all my babies.” Isagi short-circuits. “HUH?!”

Face bright red, ears burning, sandwich forgotten. “B-Babies?! Now?! You can’t just— I mean—” He fidgets, rubbing the back of his neck, flustered but clearly thinking about it way too seriously now.

Later that night, he hugs you way too tight while mumbling, "…wouldn't mind though. You’d look really cute pregnant..."

Shidou Ryusei

You say it once, and this man immediately pulls you into his lap. Grinning all sharp and wide, eyes glinting mischievously. "Oh? Is that right, princess?"

You can feel how excited he instantly gets against you. "Then c'mere," he whispers against your neck, voice low and rough. "Let's get started on that army, huh? Hope you’re ready to be walking funny tomorrow."

He’s so serious about it you have to literally scramble away before he acts on it immediately.

Alexis Ness

You say it so casually while he’s fixing his hair. And poor Ness just short-circuits. Goes beet red and drops his comb. "Wh-what?! Babies?! Marrying?! U-Uh—uhm!!"

He frantically tries to fix his hair again even though his hands are shaking.

Would 100% start nervously rambling about how he needs to start planning everything— "Where would we live? Would you want a pet too? O-Or a garden? Maybe we could—!"

You just giggle while he’s literally spiraling, thinking about your entire married life together. "you're so cute, baby!" you squeal, hugging him

Rin Itoshi

You’re chilling together, scrolling through your phone, and you just casually mumble, "Yeah, I’m marrying you. You’re gonna give me all your babies." Rin CHOKES on his water. Then glares at you, cheeks tinted pink.

"Shut up," he grumbles—but he can’t meet your eyes and the tips of his ears are bright red.

Later, when you're dozing off on the couch, he whispers, “.. 's not like I'd mind...” and presses a kiss to your temple.

Michael Kaiser

Kaiser would smirk like the cockiest mf alive. "Really, princess? Can't blame you, schatz." He’d grab your chin gently and make you look at him. "All my babies, hm?"

He says it mockingly, but the way his voice drops an octave... you KNOW he's taking it seriously. He’d lean in real close and whisper against your lips, "If you want it that bad... I'll fill you up right now, hübsches Mädchen." (You’re not escaping without getting absolutely ruined.)

Sae Itoshi

You say it after he does something mundane—like handing you your favorite snack without being asked, or casually fixing your computer like it was nothing. You're half-joking, dramatic on purpose. But Sae freezes mid-step. "…What?"

You grin. “You ‘bout to have all my babies, Sae. I’m locking this down.” He stares at you like you’ve grown another head. Then scoffs, shaking his head. “…Tch. You’re annoying.” But the tips of his ears are red.

Later, when you're curled up next to him watching a movie, he mumbles under his breath, “You’d probably look good with my babies…”

(He thinks about it for days. And suddenly starts pulling out less. )

Bachira Meguru

You say it while he’s being cute. Like handing you your favorite hoodie or offering you a weird snack combo only he would think of. You go full dramatic “Meguru. I’m marrying you. You’re about to have ALL my babies.” He gasps, eyes sparkling.

“All of them?! Even the chaos goblin ones??” Then he tackles you onto the couch, giggling.

"You really wanna be stuck with me forever, huh~?"

Later, he doodles a lil stick-figure family on your arm with hearts and writes “Future Bachira babies” in Sharpie.

Taglist:@samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @silverwings920 @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan @valexqpt @bigclownshoes @rinniewinnie787 @satorella @sillykittiessss

A/n: This made me giggle, lol

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Masterlist]

[randomusingsofalovesickgirl]

EPISODE 01: CALL ME YOURS

a/n: somewhat (?) proofread! just needed to get it out there, before i forget. 😅 alsooooo if you would prefer shorter but more chapters, let me know 😊 🎶 call me yours by lilian helper 🎶 crush by fox gunn 🎶 there's no way by lauv ft. julia michaels

The moment you walked into the living room, you knew two things: first, the cameras were already rolling, and second, you were absolutely and irreversibly screwed.

There are plenty of things to be concerned about when you walked onto the Inside set—being without your phone for a week, tripping on your own feet, being at the mercy of seven of your most shit-starting friends, fumbling your words, or not getting along with the other contestants. But instead, all you could think about was him.

Not the cameras. Not the chaos. Not the loudness of it all. Not Milli and Cinna, who are currently sitting next to you as Cinna speculated who the fuck ordered the golden straw. Just George, standing a few feet away from you, looking completely unbothered. As if nothing happened. As if the two of you didn't just ruin your friendship two nights ago.

It happened after a year of skirting the line: hundreds of inside jokes layered with meanings, countless one-on-one moments that felt far too intimate for 'just friends', lingering glances you hoped no one noticed, and endless excuses to be near each other. Friends constantly asked "will they or won't they?" as they did whatever they could to set something up, push something to happen. Meanwhile, your fans created millions of edits, insisting that it had been secretly happening all along.

But beyond all your friends' efforts and fan speculation, nothing ever happened.

Until two nights ago, alone in his empty flat.

Both of you gave each other the heads up that for the next week, you wouldn't be able to talk due to 'important family trips'—a lie, of course, to cover up being on the show. A week wasn't long, sure, but for you two—seven days felt forever. You hadn't gone more than a single day without at least texting since you met during the Sidemen Talent Show. His roommates were out on the town, and while you were both invited, you opted to spend the night alone—just the two of you. At some point, the shitty television show playing in the background became nothing but noise—forgotten between the shared laughter and stolen glances that lingered longer than they should've. Soon, the silence felt loaded. With one too many glasses of wine, your guard dropped...but it was the way George looked at you, almost as if he was trying not to. You don’t remember exactly how it happened, but he was soon hovering over you. You could feel the warmth of his breath and see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, like he knew it was a bad idea but wanted it anyway. His hand brushed your jaw, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt down your spine and butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You whispered, "We shouldn't." But you wanted nothing more. "What are we doing?" George mumbled, his eyes now locked on your lips. His voice was low and a little slurred, and for a while, none of you moved. Until you leaned up, and his lips were on yours. The kiss, though soft, was hungry and aching. Like a secret finally breaking free, like a weight being lifted off both your backs. His mouth moved against yours with a year’s worth of restraint unraveling all at once—desperate, tender, and a little clumsy from the wine, but so, so real. Each kiss tasted like everything you’d never let yourself say sober.

"Can the contestants please make their way to the challenge room?" Tobi's voice blasted from the speakers, accompanied by the screen flashing the same message in bold white letters.

Cinna and Milli stood up from beside you, prying themselves off the beanbags you'd all practically melted into. You let out a playful groan, dropping your head back. “I don’t want to go. I know they’re going to be evil,” you whined, making both girls chuckle.

Taking Milli’s outstretched hand, you let her pull you to your feet. As the others started making their way toward the challenge room, you caught George’s gaze lingering on you out of the corner of your eye. He stayed back, letting everyone else pass.

He disguised it as adjusting something on his microphone pack, which only made your chest ache. Him waiting for you wasn’t odd—no one would’ve questioned it. Everyone already knew you two were close before the show. Mandi had even declared the moment you walked in that it was unfair both of you were here, claiming you were “definitely dating,” which would make "doing nothing together too easy." Her theory, of course, was backed by the dozens of TikTok edits she and Milli had watched of you and George together.

You both denied it—laughing it off with an ease that had been practically rehearsed for months. But you silently prayed none of them noticed the flush in your cheeks, the redness in George’s ears, or the way your eyes kept finding each other across the room.

As Cinna and Milli moved ahead, their laughter blending into the buzz of the rest of the group, you hung back. For a second, it felt like it used to—just the two of you; normal, almost. You had to physically restrain yourself from throwing your arms around him and telling him how happy you were that he was here. He licked his lips, and you had to force yourself not to remember how they felt on yours.

"Hey," He said, soft enough that only you could hear.

You swallowed. "Hey."

The silence that followed stretched between you like a tightrope. One wrong word—one mention of that night—and it would snap, sending you both tumbling.

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flickering to the ground and then back up at you. You noticed how they paused, just briefly, at your lips. "So, uh...how are you finding things so far?"

The conversation already felt...so small. Meaningless.

You forced a smile. "Fine, you?"

He nodded slowly at your words, sheepishly even. "Yeah...just...you know," he shrugged, "ready for the lads to fuck with us." He put on a stupid accent, one that he knows always make you chuckle. And it almost did. Almost.

Silence filled the space again, thick and charged. You stared at each other a little too long, both of you trying to refrain from subconsciously moving closer to each other, as you always have done. George shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly unsure of what to say next.

His voice dropped down to an even quieter whisper so that no one could hear (as if he didn't have a microphone pack strapped to his chest). "You left before I could wake up. I'm not sure if you wanted to talk about it...or if we can...but I think we definitely should."

You hesitated. Too many words fought to reach your tongue, none of them right. Not here. Not now.

"Yeah, uh, I don't know..." you mumbled, "but we definitely should." Your eyes darted around. Everyone else was already in the challenge room, just two studio managers still tidying up the set.

He nodded again, too quickly this time. "Yeah, yeah, of course. Just, I wanted to let you know that I don't want it to be-"

"Oi! Lovebirds!" JJ poked his head from the challenge room and into the hallway, "Get your asses in here right now! We're waiting on you two!"

George let out a low breath and let out a quick smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Guess that's our cue." He held out his hand for you to take.

You stared at his outstretched hand, your heart thudding in your chest.

For a split second, and against your better judgement, you almost reached for it—almost letting muscle memory win. But instead, you wrapped your arms around yourself and took a small step forward, slipping past him to join the others without another word.

Not a rejection. Not quite. Just...space.

His hand hovered mid-air for a moment longer before dropping back to his side. He didn't say anything, just followed behind you—his eyes trained on the ground.

When you stepped into the challenge room and saw JJ, Simon, and Tobi—JJ in mid-rant about how he was this close to starting without you, you smiled.

Familiar faces. Some sort of normalcy. Even under the far too bright lights, you could pretend that nothing actually happened; that you weren't spiraling and panicking underneath your cool exterior; that George's closeness doesn't mean anything more than usual.

You mumbled an apology as you took your spot next to Milli and Dylan, trying to keep your expression neutral. Out of the corner of your eye, George slid into his place across the room.

Your eyes met once—just once. A flicker. A slient later.

But for now, the cameras were rolling, the game was beginning. And you can't let Tobi, Simon, or JJ have an idea that something was weird between you two. Then you'd never hear the end of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The challenge is Insider Dating," Simon began, clapping his hands together. "You'll each be given two questions that you must answer to our satisfaction. Think of it as a chance to really get to know your fellow Insiders!"

The group let out a chorus of exaggerated awwws, leaning into the bit for the cameras.

"But," Simon added with a mischievous grin, "there will be distractions. You can opt out… but it’ll cost ten grand from the prize money.”

A collective gasp echoed through the room—playful, dramatic.

Tobi jumped in. “We’ve already paired you up. We’ll call your names. When it’s your turn, sit at the table, open the menu, and read what you see.”

As stage managers did a final sweep, double-checking mics and cues, everyone began speculating about what the distractions might be.

“I think we got this,” Dylan assured you, resting his hand on your bouncing knee. “Don’t worry.”

Milli grinned. “Remember, you’re a bad bitch!” You laughed, grateful, until something across the room caught your eye.

Mya leaned in toward George, who seemed to be explaining the rules again. Her hand rested lightly on his bicep, a sly smile on her lips. Your stomach twisted. She was gorgeous. And George? Maybe he’d like her more.

It shouldn’t matter. You and George were just friends who’d… hooked up. No claims. Still, the way she tilted her head toward him, the way he let her—it made your chest feel tight.

You looked away quickly, turning back to Milli. “As long as it’s not snakes, I’m happy.”

Finally, the challenge began.

First up: PK and Cinna—rats crawling over them.

Since entering, Cinna was the person you trusted most. She seemed genuine; serious about the challenge, lovely, and just overall kind. PK, on the other hand, terrified you—loud, outrageous, unpredictable. You worried he’d spend more than he’d earn.

Still, you had to give them credit. They both endured the rats. Neither tapped out.

You looked up—George was watching you. But as your eyes met, he quickly looked away.

Next came Farah and Jason. Though Farah had been rowdy so far, you admired how kind she truly was. When Jason panicked about the nail near his ear, she comforted him, hyping him up.

“This is so fucked up!” Jason screamed, sending the room into laughter. Except George. He had his own bit ready.

“It’s gonna get more fucked up!” he said, slipping into that same ridiculous accent he always used to make you laugh. Everyone cracked up—but you knew that joke was targeted particularly for you. It became clear when George's eyes looked over to see if you were laughing.

His eye contact made you feel small. You sank a little into your seat, hands beginning to fidget.

“Hey,” Dylan whispered, taking off one of his rings. “Here. Fidget with this, if it helps.” You smiled gratefully, twiddling the ring between your fingers.

Dylan and Mandi were up next—"a kiss from a chicken" as their distraction. Dylan admitted what he’d do if he could be invisible; Mandi revealed her first kiss.

“This is our only group of three—a threesome, if you will,” JJ announced with a smirk. “Milli, Mya, and Whitney—please take your seats.”

Shit. That meant you were left with George.

You were pretty sure the realization showed on your face, especially when JJ and Simon winked at you. Tobi’s lack of reaction was more concerning—did he realise something?

“You got this, Milli.” You gave her a smile as she stood.

Creepy spiders crawled across their heads as they answered: Milli’s most embarrassing date story, the most famous person in Mya’s DMs… and then Whitney tapped out. Another $10K lost. Fuck.

Now it was your turn.

Tobi called out yours and George’s names. JJ led the group into a chorus of exaggerated “Ooooohs.”

You forced a laugh, heart pounding as you stood. George met you halfway, giving your hand a quick squeeze. You hadn’t realized how visibly nervous you were—but he had.

Still, he looked away quickly. His expression unreadable.

“Go on, loverbirds!” Jason heckled. The group erupted in laughter. George flipped him off, and you forced a laugh.

You sat across from each other, and today, the table felt too small. George slid his foot between yours—a subtle touch to ground you. This time, you didn’t pull away.

As always, JJ made another joke at your two's expense “This isn’t your first date, so you know what to do.” You rolled your eyes and flipped him off again, earning some more laughter.

"Please open the menus." Simon instructed.

You flipped it open.

SHOCKING QUESTIONS.

“Ladies first,” JJ said, smirking. “So George, you're up.” George nodded in resignation as a technician locked you both into the shock devices.

You look at the questions listed on your menu. "What is your worst online dating experience?"

You’d heard this one before. But instead of listening, your eyes tracked the way he flinched—eyebrows furrowing in pain. Your hand instinctively reached for his, ignoring the group’s collective aww. You squeezed it, silently telling him to hang on. He squeezed back.

“Was that satisfactory?” George muttered, wincing.

Tobi, Simon, and JJ nodded. "Please ask the next question."

Really? You turned to look at the three hosts, who all had a mischievous look in their eye. These bastards.

"Snog, marry, and avoid three Insiders." He's going to say Mya.

George hesitated. "Do I really have to answer this?"

“You can tap out,” JJ taunted, “but we all know what your going to say anyway."

“Can it be any gender?” George asked, trying to stall. A shock hit. He grimaced, then gave in.

“Snog Cinna. Marry you. Avoid Farah.” He turned to Farah. “Sorry—you’re quite loud.”

“Fair,” she shrugged. She had admitted that was her red flag.

Tobi clapped. "Good job, George. It's now your turn to ask the questions."

"Which Insider do you currently trust the least?" George asked hesitantly, his hand now enveloping yours even before the shocks started.

The jolt shot through you. You yelped.

“This is unfair—I've just met them!” you protested. Another shock hit. You squeezed George’s hand tighter.

“You can always back out,” Simon teased, shuffling the cards.

But ten thousand...

Cinna came to your rescue. "It's okay! We won't be offended, right guys?" She got everyone to agree.

“Okay, really, no offense, but—either Whitney or Mandi!” They immediately jumped up, demanding to know why.

“Let me explain!” you pleaded. “It’s obvious one of you got the golden straw, and your denial makes me not trust you. Just admit it—it’s teamwork, so there's no point in being mad. ’Just be honest.” You were rambling, rushing to defuse the tension. “Also—the prices are literally extortionate! Who the fuck charges that much for a straw?” you added.

As the group laughed at your extra comment, the Sidemen motioned that the answer was satisfactory.

“George, just—please ask the next question,” you blurted, voice getting higher as you try and ignore the pain.

He looked down, face flushing red.

“Really?” he asked the Sidemen. They nodded. He berudgingly asked the next question; “Which Insider of the opposite sex would you… uh… be willing to share a bed with?”

“Agh—literally fuck off!” you yelled, jolted by the next shock.

You could answer honestly. Or safely. But the pain—and your instinct—won.

"George." You didn't dare look him in the eye, instead staring at the ceiling. You didn't see George's gaze fixating on the menu, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

"Why?" JJ prodded.

“That’s not part of the question!” George defended for you.

“Uh uh,” Simon tutted. “We decide when the answer’s complete.”

Tobi stayed silent. And that’s when you were sure—he realised something was up.

You didn’t care anymore. “I’ve fallen asleep in planes with him, and on his couch plenty of times.” Even before two nights ago, you've stayed the night countless of times; mostly on his sofa, whether that is side by side on the chaise lounge or on his shoulder.

The Sidemen finally nodded. Accepted.

With the challenge over, the hosts announced how much prize money had been lost. Everyone began to file out—some toward the shop, others back to the living room.

George lingered by the door, waiting for you who stayed behind to playfully punch JJ in the shoulder.

“Hey, can we get you in Room 19 for a confessional?” a producer asked, pulling you aside. “Tobi wants to speak with you too.”

He knew.

You turned to George, his eyes locked on yours. Sorry, you mouthed. Later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Room 19 was too bright and too quiet .

Tobi was already inside, lounging on the sofa like he hadn’t just summoned you in. He’d asked the camera crew to give you two a minute.

You slid into the sofa beside him, hiding your face in the back of the sofa. "Why do I feel like I'm about to be told off?"

He didn’t answer—just looked at you, like he was waiting for you to crack.

"What?"

He raised an eyebrow, "Something happened."

You shook your head too quickly, too defensively.

Tobi, of all people, wasn’t going to buy that. He knew. He knew. Ever since the YouTuber Pub Quiz—when he’d finally gotten fed up with watching you and George make heart eyes for three hours while being far too close to him. He heard firsthand George calling you snookums and had to physically pull George closer to him in order to protect their answers, especially after George kept gravitating towards you. When Tobi pulled you aside that night, he managed to get you to confirm it, drunk and giggly (fuelled by the alcohol from the night, and the shots you did with George), slurring out your not-so-little crush.

Maybe this was your sign to stop drinking.

“Don’t even deny it,” he said. “You and Mr. Architect aren’t acting like your usual lovesick selves.”

You rolled your eyes, scowling. “Fine. But you can’t tell any of the boys.”

Tobi mimed zipping his lips and tossing the key. You sighed.

“We slept together.”

His jaw dropped. “And?”

“And… nothing. We haven’t talked about it.” You could see the panic spiral forming in his head. “We were both drunk, and it was two nights before filming. We didn’t know we’d be here together. I kind of… left before he woke up.”

Tobi groaned. “You idiot. You didn’t want it to be awkward, so you made it more awkward.”

“I panicked!”

“For what it’s worth,” he muttered, “that poor sucker looks even more in love with you than before.”

“Tobi, we haven’t even made eye contact.”

“He looked wrecked when you were hurting earlier. That wasn’t acting. And trust me—Clarkey can't act for shit. Trust me, I've seen it."

You snorted. He wasn’t wrong.

There was a long pause. You didn’t say anything more. Not yet.

“They’re gonna call you for a confessional soon,” he said gently. “You good?” You nodded, even though you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess of George. "If you ever need a break, just ask them to go to the smoker's area. And, if you ever need to talk to me, just say so. We can hear everything."

You gave him a grateful smile, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him.

The crew came back in, cameras rolling.

You straightened your shoulders, just enough to fake composure. Although the world as you know it felt shook to its core, you had to pretend it was all fine.

Giving the producer a small nod, you convinced yourself you could do this. You'd done harder things. You just should not mention George, as much as you want to.

Maybe being away from your phone is harder than you thought. You wished you could text your roommate for her advice, although you could already guess what they were. Maybe you just needed the comfort. Maybe you just need George.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The end of the day came around faster than you expected.

With two new faces—Patrice (or “Uncle”, as he insisted) and DDG—the group loosened up again, especially after that tense challenge. Chaos resumed not long after, as people either tried to sneakily snag meal upgrades or tried to stomach the quite...unpleasant dinner prepared.

You wanted to keep track of who was doing what, to have a better idea of who to trust. But George was already on top of it. And right now, you couldn’t trust yourself around George, let alone what you might say if you were alone with him.

So you stuck close to who you could trust so far; Milli, Dylan, Jason,a and Cinna. Luckily, DDG managed to wrangle everyone into a budgeting talk—half serious, half banter—and you nodded along, grateful for the distraction.

Across the room, George finally stopped circling the space, his self-appointed half-joking job of policing the 'ruffians' (his words, not yours) done for the evening. But his gaze kept drifting. Back to you.

His eyes were pleading.

You could tell he wanted to talk. Needed to talk. About that night.

And you knew you should.

And part of you really, really wanted to.

But you were scared.

With a week still ahead of you—and cameras in every corner—this wasn’t the time.

Not quite yet.

Not quite here.

So you laughed a little louder with Dylan, leaned a little closer to Milli, and pulled Cinna deeper into the conversation.

Maybe you could avoid him for seven more days.

Maybe by then, you’d know what to say.

Maybe, in the real world, without all these cameras, this would feel less messy.

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

taglist: @rubyskies

[kxsagi]

Hi I love ur writing sm 🫶🫶 So I see a lot of girldad!kaiser fics on this site but I can't help but imagine a twindad!kaiser where its a twin boy and a girl like wouldn't that be so cute? I don't think Ive read anything like that before so I hope u could write something about it but w/o pressure ofcourse, thank u! 🤍

“𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞”

a/n: i could write domestic fluff all day

(art credits go to ateli_er_)

“papa, she stole my dinosaur!!” 

“i didn’t! he gave it to me!” 

“liar!” 

“snitch!” 

michael kaiser stands in the middle of the chaos, one sock on, toothbrush still in his mouth, hair flopping over his eyes as he watches his five-year-old twins reenact jurassic park with live-action screaming. the tiny plastic t-rex, likely the source of the drama, flies across the living room and smacks him square in the shin. 

he blinks. slowly. 

“... cool,” he mumbles around his toothbrush. 

a smaller human, his daughter, clings to his leg dramatically, bottom lip wobbly. “dino thief!” she accuses her brother. 

the boy, who somehow inherited kaiser’s dramatic flair and your death glare, crosses his arms. “you said you hated dinos yesterday!” 

“that was yesterday!” she squeaks. 

kaiser sighs, finally pulling the toothbrush from his mouth and wiping foam off his chin with the back of his hand like a true man on the edge. 

“okay. okay,” he says, crouching down to their level, both of them now pouting at him. “let’s settle this like civilized people. rock, paper, scissors.” 

“what’s that gonna do?!” the girl huffs. 

kaiser shrugs. “nothing. but it gives me five seconds of peace.” 

you walk in just in time to see all three of them dramatically throwing rock at the same time and arguing about what that means. 

“how’s daddy daycare?” you ask, sipping your coffee with amused detachment. 

“hell,” kaiser replies brightly. 

“language,” you and your daughter say at the same time, which earns you matching side-eyes from him and your son. 

he finally herds them into the kitchen, both now seated with bowls of cereal that may or may not be 70% marshmallows. as he’s pouring milk, while one twin insists it must be warm and the other shrieks in protest because it must be cold, you lean against the counter, watching the chaos unfold. 

“you know,” you say thoughtfully, “you were scared to even hold one of them when they were born.” 

kaiser glares at you over his shoulder. “yeah, because they were small and breakable and didn’t scream in full sentences.” 

the girl accidentally spills milk on the boy’s lap. he lets out a bloodcurdling scream and points at her like she committed treason. “she did it on purpose!” 

kaiser grabs a towel and tosses it at him. “and now you know why papa drinks coffee like water.” 

“... i thought you said wine,” you murmur. 

“same thing.” 

despite the noise, the milk, the fact that your daughter is being a messy eater and your son is threatening to move out at the age of five, there’s a softness in kaiser’s gaze when he looks at them. 

they’re loud. opinionated. tiny versions of both of you with your charm and his sass. his daughter wraps him around her little finger without even trying, and his son follows him everywhere like a miniature shadow, copying his hairstyle and demanding to train with him “so i can beat uncle yoichi.” 

“you still love them, though,” you tease, watching him watching them. 

“love is a strong word,” he replies dramatically, walking behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “but yeah.” 

he presses a kiss to your cheek, voice softer now. “they drive me insane, but… they’re ours. and kinda cute. when they’re not trying to murder each other over extinct lizards.” 

you laugh, leaning into him. “they love you so much, you know.” 

as if on cue, the twins race toward him, your son crashing into one leg, your daughter clinging to the other, both of them giggling and yelling “papa, papa, we wanna go to the park!” 

kaiser pretends to wobble, dramatically flailing like they’ve taken down a giant. “ahh! i’m under attack!” 

“surrender!” your son yells, climbing up his back. 

“give us candy and ice cream or suffer!” your daughter joins in. 

kaiser laughs, scooping both of them up with ease, one in each arm. “you guys are insane.” 

“we got it from you,” they chirp together. 

he meets your eyes over their heads, and for a moment, you both smile – tired, amused, a little overwhelmed – but deeply, hopelessly in love with the little chaos crew you’ve created. 

“you’re gonna miss this when they’re older,” you whisper. 

he snorts. “i’ll be in a spa in bali when they’re older.” 

“kaiser.” 

“… fine. we’ll all be in a spa in bali.” 

“with dinosaurs!” the twins cheer. 

he sighs. 

“sure, with dinosaurs.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[thestarfishinjootsoffice]

Old writing especially on Bo's and then Vincent's part. I realised that I was writing as if their s/o showcased their strength during later on into their relationship in the first three slashers, apologies.

A/n: I am no longer writing for Hannibal or any hannibal characters as I myself have forgotten my own perspective of them.

Slashers x reader who's stronger than them but doesn't look like it!

Warnings: blood and death on the ghostface duos part, very slight mentions of nsfw. But mostly fluff.

Slashers in this: Bo sinclair, Vincent sinclair and Thomas Hewitt, Michael Myers, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher (poly)

Relationship: romantic!!

Bo

It clawed at his ego, he's a pretty mean bastard and you know it 🫵.

He first thought of you as the most fragile and weakest person ever (and cutest), I mean, could you even lift a pot half filled with water?

Undoubtedly he used this assumption to 'help you' or more so at times tease you. He loves seeing your reactions and most definitely not because you're so small and kind to him, pfff of course not.

He just absolutely loves lifting you up and over his shoulder and he's definitely an ass guy. He loves ogling and smacking your ass but he won't get to that level until many many months later on. But he's still going to stare.

“Oh Bo, I think there's a rabbit under the truck!” You exclaimed to Bo as you noticed something white and moving below.

"An animal? *sighs* hold on, I'll get rid of that p-" He suddenly loses his ability to formulate words as he witnesses you lift the goddamn fuckin truck with one arm, and indeed there was a rabbit underneath.

“*gasp* it's so cute!” Bo cannot believe what he just saw. Damn, he gotta stop smoking so much it's messing with his brain. He's just staring at you as you pet the timid rabbit with your 'scrawny' arm.

He must admit he does fantasize about you lifting him up and shit, or topping him in bed. Whatever he's feeling that day, and he would rather swallow sand than ever admit that last part.... But y'know if you're up for it-

His cocky and prideful attitude seemingly making an apparent change, he would hold a cup or item you need above your head with a shit eating grin watching you get frustrated with him. Or when he would make jabs about you being too weak to lift three chairs at a time and would offer to help you. (So he could walk beside you.) But now... He still fucking makes jabs at you being weak, just to fuck with you even though he knows it's far from the truth. He loves making you seem like the little helpless princess and him being the asshole shining knight in armor.

You wouldn't mind tho would you? It's a win-win, you get to spend more time with your boyfriend and he gets to spend time with his girlfriend.

Vincent

So gentle and caring with you. He's gentle and caring with whoever he is with but your size just makes him think one wrong move and he's accidentally breaking your arm. And cause of this he can't help but be a worry wart at times and way too protective. Not budging even if you reassure him you're perfectly capable of doing something that requires strength.

During one of the dark evenings you walk with your lover in the forest, the side of the forest where there isn't roadkill so that you can breathe without torturing your nostrils. And finding some fire wood to spend the next dark hours star gazing and ranting to him while the sound of the fire crinkling and burning the wood serves as a nice background music.

Every step you take you hear the crunch of the dead leaves get crushed under your foot, both of you holding your flashlights. You have the warm and slightly calloused hand of your Vincent holding yours affectionately as his thumb brushes against the back of your hand and knuckles, gently tracing over and feeling the ridges and bumps.

You notice some fallen bark and shine your flashlight on it. "Vinny, look there's some firewood over there!" You exclaimed and shined your flashlight elsewhere, looking around more until you had shined it directly on a tree right in front of you that was occupied by a scary looking arachnid, its front limbs moving in a sluggish and relaxed fashion.

You let out a startled yelp and out of instinct your fist went to swing at the spider who somehow successfully managed to not get hit in the nick of time. This also startled your boyfriend who looked worriedly at you, his eyes scanned over to see that you were.. Fine! But the tree you punched wasn't. It has a big dent in it while the flesh of wood was cracked and damaged severely around the impact along with many splinters.

"I'm so sorry Vincent! There was a spider and I got scared!"

He almost let out a breath of relief knowing it wasn't anything serious but he can't get his eyes and mind off the injured tree. Did you... seriously do that? He gently took your hand and examined it, it seemed perfectly fine except for redness, light bleeding and a couple splinters on your knuckles.

He slowly raised one of his hands, pointing towards the punched tree. 'Did you do that?' Is what's probably going through his head. You chuckled sheepishly and nodded in confirmation. He sighed. For now, he'll worry about your fist.

Does this interaction change how he treats you?... Kind of. He isn't too pushy as he was since he now knows how capable you are of handling yourself but there's still that feeling in him, something that gnaws at his inner core for him to help you. He wants to feel useful and to serve you in any way he can, so...please let him dote over you still..? (Of course you will, you can't say no to him.)

If you want to pick him up he'll entertain you, though he'll be extremely flustered and giddy about it. He likes this way more than he should (in his opinion). How comical is it? He's a large 6'1 grown man being carried princess style by his tiny s/o. Despite all this, he still hopes you need him as much as he needs you.

Thomas

Trust me when I saw it really took Thomas by surprise. He's a really big guy and you say this little thing is stronger than him? Oh please, humor him after dinner.

He's a busy man with a lot on his plate, and you seemingly looking like the most harmless person in the world doesn't help, he constantly feels like he has to tend to you and supervise you from a certain officer.

Will usually not allow you to help him when he's working, it depends. He feels guilty letting yourself get caught up with all this but if you insist he'll gladly accept the extra hand with honest gratitude. But generally- 'Back away honey, you might get dirty.' Is what he wishes he could say.

In his eyes you're a saint, an angel. Made perfectly to fit in the space between his thighs he's sitting down and there's no flaw in the way his large hands cups your cheeks with those pretty eyes of yours staring into his – no room for mistake or complain. You're adorable.

The first time he allowed you to help him you admire your handsome behemoth of a lover chopping wood. Appreciating the rolled up sleeved that gave you a good view of his arms, his muscles flexing as he brought the axe down – after he was done with the first small batch of logs you hurried to grab the others.

Tommy watched with amusement and adoration before shifting his weight to help you but stopped as you started walking towards him five logs resting effortlessly in your arms. It didn't even seem to faze you as if it was just you were only a bunch of baby ducks.

Tommy watched in silence as you laid them out on the table, still kind of processing it before nodding his head in gratitude and resuming to chopping them up. He'll bring this up later, maybe. For now he'll focus on getting his work done and spending more with you, and your soft words.

He doesn't really care if you're stronger than him or not, as long as you love him and don't try to run away it's all good. If you want he'll stop trying to do everything for you even though he knows you don't need any assistance – he's so used to working around the house he feels restless not doing anything at all.

If you want to carry him, do it. He's all yours but please do it in private he won't be able to handle the embarrassment if his family sees it. And although he prefers to be the dom he doesn't mind it if you wanna take charge every once in a while and throw him around.

Plus, it creates something pleasantly warm in his stomach.

Michael.

He thinks he's going insane. (He already has.)

He's Michael Myers, the most ruthless killer Illinois has ever seen for the past decades. And you're saying this small creature that he's inhabited has greater strength than him... Yeah, no.

And then he sees you picking up three bodies out of the house with your bare hands while cleaning up the evidence of his the murder he left, quietly observing you. He won't admit it but it kind of irks him. He's supposed to be the one with power in this relationship and quite frankly he doesn't know the true extent to your power.

He warms up to it eventually – although it's more of he doesn't give a fuck anymore. You're not completely weak and helpless? Great, he doesn't have to worry about you as much. Key word: as much. He still does worry a lot when you're out for long hours – he's not worried you're injured or in danger (not anymore) but more as in you're not leaving him, right? Or ratting him out to the police?

Do not ever attempt to pick him up or anything even remotely close to that unless you want a glare from those void, soul-less eye sockets of his mask Or if you want a love tap on the head and cheek. If you give him enough guilty smiles and let go of him he'll let you off the hook. if not, bear the consequences. (They don't even do anything anyways, lmao)

He feels so incredibly annoyed when you start treating him like a child, telling him to go sit down or lie down in bed after he pulled a few all nighters and the fact you successfully manage to pull him back into bed: God dammit, why the hell are you even so strong and you're so small!? Grumpily he does stay put but only if you're with him too.

A man feared by hundreds, if not thousands because of the sheer power and mercilessness he leaves in trails of every step he takes in public... And then there's you, you're half his size and you have more control over him than he'd like. He'd never kill you though, not intentionally, but that will also most likely not happen.

Speaking of killing, don't think he won't murder someone if they attempt to hurt you and gets their ass kicked by you anyways. You attack, he lands the finishing blow. Don't protest, he won't listen.

Billy n' Stu

They're both pretty lean so you can believe it, if not for your given figure. They both adore it, so who cares? Billy and Stu will, eventually.

It was in the heat of the moment, you tell yourself but you remember in vivid detail the day where you saw the bloody escaping victim running towards you – adrenaline pumping in your veins, your mind immediately went into fight mode and swung a fist at their skull. You remember the sickening crunch as blood slowly pooled from their fractured cranium when they lifelessly fell down to the floor.

They first helped you with the lingering guilt first before Stu started annoying you.

''Can you punch me like that next but with a bit less-''

"No!"

Alright, no worries but now he's asking you to lift him up to reach things that he does not need help on. Maybe even just carry him and run around the house. (Don't be fooled, he just wants to be carried around like a child again.) Fluttering his eyelids at you and holding up a jar of pickles. 'Y/n, I can't get this to open!' Yes he can.

Billy, although tries to act neutral but can't help but let his thoughts wander. 'Wow... Strong girl... Can choke me...' He thinks to himself as he watches you and Stu. Not as if he'd ever admit that. He pretends he's disinterested in getting in your arms - no, he just doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But if you persist he'll begrudgingly agree. He indeed liked it.

Stu obviously takes a positive reaction, he loves getting dominated. You can take that however you like. Billy on the other hand feels conflicted, if he's not stronger than you then how will he stop you if you try to leave them or plan to rat them out? Assuming this is during the beginning of your relationship. But overtime the more he takes a good look at your face those thoughts will slowly drown away, there's no way you would, right?

The slashers will probably swoon if you agree to help them place the bodies where they want them to, like hanging them in the trees or something.

Billy keeps it more lowkey. Preferring to keep you in his lap and rest his chin on top of your head. Stu takes your strength to his advantage. When he gets drunk he'll whine and ask you to carry him to bed, and take his socks off. Annoying fuck but you love him either way. And Billy too.

[ambitiouspotions]

BABY DAZE | MICHAEL BERZATTO | ONESHOT

summary — regretting the shotgun wedding, caring for a five-month-old baby, and wondering why your husband likes painkillers more than you

word count — 4.4k

warnings — addiction, angst, talk of recovery and na meetings, arguing, slightly religious connotations, drug/alcohol usage, stress from motherhood, mom guilt, mature language

author's note — i told myself not to write mikey again so soon, but look at me…also i channel some of my family (sicilian american) when i write these

“fak, come on man, you can't put together a damn crib? you gotta get me out of this hole i’m in,” mikey looked at the stray pieces of wood on the floor, screws in a pile, and neil fak’s unorganized toolbox. the instruction booklet was opened and slightly crumpled from the number of times fak had referenced the pages.

fak’s face was slightly distorted as he looked at the pieces and then back to the instructions. “man, look, i don't know what you want me to do this shit is all kinds of fucked.” the handyman simply could not understand why baby furniture had so many pieces and so many varying sizes. if it was so safe, why was the company recommending it all to be put together with a single allen wrench? there was no way he was only using that stupid allen wrench, not for baby berzatto anyway.

mikey was running his hands over his face and to his bangs that were falling, gripping the ends of his hair tightly. he had promised you the nursery furniture would be completed by the time you arrived home after work. he already had the majority of the room completed without you knowing, moving and organizing the junk he had piled into the spare bedroom as if it were a storage unit. the baby shower had only caused the room to be more cluttered, and on top of the clients, you were trying to fit in for their appointments before going on maternity leave, which meant you never had enough time in the day to organize it yourself. the stress of disorganization and ill preparation led to you biting your nails and peeling the skin away from your fingertips routinely. mikey noticed this and now had the perfect excuse to get the nursery finished and elevate your mood at the same time.

“what’d you do this time anyway?” fak questioned as he propped one board of the crib against the wall and rummaged through his varying sizes of drill bits.

mikey didn't want to admit to fak that he was unwilling to defend you in front of his mother, donna, at a family lunch when she had mumbled something along the lines of ‘your child is still a bastard.’ it was unneeded, unkind, and simply unprovoked after you had put on your nicest attitude to agree to have lunch with her and mikey in the first place.

you both already made the mistake. there was no coming back from that fuck up, so why keep dwelling on it? that was the understanding by the rest of the family anyway, but donna wouldn't ever drop it.

“fak, you fucker, i’d love to know,” mikey held the opposite end as fak skimmed the directions again to install the railing. he didn't need to be told he was in the wrong again, best to just skip that shitty conversation altogether.

“they say the first seven months of marriage are always the hardest,” fak tried to console mikey as he began using the drill. mikey was doubtful the moment fak tried to say anything about marriage, especially coming from a single man. mikey, himself, wouldn't have any pleasant advice to give anyone either because his marriage, more like hasty elopement, was only six months old with a wife who was eight months pregnant. any idiot could do the math on why this marriage was legitimized.

“seven years, the first seven years,” mikey corrected him with a groan of annoyance. “i appreciate you doing this though; my back’s been killin’ me.”

another factor of stress added to the plate, almost two years ago, would mark the anniversary of mikey slipping in the flooding bathroom of the beef so violently that he now had permanent hardware in his spine. along with the surgery came the pain and the way to manage pain—opioids. that was a sick joke. one second, he’s slipping on the tile and slamming into the porcelain commode, and the next, he was relying on drugs to get him through a stressful day.

he didn't know if his back still hurt or if he was accustomed to saying it to convince himself that it was enough of a reason to get high. that was the sad part, mikey was popping pills and you barely had any time to notice because you were always asleep before he took a little something to take the edge off. he didn't need you to have another thing to worry about, so sneakily would replace the pills he took and leave the prescription bottle in the same place. you had no reason to question him because the allergy medication you received from the walk-in clinic almost a year ago sat on that same shelf, and you never bothered to clean it out. he was covering his tracks well; why would you ever notice anyway? especially if he was so good at hiding it?

“it's no big deal, happy wife, happy life,” fak rhymed, adjusting his leveling tool against the boards before drilling them together.

the moment the tattooed handyman was able to support the crib by himself, mikey began working on the other projects to make the room more cozy.

fak made himself scarce once it was close to your arrival time. he was going to let mikey take all of your good graces on the updated nursery.

“look at that panica,” mikey greeted, affectionately rubbing your oversized belly the moment you walked through the door. his fingers slipped under your bag and dragged it off your shoulder, setting it on the counter beside him.

you eyed him skeptically wondering where his gentleness was stemming from. he had given you dull responses, impersonal kisses, and compliments, just enough to keep you quiet before you shut the door to leave. his pre-sleep painkiller always caused a morning annoyance when he awoke, but you always chalked his bad attitude up to stress rather than thinking he was abusing any type of drug. it was mikey; he had a lot on the line, stress was his middle name, annoyance ran through his veins. he was a berzatto; of course, he had to have some form of mental illness genetically passed down to him.

“what? i can't love on my two babies?” he asked, pulling you closer to place a kiss on your temple.

“what did you do?” you asked, holding each side of his face, trying to find an inkling of his true intentions. it was teasing in a way, but knew he must've had a plan up his sleeve.

“i'm so glad you asked; close those pretty eyes for me,” he chuckled. the singular lift of the corner of his mouth was always enough to make you melt.

mikey led you blindly to the spare bedroom that had been transformed into a nursery, too bad your crumby landlord wouldn't allow the wall color to be changed or mikey would've had that swatch of fern canopy behr from the local home depot on all four walls.

“alright,” he said, clasping his hands together. when you opened your eyes, you couldn't withhold the emotions that had been pent up for so long. you were staring at the crib like it was a winning lottery ticket. the sheets were made, the embroidered baby blanket natalie and pete had gifted you was draped over the edge, the bear stuffed animals were in the corner of the crib as if they were having their own meeting, and the mattress was at the perfect height for a newborn.

the changing table was assembled, and even with one of the drawers being slightly crooked, it was perfect. it was everything you wanted for your baby. it was safe, cozy, organized, and most importantly, it was something you wanted.

mikey had gone beyond your expectations. he had promised the furniture would be put together, but he gave you more than that. he gave you hope. he gave you a reason to relax. he gave you solace in knowing that although you had an unplanned pregnancy, wedding ceremony at the courthouse, and chaotic reception at the beef you could lean on him for support.

“hey, don't cry,” mikey began rubbing your lower back as you reached over the crib to caress one of the teddy bears.

“i’m sorry…this is just really beautiful,” you sniffled, taking the bear into your arms and hugging it tightly.

“would it make you feel better if i said i got you those apple pie egg rolls?” he smirked when you turned around. your gaze had softened more, more tears falling down your eyes with the most genuine type of comfort.

“you got me egg rolls?” you couldn't help but question him in the sweetest disbelief. the tone in your voice was cracking as you leaned into his chest. mikey berzatto was out of the hole he placed himself in just a few days prior.

you were in survival mode and so was mikey. it was nearing the end of your eighth week out of ten from maternity leave at the salon and mikey had barely any time off from his responsibilities at the restaurant. he was trying to split his time as much as possible, but unfortunately, an understaffed restaurant meant he had to be gone more than he liked.

everyone said once the baby arrived, your life would never slow down, and they were right. gabriel michael berzatto was a healthy, gentle, and happy baby, the one people didn't mind stopping to look at in the stroller as you walked past. he was a miniature mikey if anything with his dark hair, crooked smile, and wide nose.

“is your back hurting that bad?” the question hit his ear like a ton of bricks. “i don't think you can drink on those,” you added, picking up the paper plates from dinner.

“what?” mikey asked, pushing his beer on the coffee table that had already suffered enough of mikey's abuse from not using a coaster.

“your back,” you repeated, looking at him from the kitchen. “i didn't even know you took those things still. i thought they were expired,” that's when mikey realized what he had done. he left the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. a mistake he never thought he would make had been done. by the time you went to sleep, he was in a comfortable state of high, and you were none the wiser. then halfway through prep at the beef, he’d take another little pill, and if he was having a particularly shitty day, then again when he went for a smoke break. he seemed to have a lot of shitty days at the beef because everything was falling apart and everything always seems to go wrong. and who knows maybe the days weren’t that bad, but sometimes it just seemed like too long to wait until you were about to go to bed.

“yeah, hurtin’ pretty bad,” he lied, sitting uncomfortably in his recliner now. “opened this thing without thinkin’,” he was looking at the amber-colored glass of the freshly opened beer.

“didn’t even know you needed them anymore,” you confessed, folding the throw blanket that had been discarded on the floor when you rose from the sofa after nursing gabriel to sleep.

“sometimes, you know that permanent hardware gets pretty damn stiff when the weather changes,” he explained, wiping his hands on his boxers.

“maybe you need to go back to the orthopedist,” you suggested casually, though you were skeptical of his body language. he was tense and unrelaxed, more than he was before you voiced your concern about his well-being.

“you’re right, just need’a find the time,” he agreed, scratching his grown-out beard that seemed to become more unkempt as the days quickly turned into weeks. it was one of the many tasks that got slid to the back burner because the priorities were set on becoming accustomed to demanding needs from the newest member of the family.

“got that big bottle of arthritis tylenol from the costco if you want to take that instead,” you offered, feeling uneasy about the fact that mikey was taking painkillers, painkillers you knew were two years old, though in actuality they were bought from a regular customer at the beginning of the week when mikey went to the restaurant to “check on the gas line.”

“yeah, thanks, baby,” he nodded, clearing his throat. he could tell you weren't convinced, but at the same time, neither of you had the energy to overthink or argue.

gabriel started to cry from the other room, mikey was the first one to move. he was quick with his attentiveness to his knowing he had an easy way to escape the conversation.

“i got this one,” he mumbled, rubbing his face as he slipped past you to enter the nursery. that was the end of that for a while, though it plagued your mind frequently. you started counting the pills in the bottle and it never seemed to lessen. it hadn't become misplaced again after asking him about it. you couldn't prove that he was using unless you were going solely based on your gut instinct.

you were as guilty as mikey. mikey was blatantly lying to you and you were enabling him because you were choosing not to confront him about it. you didn't want to admit to yourself that your husband was abusing painkillers because if you did that meant that your life would already be more stressful than it already was.

it was all making sense now. irritably, mood swings, aversion, questionable decisions, not because he had gotten you knocked up, not because he had to marry you, not because the bills were stacking up, not because he said his family was bothering him, but because he was popping pills.

it was hard some days because you were still figuring out the new aspects of parenting, but a natural and oddly comforting instinct took over you. although you and mikey were able to take care of gabriel and still manage your busy schedules you had an overwhelming amount of dread and guilt hanging over your head. were you doing anything right?

you hadn't known how much weight you were pulling until tonight. five months of night feedings, pumping, juggling schedules, daycare pickups, pediatrician checkups, washing bottles, pump parts, and an excessive amount of laundry which was clean, but piled skillfully on the living room sofa, but you did it because you convinced yourself that mikey was simply too busy to take on all the tasks you were tackling. you believed you had to be the sole provider for gabriel because mikey was the business owner. he was the one that had his valuable time placed on his restaurant, so you refused to mention that you might have needed help.

it was making you have doubts about your marriage. the marriage you consented to because you thought it would make both of your lives more stable and make you more reassured that mikey was going to stick around for you and the baby. the marriage that seemed to put your parents at ease knowing they could pray for the sins of lust and greed that caused an unplanned child. the marriage that at first seemed right, but now felt like a one-sided partnership because you were being stubborn and mikey was being ignorant.

everything seemed to be going wrong tonight (gabriel was fussy the moment you tried to put him down, you wasted eight ounces of fresh breast milk because you didn't seal the bag all the way when putting it in the freezer, and you were on your third shirt change of the night) and mikey was sitting in his recliner drinking a beer. the condensation was beading off the glass bottle and dripping onto his worn spiraled notebook where he kept his business dealings for the beef contained. you were struggling and he was drinking a damn beer.

“mikey,” you finally made him look up, smudges of ink from his pen were on the underside of his hand. “take the baby please,” you said, handing off the teary-eyed baby to your husband who couldn't seem less interested. you were covered in spit-up, from your shirt to your hair because gabriel accidentally grabbed a good chunk of it when he moved his dirty hand. mikey didn't seem present though he was sitting in front of you, loosely cradling his son.

“are you high?” you didn't know why you sounded surprised when you asked that question. you had been avoiding ever talking about that night three months prior. you practically snatched gabriel out of his arms which only made mikey defensive in trying to take him back. “oh my fucking god,” you muttered taking a step back from him.

“come on, i got ‘em,” mikey flicked the condensation that was still present on his hand from the beer, he rose from his resting place on the recliner. he was trying to avoid your line of questioning.

“no, what the hell is wrong with you?” you were placing entirely too much blame on mikey because you were overwhelmed and overworked, well, had been overwhelmed and overworked for months. your anxiety and frustration were spilling over the overfilled glass it had been stuffed into.

“hey, hey,” he warned, noticing your voice had raised sharply when he went to reach for gabriel. “chill out, mammina.” wrong choice of words.

“chill out? you want me to chill out? you're the one sitting on your ass getting high when i've been running around all evening with my head cut off.” you were trying to keep your tone light after your increase in volume had spooked gabriel.

“i didn't mean it like that, dammit, hand me gabe,” he sighed, though when he went to reach for the baby again you shielded gabriel from being taken out of your arms.

“you're bein' ridiculous,” mikey scoffed, following behind you. his inebriated state was affecting his ability to understand why he wouldn’t or maybe shouldn’t be holding his infant.

“and you're high,” you retorted, walking to the bathroom. “can’t even change my shirt because—” you unskillfully managed to open the cap and dump the oxycontin onto the counter. gabriel in your arms none the wiser to the situation. you counted them four times before even looking at him. you had to be sure that you weren’t going mad because the same amount was in the pill bottle as you had counted many times before.

“mammina—”

“where are you getting them?” you interjected, tossing the empty bottle at his chest.

“mammina, give me the baby and go change your shirt,” he insisted, as if you were so easily going to give up the little boy in your arms.

“michael, i am not fucking stupid and you know that. so where the fuck are you getting them?”

“why's it matter where i'm gettin’ ‘em from?”

he had a point; you didn't quite know why it mattered. you knew he'd find a way to continue taking them like he was already doing.

there was a long moment of silence, yet it was saying more than words could. pain, hurt, frustration, uncertainty, and fear were seasoning the bottom of the cast iron pot, and a thick helping of despair was poured over the top. the back of the metal spoon that was used to stir the clusterfuck let everything mingle, and then it had to bake in the oven at 425° until that shit was burnt and stinking up the entire apartment. oh, and then you had to eat that garbage. it was inedible, but you had to choke it down because that was what was happening. you helped enable that mess, and now you, as well as mikey, had to take responsibility for it.

“how long…how fuckin’ long have you been takin’ them?” your nose was buried in the crook of gabriel's neck. your voice was barely above a whisper.

“i dunno,” he wet his upper lip with his tongue, dragging his hand over his face. he couldn't admit that to you right now. that would break you. it would break you knowing you were oblivious for years. he could tell it was already eating you alive that you didn’t confront him properly just a few months ago. you had a general time frame when you thought he started abusing painkillers, but mikey was the only man that knew when his issue truly began.

“you gotta know…” you pleaded softly. your tears were finally falling. you didn't know how they were contained before. gabriel's tiny hand was pulling at the top of your shirt to whine for his nightly feeding. you looked so vulnerable leaning against the bathroom counter, pulling down one side of your shirt and unclasping your nursing bra, allowing your son to nurse. that was life now, having someone that meant more to you than anything else because even if your husband was abusing opioids you had a son that was helpless without you. the world could be ending, but your responsibility would never be focused on anything else except your child. what were you supposed to do in this situation? keep gabriel safe before things get too out of control. that was the answer.

you didn't resent mikey or hate him. he was helpless much like gabriel. though he had unintentionally gotten himself addicted to opioids because of the exploding toilet from the beef, it wasn't his fault. he was caught in a vicious cycle that needed professional help; help you couldn't provide for him.

you couldn't do it on your own either, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. you couldn't leave him because he was the person that you could lean on when you needed him. he was the man that forced marcus to learn how to make apple pie egg rolls so he wouldn't have to keep buying them from the bakery across from the beef. he was the man that sat behind you as you labored because he knew you felt better when he had his chin on your shoulder; he talked you through the entire thing and you couldn't be upset about it because every word he said comforted you and encouraged you. you could let him lean on you when he needed you most as long as it met that gabriel was safe.

“listen to me,” your voice cracked. “i don't know what to do, but i'm going to figure it out.” you managed to loosen one of your arms from gabriel. you wiped under your eyes. a painful and staggered exhale left your lungs. “ i won't be able to do this forever if you don't try to get sober, and it's not because of me, it's because of gabriel. he doesn't deserve this.”

“i know,” mikey said, reaching his hand out to caress his son's wispy black hair. you knew he wasn't going to take him. mikey needed comfort and gabriel was an easy little one to be comforted by. he was small and innocent. he loved his parents unconditionally because he didn't know the horrors of the world. he was being cradled in the bathroom unaware of anything that had occurred. he was blissfully ignorant. he was protected because he wasn't mature enough to understand the complex emotion that was surging through the apartment.

“i know you're going to have bad days. i know that you're going to relapse, and i know that this can't be fixed in a week, but damn, you have to try or i'm going to leave with gabriel.”

mikey leaned his forehead on yours. a quiet and consoling agreement that he would try his best. he couldn't ruin this with you. he made enough stupid mistakes with you in high school. he was supposed to be apologizing for those times now when he truly cared for you. he didn't reconnect with you later in life to keep being stupid, okay—maybe forgetting the condom a couple of months before your marriage was stupid, but the point was he wants to make things right.

the rest of the night was painful. you stayed up watching mikey sleep off his latest dose on the recliner and studying gabriel's small figure on the baby monitor. tonight seemed like the night that needed some silence even if it wasn't followed with peace.

mikey had taken your consideration of being sober seriously. he knew you were never one to back down from your word, and that ultimatum made him scared. scared enough to try and get his bearings in order, leave the beef to richie before he was past the point of no return. he was going to attend the narcotics anonymous meetings you had found online because they could allow him to find more resources to aid him. he knew it wasn’t going to be easy, hell, he was living through the hardest part, wanting more—another dose—before he even got in the car with you to attend the meeting.

he didn't want to be the dad that wasn't around. he gets sober or you leave with gabriel that was the deal. he couldn't stop this alone but that was the most difficult part—admitting he needed help. he couldn't keep fighting with himself, ignoring his fatherly duties, and he couldn't keep hurting you. he knew he wasn't acting like himself and he saw it most when you gave him that sad smile where your eyes wouldn't crinkle at the edges and your cheeks would barely rise. he knew he had to make a change.

“we'll be waiting for you because we love you,” you whispered in his ear. mikey had his nose buried in the side of your cheek, withholding the tears he so badly wanted to release. mikey was holding the railing to the steps of the church so tightly. his other hand was resting on gabriel's back. he was scared to let go. he knew he had to confront what had been haunting him. it wasn't just a back injury anymore it transpired well past that. it was beyond physical pain. it was an addiction. a festering, evil addiction that constantly gnawed at his entire body.

“i love you too,” he cleared his throat harshly, knowing if he said anything else he would break down. he wanted to do better. he wanted to be better. he needed to do better for the sake of keeping everything he loved.

[dreamerimpossible]

Slasher Reaction When You're Not Interested In Sex

Warnings: +18 content, manipulation, obsession, unhealthy relationships, dark content, there is a hint of non-con in Art the Clown and Alex DeLarge (are you surprised?), angst, mentions of infidelity in some.

Characters: Michael Myers, Chucky, Billy Loomis, Stu Macher, Patrick Bateman, Hannibal Lecter, Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Leatherface, Art The Clown, Jason Dean, Alex DeLarge, Kurt Kunkle, Brahms.

Michael Myers

Does he really care about that stuff? I feel like you'd have to actively provoke him to get him interested in having sex with you. If you don't bring out that side of him, he won't care. Seriously, he doesn't care. It's quite likely that he won't even care whether or not you want to have sex. He'd rather have you have a bad side that you can't control, something that makes you more like him than anyone else. He'll enjoy that badness and chaos. Sex takes a backseat.

Chucky (Human Version)

I honestly don't think it would work. However, if he really wants to keep you for himself, you'll have to agree to let him have sex with other people. In that case, I think it would work. He'll try to convince you anyway, but he won't force you if you say no. But you'll probably fight, because he'll think it's personal and that you have something against him, and then you'll have an argument that escalates and you'll end your relationship in the worst way. After that they'll get back together and then break up again. And so on. Although, if we're being honest, that scenario is going to happen either way (Chucky is toxic).

Billy Loomis

Okay, he will. But he'll be very manipulative; he'll push you all the time about it, and it'll be much worse if you know he's Ghostface since he might threaten you, and his manipulations will be much worse than if he was pretending to be a good boyfriend. I think you'd eventually agree, but he'll get used to you giving it to him, and it'll be much worse when you say no. I think he wouldn't force you physically, but he'll pretty much use psychological manipulation to get you to do what he wants from you, which is still forcing.

Stu Macher

If you're just another low-level conquest, he'll cheat on you or leave you for someone else. If you're someone special, he'll stick with you even though he gets frustrated. He could be very loyal if you push his weaknesses correctly without Billy finding out. He will insist that you have sex with him in a silly way, acting innocent and playful, but you will be able to see his disappointed and upset face when you say no. However, if you play your cards right, I think he might continue with you without cheating on you; but you have to manipulate him, which will make your relationship even more toxic, but at this point…who cares?

Patrick Bateman

Tough scenario for you. If he thinks you are a person worthy of him, but you just happen not to want to have sex as often as he does, he will overlook that little flaw of yours. However, that doesn't mean it will be good. He wants you to admire him, to be the center of his life, to moan his name loud enough for everyone to hear. If he doesn't feel that way in the sexual realm as well, he will end up cheating on you with other people, but he will keep you by his side selfishly.

Hannibal Lecter

He doesn't care. Just give him control over you in all the other areas of your life. Give him the pleasure of watching you break down to the point of questioning your own morals and life choices. Make him play with your mind and show him your reactions. Tell him everything that happens to you so he can see if he can use it in some way. Give him a challenge and keep him entertained with your conversations. Provide him with a context that leaves him in euphoria and maximum exaltation. If you can do that…who needs sex?

Vincent Sinclair

He will be slightly disappointed, but he will respect you. He will not treat you differently or anything like that. He will not cheat on you or betray you in any way either. He will be very frustrated if Bo finds out and starts bothering him, but it is nothing he cannot handle. Other than that, I don't see any other problems. He cares more about your loyalty and that you follow the orders imposed on you. That's all.

Jason Voorhees

The best scenario for him. It will be much better if you do not want to have sex ever. He likes not having to fight those instincts that disturb him greatly. It's not even going to be brought up; just tell him you're not interested, and the subject will be forgotten as if it never even existed. This doesn't change your relationship at all. In fact, I think it will be better, because for Jason you won't be an unwanted temptation for him, so he won't have two opposing thoughts about you to deal with.

Leatherface

It's okay; he'll understand. He won't force you or anything like that. He won't treat you differently either. I don't think he cares about those things, if I'm honest. He's more focused on his family and loyalty. And that includes you too. He asks that you get along with his family and be okay with what they do. That you don't have a problem, basically.

Art the Clown

He doesn't care in the conventional way. But if he finds out that the subject is sensitive for you, he will use it against you. So it's best not to let it show or say anything to him, because this man is a fucking madman who enjoys other people's pain (you know that). If you don't say it, the subject will go unnoticed for a long time. If Art ever feels sexual desire towards you and wants to have sex with you, he will simply take you and use you. Seriously, he won't ask questions. He sees you as his toy.

Jason Dean

For him not to care, you would have to be crazy like him. In that case, he will overlook it, because he will believe that something as crude as sex does not have to hinder a love as perfect as yours. I think that at first he will feel personally offended by your refusal; he will try to explain to you that he feels rejected. If you explain it sincerely, he will understand and will not insist further. But he will use it against you in arguments to get you to give him more attention and spend more time with him, claiming that he does a lot of things for you.

Alex DeLarge

Uh… no. He wouldn't take you seriously if you didn't want to have sex as much as he does. He likes sex quite a bit; he's not going to give that up. I think he might keep you around if you like ultraviolence and enjoy it as much as he does. I don't think he'll leave behind a person to help him and follow his orders. But you two can't be a couple; it just wouldn't work. He'll actively try to provoke you into falling for it. In your case, it would be much more fun if you gave it to him consensually, because that would mean he has complete control over you and can make you do things he wants of your own free will. However, if he doesn't want you around him because he's not interested in you in any way other than sexually… then things get darker. We already know his tendencies.

Kurt Kunkle

If he doesn't feel rejected, he doesn't care. If he feels rejected, the relationship will be more toxic. He is manipulative and obsessive. He wants you to admire and love him; if he feels that you dislike him sexually, he will not force you, but he will be excessively controlling, and you will argue a lot. He uses it to victimize himself. There will come a point where he becomes a nuisance to you. On the other hand, if he does not feel rejected, that is fine; he will be toxic in other aspects of the relationship.

Brahms

He will take it personally, no matter what you tell him. He will manipulate you, and it will be emotionally draining for you. You will probably agree on several occasions to get him to shut up, or you will end up manipulating him with sex to obey you. He will obey you every time if you offer him sex. He would like to resist, but he is too hungry for contact and needs to feel the sensation.

[deonsx]

Are they givers or receivers?

Feat: Nagi,Bachira,Rin,Kaiser,Reo

All characters have increased ages (AgeUp!20+ characters)

Nagi Seishiro

At the beginning, Nagi would likely treat sexual encounters as more of a physical experience than an emotional or intimate one. He tends to be carefree and not very emotionally invested, so his approach would be relatively relaxed. In this stage, he would likely be more receptive, allowing his partner to take the lead while he simply follows along without much active participation. For Nagi, sex could be more about pleasure and comfort than any emotional connection

His attitude at this stage would reflect his tendency to remain passive, not necessarily avoiding intimacy but rather responding to his partner's actions without actively initiating or creating emotional depth. He wouldn't be particularly invested in making the experience more profound or meaningful

In a long-term relationship, Nagi's approach to intimacy could gradually evolve, especially if his emotional connection to his partner deepens. While he may still maintain his relaxed and emotionally distant nature, he might begin to take on more active roles in the relationship, though he would not force emotional intensity. Instead, Nagi would approach it with comfort and ease, ensuring that things flow naturally

Bachira Meguru

Bachira loves making others happy, and his playful nature would make him enthusiastic about creating enjoyable experiences for his partner.He thrives on connection and understanding, so he might take the lead to ensure his partner feels comfortable and fulfilled

He Might Be Giver And Receiver

His adventurous spirit means he wouldn't shy away from taking control and adding excitement to the dynamic. He appreciates spontaneity and the unexpected, so being in a more passive role could be just as fun and exciting for him. For him, the emotional and playful connection is more important than specific roles, so he's happy to go with the flow

Bachira is likely to be a flexible partner who adapts to the situation and the person he's with. He's not one to limit himself to a specific role, instead focusing on making the relationship fun, creative, and deeply enjoyable. Whether giving or receiving, his goal would always be to foster a genuine connection

Rin Itoshi

Rin Itoshi's natural tendencies lean toward being a giver, as it aligns with his personality traits of control, focus, and dedication. However, with the right partner who can break through his emotional walls, Rin might also enjoy being a receiver, especially as a way to let go of his constant need for control. Ultimately, his approach in a relationship would reflect his growth and the trust he shares with his partner

Itoshi Rin's personality is much more serious, intense, and goal-oriented compared to someone like Bachira. This would also influence how he approaches relationships. Rin is likely to be a bit reserved and emotionally distant at first, but once he feels comfortable, his true self -full of passion and depth-would emerge

When it comes to dynamics in a relationship, Rin's personality hints at him being more inclined toward a giver, but his need for control and perfectionism might also make him less flexible than someone like Bachira

Rin is someone who likes to have control over situations. In a relationship, this might mean he takes charge to ensure everything is as perfect as he wants it to be. When Rin commits to something or someone, he does so fully. As a giver, he would likely focus on ensuring his partner's satisfaction and comfort. His focused and intense nature could translate into a deep, passionate approach in intimate moments

Kaiser Michael

Michael Kaiser is most likely to take the giver role, as it aligns with his dominant, confident nature and love for control.

However, with a partner who matches his energy and challenges him in unexpected ways, he could find enjoyment in being a receiver. For Kaiser, the key to any dynamic would be maintaining his sense of charm and excitement, as he thrives on keeping things interesting and engaging

He's someone who enjoys being in control and thrives on admiration, which means he would naturally lean toward being a giver in relationships. However, his personality also suggests that he could enjoy being a receiver in specific scenarios, especially when his partner challenges or intrigues him enough to let down his guard

Kaiser's natural charisma and ego would make him want to take the lead in relationships. He'd likely enjoy being the one to guide the dynamic, ensuring he's the center of attention. Kaiser loves being admired, and as a giver, he'd relish in showing off his skill, charm, and attentiveness to his partner. He's used to controlling situations, whether on the field or in personal interactions, so being a giver fits well with his personality

Reo Mikage

His personality suggests that he would lean toward being a giver, as he is naturally inclined to prioritize his partner's happiness and satisfaction. However, his underlying need for emotional reciprocation might also make him receptive to being a receiver in the right situation

Reo is someone who deeply invests in those he cares about. In a relationship, he would likely focus on his partner's needs and happiness, finding joy in giving more than receiving. Coming from a wealthy and privileged background, Reo is used to giving and taking care of others, which would translate into his relationships. By taking an active role, he can ensure that the relationship meets both his and his partner's expectations

Despite his confident demeanor, Reo has a sensitive side. If he feels deeply connected to his partner, he might let go of control and allow them to take the lead, especially if it strengthens their bond

While Reo enjoys giving, he also desires love and attention in return. A strong, nurturing partner might encourage him to embrace a more receptive role. if someone completely could open the door to him enjoying being cared for and pampered in a relationship

Enjoy!

[neeeooon]

shut me up ;

35 | i want to be loved

ft. fem!reader x kaiser (nagi, shidou, bachira mentioned)

cw. cussing, moreeee hurt-comfort, brief mention of self-harm, mention of past abuse, suggestive after the 🎸

the door was propped open before you could even think about knocking.

"kaiser?" you practically whispered as you poked your head into his apartment. his back was to you, a simple white t-shirt stretched over his muscles as he fiddled with something on the counter. he whipped around when he heard your voice, as if he hadn't expected you so soon despite liking your "i'm omw" message.

immediately, kaiser was on his feet. his eyes flitted haphazardly over your face, honing in on the bruises along your nose. you watched his hands form fists so tight you worried he'd break skin.

"i'm okay," you rushed when one of his hands went up to his hair.

kaiser let out a harsh breath that sounded more strangled than anything else. he trembled. "he put his hands on you." you followed the harsh line of his throat as he swallowed down his rage. "i... i let him."

"i chose to put myself in that situation," you explained lightly. "there wasn't anything you could have done."

kaiser shook his head and wobbled slightly on his feet. his hand slid down to the collar of his shirt, which he tugged anxiously as he tried to look anywhere but your bruised face. "don't lie to make me feel better. this is my fault, and we both know it. i'm a piece of shit, just like him."

only when your cheek began to sting did you realize you were biting it. "you're not like him." your words didn't come out soft like you'd planned. they were rough and raw, near-pleading as you tried to get him to understand.

kaiser's eyes shook when they met yours. "how would you know? you don't know me..." and before you could stop yourself, you were caught in a rant.

"i do know you. i know you like pretzels, but prefer bread crust husks. i know your eyes light up when you’re on stage. i know you don't like to call the people you sleep with by name, because that makes it too personal for you. i know your past is shitty, i know you're a bit of a mess, but despite all that, i know that i want to know you. i want the chance to really, truly know and understand you, michael kaiser."

kaiser was flustered, you knew by the slackness of his jaw and the flush in his cheeks. you could tell that it was too much for him by the steady quickening of his breath, and you would have left him to calm without the pressure of your presence if you hadn’t noticed his fingers inching toward the fingerprints bruised into his throat.

mindlessly, instinctively, you stepped forward and snatched his hand in yours, holding it tight to your chest as you let your wild eyes scan his features. "don't. don't do that to yourself, ever." you'd done such a good job of respecting his boundaries, of giving him space, but you wouldn't watch him harm himself. you couldn't.

kaiser's eyes lingered on the dark spots beneath your eyes as he calmly said, "i deserve it."

you shook your head before he was finished speaking. "shut up. you're hurt. you deserve to heal. i'm here, kaiser."

he tried to pull his hand from between yours, but you tightened your grip, placing his closed fist over your heart. kaiser tried once more before giving up, his brows knitting with unshed emotion. "i tried to cut him out of my life. i told him to fuck off and leave me alone, that i wasn't giving him any more money..." he paused, blond hair falling over his eyes as his chin tipped toward you eversoslightly. "it is my fault. i was a coward. i knew he would retaliate; he always does."

"he's gone now, though," you explained in the softest voice you could muster. "he's far away from here. he can't hurt you anymore."

the scoff kaiser let out sounded like it physically pained him. "it always hurts. the only time it doesn't is when... is when i'm with you." kaiser finally managed to pull himself from you and step away, letting his head fall against the wall with a soft thud. "but when i'm around, you get hurt."

you fought the urge to sigh as you took a slow step forward, as if approaching a wounded animal. "that wasn't you. it was him. and he isn't around anymore." you stopped moving when kaiser looked at you. "when you're around, i feel like i'm on the verge of cardiac arrest with how fast my heart races. i didn't even know butterflies were real until meeting you, so don't you dare minimize yourself to this one accident. it happened, it's over, and i don't want it to hang over your head for the rest of your life."

the fact that he was comfortable enough to tell you about his father, even after everything that happened, felt like a win. you didn't want to push him any further than you already had and rocked back on your heels. "i'll be down the hall if you need anything."

☆ 🎸

you couldn't even think about falling asleep after whatever transpired in kaiser's apartment, but it wouldn't have mattered, because nagi took up your entire bed in your absence, anyway. you sat at the desk in your room, a cup of tea in your hands as you mindlessly flicked through your twitter, which was full of fans freaking out over the bastardz.

debating knocking on bachira and shidou's door, since they were often up late and always willing to hang out, you jolted when something banged against your bedroom wall. thankfully, nagi was a deep sleeper and didn't even flinch as the banging continued. it was heavy and steady, not like something being thrown, but like a fist or a head. like someone was knocking, trying to get your attention.

your socks slipped across the hard floors as you slid from your living room into the hallway, where you found kaiser's door unlocked. he was waiting for you.

you froze in the doorway when you spotted a chair flipped over, something you should have heard when it happened. your breath caught when a head of wild blond hair caught your eye. "kai—"

his hands reached for you, one finding your waist while the other slipped into your hair, and kaiser pulled you into his chest. the hand on the back of your head pushed your face into his collar, but you didn't think as you wrapped yourself around him, clinging desperately to him through his shirt, which was slightly damp with sweat. you could feel his heart hammering against your body.

"i want to be loved," he blurted out desperately, so suddenly it made you feel weak. he was shaking so hard, you didn't know how he was standing upright, even with your support. "i want to be loved. i want to be admired. it's why i chose this path for myself, y/n." your name caught on his tongue, but it hardly did anything to slow him down as he pulled you impossibly closer to him. "i thought the fans, the fame, the lovers, would satisfy me. be enough to fill whatever black hole sits in my chest. but it didn't. it doesn't."

kaiser released his grip on your hair to pull you away and slide his hands over your face, cupping your cheeks and jaw, forcing you to meet his glittering blue eyes. "the only thing that makes me feel human is you."

you barely had time to process what he'd said before his mouth was on yours, a searing heat that spread through you like wildfire. you clutched at his shirt, grip tight and trembling as you melted into him, desperate to get him even closer. you pressed your body against his, shivering despite the heat that bled through your clothes.

every press of his lips against yours, every nip of his teeth, conveyed how much kaiser wanted, needed, craved you.

your fingers found his hair and tangled themselves at the roots, tugging enough to release a throaty groan from the man. you kissed him harder, taking advantage of the moment to sink your teeth into his lip. all thoughts of your prior conversation fled from your mind, and you decided it'd be something to focus on later.

kaiser's grip on your hips was bruising, but you didn't mind it until his fingers began toying with the helm of your shirt. the tips just barely grazed the hot flesh of your naked ribs when you grabbed his wrist.

kaiser pulled away, his eyes hooded but confused and a little sad that you stopped him. when you saw that, you slipped your grip from his wrist to his hand and interlocked your fingers together.

"not yet," you explained gently, voice hoarse from the noises his kisses drew from you. "not after... not tonight." everything was still new, and you didn't want him to group you in with a way of ignoring his struggles.

kaiser still had you caged between his body and the wall, but he didn't make another move upon hearing your rejection. "i want to make you feel good, too."

you blushed so hard, and the butterflies in your stomach were so violent, you thought you might throw up. you brought your intertwined hands to your lips and placed a kiss against his knuckles. "stay with me, then. let me hold you instead."

after a tense moment of hesitation, kaiser slowly nodded his head and let you lead him into his bedroom, where the sheets were a mess. you didn't care as you crawled in, scooting over to make room for him. kaiser anxiously followed, as if he hadn't had dozens of people over before you. this was different. you were different. the thought of messing this up made him—

kaiser sank against the mattress and leaned his head against your stomach. your fingers immediately carded through his hair as he looped his arms around your waist like you were a pillow.

"this is strange," kaiser admitted in a gravelly voice, and though he didn't say more, you felt a tiny drop of water seep through your shirt where his face pressed into you. you wished earnestly you could take all of his pain away, but this was enough for now.

you fought back tears of your own when kaiser asked in a quiet, sleepy voice, "don't leave before i wake up..?"

you nodded, then, when you realized he couldn't see you, said, "i'll stay. i promsie."

masterlist // previous (ch 34) // next (ch 36)

notes -> KAISYN KISS KAISYN KISS. idk why they bring such angst out of me

tags -> @x3nafix @n0tbelle @nensi @ohagiyoo @tired-child00 @melinana @chaoslibra @kaidostwin @bubybubsters @miss-aesthetic-13 @ihsoti @arwawawa2 @lonigiri @realrintaro @mivqko @sorasushik1 @pookalicious-hq @higuchislut @tofumiarchives @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 @rainychi2 @ch4rstxr @sapph1r3x @sagging-saging @5-laska @tuna-toes @seinuis @sindulgent666 @evilari111 @newinhalerpls @kisses2kanao @sugacor3 @meizumi @90s-belladonna @meowstertruck420 @kyutiipie @ranzess @cookiesandcreammy @nevvynev @stwberri @mikeymyfav @dontmindtheevie @kaikaidenkai @mizukiblogs @ravenbc @yvanllie @cyberasterrr @lily-isalittlegirl @yourlocaleffy @hanamatopoeia

© neeeooon, 2025

[4pp135]

Candy

Michael Kaiser x Reader

You turn your head to the boy that had been staring at you– the candies in your hand. As you place your hand out, you can see his body tense up, unsure whether to take it or not.

You let him choose from the flavors you had, as he only took one you stated– “Take two more, I have enough.” his eyes light up slightly.

He doesn't say thank you, nor does he do anything that shows his appreciation but you know. After a few minutes, you both sit on the pavement as he finishes his candies one by one, savouring it so it wouldn't disappear quick.

“Why do you have so many bruises and wounds?” you ask quietly, unsure of how he would react.

“My father hit me.” he says as if it's the most normal thing in the world, you look down as you think, for him– mabey it is the most normal thing in the world.

“Do they hurt right now?” you stare intently at them, feeling worse each passing second.

“He does it everyday, I'm fine, these are from the afternoon.” he looks at you, wondering why you would like to know so much. He doesn't feel like answering, but you did give him candy.

“They can cause you infections..”

“What are those?”

-

That was years ago, the day he made his first friend. He wasn't here anymore though, he had left. You were glad he did, he was getting progressively worse day by day and you couldn't stand it, stand him get hurt anymore.

You don't know where he went, he left without a trace, even his house was locked up. After a while, you left too.

But the memories you had together remained, they lingered on the park swings, they lingered near the bakery you both used to steal out off. Even the old grandmas that walked in the mornings missed seeing you two.

-

Your present roomate, who was a huge football fan had a game on one day. As you stepped into the living room to ask her whether she wanted to give anything for wash, you saw him.

For the first time in years, even though it felt like you had just seen him yesterday.

Your eyes widened, your heart felt like it was going a thousand miles per second as you asked her, “Who's he?” pointing at the tv– just to make sure.

Your roomate knew something was off, she just couldn't land a finger on it. “Kaiser Micheal, he's a dick though.” she laughed it off.

You sat down beside her and watched the entire game, for the first time with full interest. She found it odd but she wasn't complaining.

He had the same eyes, same blonde hair– just his ends painted blue. He looked somewhat happy, though you questioned whether it was real, you really couldn't tell with that man.

That very night, you spent hours on Wikipedia. You wondered how he was doing, if he even remembered you, if he kept touch with his father– which was an immediate no.

Mabey he also couldn't sleep at the thought of meeting you some day, one could only dream.

a/n: debating whether I should make part two or not, let me know!

[quickestgold]

Goodbye, My Lover | Part 4 | The Pitt

Pairing: Dr. Jack Abbot x Dr. (Ex-Mil)!Reader x Dr. Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch

Chapter 4: Thank You

Synopsis: The three of you finally confront the unspoken truths of your past and present, leaving no room for guilt or regret. Nothing is left unsaid. It's a goodbye to the love that once was, but also a hopeful beginning for what might be.

Warnings: Age gap is around 18 years >>> congrats, you've made it, it's comfort time, bestiees

Word count: 1102

A/n: Last chapter of this series (for now...) I might write for Jack and Robby individually if I feel like there's a story to be told. Maybe even a backstory to this, who knows???

Previous Chapter (3): I Forgive You

With steady hands and a clear mind, you feel like you’re finally finding your rhythm again.

Something within you feels more grounded, less haunted by the past.

You're sat next to a bed, working on removing pieces of glass from your patient's leg. They're sedated, allowing you to sit in peaceful silence.

Something in the corridor catches your attention.

Your eyes flicker to Robby standing outside the room, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, watching you execute the procedure with meticulous care and attention. He hasn’t had the courage to enter yet.

"Robby?" You ask gently.

He steps in, arms crossed.

"Looks like you've got it", Robby mutters. A sense of pride in his voice. He was your attending. And he taught you well. Though he always insisted he'd learned just as much from you.

"I could use a hand?" You wouldn't. But you offer anyway, willing him to stay.

That's all he needs, as he grabs a new pair of gloves, instantly finding his place next to you.

He gives you a soft smile before turning his attention to the patient's battered leg.

You sit there for a while, enjoying each other's company.

"Thank you", you say sincerely. "For everything."

Robby's eyes grow wide, before he drops his head, shaking it softly. "You've been through a lot."

"We all have", you acknowledge, a flicker of hope flashing in front of your eyes.

He gently nudges your leg. You reach out, grabbing his thigh without thinking, the instinct still alive. He takes your hand, the sensation still raw but familiar.

Robby looks at the patient’s chart, then shoots a quick look at you, a familiar smirk forming, one you hadn't seen it in a long time.

"Apparently, I need to be more approachable if I want my patient satisfaction scores to go up." He hesitates, but goes for it anyway. "How would you rate my performance, Y/N?"

A laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You quickly glance around, suddenly aware of the inappropriate timing.

Shaking your head, you laugh again, the sound warm and genuine. "You’re ridiculous, Robby."

Robby looks satisfied. "What? Too soon?"

You roll your eyes. "I hope I'm never one of your patients again", a smirk forming on your lips now.

"That makes two of us, my friend", he exhales deeply, feeling like he's finally able to let go.

In this warmth, you both remember. The way love used to be.

You and Jack find yourselves in the break room, still in scrubs, sitting next to each other on the small sofa. The chaos of the ER has died down. No critical patients, no urgent calls, just the two of you in this moment.

Jack cracks open a can of soda, handing it to you without looking. You take it, feeling the warmth of his simple gesture.

He feels you eyeing his sandwich too, but pretends he doesn't. "Jack..." You pout. He slowly shakes his head with a smile.

You put the can down, crossing your arms dramatically.

He glances over at you, still chewing slowly. "You ever think about how we always made it back?" The subject change gives you whiplash.

You hesitate, then give a slight nod. "Every day."

"Yeah." He lets the words hang in the air, not needing to elaborate. Somehow you two always found a way to survive. To come home.

Jack looks at you, his eyes softening before a familiar smirk forms on his lips. “I’m still not giving you my sandwich.”

You laugh, the kind that makes your eyes crinkle. “Oh, come on. I’m starving.”

“You’ll live.” He shrugs nonchalantly, his stoic expression cracking slightly.

You both let out a quiet chuckle. And for the first time in a long time you both realize that this is how it’s meant to be.

With a groan, he finally offers you a bite. You accept, taking a big one. He drops his mouth in disbelief.

As a thank you, you offer your lap with a familiar gesture. Without hesitation, he leans into you, his head resting lightly on your thighs.

And when you softly run your fingers through his greying curls, Jack allows himself to close his eyes, letting his walls down with each calming breath.

For a moment, there’s no history between you. No heartbreak, no regret, just peace. A new kind of love between two people who found their way back.

You push through the metal doors, finding two familiar figures standing on the edge of the rooftop, this time on the appropriate side of the railing.

You hide a small giggle. Progress.

"Thought I'd find you boys up here." You shout over.

Their heads turn instantly, as if they've been waiting for you.

They make room for you between them, before you all turn your gaze back to the sunrise.

You close your eyes and for a brief moment, you swear you can feel their eyes on you. Maybe you will all be okay.

You blink, taking a step back to look at them, their gaze already fixed on you.

You fling your hands around their shoulders, pulling them into a comforting embrace. The three of you stand there for a long moment, holding each other in a way that’s healing, not broken.

You're still here. Together.

You smile at the prospect of this new beginning.

The minutes tick away.

You begin to wonder who's gonna let go first, but quickly realise it won't be them. Not out of fear of what would happen, but out of pure bliss.

So you decide, it has to be you.

You smile, before letting go swiftly. Their hands still on you, even as you step back.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow. Or today. Whatever...", you tease. Robby always insists that just because one shift ends, it doesn't mean it's a new day.

Robby groans. "Today", shaking his head, unable to hide the smile creeping in.

"Dr. Abbot. Dr. Robinavitch", you tease looking at them individually, before you turn around and finally disappear through the doors.

Robby and Jack stay for another beat, not wanting the moment to end.

"You know she still loves you, right?" Jack breaks the silence.

"What?" Robby laughs nervously.

"Come on, brother." Jack tilts his head. "You're good for each other."

"I don't know. I really fucked up."

Jack nods. "So fix it", his voice firm as ever.

The sincerity in his voice makes Robby think. Jack gives him a friendly pat on the chest, as he heads for the door too.

"See you tomorrow", Jack grins.

Robby laughs, like he's finally able to breathe again.

Well well well. This is it guys! I hope you enjoyed this four part series inspired by the 'Four Things that Matter Most': I Love You, Thank You, I Forgive You and Please Forgive Me. Pls pls lmk your thoughts below!! I love reading your comments!

Taglist: ♡

@queenslandlover-93 @sp00kylesley @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @sqrlgrl22 @imonmykneessir @gabsgabsvaz @nowandajenn @cannonindeez @sydney-m @persistent-mango

[peepshow321]

TaskRaccoon Premium: Epilogue

Brother's Keeper

First chapter

Previous chapter

Months passed. The crew hit a local dive bar after a particularly gruelling shift. The sun had been blaring and the guys were all tired, their clothes caked in dust and bodies aching. Miguel brought beers over from the bar, and offered to get the next round as well. He had a lot of goodwill to share - the boss was happy with how he was working, and happy that he had bought José on board on the team. Even with his... "extra-curriculars", José was the hardest working man on the crew, didn't demand much in pay, and he kept morale up across the team in his own special way. And as far as the boss was concerned, it was Miguel who had brought him along, and Miguel who benefitted with a promotion to crew leader. That meant respect, it meant a bit more cash, it meant a bit less time tiring under the heat. It also meant, he had come to learn, that he had to be the one to buy the first few rounds of drinks to keep the guys happy.

Paying for the beers, Miguel chuckled to himself. Being this happy about a promotion as a construction worker, it was something that Miguel - in his former life as Michael - would never have imagined. That life now felt so faint, so unappealing. His new life felt so grounded, it felt so real.

He brought the beers to the table. "Yo, where's my brother at?" he asked. One of the newer guys on the crew laughed, "he's out back with Tommy. They're, erm, taking care of business."

Miguel held his hand up and passed him a beer. "Say no more. If it helps Tommy unwind after that shift, let me bro have his fun." Miguel laughed as he walked off to the bathroom. José insatiable horniness, that hadn't been something he'd expected. In fact, the idea that José was now some amalgamation of the people he had been before, that he had adopted traits from each of them into one perfect whole, had been a surprise as well.

Miguel went into the booth, locked it and sat down and pulled a phone out of his pocket. Josh's phone. The phone Josh thought had been destroyed.

The screen was cracked and there was a dent in the side, but otherwise - it was working fine. Miguel pulled up Josh's TaskRaccoon app and checked the current task was still ongoing. A task that had been set by Miguel himself.

He sighed, still feeling shame and a bit of guilt for what he had done. The truth was, when José had left the apartment that day Miguel thought it wouldn't affect him. But meeting José, the app making him his brother, had a surprisingly lingering effect. Miguel himself was only just getting used to having a new life, a life cut off from his old family and friends. So he was surprised when, despite only meeting José for 30 minutes, he wanted him back.

So when he got the call from the hospital that some unidentified college-aged kid was in hospital and that they had pulled Miguel's number off the phone, a phone that the staff then gave to Miguel for safe-keeping, he didn't hesitate. Even though Miguel didn't immediately recognise the kid unconscious in the hospital bed - the blonde hair, the twinky face, the hairless but buff build - he knew instinctively that it was Josh.

Josh clearly hadn't managed to get home, not yet, and he winded up in some other body. But Miguel - maybe selfishly - wanted José back, not Josh. He wanted a brother. So he set up a new task on his own device - I want a brother, someone I can live and work with - and then used Josh's phone to accept it.

The change was instantaneous, but not in the way Miguel had been expecting. Miguel - perhaps underestimating the app - had expected Josh to morph straight back into the José he had met: the young, bright, handsome, lean younger brother and pool cleaner. So Miguel was shocked when Josh grew and grew out in size and bulk without growing in height, when Josh was swiftly covered by a blanket of dark hair, by the thick beard, by the facial features morphing subtly, by the thick veneer of sweat over the body and finally by the fact that he aged up, looking closer and closer to Miguel in age. Miguel had experienced his own changes some time ago, but seeing it happen in real-life in front of his eyes was a completely different experience.

Lying on the bed was a behemoth, far exceeding the width of the hospital bed and with a gown that struggled to hold together his bulging muscles. Miguel - with a tinge of brotherly competitiveness - noted that Josh was now even bulkier than he was.

He had been even more surprised when Josh woke and at the thick guttural voice that only spoke Spanish, the fact that he seemed to struggle to hold a complex conversation, and the fact that he gaped at pretty much everyone who walked in and did a terrible job of hiding his clear erection.

And then, Miguel lied, telling Josh that Josh's phone was lost, and that he was stuck like this. Miguel knew it wasn't right, especially after he had lost his own life, but at the end of the day, he told himself that Josh was happy. Sure, he was dumb as rocks now, but he was a hunk, a beast in the gym, and had a solid job. And, most of all, Miguel felt like he had some semblance of a family back.

And so, Miguel had made his mind up. There was no use telling Josh the truth. He was happy like this, right?

Miguel sat up, washed his hands, and promptly threw Josh's phone in the bin. He didn't need it any more, he wasn't going to change anything else.

He re-entered the bar, and caught Jose's eye. José was laughing, a beer in one hand and Tommy's ass in his other. No doubt José would soon run off, with Tommy, other crew member, someone else from the bar. But he'd still be up at the crack of dawn the next morning to join Miguel at work. Miguel laughed - his brother could be a menace, but he was family. And that was all that mattered.

The End (for now...)

***

Thank you everyone for reading along and for your messages and encouragement. I've loved revisiting and updating this story and hope you have to. And maybe it isn't the end of the misadventures of TaskRaccoon...

[captain-huggy-bear]

Movie night w/ kess?

Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 (We're nearly at request reopening time though) Masterlist

It's become a tradition. Every other Friday night, no matter if he had a a game or not, Michael would come to your house as soon as he was free and you'd watch a film. It started as a friendly tradition, the sort of thing that you did with someone you considered perhaps your closest friend, knowing that without a set routine you'd struggle to see him in the season with his busy schedule.

It starts friendly. This though? This isn't so friendly. There's nothing platonic about the way your head is resting on his lap or the way his fingers are carding through your hair. There's nothing friendly about his other hand on your waist, fingers under your t-shirt, rubbing circles directly onto your skin. There's nothing friendly about the fact you're only in one of his old t-shirts and a pair of panties and he doesn't even blink at it anymore.

At some point friendly became something more than friends but something less than a relationship, there's an unspoken sort of tension around it that you're too scared to break. Too scared to ask him 'what are we? What is this?' because what if Michael tells you he's just your friend, what if he says this is normal when you're certain you wouldn't let any of your other male friends hold you like this.

"You okay, baby?" It's not friendly to call your 'friend' baby either, but Michael does it anyway, it comes out of his mouth as natural as breathing. He drops it all the time, simple, easy, never blinks or backtracks.

His fingers trace down to your jaw, lightly, the sort of light touch that almost tickles that makes your eyes flutter closed obscuring your view of the film.

"Just thinking..." You hum, content, happy but also confused. Confused by the way he calls you baby. Confused by the fact he phones you on late nights on roadies. Confused by the way he touches you, holds you, but never goes beyond a certain line. Your whole situation is confusing.

"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself." Michael grins down at you, all big twinkling brown eyes and scrunched up cheeks. The way he looks at you makes your heart beat a little faster.

"Shut up..." It's mumbled as you roll your eyes at him, turning back to the film, not wanting to have this conversation and look at him at the same time. Feeling a little bit awkward.

"What'cha thinking about, baby?"

"Just...us." You're not sure what gives you the strength to even say that much, the idea of breaching this topic...of actually figuring out what's going on between you is terrifying. The fear of rejection growing in your stomach like there's a pit there.

"Us?" His voice is confused, fingers still trailing over your skin, not pulling away from you.

"Yeah..."

"You gonna elaborate on that?" He huffs out a laugh, a little nervous, a little on edge, not quite his usual relaxed, loud belly laugh. Like he's scared of what you're going to say...you're scared too. Scared of his reaction.

You stay quiet long enough that he's manhandling you until you're sat upright in his lap, arms wrapping around your hips and tugging you close enough that you're practically in a hug. You can't avoid looking at Michael now, his face right in front of your own.

"What about us?" He askes again, pushing for more, fingers digging into your hips, arms tensing around you, caging you against him. Like he's scared you'll run away.

"What are we?" You ask nervous, biting your lip because this is the moment he tells you you're his best friend. Just his best friend.

"What do you mean?" His face shifts into a look of confusion, all big confused puppy dog eyes, the tilt of his head to the side, curls falling across his forehead. Like you're speaking another language entirely.

"Like...what is this?" You gesture between the two of you.

"You're my girlfriend?" He says it like it's obvious, while you blink at him, mind blank because...what?

"What...?"

"We've been dating for months, baby....did you hit your head?" He looks at you more concerned now, fingers pressing against your forehead, your temple, like he's genuinely looking for signs you've taken a hit to the head. You're just utterly confused...at what point did you ever get asked to be his girlfriend? When did you ever even go on a date?

"Michael, when did you ever ask me to be your girlfriend?"

He thinks for a minute, concern fading away to confusion and finally to panic as he comes to realisation that he's never even asked you, that you are in fact not his girlfriend or at least not aware that you were, "Well...I...shit..."

There's a silence where he blinks at you and you start to smile at him, teasing, coy, happier now that you know you're not about to be rejected by the guy you've been crushing on for months and months and months.

"So do you have something you wanna ask me?" your hands find the back of his neck, fingers playing with the curls there in a way that just makes it harder for Michael to think because it's you. You and you're on his lap, playing with his hair and not his girlfriend apparently?

"Uh, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yeah, I'll be your girlfriend." The grin Michael gives you is vibrant, bright, all teeth. So wide and goofy and so eternally Michael as he crushes you to his chest in a bear hug, lips pressing kisses to the top of your head like he finally had the permission form signed.

"Does that mean I can kiss you now? Cause I was just assuming we were taking it slow..."

"Oh my God....just kiss me already you idiot."

When he kisses you for the first time it feels like it's always happened. It doesn't feel new or strange or different. It just feels like Michael and so maybe he was right...maybe you'd been dating the entire time and simply not known it because this didn't feel like your first kiss with a new boyfriend. This felt like kissing someone you'd been with forever.

[verysium]

some thought on us/reader/yn (i don’t know how to address it lol 😭) and seeing ex-boyfriend, who preferably myb cheated and now is dump struck how we got a new boyfriend/it’s been some time since last seeing ex)

um.....i'm assuming the bllk boys are the new boyfriend for this. hopefully, that's what you meant, but here you go anon:

kaiser absolutely thrives off this situation. this is the perfect chance to stroke his ego, so he's going to take full advantage of it. definitely notices your ex before you do and tugs you closer, arm wrapped around your waist, nose buried in your hair. obviously, you can't see his facial expression, but you can tell by the way he's smirking that he's definitely up to no good. when your ex finally realizes that your new boyfriend is THE michael kaiser, he's like... 😏 that's right bitch. keep ogling. y/n's doing so much better without you. even better if your ex is actually a fan of kaiser. his sadistic ass will not let that go. you want my autograph or something? oh wait...sorry i don't give out autographs to losers. deliberately sets out on a mission to make your ex's day an absolute hell, and he's smug about it too. once your ex is gone, he looks back and asks...so did i do good? no, you don't need to thank me. i'm already thanking myself. (he's so stupid....i love him.)

sae's reaction is encapsulated in one word. side-eye. he won't actually say anything, but the judgmental aura leeching off him is already enough to send your ex running in the opposite direction. i don't even think your interaction is going to last more than one minute because sae is just so intimidating. the entirety of japan already knows who he is, and compared to him, your ex is an absolute nobody. poor guy will probably never recover especially after seeing you and sae on the front of every tabloid, magazine, and news channel. his ego is broken, masculinity in ruins, reputation in tatters. and honestly.....serves him right.

rin holds an even stronger grudge than you do. he never lets any personal slight go without consequence. probably still holding every single mistake your ex has made in the past five years over his head. what did you even see in him? he's a lukewarm piece of shit. again....like sae, i don't think you would even need to say anything because rin's death glare already says enough.

shidou needs a restraining order because i don't think your ex is going to make it out alive. probably goes straight for the throat too. he genuinely enjoys seeing other people in pain whether physically or emotionally. will probably make out with you right in front of your ex just to fuck with his mind a little bit. hand placement is key. he places one hand behind your head and the other one grasps your ass. uses a lot of tongue. leaves you winded with starry eyes and swollen lips before he maniacally grins at your ex. he definitely enjoyed that a little too much.

barou has a quiet but menacing aura. he's very tall, so i think he would likely tower over your ex. and uh...have you seen his physique? he would probably cross his arms, and his biceps would bulge, and he would whisper in the lowest, most chilling tone: you got a fucking problem? and that's about all it takes because your ex may be a wimp but at least he has enough self-preservation to know you don't mess with someone like barou. probably kisses you on the forehead after that and his voice softens just tad...you okay, baby? (dfhkjsdhf i just blushed)

nagi wouldn't really care. nothing fazes him, especially not your ex because he's in the past now and that makes him irrelevant. but he definitely does not back down from subtly throwing some insults. oh...him? he's just y/n's ex. a weak guy not worth the hassle. don't bother. if your ex is stupid enough to actually confront him though....he's not going to hold back. shut up. you sure bark a lot for someone with no bite. pet store's two blocks away. maybe you should check out a new collar. lmao nagi can be painfully rude when he wants to be.