#so i'm not going to be left without a paycheck

[studiogrimm810]

I'm Not Asking

// Est. Sam Winchester x you

summary: sam leaves to help dean with a case, but he tries to sneak out in fear of confronting you about the truth of the supernatural. after a week of helping dean, sam finally goes back home to you and lays it all out // 2.1k // base content: angst, leaving in the middle of the night, reader finds out about sam’s old life, jack is god, destiel mentioned, minor abandonment, reader gets ‘the talk’

A/N: soo,,lol….this started as a 2 part drabble, but i could help myself so it’s all here cause it looks nice and drabbles limit me too much -n- enjoy!!

p.s. this is inspired by this fic by @wendichester i hope you don’t mind, i just couldn’t help myself, i LOVE this idea smmm

Sam packs a quick getaway bag as quietly as he can with you passed out under your shared bed sheets. He hates leaving in the middle of the night, but Dean called for help and he had to go.

Embarrassingly enough, he was more scared of waking you to tell you than he was to find whatever trouble Dean was in. Sam hoped a note would suffice in his absence. He scribbled a quick ‘Gone to see Dean. I’ll call’ on a page in his journal and ripped it out to place it on his pillow beside you.

Sam never clued you in on his retired, on-call, freelance work that took more than it gave, and each day that dawned by, that you two shared under this roof, felt like he missed his opportunity more than once.

He wants to kiss you before he leaves, but he can’t risk waking you.

The bag slung over his shoulder is light, he never thought to pack an emergency bag after Jack left. He got too comfortable, and now, he feared you would reap the consequences of his foolish settlement.

Keys are next, lazily discarded on the kitchen counter, up the hall, after last night's dinner date that Sam treated you to with his saved up paychecks.

Shoes too. Big, clunky boots that he hadn’t sported in ages. They felt like home on his feet and it made his stomach churn in painful nostalgia.

Sam mindfully steps to the front door, reaching for the knob but unable to turn it as soon as your sleepy voice traps him.

“Sam?” You sound so confused. Hurt.

Sam’s eyelids fell and his shoulders followed suit. He swallowed, eyes squeezing shut.

“Where are you going?” The room is dead silent and he can hear the small footstep you take to come closer. Like you’re approaching a skittish animal.

He forces himself to turn and face you, his heart breaking at the wide, cautious fear in your sleepy face. Your arms are crossed over your chest from the cold, his note in your hand.

“Dean needs me.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you nod defensively, keeping your confused gaze locked on him. His head ducks shamefully, how is he supposed to justify this? “Why didn’t you wake me? I care about Dean too, yaknow. I can help.”

“You can’t,” Sam shakes his head, looking back up at you.

“Well I can at least understand,” you combat.

“You can’t,” he repeats, this time a little targeted. Your expression flickers.

Your grip crinkles the note in your fingers as you dart your gaze down for a moment.

“Sam, you can’t just leave in the middle of the night without at least waking me up,” you shake your head, taking another step closer. “What’s wrong with Dean?”

“Nothing, he just needs my help.”

“With what?”

Sam utters your name with a sigh.

“No! Don’t act like my concerns are problems. Just tell me what’s going on.” It’s all you ask.

“I have to go,” he starts with your name again. “Just trust me on this,” he steps up to you, hands on your shoulders. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know that.” His hand guides up your chin, your arms still folded over your chest.

You swallow, staring up at him.

“I love you, honey,” he kisses your lips lightly. “I’ll be back, just stay here,” he whispers against your skin, following with a firmer kiss.

He turns to the door, his back to you and hand reaching for the knob again. He doesn’t wait to hear you say it back, he doesn’t feel worthy of it right now. He hates lying to you.

“I want to come with,” you speak up.

 “I’m not asking,” he says over his shoulder, not turning to fully see you.

And with that, he’s out the door and you’re alone.

———

Dean’s situation took about a week. Sam had to call out of work and he barely heard from you in all that time. He made an effort with calls and texts, but he could tell you were pushing him away. You only answered one call, but almost every text.

He dreaded the conclusions you’d draw up, the accusations he was ready for.

Sam talked to Dean about it before they parted ways again and Dean strongly advised that Sam ‘give you the talk’. He justified it by reminding Sam of Jack taking over and the significant decline of cases over the past few years. It was safe. Safe enough.

Sam took the long way home, back roads and highways to avoid the interstate. He needed time to think. To plan what he was going to say and how he’d say it.

Even with the silence and serenity of a beautiful, late-fall drive, he still stood outside his front door, clueless and wildly unprepared. He couldn’t even decide whether to use his key or knock. The crickets in the trees mocked him.

He deems the key. After all, his name is on the lease.

He kicks off his boots, gladly sticking them on the bottom corner of the shoe rack. He hoped he wouldn’t need them again anytime soon.

The house is quiet so he treads carefully, looking up the hall and into the bedroom. Everywhere seemed clear. The kitchen too. He started to fear the worst. That you’d packed up and left, echoing his own betrayal.

He’d never forgive himself if the paper on the kitchen island were a similarly vague note in your handwriting. He dropped his duffle at the arch of the kitchen, reaching for the crumpled paper just to find that it’s his own note that you hadn’t thrown away yet. Though, it was now quite wrinkled and a little torn.

From the island, he looks up to find you sitting on the patio. A dim porch light lit to illuminate you like a spotlight.

This is it, he’s just gotta say it. He has to tell you the truth.

Sam can handle taking the blame for a lot, he piles it on his shoulders and trudges along, but he can’t stand you feeling the way you do towards him without the whole truth.

Once you know, he’ll take your reaction at face value and trust what you need next.

He slides the porch door open, startling you from your lax position stretched over a lounge chair. You push up, looking right at him. He wants nothing more than to progress to you and wrap you up in his arms and apologize.

“Hey,” he settles.

“You’re back,” you state, not standing up.

Sam swallows, walking to the chair beside yours and sitting down. “If that’s okay.”

“It’s your house.”

Indifference. Figures.

“I’m sorry I left like that,” he starts, his fingers intertwined with his own as he picks at his calluses. “It wasn’t fair to you. I thought avoidance was easiest. For both of us.”

You wet your lips and look down, gritting your jaw so you don’t bite out something unwarranted that you’ll regret.

“I know that was selfish and completely not the right call. It’s just that the truth is a lot,” he finds your eyes again and doesn’t miss the squint of skepticism. “I never wanted to tell you this. I thought that we could go on and keep this safe haven and never taint it with this burden.”

“Sam, you’re scaring me.”

Fuck.

“The family business isn’t Dean’s old auto shop. In fact, that place never existed. It’s just a cover. We used to hunt things. Bad things. The things that shouldn’t even exist- ghosts, vampires, demons. A lot happened and it consumed our entire lives until we finally found peace.” He decides to push off the mention of when he demoted God or caged the Devil. “We retired, kinda. Dean and Cas still work on cases they come across. Cas got in some trouble and I had to help Dean get him back.”

The twisted contort of disbelief, and almost annoyance, on your face makes Sam sick.

“Everyone’s fine now. Safe and sound. But that’s why I left as quickly as I did. It was too dangerous to explain, but I should’ve told you earlier,” he sighs, planting his forehead in his hands. “I never thought I’d have to go back like that. That I’d have to explain something like that. Usually, I just-.”

“Usually?”

Sam looks back up.

“How often have you lied and left town to play ghostbusters?”

He loves how funny you are. He hopes he’ll remember your greatest jokes when you kick him to the curb.

“Honey, no, not like that. I never lied about being at work or somewhere else,” he shakes his head and hesitates, “but sometimes it was the reason I’d go to see Dean for a couple days,” he admits.

“Why are you saying this?” You stand, pacing away with a dry scoff.

“Because I need to be honest with you,” he stands with you, letting you walk away. You stop and turn back to face him.

“Demons?” You ask, confused, but doused in fear that you’re trying to mask in anger.

“We’re safe, I’ve made sure of it,” he shakes his head, taking a few steps closer. He watches as your gaze glosses over to sort through your thoughts. Then you look down at your chest, slowly reaching for the locket of a heart with odd scratches on the inside that he insisted would never hold pictures, despite your efforts. “They’re sigils. I’ve got ‘em all around this place,” he explains, watching your fingers flick with the locket.

Crickets continue to chirp over Sam’s thoughts, edging him on a ledge of buzzing anxiety that forces him to make a list of where he’d go when you decide you’re done with him. He’d let you keep the house. It’s the least he could do.

“You’re telling me the truth?” You ask, eyes lost on no spot in particular over the grass.

“From here on out,” he promises. Not that he’s ever really lied before, but now he has no reason to.

Your lips waver, looking back up at him and his heart breaks. The shocked fear and delayed understanding had taken its obvious toll. You stumble back to the edge of the lounge chair and Sam crouches in front of you, taking your hands that thoughtlessly search for his.

“How long have you been doing this?” You ask, running the pad of your thumb over his knuckle.

“Our dad raised us in The Life.”

“What? How has this not come up?” You shake your head, hurt eyes finding his again.

“Because I avoided it. And Dean and Cas agreed to do the same.”

“Why?”

God, that’s what he was hoping not to answer, but you deserved to know.

“That’s a loaded question that I’m more than willing to answer, but you have to be prepared for what it involves. How it paints me,” he can’t help but reach up a hand to push your hair out of your face.

“You’ve left me out of the loop for long enough.”

He snickers.

“The quick answer is that for the longest time, my life was laid out for me by forces I was unaware of for plans I wanted no part in. Jess got in the way and she died because of it. Those forces are handled now and rid of, but the fear never left. I was terrified to trust this life with you and I couldn’t justify spoiling your peace for something that wasn’t my responsibility anymore. At least, I thought it wasn’t,” he sighed, placing a hand over your thigh as the other still held your hands.

It’s quiet for a while as you digest his words. He fears you’ll spit them back up and demand a new plate, but you don’t. You let them settle and you listen even in silence.

“Promise we’re safe?” You finally break the streak.

Sam reaches a hand up to encompass your cheek, holding you close as he looks right in your eyes to speak, “I promise.”

Your eyes brim with tears that he hates he caused. A part of him wishes he never walked into that coffee shop two years ago. He wishes he chose a different street or different hour. If he had just avoided you, then you’d be blissfully unaware of the horrors stalking over Sam’s back.

“Okay.”

But then he’d never know your love. He’d never know what it feels to be ‘normal’. To have a job, a home, and a hidden ring in his bedside drawer with similar engravings to the locket he gifted you on your first birthday as a couple.

He’d never know the relief he felt in this very moment when your arms wrapped around his neck and your breathy voice assured him of your love.

He’d never know the prize he won if he didn’t know what it was to lose everything.

thank you so much for reading!! <3

>>check out my other works here

tags: @blossomingorchids @areswasneverhere @bejeweledinterludes @funkenniffler @iamaslytherin0

[shootingstarpilot]

well. it was nice while it lasted.

mass layoffs of probationary employees (employees within their first year) are happening across the federal government. rumor on the forums is that DOI termination emails are getting sent out tomorrow. i don't want to go into work.

[asinglesock]

send help. it's supposed to be 91 degrees tomorrow. on my day off :(

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Return to office and dying on the job

Denise Prudhomme's bosses at Wells Fargo insisted that the in-person camaraderie of their offices warranted a mandatory return-to-office policy, but when she died at her desk in her Tempe, AZ office, no one noticed for four days.

That was in August. Now, Wells Fargo United has published a statement on her death, one that vibrates with anger at the callously selective surveillance that Wells Fargo inflicts on its workforce:

https://www.reddit.com/r/WellsFargoUnited/comments/1fnp9fa/please_print_and_take_to_your_managersite_leader/

The union points out that Wells Fargo workers are subjected to continuous, fine-grained on-the-job surveillance from a variety of bossware tools that count their keystrokes and create tables of the distancess their mice cross each day:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Wells Fargo's message to its workforce is, "You can't be trusted," a policy that Wells Fargo doubled down on with its Return to Office mandate. Return to Office is often pitched as a chance to improve teamwork, communication, and human connection with your co-workers, and there's no arguing with the idea that spending some time in person with people can help improve working relationships (I attended a week-long, all-hands, staff retreat for EFF earlier this month and it was fantastic, primarily due to its in-person nature).

But our bosses don't want us back in the office because they enjoy our company, nor because they're so excited about having hired such a swell bunch of folks and can't wait to see how we all get along together. As John Quiggin writes, the biggest reason to force us back to the office is to get a bunch of us to quit:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/sep/26/in-their-plaintive-call-for-a-return-to-the-office-ceos-reveal-how-little-they-are-needed

As one of Musk's toadies put it in a private message before the Twitter takeover, "Sharpen your blades boys. 2 day a week Office requirement = 20% voluntary departures":

https://techcrunch.com/2022/09/29/elon-musk-texts-discovery-twitter/

The other reason to spy on us is because they don't trust us. Remember all the panic about "quiet quitting" and "no one wants to work"? Bosses' hypothesis was that eking out a bare minimum living on from a couple of small-dollar covid stimulus checks was preferable to working for them for a full paycheck.

Every accusation is a a confession. When your boss tells you that he thinks that you can't be trusted to do a good job without total, constant surveillance, he's really saying, "I only bother to do my CEO job when I'm afraid of getting fired':

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

As Wells Fargo United notes, Wells Fargo employees like Denise Prudhomme are spied on from the moment they set foot in the building until the moment they clock out (and sometimes the spying continues when you're off the clock):

Wells Fargo monitors our every move and keystroke using remote, electronic technologies—purportedly to evaluate our productivity—and will fire us if we are caught not making enough keystrokes on our computers.

The Arizona Republic coverage notes further that Prudhomme had to log her comings and goings from the Wells Fargo offices with a badge, so Wells Fargo could see that Prudhomme had entered the premises four days before, but hadn't left:

https://www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/tempe-breaking/2024/09/23/wells-fargo-employees-union-responds-death-tempe-woman/75352015007/

Wells Fargo has mandated in-person working, even when that means crossing a state line to be closer to the office. They've created "hub cities" where workers are supposed to turn up. This may sound convivial, but Prudhomme was the only member of her team working out of the Tempe hub, so she was being asked to leave her home, travel long distances, and spend her days in a distant corner of the building where no one ventured for periods of (at least) four days at a time.

Bosses are so convinced that they themselves would goof off if they could that they fixate on forcing employees to spend their days in the office, no matter what the cost. Back in March 2020, Charter CEO Tom Rutledge – then the highest-paid CEO in America – instituted a policy that every back office staffer had to work in person at his call centers. This was the most deadly phase of the pandemic, there was no PPE to speak of, we didn't understand transmission very well, and vaccines didn't exist yet. Charter is a telecommunications company and it was booming as workers across America upgraded their broadband so they could work from home, and the CEO's response was to ban remote work. His customer service centers were superspreading charnel houses:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/18/diy-tp/#sociopathy

That Wells Fargo would leave a dead employee at her desk for four days is par for the course for the third-largest commercial bank in America. This is Wells Fargo, remember, the company that forced its low-level bank staff to open two million fake accounts in order to steal from their customers and defraud their shareholders, then fired and blackballed staff who complained:

https://www.npr.org/sections/thetwo-way/2016/09/26/495454165/ex-wells-fargo-employees-sue-allege-they-were-punished-for-not-breaking-law

The executive who ran that swindle got a $125 million bonus:

https://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2016/09/wells-fargo-ceos-teflon-don-act-backfires-at-senate-hearing-i-take-full-responsibility-means-anything-but.html

And the CEO got $200 million:

https://money.cnn.com/2016/09/21/investing/wells-fargo-fired-workers-retaliation-fake-accounts/index.html

It's not like Wells Fargo treats its workers badly but does well by everyone else. Remember, those fake accounts existed as part of a fraud on the company's investors. The company went on to steal $76m from its customers on currency conversions. They also foreclosed on customers who were up to date on their mortgages, seizing and selling off all their possessions. They argued that when bosses pressured tellers into forging customers on fraudulent account-opening paperwork, that those customers had lost their right to sue, since the fraudulent paperwork had a binding arbitration clause. When they finally agreed to pay restitution to their victims, they made the payments opt-in, ensuring that most of the millions of people they stole from would never get their money back.

They stole millions with fraudulent "home warranties." They stole millions from small businesses with fake credit-card fees. They defrauded 800,000 customers through an insurance scam, and stole 25,000 customers' cars with illegal repos. They led the pre-2008 pack on mis-selling deceptive mortgages that blew up and triggered the foreclosure epidemic. They loaned vast sums to Trump, who slashed their taxes, and then they fired 26.000 workers and did a $40.6B stock buyback. They stole 525 homes from mortgage borrowers and blamed it on a "computer glitch":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/29/jubilance/#too-big-to-jail

Given all this, two things are obvious: first, if anyone is going to be monitored for crimes, fraud and scams, it should be Wells Fargo, not its workers. Second, Wells Fargo's surveillance system exists solely to terrorize workers, not to help them. As Wells Fargo United writes:

We demand improved safety precautions that are not punitive or cause further stress for employees. The solution is not more monitoring, but ensuring that we are all connected to a supportive work environment instead of warehoused away in a back office.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/27/sharpen-your-blades-boys/#disciplinary-technology

[macabrebatz]

HOW YOU MET THE SLASHERS PT. 2

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm currently moving some of my old fanfiction onto here. These one-shots/drabbles are old (some are far older than others) so some of the writing is very short and in my opinion, not as great as some of my more recent stuff. But I have a soft spot for all of this since I know my younger self was working hard lol. So here’s a mini collection of my old “How You Met” series.

Characters: Brahms Heelshire, Otis Driftwood, Tiffany Valentine, Jack Torrance, Pavi Largo, Art the Clown, Billy Lenz, Luigi Largo, Will Graham

Warning/tags: Canon typical violence mentioned, occasional use of (Y/N) (I tried to get rid of some but there's still a few), not beta read

Word count: 6.1k

Brahms Heelshire:

You were hired by the Heelshires to take care of their son. When you arrived at the home you were shocked to find a doll instead of an actual person. You decided to shake off the strangeness of the situation.

You followed every rule. You were getting paid so being in a spooky situation wasn't going to deter you away from a good paycheck.

After a couple of weeks, things started to get more strange. A couple of your t-shirts had gone missing, leftover food disappeared, and you could have sworn you heard footsteps walking on the creaky wooden floor at night.

One night you heard a knock. It was faint but it didn't go unnoticed. You got out of bed and put your ear up to the wall. You could hear shuffling.

"Someone's in the house," you thought to yourself.

You made your way to the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. The door to Brahms's room was closed. You could've sworn you left it open.

Stepping closer to the door, you gently placed your hand on the nob. You turned it quickly, opening the door. And there he was.

A grown man sat on the end of Brahms's bed. He had a mess of black hair on top of his head and his face was covered by what appeared to be a porcelain mask. You squinted your eyes. The mask resembled the face of the doll that you had grown fond of taking care of. No, it can't be.

You stepped back in shock. Fear and confusion clouded your mind. You wanted to run but your legs were frozen.

"Please don't be scared," the man pleaded.

The voice was gentle and soft. Your mouth fell agape.

"Brahms?" you questioned, stuttering his name.

The man nodded his head.

"So...you are alive."

Otis Driftwood:

You lived down the street from the Firefly family for years so you've known Otis early on. As you got older you started to stay over at their house. Baby Firefly was your best friend and she could tell that you had a crush on her brother.

"You know he likes you too," Baby said as you sat behind her, braiding her curly hair.

"I highly doubt that," you mumbled.

Every time you came over, Otis would shut himself in his room. He never seemed to even be remotely interested in you.

You finished Baby's braid and she turned around to face you.

"Don't believe me? Go talk to him," Baby insisted.

"Go talk to him? About what? We've barely ever spoken to each other," you said.

She took you by the hand without saying anything, dragging you upstairs. The two of you busted through Otis' door uninvited. He sat there watching an episode of The Munsters.

"What the fuck are you two doing in here?" he said aggravated.

You turned to leave but Baby caught you by the arm, pulling you back.

"We want to watch TV since there‘s not one downstairs," Baby said, flopping down on Otis' bed.

You stood there, looking down at your feet.

"Gonna stand there all day or are you gonna sit?" Otis asked, peering up at you.

You hesitantly sat down on the bed by Baby.

"I'm going to go get something to drink," Baby said, hopping back up from the bed.

Before you could insist on going with her, she was gone, leaving you seated by Otis.

"She's not coming back," Otis mumbled.

"Oh, then I probably should go after her," you said.

"Nope. You're watching TV with me," Otis said.

It sounded like an offer, not just a statement.

You nodded your head and sat watching TV with Otis for the rest of the night.

Tiffany Valentine:

You sat down in one of the last couple of seats in the movie theater. It was late at night, 11:45 to be exact. Every year on Halloween night you found yourself sitting in this theater, patiently waiting to watch the annual midnight showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Most years, you would have had someone come with you. Your friends usually would tag along. But this year you were alone. You didn't exactly mind. The energy of the other Rocky Horror fans made up for it.

You had a small bucket of popcorn sitting in your lap, along with a grab bag full of props. The theater would pass them out since audience participation was always encouraged at the showings. You took a sip from your drink and sat it back down in the cup holder on the seat. Glancing around, you took note of how full the theater was. Almost every seat was filled, besides a few seats here and there. One of those empty seats was right beside you.

"Hi, may I sit there?" a voice asked beside you.

Looking up, you saw a woman with wavy blonde hair. She wore a black leather jacket with a bustier underneath, along with tight black pants.

"Oh, of course," you said.

She sat down beside you.

"Thank you," she said with a smile.

"You're welcome."

"If I would've known the theater was going to be packed I would have left home sooner," she said.

"I got here just in time as well," you said with a chuckle.

"I'm Tiffany, by the way."

She reached out her hand and you shook it. You told her your name and smiled.

After the movie had ended you found yourself walking out of the theater with Tiffany, talking about movies as the two of you made your way to your respective vehicles.

“It was good talking to you,” she said, slipping a small piece of paper in your hand.

You looked down at the tiny note, which had her phone number scribbled on it.

“Give me a call sometime,” she said with a wink.

You watched the blonde saunter away to her car before hastily adding her number to the contacts in your phone.

Jack Torrance:

"Is this seat taken?"

You turned to see a tall man who looked rather scruffy. His eyes were dark and there was some red puffiness around his eyelids.

"Nope," you said, offering him the seat.

The bar was rather empty. Only a few stragglers were inside, including you. You needed a late-night drink. Something to clear your mind. Or fog it up. You just needed to forget.

The man beside you ordered a Scotch and didn't hesitate to drink it down quickly.

"What brings you here?" he asked.

He then ordered another drink. This time he asked the bartender to just leave the bottle. Either he was going through a tough time or he was just an alcoholic.

"I had a bad day. Needed a drink," you said, "What about you?"

The man was silent for a bit as if he was struggling to answer.

"Divorce," he stated simply.

His voice was quieter than before. It seemed as if the divorce was rather fresh. His face dropped a bit and he looked as if he wanted to throw his glass across the bar.

Hesitantly, you patted him on the shoulder. It was a kind gesture. You didn't need to know the details. You could tell that this man was hurting. His outward expression was one of anger, but somewhere deep down you could tell that he was upset.

"I'm sorry," you said quietly.

"Don't be. It was a long time coming," he said.

A long time coming. You could say the same thing about your current situation.

You had just cut ties with your ex. A part of you was relieved. The other part of you was enraged that you hadn't ended things sooner. But now it was time to move on to new and better things. And why not start by making a new friend? You took a sip of your drink and then turned in your seat towards the man.

"I'm (Y/N), by the way," you said, sticking out your hand.

"I'm Jack," he said, shaking your hand.

Pavi Largo:

You had known Pavi for a little over a year. You had worked with Amber Sweet before, making her dresses and personalized latex corsets, and she had introduced you to him.

After that, Pavi soon fell in love with your talent and hired you as the entire Largo family's official personal stylist. The last one had to take a personal leave after a violent encounter with Pavi's brother, Luigi. You on the other hand found your job to be much safer than anticipated. You knew beforehand that taking a job working for any member of the Largo family would be a risk. But after a few months passed you started to have fun.

"My sister wants you to make this," Pavi said, entering your workshop.

He opened up a magazine and sat it on your desk, revealing a model in a latex mini dress. You walked over from your workstation and went over to the desk, picking up the magazine.

"She's really getting obsessed with latex and vinyl, isn't she?" you mumbled, taking a closer look at the picture.

For the past two months, almost everything Amber had asked you to make was made from shiny black vinyl, PVC, and leather.

"Almost as obsessed as she is with going under the knife," Pavi laughed.

You glanced up at Pavi, taking a good look at the woman's face he wore as a mask. You squinted your eyes as you noticed the skin was starting to look rather splotchy.

"Pavi, you need a new mask," you said.

"No, I don't," he said, sitting down in a chair in front of your desk.

"I think you do," you insisted.

He simply shrugged and put his legs up, resting his feet on your desk. You sighed as you watched him do so.

"You can go now."

"And why would I do that? It's much more fun in here watching you work," Pavi said.

Pavi had a habit of doing this. He'd come in with a minor request and then find an excuse to stay. It didn't bother you all that much but today was a busy day. You were making two outfits for Amber, a suit for Luigi, and a dress for some guest who would be arriving at Gene-Co for an event.

You didn't have the time to entertain him.

"I have to work, Pavi," you said sternly.

"Take a break. Talk to me," he said, pouting his faux face.

"I don't have time."

"Alright...alright. But may I make another request?"

You rolled your eyes. There was already so much work to be done in such little time.

"Yes," you said.

He stood up and walked over to you. His hand reached up and caressed your face, grazing over your skin.

"Come with me tonight and help me find a new face," he said.

It wasn't much of a request. It was much more of a statement. A demand.

You nodded your head in agreement.

"Consider it a date," he said with a smile.

Art the Clown:

It was the middle of the night on Halloween. You stumbled on your feet as you made your way down the sidewalk. The air was proceeding to get colder as time passed.

You weren't sure what time it was. Your cell phone had died hours ago at the Halloween party you had left.

You couldn't drive home. You were far too intoxicated to do that. Plus, you didn't have a car of your own. Your friend had picked you up before the party. When you went to leave the party there was no sign of her or the car. Figuring that your friend had ditched you for a late-night hookup, you decided to tread back to your house.

Your outfit wasn't providing much warmth either. The clown costume you had picked for the Halloween costume was cute but it was made out of thin fabric. Cursing to yourself, you looked around.

Across the street from you was a pizza restaurant. The open sign still glowed and the lights were on inside.

"I could go for some food," you thought to yourself.

You walked across the street and entered the restaurant. A feeling of warmth cascaded over you as you stepped in.­­­

"Welcome! Great costume! What can I get you?" a man greeted you from behind the counter.

He was heavier set with tan skin and dark hair that was slicked back with styling gel.

You looked over the multiple options of pizza behind the glass of the counter. You ordered a slice of your favorite pizza and sat down at a booth.

As you ate, you heard the bell on the door chime. Glancing up, you noticed a tall figure dressed in a white and black clown suit with an alternating pattern. His face was painted white, and his face was covered in what you assumed to be prosthetics. In his hand, he carried a black bag.

For just a second, you forgot it was Halloween, and a chill ran up your spine. The feeling disappeared quickly as you assumed he was in a similar situation as you. Either going to or coming from a Halloween party.

The stranger sat down at the booth closest to the door without ordering anything.

"May I help you?" the man at the counter asked the clown.

There was no answer; the clown just looked away.

You decided to ignore it and continued to eat your pizza. It was Halloween after all. All types of people were bound to be lurking around.

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a strange sensation. Goosebumps were forming on your neck. You glanced over to the clown. He was staring at you. Almp began to form in your throat and a part of you couldn't help but stare back. You couldn't tell if you were scared or just annoyed that someone was staring at you while you ate.

You decide to wave at him. A small gesture to break the ice. He smiled back at you.

You turned back to your food and finished your pizza rather quickly. The clown's smile wasn't necessarily a comforting one. You went to get up from your booth and couldn't. A small gasp left your mouth as you looked up. The clown stood in front of you, peering down as he blocked you from exiting. You hadn't even noticed him get up or walk over.

He put up his finger, gesturing for you to hold on. With a few dramatized miming motions, he reached into his bag and slowly pulled out a flower. He held up a singular rose, and you hesitantly took it.

"Um…thank you," you said quietly, smiling a little.

He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving the shop. It wouldn't be the last time you saw the mysterious clown.

Luigi Largo:

The repossession of organs was a regular occurrence in the city. By the year 2052, everyone's body seemed to begin to fail. Organ transplants and regular cosmetic surgery became the norm. Hell, even you had had a few organ transplants yourself to save yourself from an early death.

And with the new way of life, a new set of rules had to be made. Organs were now a rental property. If you didn't pay, they could be repossessed. You understood the rule, and you never missed a payment. Even when you didn't have the money, you still found a way to have the cash by the time payment was due.

You were good at keeping your payments, but you couldn't say the same about other people. When Gene-Co came knocking on your door months ago, you didn't know what to expect. It's not every day that Rotti Largo comes down to talk to civilians. You had seen him and his children on TV. His daughter was around your age. They lived a glamorous life, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were a mess.

Rotti offered you a job that day. He wanted to hire you as an assassin. There were fuzzy details about the current Repo-Man betraying his trust. He mentioned that it was good money and an easy way for you to pay off your organ payments. He even said that the company would give you grace periods to pay. Blah. Blah. Blah. Long story short, he wanted you to be his new "Repo-man".

At the time you weren't fond of the idea. Not many people lived through repossession. It essentially would kill a person each time. Also, really? The company that was paying you would just be getting the money back from you anyway. It didn't make much sense.

But that was months ago.

The past version of you would be absolutely disgusted with the present version of you.

Oh well.

Currently, you had your hand shoved into a man's chest. Normally you would have brought someone like this back to your home. It was much easier to cut the entire chest open to retrieve a heart. But you didn't have time for that right now. You were on the clock.

You had tracked this guy down as quickly as possible once you had realized you were late for drop-off. You had quickly stunned him, causing him to pass out.

And now he would never wake up because you were elbow-deep in his chest. You carefully pulled out the man's heart. You didn't care too much about properly cutting arteries. If Gene-Co didn't care about the condition of the heart then why should you? They just wanted to be able to cross a name off their list.

You placed the heart in a bag and then in your small ice cooler. Looking down at the guy you couldn't help but feel sorry. If only he had kept up with his payments. You started making your way down the streets.

You had on a respirator and tinted goggles. Not only did it help with keeping your identity sealed but it also helped protect you from the ungodly amount of pollution. The air was so thick with smog that it always looked like as if there was a haze of smoke in the air. You hadn't seen the stars in years. Just the cloudy light from the moon.

You remember your mom telling you what it was like when she was your age. She had been born in the early 2000s. She turned 18 around 2020. Your mom had grown up in a rural area, full of green fields and forests full of trees. You could tell that it made her sad.

None of that existed anymore.

Her home had been replaced with parking lots and skyscrapers. By the time she had you, she was 30, and there wasn't much grass left in America. Not many trees either. Most plants were grown in greenhouses now. They wouldn't survive the outside conditions. Now you were in your twenties, and you wished your mom had gotten pregnant sooner. You wished you hadn't had to grow up in a time where Earth had been wiped of nature and replaced with chaos.

As you walked down the sidewalk, you could see the glowing Gene-Co sign from down the street, looming over the city. It felt as if a giant eye was watching over you.

Although you worked for them, you didn't know much about the Largo family. You just knew what you saw on TV and the news. And based on what you heard, the family was nothing short of dysfunctional. You had never met any of them other than the patriarch, Rotti Largo. Your business was usually with Genterns and receptionists, not the Largo family.

You entered Gene-Co, pushing past the big glass doors. The building was an odd combination of a hospital and a business. On some floors, there would be operating rooms and Genterns. On other floors, offices and meeting rooms. You reached the front desk and looked at the blonde Gentern behind it.

God, you hated their uniforms.

The red visors and scrubs that looked like a mini dress bothered you for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that you always got a face full of their rear ends that irked you.

"Delivery," you said behind your mask.

She picked up her desk phone and pressed a couple of buttons.

"The repossession delivery is here," she said to the person on the other end of the line. She nodded her head and hung up the phone.

"You know where to go. They'll buzz you in," she said.

You walked away from the desk and made your way down the hall, entering a back room. It looked like a loading dock but was used for organ storage. And by the looks of it, very poor organ storage. The room wasn't even cold. No wonder people's organs were still useless after surgery.

As you walked past the shelves of unkept organs, you heard a group of voices arguing.

"What the hell?" you thought to yourself.

You knew it couldn't be Genterns arguing. These were two masculine voices.

You turned the corner of shelves and saw two men in suits arguing as Genterns looked on.

"You think you could run this company? Are you mad?"

"The only mad person here is you! God, look at you! You think that fake face looks good on you?"

You then realized who the men were. You recognized them from the news. The Largo brothers.

One had medium-length black hair and wore what appeared to be the face of a woman. The other man's shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a chest full of scars. In his hand was a knife. It took you a second to remember their names.

Pavi and Luigi.

"Ahem," you coughed.

Everyone turned to look at you as if you weren't supposed to be there.

"Ah, is this our new Repo-man," Pavi said.

"I've been working for this company for months. I'm not new. Here," you said, handing the heart-filled cooler to the closest Gentern.

"You're new to us," Luigi said, stepping closer as he buttoned up his shirt.

He circled around before stopping right in front of you.

"What's this for?" he said, tapping his knife on your respirator.

"To filter out pollution," you said. Honestly, what type of question was that?

"And these?" he asked, poking at your goggles. His fingerprint smudged the lenses, causing you to have to take them off and clean them.

"I wear them so I don't have to make eye contact with people. Thanks a lot for messing them up," you said, frustrated.

"You're welcome," Luigi said.

He walked away from you, going to stand back by his brother.

"Well, goodbye. I'm sure you have more repossessions to do," Pavi said, smiling.

You stuck out your hand, waiting for the Gentern to pay you.

"What do you want now?" Luigi asked.

"This is the part where a Gentern normally pays me," you said, annoyed.

"Oh, I got you covered this time," Luigi said, walking back over to you. He took out a wad of cash, and you could tell it was way more than your usual pay. You expected him to go through it, but he just sat all of the money in your hand.

"Wait, this is too muc-"

"Keep the change," Luigi said, winking at you.

Billy Lenz:

You slumped onto the couch as you listened to music. It was Christmas break, and the rest of the people in your (fraternity/sorority) had gone home to their families. Only you and a couple of the other members had decided to stay for the holidays. You were left alone in the house while the other members left to go to the bar.

The music played at a low volume and echoed throughout the house. You closed your eyes as you listened to it, droning off as you finally began to relax. The past few weeks had been stressful due to finals, but now all the tests were finally over. It was also the first time you had been alone in months. You could feel the weight of the tension leaving your body. It was a great feeling that you hadn't felt in a while. It wasn't often that you could just sit down and relax.

Just as you began to get comfortable, the house phone rang.

"Damn it," you mumbled to yourself.

You got up and walked into the foyer of the house, picking up the phone with a sigh.

"Hello?" you said. Instead of an answer, you were met with fuzzy garbling.

Strange noises came through the phone. Screams and whispers flooded through the phone.

"Hello?" you said, again, getting more frustrated.

"Billy...." a voice said, drawing out the syllables.

"There's no Billy here. You've got the wrong number?"

"What are you doing, Billy?" the voice whispered with a growl.

"You got the wrong number, man. Goodbye," you said, hanging up the phone.

"What the hell was that?" you thought.

You gritted your teeth as you went to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, you began to pour yourself something to drink. As you did so, you heard a creak upstairs. Your head shot up. You were on edge due to the strange phone call, but you decided to brush off the feeling. The (fraternity/sorority) was old and would sometimes creak in the middle of the night. You were sure that was all it was. Your nerves, plus the old house, were just not getting along.

You went back to the living room and turned up the music in an attempt to get back to your relaxed state. Right before you sat down, the phone rang again. You paused for a second, contemplating whether you should answer it.

You took a deep breath and made your way back into the foyer, picking up the phone slowly and bringing it up to your ear.

"Hello?" you said.

This time you could tell your voice was more frustrated. And your frustration got worse as you heard the caller on the other end. Once again, you were met with more grumbles, screams, moans, and whispers.

"Hey, man. I don't know who you are, but stop calling this number!" you said. You slammed the phone back down on the receiver.

Almost on cue, you heard a creak come from upstairs again. This time, you could hear it more clearly. It sounded like the floorboard creaking under the weight of someone's foot.

A shiver ran up your spine as you were suddenly struck with a dreadful feeling of fear.

"Who's there?" you called out. Maybe it was just one of the members of the (fraternity/sorority). Maybe they had come home from the bar while you were in the kitchen.

"Guys, are you home?" you asked. You hadn't moved from the foyer, too scared to even budge. Your eyes were glued to the stairs of the house.

Suddenly the phone rang again, causing you to jump at the sudden noise. You turned away from the stairs and brought your attention back to the phone.

"Look, man. You're really starting to piss me off," you said.

"What are you talking about, (Y/N)?" a familiar voice said on the other side of the line.

It was your mom.

"Jeez, I'm sorry mom. Hi, how are you?" you greeted, taking a sigh of relief.

"I'm fine. I could ask the same about you. Why'd you answer the phone like that?" she asked.

"The house has been getting some weird phone calls, and I'm the only one at home right now. I'm just a little scared is all," you explained.

"Have you called the police to see if they can track the number?"

"No, I don't think it's that serious," you answered.

"Well, please be safe. I was just calling to check up on you and tell you we miss you," she said.

"I miss you too. I'll see you guys once spring break rolls around," you said.

"Okay. And (Y/N)...." Your mom trailed off a bit.

"Yeah?"

"Please be safe," she said.

"I will. Bye, Mom. I love you."

You hung up the phone putting it back on the receiver. You turned back to the stares and let out a gasp. Your body was tackled to the ground and suddenly you were struggling to breathe. You looked up and saw a man with brown hair and a dark green sweater.

His hands were around your throat and your breath was becoming more and more restricted. You clawed at his hands and kicked your legs.

After missing a couple of times, your knee hit the man in the groin, causing him to loosen his grip. You then raised your legs, kicking him back with both of your feet. The man fell back, giving you enough time to get back on your feet. You quickly grabbed the heaviest thing around you which just so happened to be a weighted candlestick sitting on the foyer table.

The man stumbled back to his feet. You gripped the candlestick, just waiting for an excuse to use it.

"Who are you?" you asked.

He smirked, and his eyes glanced over at the house phone on the foyer table.

The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning. The mysterious caller was in the house standing right in front of you.

"Man, you got a lot of explaining to do."

Will Graham:

You tapped your fingers on the desk while you waited for Jack Crawford. The door to his office had been open, so you were sure he would return soon. On his desk sat a stack of folders and papers.

If you weren't in a professional setting, you might have not resisted the urge to snoop. But alas, this was your work setting, and you had a great level of respect for Jack. Your eyes pried away from the papers and looked elsewhere around the empty office.

Over the past month, you had been hospital-bound after a nearly fatal encounter with an active shooter. You were just a criminal investigator. And all though you had a firearm on you constantly, most of the time you didn't need it. Crime suspects rarely came back to the scene of the crime. But this one did, and he had pulled out his own gun before you had time to react.

You were shot four times and, you were lucky to be alive. After a grueling recovery phase, you thought it was about time you got back to work.

"I expected you to be home, (Y/N)," a voice said from behind you.

You turned around in your seat. Jack stood at the doorway of his office. There was a small smile on his face. You could tell he was happy to see you.

"I got tired resting in bed. I need some excitement, I guess," you said.

He walked into the office and sat down at his desk.

"Are you sure you're up for it? Your leave technically hasn't ended yet. You still have time to recover," he said.

You shook your head.

"I'm done with recovery. I might need some therapy, but other than that, I'm good," you said with a laugh.

"I can recommend you a good therapist," he said. He was partially joking, but he seemed sincere.

"I might have to take you up on that offer," you said, "So what have I missed? Got anything for me, boss?"

Jack's hand made its way to one of the folders on his desk. He slid it across to you.

The front tab was labeled 'Minnesota Shrike/Chesapeake Ripper'. You opened the folder up and started reading.

"We've been called out to Minnesota to investigate a series of murders. All of the victims so far are all teenage girls. As you can see most of them look rather similar," Jack began to explain.

You flipped through the contents of the folder, reading about each victim and examining their photos, mainly the ones that were taken post-mortem.

You wiggled out a picture from underneath a paperclip that had been taken at one of the crime scenes. A girl was sprawled out in the sun in what appeared to be a grassy field. She was nude. Her skin was very pale and had begun to turn greyish-blue. Right underneath her breasts were two apparent puncture wounds. And what was coming out of those wounds made you squint to make sure you weren't seeing things.

She had been impaled with deer antlers.

"What does this have to do with the Chesapeake Ripper?" you asked.

"There may be a possible connection. We have to search every lead," Jack said.

You nodded and continued to look through the folder.

"And what do you want me to do?" you asked.

"One, get ready to go to Minnesota. We just got the call about an hour ago that there's been another murder," Jack said.

"Really? Man, whoever this guy is he's resilient," you said.

"And two, do me a favor and take these down to Will Graham at the Academy."

Jack took the stack of papers and folders and sat them all down in front of you. You closed the folder you were looking at and put it on top.

"Who's Will Graham?" you questioned.

"Your new investigation partner," Jack said.

"Well, I guess I should meet him sooner than later," you said.

"I agree. I'll see you later, (L/N)," Jack said.

You got up from your seat and took the paperwork into your hands. You exited the office and made your way out of the FBI Crime Lab.

Instead of taking your car, you decided to walk to the academy. It was only a couple of minutes away, so the walk would be rather short.

The leaves on the trees had almost all turned dark shades of orange and yellow. Leaves fell on the sidewalk as you walked down the sidewalk. The changing color made you realize just exactly how much time had passed since the shooting. You remembered how the air had felt that day. It wasn't necessarily hot but it was warm. Warm enough to wear all you wanted to wear was a t-shirt and jeans. But now the air was crisp and cool. In a couple of weeks, the temperature would be in the freezing temperatures. Time had changed so quickly.

You approached the front doors of the FBI Academy and entered. You weren't sure where to go. You figured Will was a teacher but Jack hadn't mentioned what he would be teaching. Now that you thought of it, you had no idea what the man would even look like.

You walked down the hallways, peeking into the open doors. You weren't really sure where to even look. You heard faint talking and footsteps down another hall and decided to follow the sounds.

As you turned the corner you saw what you knew to be students based on their uniforms.

"Excuse me, guys. Do you know where I can find Will Graham?" you asked as you approached them.

"Oh, yeah. We just got out of his class. Down this hall, third door on the right," one of the girls said, pointing down the hall.

"Thank you so much," you said.

You walked down the quiet hallway and turned at the open lecture hall. It was a smaller class with a large projector. You saw who you assumed was Will Graham facing towards the projector, looking up and examining it.

You looked up and paused. It was the same picture from earlier. The girl was impaled by deer antlers.

"In all of my years as an agent, I've never seen anything quite like that," you said aloud.

The man jumped a bit at the sudden sound of your voice and turned around. He had wavy brown hair that cascaded around his head. His face dawned a good bit of short whiskers and he wore dark glasses that rested on his nose.

"Neither have I," he said, "May I help you?"

"Will Graham?" you questioned.

"Yes, and you are?"

"(Y/N) (L/N), Jack Crawford sent me," you said. You walked over to him and offered him a handshake, which he took without hesitation.

"Jack sent you. So you're not a student?" he asked.

"No, I'm an agent. I've been out on medical leave, but I just got back," you explained.

You handed him the pack of paperwork. He took it in his hands and sat it down.

"Welcome back," he said.

"Thank you."

"So what are your thoughts on...all of this?" Will questioned, gesturing up to the projector.

"I'm not sure yet. I guess I'll come up with a better opinion in a couple of hours. I'm coming with you and Jack to Minnesota," you said.

"Oh, you're going with us?" Will said.

"Mhm, it's time for me to get back out there in the field. I'm glad I won't have to do it alone. According to Jack, it sounds like we're partners now," you said.

"I guess so," he said with a small smile.

[stillalivebydemand893]

That Night, That Lie, That Fucking Kiss.

part 1

(Part 2 is up)

Story:A year of almosts. One lie. One kiss. One night where heartbreak spills over and nothing is left unsaid.

18+ angst,smut,kinda fluff ?!🫣

“Remind me again why you two are still fighting?”

Julia didn’t even glance up from her magazine. Just flipped a page like your slow emotional disintegration wasn’t unraveling right next to her.

You sank into the couch.

“Because he’s a fucking asshole.”

The second the words left your mouth, regret hit you in the face.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, love.” You rubbed your temples. “Forgot for a second he’s your brother.”

Julia shrugged without missing a beat.

“Don’t apologize, babe. I love him, but I also know he’s emotionally constipated and has the communication skills of a broken toaster. He growled at my boyfriend last week.”

You tried to laugh. It got stuck somewhere between your teeth and your guilt.

You hated this.

You hated the radio silence. You hated the tension.

You hated Erik for kissing someone else like he didn’t spend the last year calling you Peach like it meant something.

But most of all? You hated that you still missed him.

“So?” Julia raised an eyebrow. “What did my disaster of a brother do now? Give me a reason to slap the shit out of him.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“I waited for him at the pub. For two hours. No text. No call. Nothing. I thought maybe he’d gotten mugged or died or choked on a goddamn vape cloud.”

Julia winced.

“And?”

You clenched your jaw, forcing the words out like they were shards of glass.

“I went to the studio. To check on him. And there he was making out with Jessica.”

Silence.

Julia blinked once. Twice.

Then:

“NO. FUCKING. WAY.”

She sat up so fast her magazine flew to the floor. “THAT MOTHERFUCKER”

She looked around like she was ready to summon Satan .

You shook your head.

“I’m not even mad that he forgot about me.”

(Lie. Massive lie.)

“I just… after everything that happened with Jessica last year? The crying, the spiraling, the ‘I don’t even know who I am without her’ bullshit?”

A memory hit you like a punch to the ribs,Erik drunk, sobbing into your lap while you held him like maybe if you were soft enough, you could put him back together. The way his lips crashed into yours that night. The way he never mentioned it again.

“You’re still in love with him,” Julia said softly, like she wasn’t kicking the already shattered glass of your heart around.

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

She exhaled.

“Have you even talked to him since?”

“It was a screaming match,” you muttered. “And then nothing. I’ve been avoiding him.”

“I miss him, Jules.”

You said it like a confession. Like a sin.

She wrapped her arms around you, tight.

“You wanna go shopping? Sephora's got sales and I'm emotionally prepared to blow my paycheck on lip gloss.”

You gave her a weak smile.

“Thanks. But I think I’m just gonna go home and cry into my blanket .’’

You kissed her cheek and headed for the door.

Your phone buzzed as you stepped outside.

Erik:

“Peach. Please. Talk to me.”

You stared at the screen like it might burn a hole through your palm. Typed. Deleted. Typed again.

Nothing.

Buzz.

Erik:

“Please, Peach. Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

Your heart felt like a fist.

You finally texted back:

“Busy.”

Then you threw on your headphones and drowned yourself in MCR like it was 2008 and everything still hurt but at least the eyeliner was good.

The Ghost of You played on repeat, and you welcomed the spiral like an old friend.

Why do I ruin everything?

Why wasn’t I enough?

He kissed you once. That meant nothing.

You thought it meant something because you’re desperate.

You’re a placeholder. A maybe. A convenience.

You’re never the choice.

Your chest felt like it was full of shattered glass.

You didn’t cry. Couldn’t. You just lay there on your couch,body stiff, mascara dried, your brain looping the same memory over and over like a cruel home movie:

His hands. Her mouth. That laugh. That kiss.

And then the knock.

Not gentle.

Not curious.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

You didn’t move.

But your body knew.

Only one person knocked like that.

Like he was ready to fight for his life,or rip yours apart.

“Peach. Open the door.”

You didn’t answer.

He opened it anyway.

He stormed in like a fucking hurricane.

Rain still dripping from his hair, jaw locked, chest heaving like he’d just run through hell.

Erik.

Wrecked. Wild-eyed. So goddamn beautiful you hated him for it.

“You’re not doing this.” His voice was sharp, breathless.

“Not again.”

You stayed under the blanket. Silent. Fragile.

He ripped it off like it insulted him.

“I’m not letting you disappear into your own fucking head again.”

You sat up slowly. Black mascara smeared under your eyes. Your fists clenched so hard your nails dug into your skin.

“What the fuck do you want, Erik?”

Your voice was cracked. Tired. Dangerous.

He moved toward you. And for a second, you thought he might back off.

He didn’t.

“I want you to scream at me. Hit me. Fucking do something. Just don’t sit there like I never mattered to you.”

You stood up, legs trembling but rage giving them fuel.

“I think we screamed enough, don’t you?” You turned away.

Headed for the kitchen like that would stop him.

“I’m done.”

Your voice cracked on that last word.

He didn’t move. Just watched you with bloodshot eyes, leaning against the counter like he was seconds from collapsing.

“I said I was sorry. I’ve said it, like, thousand fucking times. I can’t read your mind, Peach”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!”

You spun, shoving your palm against his chest.

Too close. Too hot. Too fucking much.

He grabbed your wrist.

His grip was firm, shaking.

“And why the fuck shouldn’t I? Why are you acting like a brat.”

He dragged your gaze back to his, voice low and mean and wrecked.

“You want me to stop calling you that? Fine. But don’t pretend you don’t still want me to say it like you’re mine.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Your body gave up before your mouth did,knees slamming into the kitchen floor like your grief finally dragged you down. You folded in on yourself.

And Erik followed.

Dropped beside you. Wrapped his arms around your shaking frame and pulled you into his lap like he needed you there to breathe.

Two broken people, tangled on a cold kitchen floor, ruining each other softly.

“Why would I stop calling you Peach,” he whispered against your hair, “when you’re the only good fucking thing in my life? The only thing I can’t stop thinking about. The only one who makes me feel like I’m not completely fucking lost.”

You looked up at him. Eyes raw.

“I love you.”

It fell from your lips like a wound.

“And it’s tearing me apart.”

You buried your face into his chest as your voice broke open.

“When I saw you with her, I shattered. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. How am I supposed to just be your friend when all I want is to hold you until everything stops hurting?”

You tried to pull away.

“You’ll be better off without me. You and Jessica.”

“Don’t say her fucking name,” he growled, pulling you tighter, refusing to let you go.

“That’s it? You say your pretty little heartbreak speech and run again?”

You froze.

His voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was breaking.

“I can’t do this, Erik,if you wanna stop being friends, then fine. I’ll figure it out. Just don’t keep showing up like you love me and leaving like you don’t.”

He grabbed your hand and slammed it against his chest.

His heartbeat was brutal beneath your palm.

“You feel that?” he rasped.

“You fucking own this. Every beat. Every goddamn day, I wake up thinking, Is she okay? Should I call her? And then I don’t, because I think you hate me. Because I think I ruin everything I touch.”

“Erik, I didn’t mean-”

“And then you say you love me?”

He laughed bitterly.

“You say that like it’s supposed to fix me.”

That one hit you like a slap.

You shifted in his lap, trying to crawl away,hide, run, vanish.

His arms locked around you.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done.”

His voice was rough, wrecked, devastating.

“You think I didn’t try to stay away? You think I didn’t try to protect you from me? Because I did. Every day. I kept thinking,how could I hold something this good? How could I be trusted with her when I can’t even trust myself?”

“Erik, stop-”

Your voice broke, hands on his face, desperate to shut him up before he shattered for real.

“But I couldn’t stop.”

His forehead pressed to yours.

“I couldn’t stop needing you. Wanting you. Hating myself for both.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard. Starved. Reckless.

You moaned into his mouth, clawed at his shoulders, kissed him like it was the last thing you’d ever get from him. He pulled you tighter, mouth hot and furious against yours, hands gripping your thighs like if he let go, he’d die.

You dragged your nails down his neck. He groaned against your lips.

This was war. This was grief. This was everything you’d swallowed, everything you didn’t say when you should’ve screamed.

His hand slipped under your shirt, rough palm on your waist, and it made you gasp.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he whispered into your mouth.

“But I can’t let you go. Not again.”

Your tears burned as you kissed him back, frantic, furious.

You shook your head.

“I don’t know how to do this.Us.”

“Neither do I.”

And then he kissed you again.

It was still happening in every breath, every drag of teeth, every desperate, bruising kiss that said I hate that I love you louder than words ever could.

Erik groaned into your mouth like the taste of you physically wrecked him. His hands were everywhere,sliding under your shirt, gripping your waist hard like he was daring you to vanish again.He was dragging you down harder into his lap.

You gasped, fingers fisting the collar of his soaked shirt, yanking it like it offended you just by existing.

He pulled away for a split second, panting,forehead pressed to yours, eyes dark and hungry and devastated.

“You ruin me,” he breathed.

Then he kissed you again before you could say anything back.

This time it was harder. Hotter. His mouth crashed into yours, tongue sliding past your lips with no hesitation, like he owned you,like he always had. Your thighs tightened around his hips as his hands roamed, palms rough, movements frantic like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

You whimpered into his mouth, and he growled,a low, guttural sound deep in his chest, possessive and way too full of want.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice rough against your mouth.

You blinked, lips kiss,swollen and trembling.

“Say what?”

“That you love me.”

He said it like a dare.

Like a threat.

His mouth was on your neck before you could respond, biting, sucking, marking. You gasped, hips arching into him on instinct.

“Say it, Peach.” His voice dragged across your skin, hands under your shirt now, one dragging up your spine, the other gripping your thigh so hard it bordered on pain.

“Say it while I still remember how to stop.”

“I love you,” you whispered, wrecked and breathless, like you were admitting a crime.

“Erik, I love you.”

His mouth was back on yours before you finished the sentence, swallowing it like he needed it to live. Your hands tangled in his wet hair, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper.

Tongue against tongue.Heavy breathing. Moans caught between kisses .

The taste of him was still familiar,mint, cigarettes, and rain. But this wasn’t slow. This wasn’t tender.

It was needy. Desperate. Too late and not enough at the same time.

You rocked against him, friction building, your bodies locked in this furious rhythm of take and give and please just don't stop.

He pulled back just enough to look at you.

Eyes wild. Lips wet and red. His jaw clenched.

“I swear to god, you ever try to walk away again”

His voice broke.

You grabbed his face, kissed him again,hard. Messy. Tongue slipping into his mouth with a moan you couldn’t hold back.

“Then don’t let me.”

You were begging now. You didn’t care.

“Hold me here. Keep me. Please.”

His grip tightened.

“I’ll fucking ruin you.”

“You already did.”

And he kissed you again.

Like this was war, and you were both willing casualties.

Your clothes were a blur.

Fingers hooked under your shirt, Erik yanked it over your head. His mouth didn’t stop,pressing hot, open kisses along your jaw, your throat, your shoulder. Every touch was like a firestarter, like he was trying to burn you in with his lips.

You gasped, body arching into him, legs tightening around his hips.

“Fuck,Erik-”

He growled low in your throat, pulling you tighter against him until there was no space left. His shirt was next, soaked and clinging, and you tore it off ,you couldn’t stand the barrier.

Muscle. Ink. That little scar near his ribs you used to trace when he let you stay the night.

You pressed your mouth to it. Bit it.

He hissed through his teeth, grip bruising your hips.

“You’re gonna drive me insane.”

“You already did,” you whispered.

And then his mouth was on your chest, teeth scraping, tongue swirling over your nipple, hands dragging up your thighs and under the waistband of your shorts ,he had every right to be there.

You moaned, breathy, needy,and he swallowed the sound with another kiss, deeper this time, sloppier, your spit mixing, his hand slipping between your legs like it belonged there.

“So fucking wet,” he growled against your mouth.

“You’ve been like this for me the whole time?”

You nodded, biting your lip, forehead pressed to his.

“Don’t tease me, Erik. Not tonight.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

And he wasn’t.

He shoved your shorts down, fingers curling into your panties and dragging them aside, the pads of his fingers brushing through your slick, teasing your entrance,slow, deliberate.

“You still want me to stop?” he asked, voice so low it vibrated in your ribs.

You looked him dead in the eye.

“Touch me or I’ll fucking scream.”

He kissed you again,fast, messy,then slid two fingers inside you, curling just right, dragging a cry straight out of your throat.

Your nails dug into his shoulder. His mouth was back on yours before you could say his name again, moaning into the kiss as your hips rolled into his hand.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Just like that, Peach. Take what you own.”

You were panting now, body grinding against him, aching and so close already it was humiliating.

He pulled back, eyes wild.

“I wanna fuck you so bad it physically hurts.”

“Then do it,” you breathed. “Wreck me, Erik. I don’t care. Just,don’t leave again.”

His eyes went dark.

He lifted you,effortless,and laid you flat on the kitchen floor, pulling his jeans down with one hand, never breaking eye contact. His cock was hard, flushed, leaking at the tip,and your body clenched at just the sight.

He lined himself up and paused.

“Last chance.”

“Do it.”

And then he was inside you.

One brutal, delicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out,back arching, nails scraping his skin. He groaned like he’d been punched.

“Fuck,so tight,God, you feel like heaven Sweets .”

He started to move.

Slow at first, dragging every inch of himself out before snapping back in, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the kitchen tiles.

Then faster.

Rougher.

His hips smacked into yours as you held on like he might disappear again if you didn’t anchor him to you.

His hand found your throat,gentle, but possessive. His forehead rested against yours.

“Yours” he whispered.

“Mine’’

He kissed you then. Deep. Starving. Full of every word he couldn’t say.

You clenched around him, crying out again, hips stuttering.

“You gonna come for me, Peach?”

You nodded, tears mixing with sweat and spit and breath.

“Do it,” he growled. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you lose it.”

And you did.

With a broken cry, your body shook, walls pulsing around him, dragging him over the edge seconds later. He cursed, thrusting hard once, twice, then spilling inside you with a sound that wasn’t just a moan,it was a fucking confession.

He collapsed over you, chest to chest, heart to heart. Breathing like he’d just survived something catastrophic.

Because maybe he had.

Because maybe this was the beginning or the end or both.

And still,neither of you moved.

Because for once, it didn’t feel like someone was leaving.

[inkpetrichor]

Nasty Dog! | Kuroo Tetsurou x f!reader

2.- Part two.

masterlist here<3

cw. MDNI. fem! reader. delinquent! reader. use of yn. smoking. cursing. smut. p in v. unprotected sex. oral sex (f receiving). overstimulation. dirty talking. power struggle. bratty! reader. kinda brat tamer kuroo (?. lemme know if i missed anything<3 wc. 5.5k an. thank you so much for all the love you showed the first part! i love y'all enjoy<3 comments are appreciated <3

Emi snorted behind her palm.

"So he blue-balled you? And you let him?"

"What was I supposed to do? I'm not gonna force myself on him. What am I, a man?" You sighed, shaking the soft carton box in your hands and pulling out a cigarette with your teeth and holding the flame a little longer than you needed to.

"Oh, he blue-balled you blue-balled you. Was his makeout game that good?"

"Oh, believe me, it was. And then he just stood up and left." You ran a hand through your hair, the skin where he'd bitten, sucked, and kissed still burning beneath your clothes—even after a whole weekend and then some.

"What a cocky bastard," you muttered, your fingers twitching at the memory of his smirk, that stupidly sexy bedhead, and his big, strong hands on your body.

The way he'd squeezed you, moved you over him like you belonged there—fuck. Just thinking about it made the heat crawl back into your cheeks and settle low in your stomach. You gave your head a sharp shake to chase the images away.

"So... that's it? You giving up?" Emi asked, fixing her mascara in the reflection of a classroom window.

"Do you know who you're talking to? Of course not." You turned with a slow smirk, catching her eye. She smiled back.

"I just have to push the right buttons."

Before Emi could reply, her eyes flicked past you, widening in alarm. The way they darted to the cigarette between your fingers said it all.

Shit.

You dropped it and stomped it out in one smooth motion, turning just in time to face the one person you really didn't want to see right now.

Inukai-sensei.

Your homeroom teacher stood a few paces away, looking down at the half-smoked cigarette by your boot. His posture was relaxed, but there was quiet authority in the way he carried himself—tall, lean, the kind of person who didn't need to raise his voice to be respected. His black hair was neatly trimmed, though time had started peppering his temples with gray. The pressed, earth-toned shirt and worn leather watch only added to the whole dad energy thing he had going on.

He was the kind of teacher who was there—not for a paycheck, but because he genuinely gave a shit. It would've disgusted you—how nice he was—if you didn't so often feel like the stray dog in the rain he'd stop and feed without a second thought.

His brown eyes, soft behind wire-thin glasses, lifted from the cigarette to meet your gaze. He held up a sheet of paper with a single raised brow.

"Who did you copy the chemistry homework from?"

You flinched, eyebrows furrowing, instantly offended.

"What? No one! I don't cheat."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before letting out a small laugh through his nose.

"I know," he said. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Just had to make sure."

"Why? Is it good?" you asked, lips curling into a proud smile despite yourself.

"It's perfect," he admitted, shaking his head like he couldn't believe it. "Have you finally listened to your teachers and put some work into studying?"

Behind you, Emi snorted.

"She's been studying, all right," she muttered under her breath.

Inukai-sensei shot her a look, and she straightened like a scolded pup.

"I have a tutor," you said, giving her a sideways glare.

His gaze snapped back to you, eyebrows lifting.

"Really? Who?"

You wanted to tell him it was none of his business—formally, of course. You were a delinquent, not suicidal. But before you could answer, Emi slithered in beside you like a smug little devil.

"The volleyball team captain~," she sang, grinning.

You clicked your tongue, shooting her a sharp glare that only made her smile wider.

Inukai-sensei blinked in surprise.

"Kuroo Tetsurou-kun?"

"That's the one~," Emi chimed again, giggling as she dodged a flick of your hand meant for her shoulder.

"Well... he's top of his class. That's a good choice for a tutor," he said, nodding slowly, thoughtful.

"Top of my class, remember?"

The words echoed in your mind like they'd been tattooed behind your eyes. You bit your lip, hard, willing yourself not to replay the way he'd said it—in that low, cocky murmur while his mouth was on your neck, your hands tangled in his hair—

You were saved by the bell.

Thank fucking god.

You all but snatched the sheet from Inukai-sensei's hand as you breezed past him, calling over your shoulder, "Well, if that's all you needed—"

He called your name. You paused, bracing for a lecture about smoking on school grounds.

But when you turned, all you saw was that soft smile of his—the rare kind. The kind that stuck with you. There was something behind it, too. Something that looked suspiciously like pride.

"I knew you could do it."

You froze. The tips of your ears went hot. You looked away with a scoff and a roll of your eyes.

"Whatever..." you muttered under your breath.

Emi giggled and waved goodbye, and the two of you walked off. You didn't look back, but you heard him pick up the crushed cigarette and toss it into a nearby trash can.

Emi was practically bouncing as she pestered you for a look at the paper. You shoved it at her, annoyed, and she whistled low.

"Damn. That volleyball nerd of yours might actually be an angel. Who knows—maybe he'll help you pull your grades up. Fix your life n' shit."

You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, well, that's not what I'm actually interested in, am I?"

She pouted. "You're no fun," she said before skipping off toward her class.

It didn't matter.

Once you got what you wanted, you could forget about grades. Forget about stupidly handsome Kuroo Tetsurou.

Or at least, that's what you told yourself.

It was Wednesday, and the late afternoon sun bathed Nekoma's school grounds in a warm, honeyed light. For once, the place looked almost comforting as you made your way toward the exit, lulled by the quiet that blanketed the halls.

You had one more day until your next tutoring session with Kuroo.

You weren't counting.

Okay, maybe you were—but only in that restless, irritated way you counted down to something unfinished. Not because you wanted to see him. Not because his crooked smirks or annoyingly warm voice had burrowed under your skin like a splinter you couldn't reach. And definitely not because you missed the way his eyes tracked you like he already knew what you were going to say and dared you to surprise him anyway.

You hated how easy it was to think about him.

Worse, you hated that the thoughts didn't stop at his mouth or his hands or the phantom heat still clinging to your skin. They wandered off into the weird, dangerous parts—the parts where he laughed at your dumb jokes or challenged you just to see what you'd do. The parts where you imagined staying a little longer after tutoring just to argue about something stupid and feel him look at you like you mattered.

You stuffed your hands in your pockets, jaw tight, and scoffed to yourself. Fuck that. You weren't catching feelings. He blue-balled you and walked out. You just wanted to finish what you'd started.

You just wanted... revenge. Or control. Or something else you couldn't name.

Your boots hit the pavement a little harder as you rounded the building, trying to shove it all down.

Time to go home, text Emi, and forget about the excitement bubbling in your gut at the thought of seeing him again.

Or so you told yourself—until you heard the sharp, unmistakable bark of Kenkiba's voice behind the main school building.

"I told you to apologize. You tryna pick a fight with me, little pudding head?"

You rolled your eyes, heading toward the noise, where the group you were a part of—the so-called troublemakers of Nekoma where well... Making trouble.

There were six of you in total, with you and Emi being the only girls. You were never looked down on though—especially when the boys knew damn well you could take any of them in a fight and win. Not that they would risk it; they were "delinquents," sure, but not monsters. There was a weird kind of chivalry among them, the kind that kicked in when a particularly pretty girl caught their attention—or when someone messed with someone they cared about.

Kenkiba Haruki had that rough-around-the-edges charm that made you overlook his dumb choices more often than you should. His wavy, dark brown hair constantly fell into his eyes—he just refused to get it cut properly—and there was always a bandage somewhere on him, evidence of a fight, a fall, or just a stupid stunt. His uniform was a disaster: blazer slung over his shoulder, shirt half-untucked, school tie? Nowhere in sight.

Tall, broad-shouldered, always in motion—leaning back in chairs, slouching against walls, draped across desks with a lazy grin. His eyes were sharp, always scanning, like he half-expected someone to come at him with trouble. Or snacks. (Either was fine.)

When he laughed, it was loud, wild, infectious—the kind that cracked even the tensest moments wide open. But when he got serious, especially when it came to protecting someone, there was a stillness to him. Like a mutt that wouldn't let go of the hand it had chosen to trust.

And then there was Shibata Taiga. Where Kiba was brawn, Taiga was brains—though not the studious kind. More like chaotic, scheming energy bottled up in a leaner frame. His dyed hair always showed dark roots, like he was halfway between rebellion and not caring enough to finish what he started. And his ever-raised eyebrow made it seem like he lived in a constant state of sarcasm. (He did.)

Shorter than Kiba, wirier, and always wearing at least two accessories the school rules banned—maybe a ring, maybe a chain around his neck, usually both. He got Kiba into most of their trouble, but he was also the one who could talk them out of it. Sharp-tongued, quicker-witted, and while he'd talk shit about you to your face, he'd throw himself into a fight if anyone else tried it.

Rumor had it they once fought an entire group of upperclassmen and won. No one knew why. The story changed every time. They probably started it for something stupid. They probably didn't even remember.

You liked them. You didn't always like them. But you trusted them.

The same couldn't be said for the other two, Junpei and Inuzuka.

They were quieter, less flashy, always hanging around the edges. You couldn't quite put your finger on what rubbed you wrong—but there was something about their glances—too quick, too calculating—that made you cautious. Where Kiba and Taiga wore their hearts on their sleeves (and fists), those two kept everything close to the chest. Too close. You weren't sure they'd have your back if things got messy.

You'd put your neck out for Kiba and Taiga. They'd do the same for you. You couldn't say that for the last two.

Inukai-sensei, oddly enough, was one of the few adults the group respected, and the only teacher who you'd listen to. Maybe because he saw right through the "delinquent" facade to what you really were: a bunch of loud, messy kids trying to figure shit out. He never coddled you, but he never judged you either.

Normally, you wouldn't have had an issue with the group stirring trouble—they did it all the time.

But today? Today you had a problem.

Because standing in the middle of the group was none other than Kozume Kenma.

Kenma always looked vaguely annoyed, like the world was a mild inconvenience he'd learned to tolerate. But Kiba's glare and close proximity pulled an extra twitch from his brow—just enough to show he was actually irritated.

Kiba barked, "So? Are you gonna apologize or what?"

"I already did," Kenma said flatly. No fear. No anger. Just cold efficiency.

"Not energetically enough. I wanna hear you loud and clear."

Kenma scoffed, quiet and dismissive, like the whole exchange was beneath him. His fingers twitched around the console in his hands as he tried to retreat into the screen again, attempting to walk past the group.

Kiba knocked the console from his hands. It clattered onto the pavement.

Kenma stared at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to Kiba. The look he shot him was a flash of cold fury that could have cut through steel. You could practically feel the chill that ran down Kiba's spine.

Kiba reached out, hand forming into a fist, ready to grab Kenma by the collar, mouth opening—probably to say something stupid.

"Kenkiba."

Your voice cut through the moment like a blade.

The boys turned. You gave Kiba a tired jerk of your chin. "Leave him alone."

"Huh?! He bumped into me!"

"I heard him say he apologized."

"Well I didn't hear him."

You sighed, stepping closer. "Kibaaaa," you drawled, low and threatening. "Leave him alone."

It made him shift, visibly uncomfortable.

He was scared, you could see it in his stiff shoulders. But he still stared right back at you, defiant.

You sighed again, switching tactics.

"I heard Emi was looking for you."

That got him. He straightened instantly, a blush climbing up his neck like ivy. You felt a little bad using his crush against him—but Kenma needed saving. The idea of Kuroo's best friend vouching against you didn't sit right in your chest.

"She did?"

You nodded, tired. "Yeah... Something about karaoke?"

And just like that, Kiba's brain emptied. Tail practically wagging.

"Where is she?"

You shrugged, smiling. "I dunno. Go look for her before she invites that scum of an ex instead."

It was all it took. The boys wandered off, a chorus of grumbles and last-minute teasing trailing after them.

When the crowd finally left, Kenma knelt to retrieve his console. He picked it up with a tight jaw, inspecting it for damage. His brows were furrowed in quiet irritation as he wiped the screen with the hem of his shirt.

"Sorry about that," you said, quiet but honest.

He glanced up at you, squinting slightly like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn't care to finish.

"I don't need you to protect me."

You shrugged. "I didn't think you did. But it's easier when you have some help, right?"

His mouth pulled into a reluctant scowl, more pout than real anger. Still, he took the tissue you offered without a word.

You watched him clean his console with meticulous care, thumbs brushing lightly over the buttons. His movements were sharp but restrained. His face calm, but you could tell—just barely—he was irritated. Not at you. Not even really at Kiba. Just... at the inconvenience of it all.

"I don't like you," he muttered later, accepting the canned coffee you handed him as an apology.

"I know."

"You'll get Kuro in trouble."

You raised a brow. "Hopefully not."

"And your friends suck."

You exhaled, sitting beside him on the bench. "They're not that bad. Once you get to know them."

Kenma didn't respond, just stared at you, quiet and still.

You tapped the can against your thigh before continuing.

"Taiga? The dyed one? He has a soft spot for animals. Feeds the school's stray cats. He got detention once for sneaking a sick puppy into the nurse's office. Swears he doesn't care. Totally does."

Kenma glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"And Kiba..." you chuckled. "He was late to a hangout once because he found a first-year crying behind the gym. He didn't say anything—just sat with him until he was done. Turned out the kid was getting bullied. Kiba swore he didn't beat the bullies up, but his knuckles were a mess when he finally showed up to karaoke. We let him pretend like he isn't a big softie."

"Why are you telling me this?"

You shrugged. "I dunno. I guess I just want you to know not everything is what it looks like."

He studied you for a beat, his expression somewhere between curious and mildly annoyed—before shifting his gaze to the horizon.

"Huh... I still don't like you."

You shrugged with a smile.

"I know. You'll see I'm not that bad eventually."

He didn't answer. Just looked away and took a slow sip of his coffee.

Then, after a beat—quietly:

"I don't want to owe you a favor."

You tilted your head. "So you admit I did you a favor?"

Kenma rolled his eyes so hard you almost laughed.

"You're just like Kuro."

You snorted and pulled your wallet from your bag.

"Nah, he's smarter than me. Here." You handed him 3000 yen.

Kenma stared at it like the money might bite him. You chuckled and shook the bills a little.

"Give this to him? It's for tomorrow's tutoring. That way you won't owe me anything."

He took the money cautiously, unsure whether this counted as a trap or a transaction.

You drank the rest of your coffee in a somewhat comfortable silence, letting him study you. You could feel his eyes flick toward your profile now and then, measuring, analyzing, trying to figure out where exactly you fit on his mental chart of tolerable people.

It wasn't judgment, exactly. More like curiosity disguised as apathy.

Eventually, he stood and left without saying goodbye.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Emi <3: Did u just pimp me out to Kiba? Not cool (•̀⤙•́ )

Emi <3: Get ur ass to karaoke, we're all here.

You laughed under your breath, slung your bag over your shoulder, and headed for the gates.

It was Thursday afternoon.

The apartment was too quiet now—the kind of quiet that made every creak sound like a dare. You'd lit a cigarette earlier, let it burn in the ashtray untouched, like you were trying to give the room a scent. Something smoky. Sharp. Tangible. You didn't want to feel nervous, but you did—because this time, you weren't just dressing for revenge or seduction.

You were dressing for success.

So you opened the door for him like sin wrapped in cotton. Oversized tee swallowing you whole, no bra, bare thighs flashing underneath, just a hint of gym shorts if he looked hard enough.

Calculated. Deliberate.

You leaned on the doorframe, one brow arched—as if you hadn't been thinking about his mouth on your neck all week.

"Thought you might cancel," you said.

Kuroo didn't blink. Just looked you over slowly, like he had every right to. "You paid me early."

You stepped aside. "Right. Professional."

God, he was so calm.

But you were done waiting. He was smug, in control, keeping you teetering on the edge—tonight, you were going to make him crack.

No textbooks. No pens. No charade. Just you on the living room couch, cross-legged in that oversized tee, eyes locked on the door as he walked in.

He paused. Took one long look, and raised a brow. Cool, unreadable—as if he hadn't been fucking his fist to the thought of you all week.

"You forget the textbook?" he asked.

You smirked. "I think you've drilled enough chemistry into me by now."

"Maybe," he murmured, dropping his bag on the low table. "But exams are close."

You stood slowly from the couch. Sauntered over and straddled his lap before he could even unzip the bag. His hands hovered at your hips, hesitant— But you grabbed his wrists and shoved them higher, guiding them to your waist. Daring him.

"I'm done playing, Tetsurou," you whispered against his mouth. The way you purred his name—slow, dirty, like you were already imagining him inside you—made him fucking growl under his breath.

He laughed, teeth catching his lower lip like he was still trying to hold on. Like he wasn't seconds away from giving it up.

All the mental prep he'd done before getting here? All that resolve he built at practice, all the times he swore he wouldn't fold, all the times he told himself You are not letting her win—already out the fucking window. It was gone the second you opened the door, really. Your eyes, heavy-lidded. Your lips, parted. A siren in cotton and nerve.

Fuck, you were gonna be the death of him.

"You sure you can handle it?" he asked.

"You act like I'm scared of you," you said, cocky as hell. "You're the one always running. Afraid I'll laugh at your size?"

"Oh?" he said, voice slow and smug, hands tightening on your waist like a challenge. "Worried I'll disappoint you?"

You shrugged, feigning boredom even as your pulse pounded like a war drum in your throat. "You haven't impressed me yet."

That did it. The expert provocateur of Nekoma's volleyball team had just gotten played. Ironic.

His grip locked like a trap. In one move, he dragged you down into his lap and kissed you like he was collecting a debt—mouth greedy, tongue deep, teeth catching your lower lip just to hear you gasp. It melted into his mouth, hands threading into his hair, hips grinding against the thick, already-hard bulge straining through his pants.

"You think you're running this?" he murmured against your mouth, one hand dragging down your thigh with deliberate slowness. "That mouth of yours keeps writing checks you can't cash."

"Can't I?" you shot back, yanking his hair until he hissed through gritted teeth. "You're hard every time I breathe too loud."

His breath hitched—then he chuckled. Low and dark. Like he was already ten moves ahead.

"You think I haven't imagined fucking that attitude out of you?" he said, almost conversationally.

You didn't answer. You didn't need to.

His mouth found your throat—hot and biting—teeth grazing your skin like a threat. His hand slipped beneath your shirt, pushing it up in slow, deliberate increments, your body already hot and shaking—exposing you like a secret he intended to learn by heart. Your nails raked down his back, your body betraying every ounce of bravado.

He yanked your shirt off and tossed it aside, pulled back just enough to drink in the sight of you—bare, flushed, his golden eyes dark and greedy.

"Just say you want me," he murmured, voice like velvet stretched over something dangerous.

"Fuck you," you spat, even as your thighs clenched tighter around his hips.

That smirk—the one that always meant trouble—cut across his face.

"Exactly."

He scooped you up like you weighed nothing and dropped onto the couch, keeping you in his lap. His hips surged beneath you, cock grinding against you through his pants. Two fingers slipped into your panties and found your folds—slick and aching.

His breath left him in a hiss. "Goddamn."

He pushed one finger inside, and your body jolted like it had been lit. Then another—stretching you open, curling, finding, his thumb circling your clit like he was testing reactions for later.

"All that attitude and this is what's underneath? Fuck, you're soaked."

You cried out, hips jerking. Barely able to breathe, pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

"Oh god—Kuroo, fuck—"

He cut you off with a filthy kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth while his fingers fucked into your pussy harder, faster—angling just right until your thighs were shaking and your moans melted into his mouth. His palm grinding against your heat until your whole body trembled.

Just when your release was right there—on the tip of your tongue—

He stopped.

You gasped, trembling. "What the fuck—"

He pulled away from you and laid flat across your couch. Eyes dark. Mouth wet. Dangerous.

"You wanted control?" he said, voice low and razor-sharp as he hauled your hips toward his face. "You've got it. Ride my face."

You didn't hesitate. You didn't think. You just moved—got naked, gripped his hair, and straddled his face, sinking down on his tongue with a broken, desperate sound. The way he groaned into your pussy when he tasted you sent a shiver through your spine.

You rolled your hips helplessly against his mouth—slick, shaking—tasting lightning on your tongue, the obscene wet sounds echoing in your bones.

He groaned into you, devoured you. Tongue working you open, lips sucking, dragging along your clit, his moans vibrating straight through your core. The grip on your hips was bruising—keeping you in place, forcing you to take everything he gave.

Your thighs shook as you rode his face, eyes rolled back, moaning so loud you were afraid your neighbors would hear. His tongue flattened and flicked, sucked and swirled, obscene noises pouring from his mouth and yours.

You came hard. Pathetically fast. Screaming his name like you were trying to curse him and beg him in the same breath, thighs locked around his head as his tongue fucked you through it.

But he didn't stop.

Didn't even slow down.

He kept going—licking, sucking, fucking you through the aftershocks, dragging you past the edge of sanity into pure overstimulation.

You squirmed, clawed at his arms, but he held you there until you were babbling nonsense, until your pussy was twitching and fluttering against his mouth.

Finally, he pulled you off his mouth and back into his lap—body limp, lips trembling. 

And that's when you felt it.

Really felt it.

His cock—rock-hard between your thighs.

He was big.

He sat up slowly, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like a fucking savage, like he was savoring the mess he'd made. His golden eyes blazing with something dangerous and hungry, like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

"I'm not done," he whispered.

His zipper came down with a sharp, metallic hiss, and you tried—really fucking tried—not to lose it, even as your blood surged and your knees barely held out long enough for him to shove his pants down.

But there was no fucking way you were giving up control that easily.

He reached for you—quick, instinctive—but you ducked under his arm, shoving him back onto the couch with a smirk that didn't match the chaos between your legs. He let you—head tilted, teeth bared like a predator indulging its prey.

Those cat-like eyes followed your every move—hungry. Unblinking. Waiting for the excuse to pounce.

"Your turn to listen," you said between his legs.

You yanked his pants down to mid-thigh, rough and unceremonious, your palms sliding over the thick heat straining against his soaked boxers. He was already dripping, the fabric clinging, sticky and damp with precum.

Kuroo's jaw ticked. His hands flexed against the couch cushions like he was fighting the urge to grab your throat.

Good.

"Not so smug now, are you?" you murmured, licking a slow, filthy stripe up the length of him through the fabric. You dragged your tongue over the head, felt it twitch violently beneath your mouth.

He groaned, low and wrecked, head dropping back, abs twitching as you mouthed at him again—and yet he didn't lose composure.

Not yet.

You hooked your fingers into his waistband and peeled it down, slow and deliberate, revealing all of him—hard, massive, gorgeous—and fuck, your breath caught.

Your lips hovered over the flushed, leaking head, so close the heat of him made your mouth water.

"Had me aching for days," you whispered. "Maybe it's time you beg."

That did it.

He grabbed you—fast, brutal—lifting and flipping you like you weighed nothing. A blur of motion and you were face-down on the cushions, ass up, thighs quivering—and his cock grinding against your dripping heat.

Then his hand slid between your legs—coating his fingers in your slick before you could curse. You moaned, helpless, spine arching, legs spreading wider like a traitor.

"You wanna act tough?" he growled into your ear, voice all gravel and heat. "Then why do you melt the second I touch you?"

"Fuck you—"

"You'd love that."

He lined up behind you, dragging the fat head of his cock through your folds, rubbing over your swollen clit again and again until your hips were jerking backward, chasing it, clenching around nothing, desperate to take him in—but his hand clamped hard at your waist.

"You're gonna behave," he murmured against your ear, smug and sharp. "Or I'll edge you until you cry."

You whimpered—pathetic and honest—and that bastard grinned against your skin and kissed the back of your neck like a reward.

Then he pushed in, slow and deliberate, like he had all day to ruin you. Each inch a taunt, a lesson. You choked on a curse, and he groaned—long and low—as he bottomed out.

"Oh my god," you choked out. "You're such a—"

SMACK!

His palm hit your ass—sharp, controlled. Not cruel. But dominant enough to make you gasp and clench around him like a vice.

"Keep running your mouth," he said, "let's see where it gets you."

Then he moved.

Hard. Brutal. Unrelenting.

Relentless. Perfect rhythm. Every thrust designed to ruin you.

Still—you fought back.

Still rolled your hips. Still matched his rhythm. Still snarled through your moans.

"Thought you were gonna break me," you rasped, voice shredded. "I'm still standing."

"You're shaking," he grunted—pleased.

He wasn't wrong. But you didn't stop. You twisted under him, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him down into a kiss so messy, so fucking desperate, your teeth clacked.

"I'm not tapping out," you growled against his lips.

His laugh curled dark and smug against your lips. "You will."

Then he flipped you again, shirt finally coming off—muscles taut, eyes wild. Your legs hooked over his shoulders. He slammed back in, deep enough to make you scream.

Your back arched, fingers scraping angry red lines down his arms.

"Say my name," he snarled.

You bit your lip. Refused. Really tried not to.

But then his hand snaked between your thighs—thumb zeroing in on your clit with ruthless precision, stroking you in tight, devastating circles, perfectly timed with his hips—and you broke.

"FUCK—Tetsurou—don't stop—!"

He silenced you with a kiss, messy and needy, one hand wrapping around your throat—not choking, just holding—like a leash.

"You like being fucked stupid, don't you?" he panted, voice thick, messy. "Fuck—such a sl—"

You slapped a hand over his mouth, your fingers trembling but firm, and he immediately stopped. His eyes went wide—shocked, chest heaving.

"No." You whispered, voice soft but unshakable. "Not that."

Immediately—he shifted.

Tension eased from his jaw. The glint in his eyes softened.

He blinked, like he'd just realized he'd gone too far.

Then—softness.

He kissed your palm, slow and grounding. Turned his head to press his lips to your wrist—an apology in motion.

"Okay," he murmured, voice hoarse. "Got it."

He braced himself beside your head on his forearm. He let out a heavy breath, and you felt his cock twitch—even deeper in this angle, but tender in a way that made your chest ache.

When he moved again, it was still rough—but different.

Intentional.

He wasn't just fucking you now.

Only your name on his lips.

He kissed you between each thrust, murmured filthy praise into your skin—so tight, so good, meant for me—until you shattered around him with a cry that bordered on a sob.

But he didn't stop.

He fucked you through it, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline, until he buried his face in your neck, groaning your name like a curse, and pulled out just in time—his release hot and thick across your belly, his entire body trembling as he came undone.

He collapsed on top of you, gasping, drenched in sweat and slick, a mess of tangled limbs and overstimulated nerves.

For a long moment, there was only your breathing.

Then—your voice, hoarse and smug:

"So... what page of the textbook was that again?"

He laughed, breathless, hiding his face in your neck.

"Extra credit," he rasped.

You were still tangled together, skin slick, breaths slowing. His hand rested gently on your hip, thumb tracing soft circles like he hadn't just wrecked you five minutes ago—just to help you clean his mess right after, brushing the hair from your face like it mattered.

You hated that it made you feel... safe.

Your head fell back against the cushions as you tried to gather your thoughts—but they were scattered all over the room like your clothes. Your heart wouldn't stop racing. Not just from the sex—though God, that had been next level—but from him. The way he'd held you after you said no. The way he'd listened without flinching, shifted without hesitation.

It was the bare minimum, yeah—but it was messing with you.

The sudden change from absolute filth to softness was confusing you way more than you'd like to admit.

This wasn't supposed to be real. You were paying him, for fuck's sake. A fun excuse. A hot distraction. A stupid little crush you meant to burn through with one dirty, fast, no-strings fuck.

Not... this.

Not warm hands lingering after. 

Not this soft.

You let your eyes roam over his body as he lay beside you now—chest rising and falling, arm slung over his eyes like he didn't want you to see him. You stared anyway.

You took your time, tracing the sweat-slick curve of his chest, his stomach. Then, inevitably, your gaze returned to his face—beautiful, vulnerable, real. Dangerous in a way you hadn't planned for.

"Don't look at me like that..." he murmured.

"Why? Afraid I'll fall for you?" you replied, voice light, teasing—but not genuine.

He moved his arm to study your expression, eyes sharp.

"Don't worry, smart boy. I'm not that dumb. I know how this works."

He didn't answer. Just looked at you from beneath heavy lashes, unreadable.

For a second, you thought maybe he'd call your bluff. Say something smart. Something cutting. But instead, he just breathed out through his nose—quiet. Nodded once like it didn't bother him.

Like he hadn't felt it too.

Then he sat up—slow and lazy, like he didn't have a single thought in his pretty head.

"Post-nut clarity is a bitch," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. The words were casual. The tightness in his jaw wasn't. He grabbed his shirt off the floor, buttoning it up without looking at you.

There was a strange silence then. Not quite awkward. Just... thin. Like one wrong word might tear it wide open.

He swung his bag over his shoulder while you lit a cigarette.

"You don't have to walk me out," he said. Not cold, not warm. Neutral. Controlled. Like this was just another Thursday.

You nodded. "Didn't plan to."

He hesitated at the door, back still turned. "See you next session?"

Your chest tightened, but you gave a little shrug. "If you're not too busy solving the mysteries of the universe, sure."

He didn't laugh. Just glanced at you over his shoulder—and for a second, there was something in his eyes you couldn't name.

Then he left.

And that was it.

A conversation that didn't happen. A conversation that maybe should've.

But hey, it wasn't like things could get even more complicated, right?

...Right?

Next chapter↪

tags. @themoreeviltwin @taylordenae @rhea-sylvea @iluvikeu @tgnvhp @adangerousbalance @orphicarchive taglist open! let me know in the comments ♡

[n30nwrites]

hiya neon <3

How you been ? ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡

hope you're having a good day ~ ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Anyways, can you write something fluffy about poly!141 and male reader

Just...cuddle piles bro...hhfjsjsk

-- 🪸anon

Like Real People Do (Poly!141 x Male Reader)

Sorry this wasn't long, a lot has happened in my life lol.

I've been okay, everything is turning up.

I debated on doing more but if It did it would've turned to angst so.

You were always tired, work didn't have to be stressful and you would still be tired. You think it had to do with interacting people, just talking could make you tired.

The only thing that could make it better, were the people that greeted you at your home.

Gaz is cooking. The smell swallows you and your stomach turns, growling for the food. You can tell its Gaz simply because of the smell of seasoning, something you were still helping the other three boys on. Soap and Ghost either did Microwavable dinners or take out, and Price thought that the only seasoning he should use is salt and pepper.

He's such an old man.

Your knees ached, as did your ankles and back. It was usually hurting, but you never got it checked out, didn't consider it important too.

The solo mission lasted 3 months, you know they had each other for company and some part of you questioned if they really needed you. If they could last without you for 3 months, what's the rest of their life?

Then Soap opens the door and grabs you like his life depends on it, and all that doubt disappears. He holds you, his arms wrapped around tight and your bag of items drops to reciprocate the hug. He feels like home.

They are home.

You attempt to let go and take a step forward but he still holds on, and you kind of just awkwardly shuffle into the door.

Ghost calls out your name and announces you're home. Price comes through the door wearing your favorite pair of sweatpants (that looked so good on him) and a tanktop, Ghost is in similar wear, and you could take a guest that they just stayed home all day.

"Soap you gotta let him go at one point." Soap is buried in your chest, pushing himself further so his words come out mumbled. "What is Gaz cooking?"

"How do you know it's Gaz cooking?" Price asks.

"Cause I can smell how good it is, you left the window open." You tell him which causes Ghost to go over and shut it, locking it as well.

"He's making some rogan josh-"

"Oh god..." You moaned, most of the food you ate was dry crackers (that tasted like cardboard) and some bad lasagna. You had always loved food, that was one downfall to being the governments rat. "God I'm starving."

"Thankfully you're home just in time." Gaz comes in wearing the stupid apron you got him, it's pink and frilly, a stupid gift because that was just the tradition on Christmas. Soap had gotten you a shirt that said 'Don't Bully Me I'll Cum :(' on it, which unironically became your favorite. You got Simon a shirt that said 'I Identify as an American Patriot and this is my Pride Flag' which the Brit hated but everyone else had a great time.

"Tell me you have naan."

He did

----

You ate like you hadn't before, the dinner was delicious and it brought you all to the bedroom to rest like never before.

You laid against the pillows set up on the wall, Gaz was laying in between your legs and on your chest, Price was laying on your right side, his head resting on your shoulder as Ghost laid on the opposite with Soap on top of him, though with the way Soap was laying, he was on top of everyone. Soap was holding your hand as you rested your head on Ghost, the tv is playing a show called The Maid, it was interesting so far, you were going in and out of focus on it, more focus on your boyfriends next to you.

Eventually husbands, hopefully.

You took a glance to the side where the bedtable sat. You each got a drawer for your stuff, and in yours were five rings that took 5 paychecks to get. You were just waiting.

There would be a right time.

Soap's loud snores fill the air, and you laugh a little at how sudden it is, as does Ghost. The bed was crowded but none of you cared, it was perfect.

They were perfect.

"I love you guys." You mumble, and Price leans over to you, causing you to turn your head and kisses you. It's soft, not leading to anything and it's not holding expectations, it's warm and soft and everything to you. And when he stops, you just smile, because this was it.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Okay Mid Year Here We Come!

Pun intended.

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

May 2025 Week 5

Ongoing Series - Thai

Knock Out (Fri WeTV ) ep 3 of 12 - Sometimes, on my more philosophical days, I feel like this BL is the backstory of the brother & boyfriend characters who run the gym in Wandee Goodday. 

Meanwhile, massage oil scene with the secondary couple was excellent. Kind of came out of nowhere. (Presumably so did he.) But I’m not gonna complain. (Presumably neither did he.)

My Stubborn (Sun iQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - Sorn literally cannot keep his hands to himself. This show is the poster child for workplace sexual harassment. That said absolutely every employee seems to be doing it, so perhaps it was a hiring mandate. Company bonus? Your paycheck comes with a side of kabedon?

Pit Babe 2 (Fri iQIYI) ep 5 of 13 - Serving us a season 2 like no BL before has ever served. I am in awe. Mostly of Kenta's tatas on a platter and the cast joking about them and wardrobe's wholesale investment in their importance. Which is true. Very important work Pit Babe is doing for us right now.

Where was I?

What is happening?

I can’t with the scooters. I just can’t.

The plot (or whatever you wanna call it) continues a pace. There’s a lot of vrooming and canoodling.

Oh who cares, let us return to what really matters - black shirt tata chacha chacha.

Kenta brought a knife to a car fight. Best thing to happen in BL in years: a vroom vroom rescue.

Kim's protective doughnut of Kenta was, in fact, (as the kids would have it) legend. I am officially calling this maneuver the Bangkok Drift (and you can't stop me). I got nothing left to say. It spun out my brain meats.

(I should invent a very strong cocktail called the Bangkok Drift. I'm taking mixer suggestions in the comments.)

Also Kim = brimming with BDE. OMG is this couple BDE vs BTE (big tata energy)? Yes, yes they are.

Carry on Pit Babe, you clearly know what you're doing, even if no one else does.

(I should clearly be doing a Trash Watch of this but it's too late now.)

The BangkokBoy (Sat Gaga) ep 6 of 12 - Ooo hacker cutie, just what we all needed in our lives. Should we talk again about how incredibly hot Top is? Goes without a saying, I suppose. Also too pretty = likely the mole. (Too much to ask him to put that hacker up against a wall?)

I am still very much enjoying this, but I wish it was a bit less gangster and a bit more BL.

Eye Contact (Weds WeTV) ep 3 of 12 - NO SINGING. I figured it out. This is Make it Right goes to college and that's why I like it. That said, the terrible editing is beginning to grate on me. Perhaps if I were able to watch the extended version it wouldn’t be so bad. But as it stands  I’m losing patience with the whole WeTV platform in general, so I won't be upgrading on principle.

The Next Prince (Sat iQIYI) ep 5 of 14 - I'm enjoying it for the fantasy aspect. But we have got couple bloat happening. There’s too many. I am kinda into and excited by most of them (except maybe the leads), but still it’s too much for this show.

They aren’t Pit Babe, they can’t get away with it. (To be fair, Pit Babe really isn’t getting away with it either, it’s just so chaotic it doesn’t matter.)

While whipping boy is a favorite trope, and I did squeak in delight when that dog lead came out - Thailand going kinky rarely works out well for us. This pair is very "someone's been reading too much Slytherin slash."

My Sweetheart Jom (Fri YT) ep 3 of 12 - It's fine, but pretty missable. I dont get much chemistry from the leads. More parental tolerance meets childishness. I mean, if they’re aiming for a Daddy/brat dynamic, it’s not working.

I like that the same actor is playing the same psychopath in both shows currently airing. Aon is very good at being wild-eyed crazy.

On a completely different note wouldn't he be great as Song Qi if Thailand did a remake of Moon and Dust?

Boys in Love (Sun iQIYI ) ep 6 of 12 - I don’t know. They’re losing me on this one. It doesn’t seem to know where it wants to go or what it wants to do. There’s no major through line. And while that has worked for me in the past with pre-branded existing pairs (e.g. We Are) the profound lack of tension isn’t really working in this show for me. I hate Shane’s parents. Hate them. 

That is all.

Sweet Tooth Good Dentist (Fri iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - Jimmy is back, yay! This ep was all backstory and dealing with past drama. I wish we got a little bit more of Sant’s story. But also I am v bored.

The Ex-Morning (Thurs YT) ep 2 of 10 - I don’t have much to say about this show. I found this episode dull. Krist is always the same character in BL, and frankly it’s an archetype that I intensely dislike. More importantly, I always fail to understand why any love interests are ever interested in dating this personality type. Frankly he’s a jerk and a bully. Were this any other couple and any other production house I would have already dropped it.

I Promise I Will Come Back (Mon WeTV) ep 2 of 10 - It’s a bit touristy for me. Look I don’t like seeing anybody’s travel photos, not even my own. This is not a framing convention I enjoy in my BL. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sweetheart Service (Korea Fri YT) ep 4 of 12 - this installment was rough, confrontations but also successes. I feel sorry for the bartender character. But it is interesting to watch Strongberry tackle a true love triangle.

It's okay Taeha, there is a whole other cutie just gagging to be taken care of by you.

Just look to the left.

Moon and Dust (China YT) ep 2 of 6 - Is both absolutely terrible and terribly great. All of the triggers! But if you didn’t know that going in why are you even bothering to read my blog? You can't be taught.

Okay so just stepbrothers (not blood related). Fine.

White/black outfits? This is perhaps the least subtle BL of all time.

Fair price, China.

And so fucked up. Bite him! Yay!

Excellent.

None of this is going to end well for any of us but I am ALL IN.

Give me the fuck-up-a-tude. GIVE IT TO ME.

Fight for You (Taiwan Fri Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - This is common with Taiwanese BLs... once they are together and boyfriends they’re absolutely adorable, incredibly gentle, and very sexy - domestically beautiful. Meanwhile, add another to the Official Roster of Fantastic Grans in BL. This one is such a bad ass. Love her and her spoon - we soulmates. I wack at people with spoons if they come in while I'm cooking all the time.

The Sparkle In Your Eye (Singapore Sun Gaga) eps 1-4 of ? - Yet another celebrity BL (trend noted) but I am curious about Singapore's take on the genre. However this is one of my least favorite power dynamics (younger less powerful character has crush on older popular guy who doesn't like him). Also, far beat it for me to predict what a BL from Singapore will be like (when we have had so few) but the fact that they’re speaking in Chinese is indicative that this is gonna have that style, which means I’m not sure we can depend upon it to end happy.

It's airing but......

Loy Kaew First Love (Fri YT) ep 3 of 6 - Didn't drop for me. MDL says it aired but not where (usually means YT or Gaga, but not for me). I’m not particularly motivated to hunt. So I’ll let this one slide until I figure out how to get it or it ends badly and spies tell me... whichever comes first.

Top Form (Thurs WeTV) ep 11 end - Apparently I’m never gonna be able to see this final ep unless I pay for WTVs VIP? Which I’m simply not doing. If their interface or app were better and didn’t crash and have a bazillion other bugs, I might consider it. But the technology is terrible. Can’t condone this kind of behavior. So I guess I’ll live never knowing how this ends. I assume they're happily together blah blah blah.

Season of Love in Shimane AKA Ai no Kisetsu: The Season of Love (Thai) - Sequel to Kiseki Chapter 2 which I intensely disliked. I won't watch this.

Mission to the Moon (YT) 2 of 12 - Watching but I can't keep track. Too short, too many, too YT. I will report at end.

Next Week Looks Like This:

I've started including Thai holidays so we know why something might not be airing that day.

Coming Next Month

(I'm not confident on any of these, mostly rumor-based.)

6/2 Reset (Thailand iQIYI) - Yet another time travel kinda thing this time with Pond & Peterpan (we love this idea) but what a melodrama! And (shocker) celebrity romance again. On the night of his greatest success, famous actor Armin dies after being betrayed by his lover. However, death is not the end. Going back in time and meeting mysterious fan TD, the path to superstardom begins again.

6/5 Ball Boy Tactics (Korea Gaga) - After retiring from gymnastics, Han Ji Won thought his biggest challenges were behind him. Turns out, winning Olympic medals was easy compared to surviving university as a painfully shy ex-superstar. Enter Kwon Jeong U — campus heartthrob, basketball star, and a whole new world of trouble wrapped up in a perfect smile.

6/13 I Became the Lead in a BL Drama 2 AKA Zoku BL Drama no Shuen ni Narimashita (Japan ????) - Another 2nd season I certainly did not want. This time the story tells what challenges they have to face as a relationship. Also the story of the managers continues.

6/20 Depth of Field (Japan Fuji TV)

6/?? Revenged Love (China) - A remake of 2015's Falling in Love with a Rival. Wild.

2025 Line Up

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 1

BL Announced for 2025 - PART 2

20 BLs Announced for 2025 That I'm Really Excited About

GMMTV 2025 Line Up - My Totally Biased and Wildly Flawed Feels

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Well, see the Pit Babe 2 car rescue. Possibly best BL moment of 2025.

I can't I'm just eating this BL up. It's is beyond toxic. Are we in Forbidden Love territory? Will we go all the way to necrophilia? Depends on who dies first, i suppose.

Oh, someone's dyeing.

It was a really good kiss. As it should be! They have some seriously good "through the net" action to go up against. One of them from Taiwan.

What? It was a GREAT scene.

May I please point out that I called Boat as a great lead for a BL when he was a very minor side (and only good pairing) in the horrendous My Secret Love in 2022? I believe my case was made based entirely on this screen cap:

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[sschizoid]

Hello :3 may I pretty please request like, hcs of the tulpar crew traveling together?

I mean imagine this, they gather all their last paychecks from Pony Express and decide a place to go, how, what to see...etc

I just think I'd have some fun dynamics

omg hehe this ask has so much room for fun interpretation, like where are they going, how they're getting there, etc. but I think I'm gonna narrow this down tooooo badadadadadadadadum AIRPORT! where they're going is up to you!

-- curly

he's what you would call an Airport Dad™. wakes up EARLY to pack everything into the car and to pick everyone else up. keeps worrying that they're going to be late but they end up arriving 3 hours before boarding

overpacks. has a checked luggage just barely within weight parameters, as well as a carry-on AND a backpack. he packs for every scenario, every weather type, every activity

he's the one that bought everybody's ticket and holds onto them for safekeeping. he's also got one of those airline SkyMile credit cards, so he got everyone a pretty good deal regarding expenses!

brought one of those neck pillows since he gets stiff pretty easily when sitting down for too long. also brought one of those cooling eye masks and comfy socks. bro is the plane equivalent of a passenger princess

jimmy

he was still sleeping when curly got to his house. oh also he forgot to pack the night before, so he makes everyone wait in the car for 30 extra minutes while he takes his sweet ass time shoving random shit into a backpack

probably the least traveled of the group. his family never took vacations when he was growing up, so the furthest he's been from home is just a state or two, and even then it was just for work and not leisure

takes up as much space as humanly possible, stretching his legs, spreading his elbows wide, etc. if the person sitting next to him tries to ask for a bit more space, he puts on headphones after the fact then pretends he doesn't hear them

definitely the type to glare at the mother of a crying baby in hopes of making her feel embarrassed or ashamed

anya

super forgetful and cannot remember if she packed toiletries or not. oh god, what about socks? did she pack socks ??? ends up spending $50 on various airport-priced items just in case

lowkey really scared of flying. she's done it tons of times before but still white-knuckle clenches the armrests during takeoff

brings lots of books. this is a great time for her to catch up on the reading she's been putting off with all of her work and schooling

never gets to reading said books, and instead sleeps like a log the whole trip. she's tired !!

swansea

was the only person ready in time when curly came around to pick everyone up. like, standing outside on the porch, bags at his feet ready

waits 20 minutes in line for coffee, but when he gets to the front and sees that a 12oz black drip is $5 he turns around and walks away. complains about airport prices for the next few hours, talking about "highway robbery" until they're finally boarded

"remember to pop your ears, you'll get a headache if you don't"

aisle seat. NEEDS an aisle seat. if the ticket curly bought him isn't in the aisle, he'll shamelessly ask other passengers to switch with him. he likes the extra leg room and ease of access to the bathroom

daisuke

makes the metal detector go off multiple times. "oops, forgot my belt!" BEEP "oh, man, that's probably my keys, sorry." BEEP "oh shit, my phone!" BEEP "waitwaitwait hold on hold on—"

his goal is to be that one person you see in passing at the airport that is just the most beautiful stranger you've ever seen. his hair? styled. his skin? dewy. his fit? fun, colorful, and literally insane for the setting. he dresses to impress!

checking out all the shops and food options before boarding, just straight wandering off without saying anything. comes back 20 min later with a keychain that says "I LEFT MY ❤️ AT ______ INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT" because he thinks its funny as fuck

insists he take the window seat but keeps the curtain closed the entire flight because the sun is casting a glare on his handheld

--

THANK UUUU for your request, I hope this is sufficient! if anyone else has any requests; my asks are open !! ⁽⁽ଘ( ˊωˋ )ଓ⁾⁾

[astralcrtl]

the last time i saw paul⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

despite being gone for four years, paul was all you'd thought about no matter how hard you tried to forget him entirely.

content warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, abandonment issues, paul and reader are slightly toxic but whateverrrr, reader is fem-aligned/presenting, mentions of college lol, reader is insecure (me too girl), angst, some mention of sex and other bits of intimacy, mdni

songs: a pearl – mitski, paul – big thief, forwards beckon rebound – adrianne lenker, yesterday - the beatles, silver springs - fleetwood mac

wc: 7.2k

a/n: first fic on this account! it was killer to write i'm not going to lie, and i'm not a fan of the ending entirely but it's finally here! also this was not beta-read so if u see anything wrong.. no u didn't lol

dividers - @toastray @cursed-carmine

“OH THE LAST TIME I SAW PAUL, IT WAS HORRIBLE AND I ALMOST LET HIM IN”

California was just as sunny and just as hot as it had always been. You can smell the salt in the breeze as the sun begins to set on the boardwalk. It was still busy, despite the fact that it had just become right around nighttime. It was always lively, you consider for a moment. You begin to wonder if he’ll be out tonight, as he usually is. Yet, you stop yourself before the sinking pit can worm its way into your gut.

The way that you’d left him wasn’t the best moment for yourself, or for him to be frank. It had been four years though, who knows if they had still stayed in Santa Carla, or if they were even still alive. You shook the thought of his golden halo and cerulean eyes out of your mind completely.

The music in your car turns up, as you try to quell your mind. The smooth leather feels cool against your hands as you begin to tap your fingers against the steering wheel. The quick, staccato, thrums of your hands against the wheel do well to ground you. Looking around, you’d realized you were nearing your childhood home. No one else would be there, they had all gone to other corners of the Earth and you were left here quickly after your graduation, quickly after the death of your grandfather.

It had been his house, so lively and filled to the brim with people. Siblings, friends, oftentimes the door would be open for anyone who needed the help. Now, with him gone, the entire property looked to be dull and lifeless. As you pull into the driveway, you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in. You didn’t have many belongings to haul in, and once you were done setting the boxes that contained your whole life (including your degree) in the living area and master bedroom, you physically deflated.

The house was so empty. You had never seen the house so empty, so colorless. There were some leftover possessions in the house, thick purple velvet curtains, some beaded entry-ways, and fairy lights. Some semblance of the eclectic old man you had loved so dearly. Everything was quickly becoming too much to handle. Your limbs seemed to carry you, without much thought or command from your mind. Your old bicycle was left in the garage, and you had somehow ended up with your worn canvas bag. You’d gotten it several years ago at this point, the thick material wearing down and becoming much softer to the touch.

The old army surplus you’d bought it from with your first paycheck must’ve been closed by now. It was not like it received much business anyway, mainly old vets and teenage boys. Your suspicions were confirmed when you had rolled past it, an old, homely building. Everything seemed the same, but different. The whiplash was enough to nauseate you. It felt like you were in a different reality altogether. One where you had never existed in the confines of Santa Carla before, like this was your first time. As you looked toward the road, you realized your legs were burning and you were approaching the boardwalk. Of course, in your deep thought, you would come back here of all places. Cursing at yourself, you hitched your bike and began to walk mindlessly.

The boardwalk was enough to transport you right back to the summer before you were off to university. You had taken a gap year after your high school graduation, and this was the last summer you would be spending in Santa Carla. The boardwalk had been the center of your universe for those two summers. The flashing lights from the ferris wheel were just as blinding as ever, and incredibly vibrant against the now-indigo sky. It seemed as if the boardwalk stretched for miles, like a never-ending carnival. It felt that way, too.

Out of the corner of your glasses-rimmed eyes you saw the Video Max. It wouldn’t be so bad to go in and see if Max himself was still there, though, trusting your better judgement you dodged it and ended up in the same, new-age store you frequented years ago. It was a younger woman at the counter this time, instead of the white-haired, whitty, older woman who ran the place. You supposed she hired help, seeing as she was probably retirement age by now.

“Welcome in,” the girl all but signed out. She looked less than pleased that you were in here, but nevertheless you offered her a small smile. “Once you’re done I can take you up here.”

“Thanks.” You tried in your most enthusiastic voice, but it fell flat. You were exhausted, and even though you were a little excited to come to one of your old haunts, your limbs felt like lead. Still, you walked around, spotting any new inventory. The crystal selection was pretty much the same. As you passed by the malachite and the carnelian, you spotted a new display. Shiny, you mused to yourself. It was a wire frame tree, with simple chains adoring it instead of leaves. You released the chains were necklaces, with crystals wired in and attached at the ends. They were nothing short of gorgeous. And then, you saw it. The blue lace agate, delicate and at the end of one of the simple silver chains.

The crystal had always reminded you of Paul. His eyes were deep, but when they shimmered they looked eerily similar to the stone. As you reached out to the display, you released a smile that had crossed your face. What the hell, you thought. It couldn’t hurt to get, for old times sake.

Once you began making your way to the register, you heard the faint bell above the door let out a soft hum. You stopped dead in your tracks, tucked away behind the entrance to a different room and a shelf. You didn’t know if it was them for sure, but the way your heart tugged and your stomach dropped told you all you needed to know.

The silence was deafening, but as you came to your senses you began to hear their rowdy howls. Marko, you’d figured. “Marko.” a stern voice corrected. And that was David. You knew you were right on the money with your assumptions. The only one to get any of the boys to stop with just their name was David. You set the necklace down, and your gaze fell to your feet. Your sneakers were worn with time, much like your other possessions.

The tap-tap of their footsteps moved into the opposite end of the shop and you realize this was your only opportunity. You booked it out of the store, the clerk giving you a confused scowl as you left. You had to give it to her, you probably looked suspicious as hell, but then again, she probably knew that types like you weren’t about to steal from a small, little crystal shop.

As you passed through the rest of the boardwalk you saw some of its most notable features. The weathered games with ancient stuffed prizes. The colorful paint dulled and chipped away, but somehow whimsical and nostalgic. The carousel was still running somehow as well, the porcelain of the horses cracked. You could hear the creaking of the gears, begging for an ounce of oil, and the soft hum of the electricity running through it. You remember it was your favorite as a kid, but now, in this moment it was much too bright, much too painful. You looked past it, your face burning and eyes prickling with a feeling you had tried all too hard to keep down for the last four years.

You nearly tripped as you toed the edge of the boardwalk, leading into the extensive beach. The flickers of white-hot embers were carried by the salty breeze from the ocean. There were multiple bonfires, but surprisingly the beach was not too crowded. You supposed it had something to do with the plethora of missing posters covering every mile of Santa Carla. The scarlet lettering framing the blocky text, it haunted you then and it haunted you now. The greyscale faces melted together sometimes, when you slept

Even in the dream world you could see them, but sometimes in your dreams he was there. A flicker of his blond tresses, akin to a lion's mane or a small fire. The flashes of his pearly white smile, sometimes covered crimson. On those nights it twists into a sick hyena’s grin. Not that this would dissuade you from crawling right back to him. You missed him with your entire being, and sometimes when you would go back to the shitty apartment you had just off-campus, you thought he might be waiting for you there. As unrealistic as it is, after an especially draining day, you’d hoped he was there.

Movies, songs, hell even the mere sight of the beach or a carnival set you off, into a spiralling fit of nothing but Paul. It was no way to live for the past four years but you had managed.

But now, as you find an unoccupied area of the beach and sit down, you try to think about how it was for the better. As you tuck your knees to your chest, you fidget with the sides of the rubber soles of your shoe, coated in a thin layer of sand. You tuck your head atop your knees and let out a breathy sigh. The last time you were on the beach it hadn’t ended well, for yourself or for Paul.

It was easy to remember, you played it over in your mind even thousands of miles away, even if you tried your damndest not too. Of course going right back to the source would crack open the memories from your head. It seeped out, thick and metallic like the sticky, red, ichor Paul and his brothers survived off of.

It felt as if you never left at all as you sat now, in the dark of the beach. The only light flickering over were the bright neons of the boardwalk and embers gliding through the air, carried from some other party. As the memories flooded in, it seeped into the real world. You drowned out the noise, the constant buzzing music and yelling, from the groups of surf nazis surrounding you.

The lights that were once cooler and more distant seemed to grow closer, and then when you were back on the beach, it was colder. Summer was coming to an end in this memory. You could almost feel your skin prick in gooseflesh. It was just like how it was the night you broke things off with Paul. Obviously the decision hadn’t come easily, but you were finally moving on with your life. Santa Carla was suffocating for a local such as yourself, and you had worked yourself nearly to death just to have the opportunity to go to college. Paul knew this, yet the problem didn’t lay there.

“Paul”, you began wearily. He was in a post-feeding haze, he had you tucked into his side sitting up on the beach. Dwayne was tending to the fire left over from the night’s victims, who were long disposed of at this point. You hadn’t been there to witness it. Even if your relationship together was nearing a year and a half, sometimes their yelps of pain and prayers for mercy were too much to bear.

You knew he could smell your trepidation, the rush of your blood and maybe even the bile in your stomach. He looked over to you, all boyish charm and sweet pets to your hip. “Yeah?”

He could sense something was wrong, he forewent the typical pet names, he usually always addressed you with such. The sound of the boombox in the back did little to ease your discomfort. It was Paul’s, of course, so naturally it was playing something entirely to his tastes. You were so nervous you couldn’t quite put your finger on the song, but it was probably some variation of Cinderella or Alice Cooper.

Sitting up a little more, you slightly fell out of his grasp. Pulling away to look closer into his face, you caught a glimpse at the sheer confusion that fell upon him. As a vampire, he could just read your mind, but had decided against it early on into meeting you. Mind reading, control, those were more David’s speed for recruitment, and even then this was an entirely different matter. To Paul this wasn’t recruitment, it was romance. With everything in him he didn’t want to mess it up. Most of the relationships he carried were fast and hot, and little else.

“You know I’m leaving in a few weeks, Paul.” you muttered out, reaching to tuck some of his wild tresses behind his ear, in one of your last acts of tenderness with him. He looked a little shocked to see you pulling away from him, but leaned back into your outstretched hand. Paul looked like an overgrown puppy, and it tugged at your heartstrings before you remembered exactly what you had to say. He nodded, his cheek cupped in your hand.

You pulled it away slowly, bringing it down to fiddle with your fingernails and the hem of your top. “I’m not coming back home Paul. Not for a while, anyway.” Your eyes darted around, looking at anything but Paul. Counting the grains of sand, watching the ocean tide, fiddling with your jewelry, anything at all to distract yourself from the current moment.

You swallowed harshly, clearing your throat before you continued, “I have to stay at my university, I have to work, I have to stay up there. Summers and all. I won’t be able to come back until I graduate. You bit at your lip, and your face burned. You weren’t sure if it was out of shame or if it was because you knew you’d miss him terribly. You could see through your peripheral how he physically deflated.

As you finally brought your eyes to meet his face, his eyes were searching for any hint at your admittance being some cruel joke. He knew it wasn’t something you’d do, but in that moment it was all he hoped for.

His thick eyebrows crinkled together as he let out a disbelieving laugh. “You, you can’t be serious, babe.” A wary, shaky smile crossed his puffy lips. You could tell that he’d been chewing on them as well, he’d picked up the habit from you. “You can’t be leaving, for what? Four years? Fuck,” He paused. His disbelief quickly shifted to something else. Paul’s temperament, while better than Marko’s, was still unpredictable.

You stood up, brushing the sand off of your bottom. Tears spilled over, your face was burning and you knew you needed to go home. “I’m sorry, Paul. I’m so sorry.” You pushed the tears away with your wrist as you sniffled out apologies.

He sprung up, face morphed into anger. “How long did you know?” he all-but snarled out at you.

You knew he would never hurt you, he never had before. Being in a relationship with a vampire meant that casual was off of the table, and you both needed to trust each other completely. Even then, he still saw your human condition as something fragile, like you were made of porcelain. Honestly, you’d never seen him so angry before, at least not at you.

“God, I just. I just, I’ve known for about a month.” You choke out. You knew it was bad, hiding it from him, but you didn’t want to ruin what you had. You’ve never had a real boyfriend before, navigating a relationship was hard for the first time, nevertheless one with your vampiric paramour.

He’d closed the distance between you quickly, with his unnatural speed he was there before you could let out another unsure, shaky breath. His large hands, clad in rings and corded bracelets, were wrapped around the upper part of your arms. Looking down at them, your shame only burrowed deeper into your chest. Some of them were watching with your own, and you spied the onyx beads around his wrists. You had made it for him.

You were a little shocked, too. That your bones weren’t immediately splintered in his firm grasp. You could tell that beneath the anger, he was just as sad about it as you were, hence the control in his grip that he usually struggled to possess. He could easily kill you, here and now and put an end to the whole affair, but you knew he wouldn’t.

“A fucking month?” he all but yelled. David and the rest of his brothers looked over to us, to which Paul shot over an intense and crazed look. Through their telepathic connection you knew he had told his brothers to leave. They did, with a swift motion of David’s hands. They filed into their bikes and took off, presumably towards Hudson’s Bluff. The sand kicked back from their bikes and you watched as the lights disappeared the further out they got.

“I’m sorry,” you babbled out again, “I just didn’t know how to tell you, Paul.” Your hands found themselves fiddling with the lapels of his jacket and he released you from his grip. You attempted to step closer to him, be he stepped back, running one of his hands through his wild hair.

He looked like he was deep in thought for a moment, before looking back at you. “Just fuckin’ forget you even knew us. If you fuckin’ tell anyone you’re dead.” His voice was low and gravelly, despite the malice dripping from his maw, you could have sworn he sounded exactly the same when you were cuddled into him in his nest just a few days ago, watching some shit tape he had stolen.

Clouded over with tears, you saw his blurry form as he walked toward his lone bike. “Paul?” you whimpered. “Paul, wait, I’m sorry! Please don’t leave me here!” you called after him. “Paul!”

You knew it was too late when he revved his bike, and it seemed that just as fast as he had come into your life, he was gone. “I fucking hate you!” The scream you let out was guttural, torn from your throat. Even if it wasn’t true you needed him to feel just as hurt as he had just left you. The air felt so thick, you were suffocating on it. After that it all felt like a blur, suddenly you were back home crying into your grandfather’s arms. How could you even begin to explain this to him? You couldn’t, you knew you couldn’t. In the end you didn’t even try. What would have been if you stayed? It was something that kept you up at night.

It’s a sudden surge of energy, like a ball of pure light, that pulls you from your heartache-riddled imagination. It had felt like a surge of air had graced your lungs, you sensed him before you’d seen– or even heard him. At first, you weren’t sure if it was just being back in Santa Carla, back home, or if it was perhaps the ocean. The moon’s silver beams racing across the water, it made the ripples such a deep, somber blue. It reminded you of Paul endlessly. After another moment, and the unrelenting feeling in your gut, you knew that he and his brothers were close.

Even after all this time, you could feel his presence. Your skin prickled and the smooth ocean air ran down your spine, filling your chest with a familiar warmth. Despite everything that happened, you weren’t afraid. If you felt him, you knew there was a very likely chance that he felt you as well. Your last conversation was a sour note to leave on, and certainly not one that would make for an easy reunion. Yet, you felt your limbs become sluggish, as if they were sinking and made of lead. You couldn’t leave the beach now, and if you could you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to.

It wasn’t long before the sound of playful help and howls of laughter rang out into your ears. They were here, now. Maybe it was a coincidence that you ended up on the same dark end of the beach, but you won’t pretend that there wasn’t at least some part of you that was hoping you’d be this close. Hell, even if he had threatened to kill you, the worlds lacked any real venom, they were devoid, though. His voice was always so warm, I’d never heard him so somber. Now, in this moment the warmth was back. You’d brought your head up to look towards the source of the sound, and you saw him. It seemed like he was glowing, coming toward you.

Your vision trained on him, it was ironic how much he reminded you of the sun. If he had made any contact with it, he’d die. Yet he was perilously bright, a ball of pure energy, and just as dangerous. Much like the solar system, you’d revolved around him for so long, and even when you weren’t near him, you still felt his pull.

It seemed that he had felt yours, as well. He paused in breakneck speed, looking as if he was punched in the gut. Paul wasn’t stopped for long though, his eyes darted to your direction. It seemed that none of the other boys paid any mind to Paul’s strange behavior, except for Marko. He was always attuned to Paul, maybe that’s why you’d gotten along with him so well.

David and Dwayne didn’t cease in the saunter towards the pyre adjacent to you, they would have to cross over where you were sitting to get to the surf nazis. You suspect that they had already known you were there, always being more observant than your Paul.

There was a pit forming in your stomach, it had turned sour and unsure and suddenly your limbs flew up on their own accord. Even though you knew he was faster than you, that this was his turf, you ran straight to the boardwalk. The bright, multi-colored lights acting as a waypoint for you to find your way back. You weren’t sure how you could face him, if he even wanted to see you. One thing you knew though, is that he didn’t seem to follow you. As you walk up the stairs from the beach to the end of the boardwalk, you don't see him or any of the others anywhere near you. If he was following you, he would have caught up.

It was strange, you knew he had seen you, but then again everything in Santa Carla was strange.

The lights were blurry, and everything was too overstimulating. The necklace you wore felt heavy and your senses were muddled. You knew you would have to push through it to get back to your grandfather’s house– or rather, your home.

The speed at which everything changed, yet stayed the same, was enough to make you nauseous, and you wished for a moment you hadn’t run from Paul, but the thought was fleeting and all too late. It wasn’t the first time you had become closed off to him, you recall the first time you ran out of the cave to the edge of Hudson’s Bluff after he insisted you were the “prettiest thing” he’d ever seen.

You didn’t believe him for so long, he was drop-dead gorgeous and you knew he could have his fill of anyone in Santa Carla, hell, anyone in California. It had made you sick when you thought that, perhaps, he would realize this and leave. At the time, you hadn’t anticipated that it would have been you to leave first.

That night, he chased you down after a minute to let you cool off. Despite how childish Paul could be he was incredibly good at reading emotions, at being intune with them. Marko used to say it was because of all the people he had relations with, which only earned him a smack upside the head from Paul. He could see it was a touchy subject with you, and it was why you had never done anything below your clothes. Paul was incredibly emotionally intelligent, even if he was prone to tantrums and mood swings. When he felt things, he felt them wholly. You supposed that is why you both worked so well together.

As you both overlooked the bluff that night Paul bared his mind to you. He confided that despite being alive for so long he had never had something so committed. Paul often slept with people who wanted him for his body, and he wanted them for a meal. It was transactional, which was the reason he cited for being so scared with this relationship. Care and mutual trust in a romantic sense was somehow new to him as well, and the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it. It was the moment you realized how similar you and Paul truly were.

In your mindless walking, you realized you were right outside the metal fences that led to the queue for the swing carousel. You craned your neck to look upwards at it, the couples at the top screaming in bliss and contentedness. It had been you at some point and that familiar feeling of dread ate at you once more. God you missed him more than anything. Long distance would have been hard, especially with his condition, but you would have tried so hard. The regret of letting things end the way they did would eat at you for the rest of your life, you feared.

As you continued to pass by the boardwalk for the second time that night, you felt watched. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it was nothing, you knew that if you peered over your shoulder you would see Paul. He was following you, yet it wasn’t heavy, it was like goading a kitten to come to you instead of chasing it. In four years Paul certainly had matured a little, and yet he was still in-tune with the way you functioned wholly. You tried to justify that if he was coming to you, he wasn’t angry, that you should give into him. You stood there, unmoving for a moment. Letting the night breeze fan across your skin, you made your decision. Accepting him felt like the most normal thing you had done in forever.

Looking over, you locked eyes with him. Time seemed to slow, or even stop all together. You were still rendered motionless, unlike Paul who lurched forward. Sand flew up behind him as he ran. Afterall, he was undead and his vampiric conditions made him faster, more durable. He was at your side in mere seconds. Your eyes screwed shut, you weren’t sure if it was due to the sand or the impact he made as he threw you into his chest and held you there. The feeling was familiar, as the fishnet of his top pressed against your cheek you were filled with warmth. Your face was burning a deep shade of scarlet despite his ice-cold skin.

You were in complete shock, your arms hovered around him, unmoving and unsure. Your frown deepened in his chest before you gave in to the light, swirling feeling. Your arms flew around him, holding Paul to you like he would disappear, like he would turn to dust in your grasp. Honestly, you thought he might. That he might disappear on the horizon in a blur of light turning to darkness. Pulling away for just a moment you looked up at him. Paul’s face was scrunched and his neck was angled down to curl next to you. You studied his features for a moment, you hadn’t expected any chance, seeing his immortality would prevent any aging. He was just as boyish and just as beautiful as ever, as the day you met him.

Bringing a hand up to his face, you cupped his jaw and ran your thumb across his cheek. You couldn’t stop yourself before you opened your mouth, “You’re so beautiful, Paul.”

When he opened his eyes, in the deep cerulean hues, it was like no time had passed at all. Like you both hadn’t walked away from each other.

He smiled, a true playful grin that was true to himself. “Pretty baby, where have you been my whole life,” he sighed. It was something he had often whispered to you.

It was like a different ending to the story you had written in your mind over one thousand times, like that night he didn’t leave you in the sand, that you didn’t leave him.

You knew the rest of the boys were coming soon, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Paul was here, with you, and you were home at last.

Paul wrapped his arms around you again, hoisting you up. You took a quick, shocked, breath in and wrapped your arms around his shoulders and neck for support. It had been a long time since you were a victim to his spontaneity. As you looked deeper into his face, you began to crack. Tears were building up, threatening to spill over. “Paul,” you started once more.

He looked over to you in an instant, his eyes scanning you over as he had done a million times before. “Put me down, Paul. Please.” You goaded gently.

A flash of confusion crossed his features, yet nevertheless, he set you down. With a sharp inhale, you fiddled with the lapels of his archaic coat. It was the same as the last time you saw it, adorned with tassels and bangles. His eyes were wide, looking at you. He was taking you in like you weren’t real, that you were just in his imagination.

“We have to talk about what happened.” you manage to squeak out. Even if it was the last thing you wanted to discuss, it was at the forefront of your mind after the initial shock of having Paul on you once more. He shook his head before he spoke.

“Not now, babe. Let’s just– fuck,” He paused, running thick digits through his wild mane. You noticed a glistening around his wrists, it was the bracelet. Still there, like it had never been taken off. At that moment the weight of your necklace burrowed into your clavicle. “We can talk about this later, just let me have you for just a minute more, please.” He spoke softly, nearly mumbling. Who were you to deny such a request?

“Okay, Paul. Yea, we can, we can do that.” You weren’t sure if you were convincing him or yourself.

Soon, you were on the back of his bike once more, following his brothers back to Hudson’s Bluff. You weren’t entirely aware of how he had convinced you to go back with him, but the empty feeling of what was your grandfather’s house was cold, it didn’t feel like home anymore. You suppose that was why, at least the sunken resort would be warm, and lively. How ironic was it that the most comforted and alive you had ever felt was due to an undead vampire?

Past the gaudy and weathered danger signs, you’d finally made it back. Paul helped you down the rocky climb to their safe haven wordlessly. There were a little more trinkets here and there, but for the most part nothing was different. Santa Carla was like a time capsule. Jim Morrison’s dark, painted features looked down at you, as you made it past the fountain and up to an alcove that was Paul’s personal nest. The old mattress was haphazardly put atop some wooden palettes, a mix of blankets and other various cloth was piled on the top, as well as a plethora of carnival plushies that Paul had won throughout the years. A boombox was in its home in the corner, and various rocks and crystals were strewn about. A guitar he had stolen sat near the rest of his tapes, as well as some letters. Some of these things were from his life, from before he was turned. It wasn’t something Paul was very open about, one of the only things in fact. Due to this he rarely spent much time actually sleeping in the nest. It wasn’t like it was used frequently, Paul preferred to sleep with his brothers after a run in with some vampire hunters that almost left Marko dead.

However, when you started to see each other, Paul liked to be alone with you. Some of your belongings were still here, surrounding you. The smell of his age-old hair product and stale cologne permeated the room, it filled your senses.

Despite how familiar you were with your surroundings, you felt out of place. Instead of falling into the cool fabric of his make-shift bed, you stood in the middle of his room. From an outward perspective you looked entirely awkward, like you had no idea how to proceed. That assumption would be correct, anyway.

Paul stood there, behind you. Leaning up against the mouth of the conclave entrance to his nest, he took you in once more. He couldn’t see your face from this angle, but so far he was satisfied dragging his eyes across the dip of your shoulder and the way your hips dip into your thigh. The expanse of the cloth covering you dug a little in some areas and Paul was salivating at the fact that he could smell you. The slight honeyed lavender, a bit soapy and milky, made his head reel. You were real, and in front of him now for the first time in years. Paul was undeniably thrilled.

It was when he shifted slightly, that you were aware he was directly behind you. Your head snapped around with your hair following suit, falling over your shoulder. He sat rim-rod straight and then he was on you.

His hands wrapped around the upper part of your arm and his boyish face was directly in front of yours. You could smell the minty aroma from his breath as it fanned across your face, you could see the way his light-blonde eyelashes fell over those gorgeous baby blue eyes, casting a shadow over them. Paul had his playful antics dialed up to an eleven, but it was from a genuine place in his unbeating heart.

You both stood there for a while, the cool of a breeze shot through the cave, and the iciness of his skin didn’t help the gooseflesh beginning to rise on your arms. At first, it crossed your mind that Paul would be the one to break the silence, he usually is. Yet, after the prolonged silence and the way that Paul seemed to cover you in this moment, you knew you had to be the first to speak up.

He could feel the sharp breath you took in, could smell the nervousness dripping off of you. “Paul, you know I’m–”

In a flash, his mouth was on yours. His taste was metallic and slightly minty, and even though you didn’t want to make it awkward, your eyes were wide open in shock. In hindsight, it wasn’t all that shocking that Paul would try to use his charm to dissipate the awkward tension permating his nest. It was something he often fell back on, much to your chagrin. He was your first, and only, sort-of-boyfriend-ish-thing and to be quite frank you had never gone as far as he had. It's not like you didn’t want to sleep with him, but you did want to wait, no matter how hard that proved to be with you and Paul.

Communication to you was important, these conversations were necessary. You had always known that with Paul, who unlike you, was an open book. He could pry whatever he wanted from your brain, but he wanted until you had shared it with him first.

Telling him of your flaws and insecurities was something you dreaded, but sharing with Paul was easy. He was always eager, and while he loved to talk in his boisterous manner, to jest and howl, he was an incredible listener.

You broke the kiss, pulling away no matter how much your brain screamed at you to stay as close to Paul as possible, to be intertwined with him. Your hand presses against his chest, the feeling under your palms tickled and grounded you in the moment.

“I’m serious, Paul. We can’t act like nothing happened, like I haven’t been gone for as long as I have been.” Your brows furrowed and you bit your lip. His eyes were once again trained on you, watching your every moment like a hawk. Your hand almost dropped, but he took both of his palms and pressed your hand deeper into his chest, keeping it there.

“We don’t have too, baby.” His voice was feather-light, yet his drawl of “bay bee” brought a flicker of a smile across your face.`

“Yea, I think we do,” As you began, you led him to the edge of his bed, and beckoned him to sit with you. “We really do.”

You began with trepidation, the ride over here was wonderful, being around Paul was wonderful, and you hated to ruin such a picturesque moment, but both you and Paul knew it was needed. “I’m sorry for leaving Paul, and I’m sorry for not telling you about it.”

“I know.” he replied, his voice stronger, more earnest than it had been just moments earlier. “I know, sweet baby. You know I never meant anythin’ about keeping away from you right? I was just angry, really angry. Not as angry as Marko gets but I just– I can’t trust any of it y’know baby? I waited for you in case you came back, I felt it when you came back, I didn’t mean nothin’ I swear,” This was closer to the Paul that you had known, talking at one-thousand miles an hour, saying every thought.

“I felt you too, back in the new-age shop. I know you didn’t mean it Paul, I hope you know I could never hate you.” His hair moved as he nodded, earnestly.

“I felt you too,” he gulped down, “and at the beach, and the boardwalk,”

“I couldn’t stay, Paul. I can now though.” The stars in his eyes shone in a fleeting moment.

“I’ve been thinking of you since the day I left.” His head fell into the junction of your shoulder, and you could feel the course, product-ladden, strands shift as he nodded into you. Your hands found their way up to his hair, running your hands through the tangled and scratching lightly at his scalp.

He mumbled into your skin, “Smell the same, like honey and lavender,” he took a deep breath in and nuzzled closer. “Now you ain’t gotta leave baby, won’t let you.” The way he spoke was something that comforted you, his tone and inclination was boyish and silly and you loved every moment of it.

You debated for a moment, if you wanted to share the news of your inheritance, but now you were both mushy and vulnerable, it was just as good a time as any. “Y’know I have my grandfather’s house now. He passed a year ago, I don’t know if you knew.”, You shrugged.

He sat back up, “Naw, baby, I didn’t know.” He chewed on his lip, he struggled with the right words to say, but at least he was trying. “‘M sorry, knew you loved him.” He tucked you under his arm and lightly rubbed your shoulder.

“Yea,” you breathed out. “I’ll be here for him and you, gorgeous boy.” You ran your fingers over your necklace, before fiddling with his matching bracelet. “I’m not going anywhere anymore. I did what I needed too in life, I think. There’s only a few things left and then I think I’m ready, for the most part.” I mean, you didn’t want to die a virgin, but that would be a conversation for later. Now, you would focus on getting Paul and the rest of the boys to accept you as one of them.

His visage twisted a little, confused.

“There’s a way I can be here forever, if David allows,” you weren’t sure what was rushing through your mind, or how it was spilling from your lips. That was just the effect that being reunited with Paul had on you.

Before you had left Paul had made many offers to make you like him, to drink from that gaudy, gem encrusted bottle filled with David’s blood. Paul was sure you’d make it through initiation, he was sure your souls were bound for eternity. It was a sentiment he repeated frequently, “Oh pretty baby, where have you been all my life.” he would sigh out.

You always laughed, pecking him next to his lips before returning to whatever you were doing. Now, it seems to clear that he wasn’t joking. That he was sure you’d been made to fit in his soul, to live in the gaping maw of his affections forever. It never sounded like a bad idea, but when it was first proposed when you were younger, you still had things that you wanted to experience, to learn from the world. It’s not like becoming a vampire would stop this process altogether but it would make it a hell of a lot more difficult.

Honestly, you didn’t know how Paul wasn’t the one jumping to the idea, or how he was so accepting of you now. Though, you suppose, Paul was just as new to this notion as you were. You were just desperate to put the past behind you, to make a future with Paul.

“Are, fuck, are you sure?”, he scanned for any look of hesitance in your face, and when he couldn’t find it he laughed in disbelief.

You swore you saw stars in his eyes as he continued, “I mean fuck what David thinks baby, I can think of one-thousand and one ways I want to spent eternity.” Paul had turned the smugness up by one hundred and he flashed his award-winning smile at you.

He was on you again, this time it was much more feverish as he peppered kisses across your face. As you smiled up at him he paused, “Oh pretty baby, where have you been all my life?”

You laughed, returned a kiss to his cheek, and said, “I’m right here, Paul.”

This was the most hyper he’d been all night, and you knew that Paul was yours once more, that there was no room for question.

© astralcrtl 2025 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Your Hands Are Tough, But They Are Where Mine Belong

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader 2.2k words Warnings: Language, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, extremely protective and angry father, angst, violence (👀), Reader is hot for violent Roy (understandable)

“Go home.”

“Dad-”

“You’re banned from the club. Go home.”

Even though you’d expected an icy welcome, some part of you still figured you’d be allowed to work. After all, it was almost time for you to head back to school; surely your dad could handle a couple weeks of you fetching coffee and organizing files so his kid could collect a paycheck and buy a pint at the campus pub now and then.

Apparently not though, based on how red his face was when he saw you stroll as casually as possible into his office. His greeting to you was a two-word demand to leave and no eye contact whatsoever. There was definitely a part of you that wanted to listen, to head home with your tail between your legs and stay in your room until it was time to head back to Southampton. But your mother’s words about not raising a daughter who hides rang in your head over and over- and then you caught sight of those familiar brown eyes in the changing room. They bore into yours with that mix of adoration and concern, maybe even with a hint of sympathy, giving you the ability to stand up a bit straighter.

“I’ve got a job to do,” you reminded your father pointedly. “An actual ‘I-have-a-badge-and-get-paid’ job. If you don’t want to talk to me, fine. But I’m here, and I’m going to work.”

Instead of the shouting you were fully prepared for, your father simply stared at you and let out the gruffest sigh you’d ever heard. “I don’t want to see you even look at him,” he hissed. “Not a glance. You understand?”

Progress. Miniscule progress, but progress nonetheless. “Yes, sir,” you murmured.

Without another word to you, your father stormed into the changing room, where all noise silenced immediately. You watched, with utter humiliation in your tight chest, as he stood nose to nose with Roy, whose wide eyes were clearly straining not to lock with yours. He gave a few frantic nods and managed to say a couple of words before your dad turned and fumed out. After a few moments, those brown eyes found yours again. You offered Roy a half-hearted wave, which he returned with a firm nod, clearly intent on not drawing your father’s ire with winks and smirks. 

You slumped into your father’s chair so you could turn your attention to some emails he needed to answer. As you opened one and began to type out a response, you pondered your mothers’ appeal to give your dad some time and wondered: how long would it take?

~

A full day of training wasn’t long enough, you discovered. Not that you expected your father to thaw so quickly. Unsure if you were sparing yourself or your dad the tension, you’d avoided the pitch as much as possible, opting to spend your day in his office instead. The ache in your chest that missed Roy tempted you to sneak out for just a glimpse of the midfielder, but a wry voice in your head suggested that perhaps you’d had enough sneaking around for one summer.

But the fear of your father’s reaction wasn’t enough to stop you from fixing your gaze on the footballer when he returned to the changing room at the end of practice, all sweaty and out of breath, his clothes clinging to him enticingly.  When Roy peeled off his drenched shirt, all thoughts of playing it cool left your mind; you leaned your elbows on the desk and let your face fall onto your hands, practically drooling at the now-familiar sight. Surely Roy would be up for a sleepover, you reasoned as your eyes raked over that furry chest. Especially if you asked nicely enough.

“Aww, look! Princess is staring at Kent again.”

Oh, fuck, you thought, immediately sitting up and turning your attention to the blank computer screen. Drew, one of Chelsea’s newer signs, was smirking at Roy, who wore his usual scowl in return. Roy did not like Drew; the guy was chatty and tried too hard to be ‘one of the guys’. And, Roy had admitted in bed late one night, he really didn’t like the way the young striker looked at you. (“It’s the way I fucking looked at you when I first came to Chelsea,” Roy had grumbled.)

Now, Roy frowned and approached his snickering teammate. “Fuck did you say?”

That smirk remained as Drew shrugged at Roy. “Say, Kent,” he started, faux friendliness dripping from his voice as the rest of the guys began to perk up at their conversation. “Just curious, how did Coach react when he found out his little princess calls you ‘daddy’ too?”

Roy’s face went bright red as he pressed his chest to Drew’s. “You keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” he growled.

“And what does she have in her mouth?” Drew taunted.

If you had blinked, you would have missed the sight of Roy’s fist colliding with Drew’s smug face. It was pure instinct and without warning. The striker wobbled, but quickly recovered to return Roy’s punch with one of his own. The two footballers began to scuffle, with punches flying and loud swears filling the air in the changing room. At the first sight of blood dripping down Roy’s nose, you got the feeling back in your body and leapt from your seat and bolted into the changing room.

“Kent!” you gasped. Before you could take a step towards the brawl that several of the guys were attempting to break up, a pair of arms wrapped around you and tugged you back. When you looked up, you saw Jules, his eyes on his scrapping teammates.

“Don’t,” he grunted, still not looking at you. “You’ll just make it worse.”

If you had thought you’d felt helpless watching the press conference where you and Roy were exposed, it was nothing compared to how powerless you felt now, watching punches and slaps land on Roy’s snarling face. His eyes were wild as he tried to continue throwing punches while his teammates attempted to restrain him and shouted at him to calm the fuck down, Kent. 

“What the absolute fuck is going on in here?”

Your father's face was even redder than Kent's as he looked in the doorway. His gaze jumped between Kent- and Drew- and Jules- and finally you. Jules quickly let you go and stepped back; even the very married striker was scared to be spotted so close to you, apparently. Your father narrowed his eyes at you before turning back to the footballers, who were finally pulled apart by exasperated teammates.

Roy spoke up. “Coach-”

“Suspended,” your dad interrupted, staring icily at his midfielder. “Next match, you're both on the bench.” He sneered at Roy. “Neither of you deserves to wear a Chelsea kit.”

“Coach,” Jules tried, stepping further away from you. “Kent was just-”

Your father’s eyes blazed at his player. “Next man who says anything is out for the season.” Without another glance at anyone, he stormed out, leaving behind him silence among his team.

While the players awkwardly began to gather their things and left the changing room, heading home or to pubs or wherever they went after training, you slunk back into the office, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do. Some hopeful part of you had assumed your dad would offer you a silent ride home, but that seemed completely out of the question now; he was probably halfway home anyways. Maybe you should call your mother? But then she’d know your dad had left you, and that would probably lead to another argument between the two of them, and you couldn’t bear to be the reason for a fight two nights in a row. Maybe you could still catch Jules, he probably wouldn’t mind-

“Oi.” Roy’s eyes were dark as he gazed down at you, mouth in a straight line. He’d washed off the blood and changed, but you could see some cuts and noted where the bruising was already starting. “Need a ride?”

~

For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, you sat silently in Roy Kent’s car. Normally, the two of you would chatter away, or you’d turn up the radio and sing along while Roy rolled his eyes when you went off-key just to make him laugh. But now, a heaviness filled the car, a feeling you were desperate to rid yourself of.

“Could I come over?” you finally whispered as Roy came to a stop light.

When he turned to look at you, the conflict in his eyes was clear as day; your name came out of his mouth as a sigh. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he murmured, reaching out to touch your knee gently. “Your dad-”

“Left me there,” you reminded him pointedly. “For all he knows, I’m walking home.” You laid your hand on top of Roy’s, cherishing how warm he felt at your fingertips. “So can I come over? Please?”

Despite himself, the corner of Roy’s mouth ticked upwards as he shook his head. “How the fuck can I ever say no to you, princess?”

That small smirk stayed on Roy’s bruised face as he settled on his couch, watching you make your way to the kitchen. When you returned with a pack of frozen peas, he raised a thick eyebrow at you.

“You making me dinner or something?” he teased.

Rather than answer, you shushed the footballer and sat beside him. With your free hand, you urged him to lie down with his head in your lap. Once he was settled and comfortable, you gently pressed the bag of peas to his purpling eye, your heart melting when you saw him wince at the cold contact. That wince quickly gave way to a soft smile as he reached up and touched your cheek, his version of a thank you.

“You’re too fucking good to me,” he chuckled. “What did I do to deserve you?”

“Fighting for my honor seems like a good start,” you grumbled as you let your free hand stroke his curls. “I swear, I should kick Drew’s arse for hurting your pretty face.”

Roy chuckled, the joyful rumble vibrating under your touch. “The princess fighting for her knight. Now there’s a fairytale I’d fucking read.” He sighed and shifted slightly. “I’m sorry about today, babe. I’d love to say it’ll never happen again, but-”

You quickly shook your head. “You better not get into any more fights, Kent,” you playfully scolded. “I want to see my boyfriend start in a match, after all,” you added with a pout.

The B-word brought a full smile to that gorgeous face. “Fine,” he said, unable to hide his pleased blush under the bag of peas. “No more fighting.” Something sparkled in the brown eye that wasn’t hidden under the improvised ice pack. “But you did think it was hot, didn’t you?”

A blush crawled up your neck at the low tone he spoke with. “Don’t flatter yourself, Kent,” you scoffed. “My boyfriend beating some prick to a pulp and getting himself benched? In what universe would I find that hot?”

The small hum that rumbled in Roy's chest told you he didn’t believe a word of your protest. “This universe, princess.” His grin turned smug. “Don’t pretend seeing me all bruised and bloodied up isn’t the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.

Dammit. Roy Kent really did know you well at this point. Without thinking, you bit your lip as you gazed down at him, remembering the sight of his fists flying and blood dripping down his face. It was sexy, you admitted to yourself. And not just because it made your heart flutter to see Roy so protective of you. No, it was because he looked so wild and rough, and, fuck, his muscles had been flexing deliciously, and-

“Princess,” he drawled, bringing you out of your imagination. He took the frozen peas from your hand and placed the bag on the coffee table as he sat up. “Alright there?”

Embarrassed to have been so obviously indulging in a fantasy, you could do nothing but smile bashfully at the man who was still ridiculously beautiful, even with the black eye that he’d surely be sporting for a while. Hell, if anything, it managed to make him look even more gorgeous than he already was.

Not bothering to answer his question, you pulled yourself onto his lap, straddling him and nudging his cheek with your nose. “Maybe it was a little attractive,” you murmured as you pressed a slow kiss to his neck. “But only a little.”

“Sure.” His hands found your waist, tugging you closer until your chest was pressed to his. “Only a little.”

His mouth met yours with ease, the way it had all summer, sweet and soft and familiar. You melted against him and gave the softest grind over him, still rational enough to want to be careful with your injured boyfriend. But that rationality didn’t stick around for long, not when his tongue flicked against your lip. Your lips parted for him, letting out a little groan when his tongue began to brush against yours. When his hands began to slide lower, lower, until they gripped your ass tightly, you knew you had lost the battle to see who would keep their cool the longest.

But spending your evening in Roy Kent’s bed was a hell of a consolation prize.

Taglist:@gee72sstuff@book-of-roses@kissykissymouth@emmy2811 @hart-kinsella @klaine-92@dearvoidgoodnight@misshall14@issieruby@royal-sunflower@kissmekent@itswhateveripromise@slaymybreathaway@darkmagazineblaze@larascorneroftheworld@infinetlyforgotten@caught-the-feels@rae4725@sisinever@cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782@dd122004dd@veryprairieberry@spacecluster@dark-academia-slut@her-fandom-sanctum@wosokirby@mmmgl29@aadu2173 @her-fandom-sanctum @wosokirby @mmmgl29 @honey-dew-woo @harpsichord93 @samstopsecrets @wosokirby @kitcat599 @emma-is-a-nerd @amieinghigh @sisinever @jeffswh0re @radiantactions @esw1012 

[mollysunder]

Caitlyn's Objectives for Zaun are Vague and Terrible.

"Locate Jinx."

Plenty of people have already talked about this one, but there's a clear "and" missing to this statement. Caitlyn isn't going to just find Jinx say mission accomplished and go back to Piltover. She's left her intentions for Jinx ambiguous to her superiors (Ambessa) and subordinates alike, which leaves room for the situation to escalate.

"Dismantle shimmer."

I cannot overstate how bad of an idea it is. It seems simple in excution. Secure the refineries, detain Singed and other chemists that manufacture it, and destroy any existing supplies. But everything else that comes with it will turn the situation even worse.

I'm not even talking about the fact that Caitlyn is suggesting everyone in Zaun addicted to shimmer immediately go cold turkey without warning, preparation, or their consent. It's that fact that she's essentially destroying the only form of healthcare infrastructure that exists in Zaun.

For all the bad shimmer can do, it's still an effective medicine when used right. It's not a coincidence that once Silco took over and introduced shimmer there's suddenly people with visible disabilities and prosthetics on screen existing in Zaun. They exist because shimmer makes it possible. Even 5 out the 6 chembarons, the richest and most powerful people in Zaun, are disabled or use mobility aids. Chembarons like Smeech quite obviously use shimmer (his eyes are pink in every scene including his character sheet) to manage his prosthetics, he's had all four limbs replaced.

How many people live like Silco, with a chronic illness (probably a dangerous infection because Zaun is Piltover's human/industrial wastepit) that needs to be treated daily? How many people are practically dead and buried if the enforcers manage to destroy all remaining shimmer?

"Neutralize any agents still loyal to Silco."

What does that even mean? What does being loyal to Silco mean when he's dead? They're getting rid of all infrastructure related to shimmer production. The only thing that remains of Silco that anyone can be loyal to is the belief he left behind (and maybe Jinx but that's complicated).

Above all else (except Jinx), Silco wanted an independent Zaun. Will That's his whole thing, and shimmer was just the mechanism to make it happen. Will anyone who agrees that Zaun should be independent be considered a Silco loyalist? If so, then Caitlyn's mission isn't just about finding Jinx and getting shimmer off the streets, this is about crushing an independence movement AGAIN.

How will she characterize Silco's loyalists? Is she talking about chembarons that worked with Silco? Former members of his gang? People who worked in Silco's factories and liked the paycheck? Silco was the defacto leader of Zaun, most if not all figures in Zaun with influence were essentially complicit in his agenda.

Is there any real difference between anti-Piltovan sentiment and pro-Zaunite independence at this point?

[isa-loves-you]

♡Michael Schmidt has a crush♡

You were a sophomore in college, even though you live in an apartment off campus you still visited your mom almost everyday to check on her and to eat.

One night while you were visiting your mom she brought up the people who lived a couple of houses down "the young man knocked on my door this morning, asking if I would or If i knew someone who can babysit his sister at night". The reason why she brought this up is because you were looking for a job, with being a college student you needed the money and nights were perfect since you only have three classes a week. "He's a cutie, he would be perfect for you" you mom called out as she walked into the other room "cute doesn't matter I just need a job".

It's been almost a month since you started watching abby. She was the best kid you have ever babysat for, and she loved you which made your job so much easier.

"Hey y/n, can I ask you a question" "what is it abs" you stopped coloring to look at her. "Will you marry Mike, so you can live here and I can see you everyday"

You were a bit taken back by the question, how did she know that you liked mike?. "I'm really flattered that you want to see me everyday, but I don't think your brother likes me like that" you flashed her a smile to ease the tension but she just shrugged her shoulders and went back to drawing.

Ever since you started watching abby you found yourself infatuated with Mike. He wasn't a very open person but for some reason mike would open up to you, your mom was right he was a cutie.

It was almost midnight until you heard keys jingle and the front door unlock. Mike threw his keys on the small table by the door before looking for you. "Hey I made peanut butter stir fry, do you want me to make you a plate" you asked while already making a B-line to the kitchen."oh no it's okay, I can get it myself you already do almost everything here" you turned to Mike grabbing his arm and pulling him to the table "oh please making a plate is not going to hurt me, now please sit down".

Mike sat down and watched you shuffle around the kitchen to make him some to eat. Mike would never admit to himself but he liked having you around, he loved that abby adored you, sometimes he thimks she likes you more than him. He really wouldn't know what he would do without you, you now became his reason to get up everyday, too look nice, and too be happy.

After mike ate he walked you to your car while talking to you "I get my paycheck tomorrow so would it be okay if you stopped by after class to pick it up?" "Yeah no problem I'll stop by around 6". You stod there justing looking into his eyes, even though Michael's face told a story of a hard life, his eyes showed compassion. You would be a fool to not fall in love with him.

Once you left, Mike got ready for bed. He took the pills he always takes, replayed the tape he always plays, and looked at the Nebraska poster he always falls asleep looking at, but something was different. You were the only thing he could think about before the sleeping pills kicked in.

His dream started out like it always does, his mom spills her coke and tells him to keep track of Garrett. As soon as he sees Garrett in the back of a strangers Cadillac he takes Chace after it. No matter how hard he runs, he can never catche up with the mysterious car.

Mike stops to put his hands on his knees and catches his breath. Giggling. He hears Giggling.

Mike looks back up to now see a field of grass. This wasn't his dream, this is different from his normal nightmares. There in the field stood a happy abby, laughing holding hands with a happier y/n. Mike feels his heart pick up speed.

"Mike!" Abby ran towards her big brother with open arms. Mike catches his sister while y/n walked twords the two of them. He flashes a smile in y/n's direction "I've missed you mike", you kiss his cheak and hug the siblings tight . If he didn't known that this was a dream he would have thought that he died and went to heaven.

"Mike Wake up, I'm hungry". Abby jumps up and down on her brothers bed until she hears him grown,"okay okay abby give me a minute". He stands up and makes his way to the bathroom while abby returns back to the living room where she watches her cartoons and color.

Once mike sets abbys plate in front of her she immediately digs in. "Abby would you be okay if I started to date someone?", the young girl replies without even thinking about it "only if its y/n, she likes you". Mike looked at his sister shocked "well who else would it be, because I like her too" he says trying to play it like he knew this whole time.

It was almost 8 when you entered the house and abby ran up to give you a hug. "Hey hun I'm sorry my class ran later, I tried to call but no one answered" Mike came out of abbys bedroom with a relieved yet anxious look on his face. "Abby go to your room, I need to talk to y/n about grown up stuff" she looks at you with big eye to try to get you to let her stay "it will only take one minute, I'll come in there to say goodnight before I go".

Abby walked to her room with a sad and betrayed face. "Um here's you're payment, you'll be here tomorrow right" "Yeah, couldn't miss it for the world.".There it was, your smile. Oh how he couldn't wait any longer once he seen your million dollar smile.

"I know this might be sudden and very out of line, but could we maybe go out sometime"

You were surprised. "Yeah that sounds great, I would love to" you were stumbling over your words a little bit from being flustered. You two stood there with awkward smiles on your face, if you weren't in his house you would have been screaming from happiness.

"I better go say goodnight to abby before I go it's getting late" you stepped closer to Mike to get to the bedroom. "Y/n '' before you could respond to him, he placed his hand on the back of your ear and placed his lips upon yours.

It felt like a thousand minutes passed by in those five seconds, and you didn't want it to end. It wouldn't have ended if a certain someone spoke up.

"Yay I was right, y/n does like you mike!"

[danieyells]

hi danie, I was chatting with a friend about Haru having 4 houses and we made two theories:

1st one, he's an orphan, he moved a lot (maybe for anomalies reasons?) he was always cheerful with the other kids, that's why he was in Dionisya and he's funny, he loves to make everyone smile. And then when the house was disbanded he moved to Jabb, one that takes care of others and this is the reason he's so protective over the animals, Towa and Ren, he wanted to create a family he never had.

2nd one, his parents moved a lot for work but they're rich af, so they simply buy an house instead of renting one (or they have a big family and lived with relativies) (he can't manage money because back then he never had the problem to see the price before paying)

Hi! I don't think that "home" in this context is literally "house". A "home" isn't always a house--it's anywhere you live(d) or consider yourself comfortable and familiar. Okayama being his "fourth home" would either mean "the fourth place he lived" or "the fourth place he feels comfortable/attached to", not "fourth house", I think.

I think your first thought is much closer than your second! He considers modern firestarting stuff "fancy tools" and can easily make s fire with or without them, he's a pro at cooking on a barbecue and used to cook on an open fire a lot as a child, he's just happy to have a roof over his head and totally laughed off the idea of essentially sleeping on the ground. . .

. . .more than I think that he moved homes a lot I think he was either extremely poor or straight up homeless(or just heavily nomadic, maybe an immigrant with the slight implication that he's Chinese) most of his life. He had to get used to living outside in really poor situations. And maybe street entertaining was how they got by--or like you said he had to keep things upbeat with his family and companions, which loans to his cheerful nature now.

He's careless with his money but that's because he buys so much on sale with the mentality of 'when will i be able to get something like this at a better price? If i don't take advantage of it now it'll cost much more when i do need it!' which is an easy mentality to have if you're worried about how you'll be able to afford something necessary when it's really necessary. If you prepare in advance it can be more cost effective. Also sometimes when you're living paycheck to paycheck it's easy to spend all your money now because. . .when will you have money to spend later? You don't know. Is it really going to be helpful to try and save what little you have now for the future when you'll inevitably need to spend it and it won't be enough anyway? It's easy to align the monetary "carelessness" with actual thought when I'm not in a good financial situation myself lol.

There's also his pre-prologue line before jumping off the balcony. . . .

Being unable to protect his home. . .suggests that perhaps his previous homes were lost time and time and time again. That includes Dionysia too(which, by the way, he left before it was defunct as you may recall from Episode 16--maybe he left in hopes it wouldn't fall apart by whatever misfortune seems to follow him. . .but well you see how well that turned out.) Maybe he lost his first home. . .and the second. . .and the third and fourth and Dionysia too. And he's constantly having to move around because. . .well he has no other choice.

I do like the idea of him being an orphan and bouncing around homes a lot though. Something awful must have happened to his birth family maybe that he ended up in Japan and moving around so much. Although since Rui said that Okayama was where he lived before he came to Darkwick I assume that was his last pre-Dionysia home.

Oh also he says in his home screen lines that “I swore I’d take responsibility for protecting all the lives in this park. I can’t let anyone die on my watch.” and “I don’t know where I’d be without all the critters in this place if I’m honest with you." So I can definitely see him putting together this family--or at least trying to protect something that he knew was at risk and needed protection--in a desperate attempt to keep something together with his own hands while maybe it seems to him like his presence is what makes things fall apart. . . . And he's so attached now. These are his family and it's gonna be hard to move on to their internships. But hopefully things will be okay without him! Or maybe when he graduates they'll let him work there lol he can be the new advisor after Sinostra kills Hyde and sells his organs!