#anyways... just some things i forgot about

[justslightlymental]

"All of them goddamn" - Saja Boys x Reader

Yo... This is just pure smut with just slight plot, also shoutout to this person @k45kart for the idea. (sorry if i tagged wrong person) also another person who wanted to be tagged: @eliengoddes

Okay uhh anyways TW or whatever warnings: Smut, gangbang (obviously) 5 demons cmon guys, I MAY HAVE WRITTEN JINUS NAME WRONG SO IM SORRY. Oral sex both receiving, degrading, praising, uhhh p in v, without protection (dont do this if u dont want kids.) Marking, breeding lowkey, demons going out of control. MAYBE SLIGHT DUB CON??? (its very much consensual but my writing style might fart on itself.) I forgot what else. Cringe warning i havent written anything in ages okay - Everything was okay.. Everything was going to be FINE… The fans were happy with our newest song… And the Honmoon was shining brighter than ever, even a tingle of gold flashing across our eyes, we were so close!!! But then Rumi lost her voice, right in the middle of our rehearsal for our live premiere of “Golden”. Before any of us could say anything she asked for 5 minutes and just ran off to god knows where! “Oh my god, what are we gonna do??” Zoey panicked, her arms flailing around. “Calm down Zoey.. It’s going to be fine… just give her some time alright?” Mira placed a hand on her shoulder to calm Zoey down, though I could see through her poker face. “Yeah, like Mira said. Give her some time… surely she will come in time.” I said, a nervous/worried smile across my face. And she never came… The next time we saw her was at our apartment, she looked shaken up. The only thing we could offer in that moment was comfort and that we did. We decided to go out for some dinner. Rumi still didn’t seem like herself, until she finally spoke. “I'm sorry about the show..” “It’s okay.. don’t worry about it!” Zoey smiled, placing a hand on her forearm. “Besides, Bobby will handle it.” I smiled as well, trying to comfort her.

And just like that he called us and once we answered we heard loud voices in the background and an out of breath Bobby yelling about how he can’t handle this, so many disappointed fans and the network losing their minds. Mira quickly shut off the phone. “We can just schedule another live show within days. Don’t worry!” “I don't think that's possible… my voice, it's in trouble..” Rumi said, awkwardly. “In trouble?? Then why did you push up the Golden release then?” Mira continued, confused. “My guess is the Honmoon, isn’t that right?” I smiled softly.

“(Name) is right.. The Honmoon.. it flashed gold, we are so close and it's so important!”

After that dinner we were brainstorming how to fix Rumi’s voice quickly. And Zoey had the “best” idea to go get some magical tonics from this one place she had heard of. And after we finally got the tonics and as we came out of the clinic Zoey was rambling on about after getting her voice back we could finally focus back on the important stuff like fans-

“Fans!” Mira whisper shouted as we saw some shadows turning into the alleyway we were in, our disguises were not the best so we tried our best to quickly become more unrecognizable-

Until we saw THEM..

Our eyes went wide as the guys walked our way, they all looked so… handsome so sexy… Rumi was the only one who didn’t look absolutely down bad until she saw the 5th guy with black hair.

Meanwhile I was looking at each and every one of them, I mean yeah some of them looked a bit sexier than others but I guess that’s because they're more my time than the others.. When they passed us I could honestly feel all of their gaze landing on me for just a moment before they continued on their way. What the fuck just happened.

And that is how we met our WORST enemies for the first time. Turned out they were a fucking demon boyband. DEMONS in a boyband yeah that's right! I don't know what crack Gwi-ma was on when he sent them to our world but IT’S WORKING. Though I do have to admit… I wonder what it would feel like if-

I smacked my head against the wall groaning, BAD (Name) BAD!!! Do not think of such unholy thoughts about your enemy, especially DEMONS.

We got suited up in our battle gear and oh my I must admit we are always so fabulous. We knew the boyband who are now better known as the “Saja Boys” would be at this game show tonight, we stood backstage looking at them gulping huge amounts of hot sauce, uh yikes. That’s gonna burn coming out- AANYWAY! Rumi said we should wait for them to come backstage and then jump down and make quick work of them, the perfect surprise attack!

We giggled a bit in anticipation as we took our spot over the stage, looking down at them. Little did we know the Jinu guy had noticed us and just as he took the mic talking about ���special guests” joining us the lights turned to us at the same time he announced our name. We quickly hid our weapons and forced huge smiles on our faces.

“Yeahh! Hello everyone! We just wanted to yknow congratulate the Saja boys for their successful debut!” Rumi said with forced enthusiasm And after that the game show host and saja boys themselves said we should all slide down into the ballpit, the audience got in on it too so of course we had to oblige, though the leather we wore really made it… awkward to say, the noise was horrible too. Once we finally made it into the ballpit everyone still cheered and now it would be the time to end the show, both us and the Saja boys bowed to each other in fake gratitude and respect as the curtains closed. However once we were finally out of the publics eye they ran off within seconds and we almost had no idea where, but we managed to be able to track them down, to a fucking bathhouse. We had no choice but to go in and it was thankfully empty, and there they stood. “You really followed us here? The men's portion? You guys really are thirsty huh.” Jinu chuckled along with his bandmates. Then the demons came out of nowhere from small ruptures, but like there were a lot of them. You couldn’t lose focus for even a second and if you did it might be game over. At one point my eyes landed on Jinu who just smirked “Have fun you four.” He said as he ran off with everyone else. I looked behind me to see Mira, Zoey and Rumi in a deep fight, they seemed to be taking care of everything fine though, so I took off running after Jinu. I jumped into the air ready to slash him but he managed to dodge my blows one after another, until I finally managed to kick him in the stomach. We landed in a secluded room, it seemed to be a small sauna, the heat made both of our bodies sweaty, yuck disgusting. Finally I managed to corner him, my (weapon’s) handle against his throat as he tried to push me off. The adrenaline was flowing through me, maybe that’s why I felt extra strong right now. “Hah.. you’re a bit stronger… But not strong enough for all of us…” Jinu chuckled. That had me confused, until I could sense the presence of four other people behind us. My eyes widened and my throat closed up on itself. I couldn’t move, I don’t know if I was sweating from the heat or from the fact 5 extremely attractive demon guys were currently alone with me. Jinu quickly took advantage of my shock and pushed me away, I landed on my back, gasping for air. It hurt a little bit but nothing could compare to the sight after I opened my eyes groaning. “There you are… Sorry about the push, hopefully you're not too hurt darling.” Jinu smirked, his eyes glowing a little bit. “G-Get away from me!” I struggled, quickly standing up and forming my weapon once again, surrounded by them.

“Still got a fighting spirit huh? We like that… But don’t think we haven’t seen the way you look at us.. And honestly the feelings are mutual.” Jinu smirked, his fingers slightly grazing my cheek. I was speechless, I felt so small surrounded by them. I could feel their eyes roam my body, taking in every curve and shape. My knees were growing weak, I could feel my body reacting in ways I haven’t felt in awhile. I felt embarrassed, my cheeks flushing a deep red as I tried to not look at any of them. I felt a hand on my shoulder making me flinch. “Calm down bunny.. I won’t hurt you.. too bad.” A deep voice whispered into my ear, I turned around quickly seeing the guy named “Abs”. (bit of a silly name tbh…) ANYWAY “D-don’t-” I struggled to form words until a hand covered my mouth, it was Juni. “Yeah, you’re right… No one has to speak…” He smirked, his other hand slowly going down from my shoulder towards my chest. My eyes widened, I should be struggling, I should be fighting them… But for some reason I wanted this, I wanted them all… I felt myself growing more hot and bothered by the second. The 8 pair of eyes watching Jinu’s every movement, and my reaction. It turned me on so bad. And I swear to god I feel like they could sense my need, with the way their eyes seemed to sharpen with lust. “What do you want…” Jinu asked, uncovering my mouth. “I-I want you… I want you all..” My words were quiet, but that didn’t seem to bother them. It was like a trigger, they had my consent and they wouldn’t back away now. Juni fell back towards one of the seats with me landing on his lap. I moaned out as I felt my ass on his crotch, and he was hard. His knees separating mine as I was exposed to the other guys, not completely nude.. yet. I didn’t even care about how fucked out I already looked, all I cared about was getting that sweet release. “Someone’s impatient hm?” Jinu whispered before his lips attacked my neck, his sharp teeth grazing my skin. I whimpered, it felt so good. The other guys had come closer as well, Romance sitting down on my right side and Mystery on my left. Both of their hands found their way to my chest, feeling me up through my suit. Who knew it felt this fucking good to be touched by like 5 guys at the same time. Oh god I feel like a whore, but honestly i'm a proud hoe rn! 

Abs crouched down between my legs, Baby standing behind him as he preferred to just watch, knowing he would get his turn soon. “I think this suit needs to come off, right boys?” Abs smirked, his hands caressing my inner thighs. “You’re right, I can’t wait to see what you’re hiding under here…” Romance sighed happily, Mystery just nodding along, not really a man of words I see. Their hands turned into a soft purple hue, their nails growing in size as they made quick work of ripping my suit into shreds. I tried to cover myself up but Jinu was quick to grasp both my arms and lock them behind my back. “Don’t cover yourself darling… You wanted this right? To be taken and used by all of us.. you truly have no shame, do you?” He talked softly while Mystery and Romance both leaned down to take one of my tits into their mouths. All i could do was moan through his little speech, my core was on fire, growing wetter by the second. I don’t know if the heat made everything feel 10x better but I was enjoying this. I enjoyed the feeling of being exposed to their hungry eyes, I loved the way their mouths sucked on my tits, the way their tongues swirled around my nipples. My body arched into Juni’s body, my thighs trying to squeeze together to create some sort of friction. Abs was quick to separate my legs to get full access to my core. I did feel slightly embarrassed with his staring but that quickly dissolved as he just dove in like a starved man. His tongue swirling around my clit, making my hips buckle. His movements were precise, taking slow licks up my slit, before sucking on my clit against, his right hand closing in. Fingers painfully close to my opening. I moaned out loudly, begging for him to touch me, to feel his fingers inside. I guess he felt merciful because that’s exactly what he did. I was wet enough to fit 2 of his fingers with no problem, his long slender fingers curling up inside me. It didn’t take long for abs to find that special spot inside me that made my whole body seize. I could barely let out any noise, so over-stimulated, with Juni’s mouth on my neck, Mystery’s and Romance’s mouths on my buds, their hands cressing my stomach and sides. My eyes opened just slightly, the first thing I saw was Baby standing behind Abs, his hand slightly rubbing over his jeans, his eyes seductive as he stared down at me. I felt even more hot knowing the fact he was still enjoying himself, just staring. But I couldn’t think about him for long with the way Abs fingers thrusted deep into me and his tongue on my clit, it was enough to bring me dangerously close to climax. I yelped loudly, hips shaking. “I-Im so close- Please- Let me-” I gasped out, pushing my hips towards his mouth, needing him as close as I could have. “Greedy this one isn’t she?” Baby spoke up for the first time, enjoying watching how his bandmates brought (Name) to the edge of pleasure. “She is so intoxicating… Her scent… I wonder if she tastes just as good.” Jinu said, eyeing down at Abs, slightly jealous of how he was the first one to taste her. With the last curl of his tongue she came undone, her head thrown back in pleasure. Romance and Mystery separated from her breasts, looking down at the mess Abs created. All of them felt their senses heightened up, pupils dilating after smelling her. Their bodies fight against turning into their demon forms. Juni stood up with (name) still in his arms, turning around and setting her against the seat. She was still struggling with getting air into her lungs, slowly coming around from that intense climax. “I think we are all a bit too clothed for this next part.” Romance said smugly, his clawed hands already working on removing his shirt. “She might pass out after seeing what’s coming for her.” Mystery said quietly, following Romance’s lead. “She’s gonna pass out no matter what after we’re done with her.” Jinu grinned. 

(Name) slowly shook her head, coming back to reality, her eyes opening. In Front of her was the shock of her life, she yelled out. All five of them, completely bare, the marks on their bodies glowing ever so often, and oh my god even their dicks had the same marks. Also talking about dicks they were all so different.. Some of them had more girth, others length, already dripping with pre-cum. She felt like she was under some sort of spell as she slowly moved off the seat onto the heated up floor, sitting on her knees, hands traveling up Jinu’s legs and thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes, she looked absolutely ravishing, hair messy, some of it sticking to her forehead, her expression flushed, so full of need. Jinu’s breath hitched as his clawed hand took hold of her hair, bringing her face closer to his cock. “Open wide baby.” He instructed. And she did, her tongue rolled out as the tip landed on it. She could already taste the saltiness of his precum, so delicious. Her mouth closed in on it as her tongue rolled around the sensitive tip. He groaned out while thrusting deeper into her mouth. “Fuck.. Her mouth feels so good- I could get addicted to this.” He moaned out, fangs growing out. “Oh you’re making it sound a little too good. I want some.” Baby chuckled, pushing Jinu out of the way. Taking his place. “Hey! Wait for your turn you fucking moron-” Jinu cussed but decided to let him have his moment, instead just jerking himself off at the sight of her being used by them. (Name) whined at the loss of Jinu’s cock but was soon satisfied again after Baby pushed himself into her warm mouth. His dick was a bit shorter than Jinu’s but the girth was amazing, and like he wasn’t SMALL in any way. Actually none of them were. “Oh shit- You’re right- h-hell.” He whimpered. (Name) looked at the other men who were touching themselves, she didn’t want them feeling left out. She took hold of Abs and Mystery’s dicks, moving her hands up and down. Both of them instinctively reacted and thrusted into her hold. Mystery’s cock was long.. And Abs was just… oh yeah he was the big boy of the group definitely. 

“What a good girl…” Romance smiled, looking down at her. “S-shit.. I-I’m close-” Baby gasped out, his thrusts becoming faster, abusing the back of her throat. She was loving the treatment, even if it was harder to breathe. Her cheeks hollowed out completely, feeling every curve of his veins. “Fuck!” He yelled out as his hips stilled, spilling his load down her throat and she drank up every drop. “Look at that! Drank up everything, what a good slut.” Jinu smirked. Abs and Mystery both were moaning messes as their muscles tensed, her hands working magic on them. She didn’t take long to recover as her mouth went closer to Romance’s cock, taking the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue just like she did with Jinu. This made the poor guy let out broken whimpers, his legs almost giving out from the sudden sensitivity. Jinu had walked behind her, crouching down, his hand traveling down her stomach towards her cunt. Fingers slowly circling her clit, making her eyes roll back into her head. She separated from Mystery’s cock and turned her head towards Abs’s dick, giving him the same treatment with slight difficulty due to the size difference. It didn’t take long for Mystery to cum onto her hand and arm, and the other to separate from her mouth, spilling his cum all over her chest. “You enjoy being marked by all of us huh?” Romance asked, tilting her head up towards him. “Y-yeah… I-I love it, I want more, please.” She begged, out of breath, whimpering due to Jinu still touching her. “Hah.. I wonder what your huntrix friends would say if they saw you like this.” Abs smiled, his finger stroking her chin. “I-I don’t care… I just want you all.. please. Help me.” She moaned out, getting on all fours. “Well look at that- So submissive.. so perfect.” Jinu said, eyes slightly wide not expecting that. But who was he to complain or deny her. His hands landed on her waist, the tip of his cock just against her slit. Moving his hips up and down just teasing her opening. Though even if she wanted to tease her more, his own self control was slowly withering away. So with the help of his hand he finally sank into her pussy. The feeling was euphoric, both of them immediately letting out strained moans. Her walls gripped him like no tomorrow, so wet, so tight. “Oh.. oh my god- S-Shit- I-I can’t-” He choked on his words, losing himself to his desires. While she was getting absolutely fucked from behind Romance took his spot in front of her mouth, getting on his knees, taking hold of her chin. With a quick ‘open up’ His cock was deep in her throat. She had never felt such pleasure before, seeing the men who just came on her already hardened up and ready to each get a turn with her, it was so sexy. Her body was being rocked back and forth, Jinu’s thrusts growing faster, the sounds of skin clapping together loud. His dick kept hitting that sweet spot in her, she had never felt this full before. All of her whimpers and moans just turned into vibrations against Romance’s cock who could feel himself very close to cumming. Both men reached their climaxes at the same time, spilling deep inside her, not caring about pulling out. The feeling of Jinu’s hot cum inside her was enough to push her over the age as well. Their juices mixed together. As he pulled out her hole leaked, making her thighs sticky and warm. “Help her up guys.” Abs smirked, him and Baby lifting her up from the ground. Her legs could not hold her weight, she was completely at their mercy. She was still so high from her recent orgasm she couldn’t form any words. Though she could feel her right leg being lifted over someone's shoulder. Thankfully she was very flexible. She could feel someone's hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her suck in air. 

She then felt someone's cock lined up with her entrance again, it felt huge… She could almost guess that- Before her thoughts could finish she saw pure white. Abs slammed himself in her, her pussy clenching around him like no tomorrow. He grunted loudly, his other hand holding the leg on his shoulder and the other on her waist. She whimpered and moaned with every thrust, his dick easily smacked against her cervix, his pelvis hitting her clit with every thrust. “O-oh- Oh my- Shiiiit-” She shook her head, trying to get away from his harsh treatment, it felt too good. She was too sensitive. “P-Please- Ah- Slower- No-” Her hands were pulled behind her, making her body arch in an awkward angle. His mouth quickly over hers, shutting her up. “Shit man- This pussy is amazing! Ah- I don’t know how long I can hold my form back-” Abs grunted, his marks glowing brighter, same with the others. “Right?! She is so intoxicating, I want to taste her soul… Ahg-” Romance inhaled her scent, his tongue licking her neck. “Do you think she could take two at the same time?” Mystery asked with an evil smile. “She definitely could… go for it… break her for good, that’s what she wants anyway.” Jinu laughed. Mystery went behind her, as the others gave him space. Abs slowed down for just a moment, both of the men looking at each other with a sly smile. Mystery lined up his dick right next to Abs and sunk in. She let out a loud yell, the pain… It was delicious. It was good, she had never been this full, never this turned on. “Oh my god look at that! She took it with no problem!” Baby and Jinu both laughed out loud. Both Abs and Mystery now worked together, creating an odd rhythm but it worked. When one went in the other went out. All of her spots being hit continuously was too much, she felt weird, something she had never felt before. “A- Im cuming- Im cuming-” She repeated before her cunt clenched hard around the two men who also just about got pushed over the edge, painting her walls white. The pressure was too much as she squirted out right onto Abs’s abdomen. Both of them retreated from her warmth, leaving her disappointed, she was obsessed, she needed more.

“You still want more? What a slut you are… oh god-” Jinu said, sweating from holding himself back. “I want more of her.. I need more of her.” Romance said. He was the first one whose self control cracked as his body turned purple, his demon side in full show. He basically snatched her out of Abs and Mystery’s hold, bending her over one of the seats, slamming himself right on into her. She yelled out, legs shaking her body rocking back and forth against the wooden surface. His thrusts didn’t falter, hand pushing down her back, keeping her down. It was inhuman how fast he could move against her, making her unable to understand shit. She was completely fucked out. The other guys were staring at their bandmate losing himself, and the way she was completely bare, completely at their mercy for them to destroy finally seemed to snap any of their self restraint. Baby was the second one who snapped, he jumped towards Romance pulling him out before he could finish his peak, pulling (Name) from the seat, placing her on her back, inserting himself into her. Immediately hitting her sweet spot causing her to cum right then and there. Poor Baby had been edged for so long that when her pussy clenched around him deliciously he just came deep into her, but that didn’t mean his cock didn’t get hard again immediately. “Out of the way, I want this pussy again.” Jinu pulled him off, his form also now changed. “Ah- J-Jinu- SO sensitive- Wait-” Though her pleas fell into deaf ears as some sat in front of her pressing her face into their dick. It was Mystery. She didn’t waste time giving him access, still tasting all of their cum on his cock, tongue swirling around him, savoring the taste. Abs and Romance kissed along her body, occasionally sucking and biting, leaving very visible marks on her. Jinus dick was smacking into her hard and rough, chasing only his own pleasure, he was indeed a selfish man. But even if he wasn’t looking out for her that doesn’t mean his thrusts weren’t painfully pleasurable. Every thrust felt like pure torture, her clit was so sensitive even the slightest touch had her body seizing up. Her eyes watering up from everything happening, make up becoming ruined. Jinu’s clawed hands sank into her waist, drawing the smallest amounts of blood. His grunts loud as he came into her for the second time. Mystery separated from her mouth after feeling himself cumming, ropes of his cum going onto her face, messing up her make up even more. All of them looked down at her on the floor, her poor pussy completely messed up and leaking, her face ruined, hair messy, body full of marks. All of their dicks got even harder, it's like she was their own aphrodisiac. 

“How do you feel?” Jinu sighed, his eyes dark with lust. “Mmmh-” She couldn’t say anything else, her legs twitching. “Fuck she looks so delicious like this…” Baby groaned, itching to sink deep into her again. “Can’t we just bring her with us? Our own personal cock sleeve.” Romance sighed dreamingly. She opened her eyes slightly, slowly coming to her senses, everything hurt, but it was so worth it. Her hands roaming through her body feeling the sticky cum and the marks they had given her just a moment ago. “Please…” She whimpered. “Aw you poor thing… We fucked you so good you can’t think about anything else now can you?” Abs smirked next to Jinu. Just as Jinu was about to go in for a kiss he heard distant yells, it sounded like her voice was being yelled out. He stood up looking at his bandmates and nodding at them, they all turned into pink smoke, disappearing from sight. “Sorry to cut this short… and not being able to take care of you more… But your friends are coming, and I don't think you wanna be seen like this…” He chuckled, snapping his fingers as the pink smoke surrounded them both, suddenly her clothes were back in one piece and he was completely dressed up. “I recommend you just tell them you got beat and somehow left alive… you figure it out… But don’t worry, we’ll see you real soon…” He gave her a kiss before disappearing. And right on time too. “Oh my god there you are!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” The girls bursted into the room, looking at all the messed up seats that just looked broken and then staring at her messed up hair.

“I-Im fine… Really- Ahg-” She groaned still not being able to stand properly or even realise what the fuck just happened. “We need to get you home!” “Don’t ever run off like that!!” The entire journey home she was scolded but all she could think about was Jinu and his final words. And overall the fucking gangbang she just went through… THE BEST sex she had ever had, honestly. She looked out of her window after finally being left alone by the girls and could feel herself growing wet again, not being able to forget how their touch felt and how their cocks felt inside her. Oh yeah she was definitely waiting for the next time. - thanks guys i did my duty

[ccupcakqs]

— more than the win ౨ৎ✧˚

warnings: public kiss, championship win, heart-melting softness pairing: max verstappen x reader a/n: inspired by "where's the trophy? he just comes running over to me"

he doesn’t hear the cheers at first.

doesn’t feel the sparks or the smoke or the flood of noise erupting from the grandstands. he hears his name over the radio, hears his engineer say the words he’s worked his whole life for — “you’re world champion, max. that’s it. you did it.” — and still, it doesn’t sink in.

not until he sees you.

because that’s the thing. not the crowd, not the flash of the fireworks, not the stats blinking across his dash. it’s your face in the crowd, right where he knew you’d be, eyes wide, hands pressed to your mouth like you forgot how to breathe.

he breathes again only when your eyes meet.

you are still there when he pulls into parc fermé. still there when the world runs to him. still the only thing that cuts through the chaos. he doesn’t stop to look at the cameras. doesn’t shout. doesn’t throw his helmet in the air like he’s done a hundred times before.

he steps out of the car and walks straight to you.

you barely have time to speak before he’s got both arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground like you weigh nothing at all.

“i was looking for you,” he says into your shoulder.

you laugh through tears. “i was right here.”

he doesn’t kiss you yet. he just holds you for a moment longer, like the weight of the whole year is finally gone and he can exhale into you. his fingers are still in his gloves, still curled with adrenaline, but they grip you like a promise.

when he finally sets you down, you don’t let go of each other.

the cameras don’t stop clicking.

“you really did it,” you whisper, brushing sweaty hair off his forehead.

he grins. a real one. boyish and golden and free. “i had to. promised you, didn’t i?”

you smile, breath catching.

his lips find yours then. slow, sweet, a little dizzying. the crowd explodes again, louder than the fireworks. someone throws a hat into the air. the confetti sticks to your cheeks and to his jawline. he kisses you again anyway.

they give him the trophy on the podium, and the whole world is watching.

his hands don’t shake when they place it in his grip. he’s never looked steadier. like this was always coming. like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be.

but when the anthem ends and the fireworks crack like thunder overhead, his gaze drops to the barrier.

you’re there again. hands on the railing. waiting for him.

max steps down without a second thought.

he doesn’t head straight to the media or the cameras. he walks to you. through the puddles of champagne and over the slick floor, ignoring the dozens of microphones reaching for a soundbite. ignoring the glitter, the clapping, the chaos.

his smile is softer now. not adrenaline-fueled or wild. just full.

he taps the trophy with one finger. “it’s heavier than it looks.”

you smirk. “that’s what happens when you carry a whole team on your back.”

he leans over the barrier and kisses you again. this time slow, unhurried, like the night isn’t moving.

you think that’s the moment.

but then he hands someone the trophy. and without a single word, he lifts you over the barrier and onto his shoulders.

you gasp, laughing, hands bracing on his head.

“max—”

“hold on.”

he turns toward the crowd, toward the flashing cameras, toward the thousands of people screaming his name. and he doesn’t care about any of them. he cares about you. up there, steady on his shoulders. your laughter in his ears. your arms holding tight.

he raises both fists in the air.

and that photo goes everywhere.

they caption it in every language. they call it victory, devotion, love. some say it’s a fairytale moment. others say it’s too much.

max just calls it right.

and when someone posts a side-by-side — a screenshot from months ago, mid-interview, where he said with a grin, “if i win, i’m putting her on my shoulders, no question” — it’s the most shared image of the night.

all those years. all those races. and this is what it comes down to — your hands in his hair, his name in the sky, a promise kept.

—

later, much later, after the podium and the press and the endless photos, you’re both tucked away in a quiet part of the paddock. max is sitting on a crate, champagne-splashed and starry-eyed, hair still wet from the bottle lando dumped on him earlier.

you’re in his lap. your hands are curled into his suit. your cheek is against his collarbone.

he’s holding the trophy again. but only because you insisted he keep it nearby. he was more than ready to leave it in the car.

“can i say something stupid?” you ask, voice muffled into his neck.

“you always can.”

“this feels like the first time we met.”

he huffs a tired laugh. “we were arguing in a motorhome.”

“and now you’re world champion.”

he doesn’t answer right away. his fingers trace slow patterns across your back.

then, quietly: “i don’t care about that.”

you lift your head. “you do.”

“i care that you’re here.”

he kisses you before you can speak again. softer than the podium. deeper than parc fermé. one hand on your cheek, the other still cradling the trophy like it’s just another part of the story.

you break the kiss first, forehead resting against his.

“what happens now?”

he smiles. “now?”

“yeah.”

“now we go home. you steal half my hoodies. i make you pancakes. and we forget how loud today was.”

you close your eyes.

“i’ll remember all of it.”

he tilts your chin up, kisses you one more time.

“good,” he whispers. “so will i.”

[notsodelirious]

you know what sounds so good rn? smoking weed with jason, cuddling him and cockwarming him. i think he’d love the closeness and the intimacy, heightened sensitivity for the warmth and skin to skin contact. i love high sex and intimacy send tweet.

hi, yes, absolutely you are very right

also I say I’m not taking anymore requests, and then turn around and write a drabble for an ask that wasn’t even a request lol—anyway, enjoy <3

synopsis: Smoking a blunt with your boyfriend while you sit on his dick

notes: NSFW MDNI, also said in two different places but like recreational drug use (it’s weed)

tags: established relationship, fluff, cockwarming, gn!reader (no mentions of the reader’s genitalia), wc: 600 words

•─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

 You brought Jason’s hand up to your face, a loose grip on his wrist as he held the joint for you. 

You took a small hit before settling back down against his chest, letting the haziness of the weed and the soft evening wash over you. 

It was seven. The sun was just about setting outside your apartment window, bathing the entire room in yellow and gold. You’d pulled the curtains closed but small rivulets of sun still poured in through the cracks. 

The TV was playing, an old movie that had come out before either of you was born—it had largely become forgotten but it filled the static silence. 

You giggled a little when you felt Jason’s chest rise under your head, then still, before he finally exhaled, making sure not to blow smoke in your hair. 

“Still okay, sweetheart?”

You hummed as you looked up at Jason, resting your chin on his chest—his cock was still buried deep inside you, a quiet but insistent presence as you tucked yourself against Jason. It was the closest you’d ever be able to come to crawling into his skin while cuddling. 

And it was a compromise you both enjoyed. 

You’d stolen his shirt halfway during the sesh—not entirely sure why, but you now enjoyed his shirt as he lay naked under you like a grecian statue. 

“I’m good,” you smiled before reaching up to hold his face and kiss the corner of his mouth. “You?”

“Doing great, love,” he smiled down at you as he squeezed you softly with his arm. “More?”

You easily shook your head, more than content with how you felt in that very moment. 

You would have suspended time if you could, basking in the closeness and weightlessness of life. 

Jason stretched to put out your blunt in the ash tray—the movement made his dick shift in you a little. Jason hushed you softly as you moaned. 

You felt his lips on the crown of your head, his arms readjusted around you, his heart beat beneath your ear. 

“Love you,” you mumbled as you kissed his neck, then shoulder, an absent almost soothing motion. 

It didn’t matter how many times you said those words, you meant it every single time, with the same affection every time.  

You never tired of saying them, not when it meant you got to watch Jason relax under your weight, watch the small shy smile that spread across his face when he looked at you. 

He’d mumble it back—some variation of it. Never I love you too, but everything else he did for you was steeped in so much adoration you’d never once questioned if he loved you too. 

“Still okay on my dick, pretty thing?” you heard him ask softly—for a moment you forgot about the question entirely, entranced by the feeling of his voice deep in his chest. 

“Hmm?” you looked up at him, squishing your cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah, I’m good. Do you want me off?”

“No, sweetheart,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. He mulled over his words, for a little while—a long while actually as you watched him try to sort his words in the right order before saying them, “You can stay there as long as you like.”

“Yeah?”

As long as you liked sounded nice. Forever, an eternity, like this sounded nice. 

Soon enough the illusion would be shattered when the sun finished setting and the moon rose in its stead; when you’d sleep off your peaceful high to get to work the next day. 

It wouldn’t last. 

But for a moment you could pretend that’d stay like this with Jason. For as long as you liked. 

 •─────⋅☾⊱♰⊰☽⋅─────•

hi, I wasn’t meant to write this but I’m sick and up late so here you go <3

also as a side note: I headcanon that Jason doesn’t smoke (because you know, dying of asphyxiation might do that to a person) but,, the ask was really good and I couldn’t resist (also, Jason is a grown man and can get high if he wants, I just think he would use edibles)

anyway, requests are closed but you can find my masterlist and my wips list here!

[lylian333]

Yandere Romance x reader

warning/contact: small headcore and idea, toxic ig, please help me check if I make any mistakes or other things I forgot to include, yandere, stalking, supper random scenario or au, idk where this is going like really....

~Boyfriend au~

He loves cuddling up with you

He's probably a starve touch person and words of affection

He once even sniffed your hair while cuddling you, don't mind that much tho

He would also love going out shopping with you and especially when you ask him, "Does this look good on me?"/"Does this suit me?"

He loves dressing you up all pretty for him his taste and style, but if you don't want it or aren't feeling like it he'll go with whatever you want

He would also be a slow and deep kisser

After kissing, there will be a thin strand of saliva that clings between your lips and his, stretching with the distance until it finally snaps

your chest rising, your lips wet and swollen, a small trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.(I feel like he loves it sloopy like that)

clingy 24/7

Pet names he would either call you my angle/princess /Suger cube/my sun/moon fuck if kinky enough then master/mommy

He would be the type to flirt with other girls just to see you all mad, frustrated, and jealous, and refuse to talk to him, idk he just wants to see you all tense

But if you ever dare pull up that move on other people, he'll be all sad, emo, overthinking that he isn't enough for you, and would keep asking questions like what makes them so special that you have to touch their arms, and all that

Or he would show off his clingy side in front of that person, like coming up from behind and hugging you at the waist and pushing their whole body onto your back, and placing their head on your shoulder, getting all so clingy by then you already know there's pushiment waiting for you back home

Or he'll just kill and take that person's soul after you leave (best solution out of all)

~yandere au slowly~

He seems like those guys that enjoy begging or simping hard and don't like it when other girls throw themself to him like some kind of rag doll

he wants changlle he wants to be fucking despried not only that you special to him in a particularly way

He would be so curious about you, he'll stalk your whole online site that your on if you don't have anything on there no worries, he'll just have to do it physically. He wouldn't mind rescheduling his time at all, you're worth every time he spend on.

But anyway, during signature time where the girl group and boy group join together while he was acting all cocky around with mira and abby/abs he then hear a fimallir soft voice, he instantly turn around just to see you

holy shit it's really you, you were standing there sliming and asking mira for a signature

like isn't suppose to be him? like- you caught him so off guard he didn't knew you like kpop maybe he's too carless and accidently miss your playlist many weird shits were going through his head , his expression may not say it all but one thing for sure he was stud like staring at you and not blinking you saw his expression and try to ignore it instent focusing on mira

While Mira try handing you back the photocard back he snatches it and puts his signature and number on the back of the card you couldn't refuse it or snatch it back, so you just accept it and smile at him while nodding at him

image like he had a small collection of your items, like after you left a cafe once you accidently left your hair tie behind and when he went over your table to you know...you know...to help you check if you left anything

it means the hair tie look worn out and kinda of covered with your hair, you probably don't want it anymore, so he took it and left

Back at his place, he personally hand-picked out all your hair and placed it in a small tiny box, and for the hair tie itself while he would sniff it for many purposes, even use it like it's his

The other members are curious to why he would go out when its supposed to be rest time for them to relex for the day but nope, he would dress up all weird with like black jacket sun sunglasses and mask a binne you know all those that look like a stalker, but never would have they though he's out there busy stalking someone i mean his nickname is romance he flirty as fuck

You were also be aware of a guy follow you non stop so you stop going out and rarely coming out. Instead, you used food delivery, all that, which makes him mad, like he now has to break into your house

shit that's it for now hopefully this is not too confusing its like a mix of my vomit ideas shit maybe I'll arrange it more proper in the future still hope u like my headcore and pls tell me if I did any mistake and ye any ideas u could share with me and I'll greatly consider it

[gothghostiie]

pt. 3 to these, can be read as a standalone but its got some references to the previous parts :)

cw: age gap, size difference, mild breaking and entering, masturbation, possessiveness, belittleing, thigh riding, oral (reader giving), deepthroat, praise, crying, mild humiliation, slapping and begging, virgin!reader, afab!fem!reader

retired!price who's been unable to stop thinking about what happened between the two of you. unable to get the smell of your arousal out of the cab of his truck, unable to stop himself from masturbating with the panties you left in his car wrapped around his needy cock. he can't stop himself from driving past your street again and again, just to make sure you're safe and sound, that's what he tells himself anyway. he's gotta make sure his future wife isn't bothered by any nosy neighbours (or any stupid boys that think they can allow themselves to even try to get into your panties - not that it would matter, he's ruined you for any other man anyway). if he could he'd be calling and texting you constantly, checking in and making sure you're behaving yourself for him - but after last time he forgot to give you his number. again.

So naturally he decides to just drive over to your place one evening. your car and your bike are both there - as they should be - but your windows wide open. it makes him frown, youre not usually this careless, usually have everything closed and locked by the time he arrived. naive little thing, maybe you forgot, maybe you're inviting him in? it's so tempting but he can't risk someone else taking advantage of this. so for your own safety he decides to go in himself.

of course he doesn't climb in through the window, he doesn't wanna scare you. so he does the sensible thing, he rings someone else's doorbell in the complex and uses your secret emergency key (underneath a fake plant isn't the greatest hiding place, far too obvious). he sneaks in quietly, taking his shoes off and making sure to avoid the creaking floorboard that you apologised for when he brought you upstairs last time. he closes the door silently, looking around to find you snuggled up on the couch, tv running and blanket pulled over you loosely. you're in a pair of sweatpants and a cami top, either having spent the day at home or already changed into your pyjamas; either way it left him smirking. quietly, he walked over to the couch, taking a seat on the edge, careful not to startle you awake. instead he lifts his hand to your head, carefully pushing a few strands out of your relaxed face, your pouty lips slightly parted.

John can't help but laugh softly, keeping up the gentle, light motion with his calloused fingertips, almost wanting to take a picture of you like that, to savour this precious, innocent moment - but for now he refrains, he'll get to see that face every morning once he puts a nice, pretty ring on your finger. instead he just watches for a bit - until your eyes flutter open.

"mornin' sunshine." he says quietly, his voice a soothing murmur in hopes that it'll soften the blow of him just randomly being in your apartment when you know he doesn't have a key. it takes you a few moments to register what's happening, a mix of fear and shock washing over your body and showing in your expression as you sit up, scooting against the backrest of the couch as far as you can. he immediately scoots after you, putting a soothing hand on your thigh. "hey, shh, shh.. it's alright, don't you panic on me..." he chuckles softly, like this is even remotely funny. "its just me, darling, okay? just me." for some god forsaken reason the soothing seems to calm you down - of course it does, he's been doing things like that in his line of work for years - letting the rising panic inside you cool down.

"I.. what are you doing here? how did you get inside?" he can still hear the hint of fear and wariness in your quiet voice, his heart is torn between aching and skipping a beat.

"I drove through here and thought I'd see how you were doing, angel." it's not fully a lie - he never said he didn't drive here on purpose after all. "I knocked and rang your doorbell, I figured you were still up since I heard the TV running. wanted to make sure you were okay and let myself in." you furrow your brows a bit as you nod. "I used your emergency key. I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to scare you." his big hand pushes the messy strands of hair out of your face again.

"it's.. it's alright.." you mumble, rubbing your eyes like a tired toddler. "it's nice to see you." you can't help but smile a little, automatically leaning into his touch, john smiles back.

"it's nice to see you too." at least that's not a lie he had been dying to see you, dying to get his hands on you again. how could he not? every time he's met you you were putty in his hands - and you fit in them perfect (and vice versa). on top of that you were just adorable, he had a thing for the whole shy, sweet little virgin thing you had going on for yourself. not that its important to him, you could be 75 and an absolute whore for all he cares, it doesn't make you fit in his hands any less perfect. "how about I make you some dinner, hm? you're probably starving after your little nap, aren't you, sweetheart?" his hand went from your hair to your tummy, giving it a gentle squeeze before patting it briefly, making your face heat up in embarrassment; but before you can reprimand him (as if you'd ever speak up against him) he's already stood up, making his way to your kitchen. "what do you feel like?" he asks over his shoulder, you quietly get up and shuffle after him, looking around as he scouts your cabinets.

"uh.. I don't know.."

"you want me to pick something for you?" he offers, you nod softly. he chuckles. "alright darling." he starts grabbing some things, preparing whatever dishes he needs to cook your meal. you stand there a bit lost, watching him.

"what can I do to help?" he pauses, raising an eyebrow at you.

"you don't need to help, love. I'm cooking for you." his words make you frown.

"I'm not a baby, you don't need to cook all on your own.. I can help.." the words definitely try to have some bite, some defiance, but it just makes him crack up a little.

"you wanna help me that bad, hm?" he sighs softly, putting down his knife briefly as he looks at you. "alright, you can help. c'mere." he pats his thigh like you would when calling over a dog, you follow the command. "good girl," he praises as he suddenly moves to stand in front of you, his hands grabbing your hips. "you," you can merely gasp before he's lifting you up, placing you on the counter as if it's nothing. "can park that pretty little ass right here and look pretty while I work." you try to protest, but a raised eyebrow at you makes you pipe down immediately. "that's what I thought." he starts prepping food, using what you had already bought but were too lazy to make - home made burgers. your mouth waters as you watch him prepare the food with ease, like its what he's supposed to be doing. like it comes to him almost naturally.

the food is done quickly, he's set the table (and reprimanded you for trying to get up, the swat on your thigh combined with the strict expression made you feel things you're not sure you understood) and put out everything you need; even your favourite drink. he walks over to you, leaning down to slide an arm under your knees and lift you up against him. the shocked gasp you give him makes him laugh and the way you cling to him just makes it more sweet to him, like a little reward for carrying. truly, since he left the military (probably even since he joined), this is the best thing he's done with his muscles. he sits down and makes you sit on one of his thighs, flexing it underneath you as you shift around. he keeps one hand on the small of your back, with the other one he pulls your plate closer. hell, he'd feed you if it wasnt for you insisting that you're not a baby and could at least eat by yourself - considering you're saying this while in his lap he lets it slide. you can at least have the illusion of not being totally dependent on him for a little while longer. whatever made his baby feel good.

"dig in, darling. gotta know if you like my cooking or if I gotta take a cooking class." he chuckles under his breath, you shake your head with a smirk before biting into it - and it's heavenly. the taste makes you moan softly, making you wanna savour every bite of it.

"jesus.. this is good.." you mumble with a mouthful of food, he chuckles before taking a bite of his own. his free hand keeps rubbing your back as you chat softly while eating, making sure you get your fill and stay nice and seated where you belong, licks your fingers clean once you're done.

"good girl, finishing your plate." he smirks, noting the way the praise makes you squirm on his thigh - and not missing the heat pressing against it through the fabric of his worn out jeans. how could he not take advantage of that?

his hands find home on your hips, big hands easily dwarfing you. "you're so good, hm?" he lowers his voice to a low murmur, purposely making his voice deeper. "finishing like a good girl." He chuckles lowly as he feels you tense up at his choice of words. his hands grip tighter, pushing you down on his muscular thigh harder. you gasp loudly, eyes widening slightly - immediately the memories of the last time you met flood your mind. its almost embarrassing how hot and bothered this man gets you with barely any effort - if any at all.

"Mr. Price.." you pant softly, the formality sends a shiver down his spine.

"what is it, honey? hm?" he knows exactly what you want, but he wouldn't be himself if he just gave it to you. "what do you need?" a whine escapes you.

"please.. I want you.." your boldness shocks you a little bit, you're not the type to just outright ask for what you want - especially not in situations like these.

"you want me?" he chuckles softly, but you can clearly hear the mocking undertone. "you can't handle that angel, you know that. you can barely take my hand." he pushes you down harder, flexing his muscles. "what makes you think you could fit me?" John leans in, placing a kiss on your neck.

"please.." you whimper again, rutting your hips. he sighs.

"you just can't listen when someone tells you no, can you?" he shakes his head, bouncing you on his knee slightly, you gasp. "you really want to try, hm? want to see if you can take my cock?" you nod eagerly, looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes pleading and big, brows furrowed. "alright then." he pats your hip, letting go. "get down on your knees." you give him a confused look but listen to him, of course you do. he smiles down, his hands going to his belt and undoing it almost in slow motion. the sight of his bulge against the dark blue boxers make your mouth water, hands itching to get your hands on his hard on - until he pulls the fabric down.

his limp cock pretty much flops out, making a heavy thud against his own leg, letting your jaw drop in genuine shock. you didn't doubt that he was well endowed, but you did think all the talk of him needing to make sure you can take it was a bit.. over the top.

but its not. somehow it's truly not.

his cock twitches as he sees the way you stare, making him chuckle. "thought I was lying, didn't you?" he grins, patting your cheek. "I'm a lot of things, baby. but I ain't a liar." you look up through your lashes, nodding softly in defeat. "c'mon now, open your mouth. dont be gettin' cold feet now." he winks, you gulp but open your mouth wider, tongue sticking out just enough to cover your teeth, his eyebrows raise in surprise, followed by a chuckle. "you're a smart girl, huh?" one hand places on the top of your head to hold you in place, the other wrapping around the base of his cock and giving it a few slow strokes. "deep breath now, I'm not gonna go easy on you. you want something, you'll work for it. are we clear?" you gulp.

"Y-yes, Mr. Price.." he smirks softly, watching you take a deep breath before he slowly slides his fat tip into your mouth.

"there you go.. slow and steady.." he hums softly, his thumb gently rubbing your head, holding you still. your eyes widen, cheeks puffing out slightly as he keeps pushing, not even stopping when he hits the back of your throat. "relax and breathe through your nose. you can do this, angel. c'mon." your eyes water, jaw already starting to ache with how wide open you have hold it; the sight of you like this making him smile with a weird sense fondness. you try to follow his orders, taking shaky breaths through your nose between gagging while he slowly pushes deeper - only stopping when he can feel your scrunched up face press against his pubes.

"there you go.. doing good, baby.." he hums, holding you there for a few moments before pulling away just enough to keep his tip on your tongue and let you gasp for air. his dick twitches, slowly hardening. "you still think you can take it?" you wanna answer, but he pushes himself back into your throat, making you choke on your answer. "such a sweet, brave little girl. I can't lie, I'm mighty proud of you for trying, angel." you feel your face get warmer, squeezing your thighs together. his other hand wipes away some stray tears.

"how about we see if you can take a proper fucking, hm?" your eyes light up in hope that quickly gets shattered by a hard thrust into your throat, making you choke on him. John scoffs as he feels you flinch away, his grip on your head getting firmer. "now now, this is what you wanted, remember? if you really want me to fuck that sweet little cunt at some point you'll have to take this." a pathetic whimper escapes you, but you know he's serious, you know he won't let his cock anywhere near yout pussy unless he deems you ready for it. and if this is what it takes?

you'll gladly take it. you'll take anything he wants you to, without question; evidently. it only proves again now that he's thrusting his fat, semi hard cock down your throat, making it bulge slightly as you cry your pretty eyes out. you don't even try to pull away or complain, you don't try to push him off, all you do is try to keep your mouth wide open while your hands grip onto his thighs for support. "such a good girl.. doin' so well.." he praises again. "if you keep behaving this well I might give you a dessert, hm? sounds good?"

all you can do is blink up at him with wet lashes, making him chuckle. "you want that? you want a dessert pretty girl?" when you can't don't answer him his face hardens slightly. he knows damn well what he's doing, but he can't resist being a little mean. his hand smacks your cheek almost gently, a mock strict expression on his face. "mind your manners, young lady. answer when youre spoken to. tell me you want dessert." you whimper, the strict tone making you squirm in a mix of nervousness and arousal. an overwhelming need to be good and listen to what he tells you to do makes you try to speak around his cock immediately - of course it only comes out as muffled noises. another smack hits your cheek. "don't speak with your mouth full. nobody every taught you basic manners?" he sighs and clicks his tongue, but laughs when he sees the look on your teary face. "aw, angel.. I'm just messing with you. you'll get your dessert. but you gotta say please." he gives you an expectant look, you know you couldn't refuse if you wanted to.

you try to say please, as clear as you can, a few tears of frustration mixing in as you cut yourself off with gagging, he laughs again. only when you sniffle and hands start to tremble he finally let's up. "alright, alright. you're getting your treat, just remember to say thank you, alright?" John waits until you nod before he pulls out almost all the way, letting his tip rest between your swollen lips, one of his hands wrapping around his dick, pumping it. he grunts softly, holding eye contact with you as he does, only breaking it when he feels his balls tighten. he throws his head back, eyes rolling back in his head as he cums onto your tongue, feeling you jump slightly. he fills your sore mouth with his thick, hot cum, it feels like he's pumping everything he has into your mouth. he watches through lidded eyes as he pulls back, the hand on top of your head instead reaching down to your chin, closing your mouth for your. it takes you a moment to swallow, trying to catch your breath once you can, sniffling softly before you look back up at him.

"t-thank you.."

[shiinayumi]

This is actually a good point that indigenous people have already gone over a lot in discussions about colonization and tribal affairs! In short the phrase is used for indigenous people with landback and getting our own homelands back but lets explore it a bit. (Note this will largely be rough as I dont do my best work unpaid)

Really think the "own homeland" part. A large area (such as North America) is home to many tribes territories. The small area where a tribe is is their homeland. For instance, the Cherokee are largely the Appalachain mountains, so that is their indigenous homeland. If they attack another tribes area, one could call it colonizing (not really but more on that in a minute). I am talking about a specific area, not a whole land mass.

As for the colonizing part, largely tribal attacks aren't with the intent to create a colony for a home force. They're expanding territory, but its connected to the land they already have. Its sounds like semantics but its not and is an important distinction.

Also never said people cant oppress other people on their own homeland, they can. I said colonize which is why I made that distinction above. Oppression and colonization while can have overlap are still different things. Like the Aztec are a good example of taking over what is objectively their own people without it being colonization in how its defined.

If we're going to talk about the Americo Liberians we have to talk about how and why what happened. They themselves as people wouldnt be considered settlers or colonizers, however the reason they were scent to Liberia was by and for a separate colonizing force namely the American Colonization Society, with the goal of removing Freed Black people from the US but with also expanding US territory. The colonizers in this case are the ACS and the US as a whole. Whereas the Americo Liberians were a native cugdle in hopes it would work better.

This has historic precedent in many cases one such example was the Birtish using other Celtic groups as plants in Ireland with the goal of when they gave the signal they'd rise up for the British overlords and take over the Irish. The vast majority said fuck off and so the plan failed.

Anyway this is all to say yea the answer is definitely longer than the phrase of "you cant colonize your own homeland" but frankly I didnt feel like typing this whole thing originally. I reminds me of the phrase "no one is illegal on stolen land" where most people kinda it but to really understand what its saying you have to do some digging.

Anyway if anyone wants to pay for the labor I have to put into this shit when learning how to know what are good sources are, and it's free and easy and so is Google here is my paypal and venmo

(Also forgot to add no shade i enjoy sharing stuff and engaging its just a bad audhd day so I probably come off bitchy when im not im sorry if I do 💀 also body pain)

That part was not in the Jose Martinez Cobo definition of indigenous peoples.

Ironically the reason it was add was to prevent indigenous people from achieving self determination.

“Most Israelis are colonizers”- Jews are a single ethnic group either we are all indigenous or we are all colonizers.

[mariacallous]

As a member of ICE, you may be wondering: How are the people we thrust into our vans supposed to know that we are, in fact, acting under color of law and not just kidnapping them? Can I really do this job while wearing either an Army uniform that I have assembled myself in a confusing, over-the-top way or the same T-shirt I just wore to my failed custody hearing?

Sure! Here’s what to wear to let everyone who interacts with you know that you are an agent of ICE!

Do we have a uniform? No.

Uniforms show that you are part of something and that there is someone to call if anyone interacting with you has a complaint. A uniform indicates that you are not a rogue criminal seizing someone’s mom and hurling her into an unmarked van without reading her her rights: You’re an officer of the law doing that.

Who are they going to call about some guy in an ill-fitting T-shirt and long shorts? Why, behind that face covering, he could be the billionaire Mark Zuckerberg! Better treat him as though he is worth billions and accountable to no one, just in case!

If you’re wearing a uniform, people will be disappointed when you fail to show them an arrest warrant before entering their place of work. If you’re not wearing a uniform of any kind, they won’t know whether to be disappointed until it’s too late!

If you decide to wear some sort of uniform anyway (Army Surplus? January 6 Surplus? Your choice!), you can still send the message that you intend to be accountable to no one by wearing a face covering.

A face mask can say so many things: “I’m trying to do my part to protect those around me,” or  the exact opposite. A balaclava can say, “I’m skiing!” or, “I’m about to commit a jewelry heist,” depending on how you accessorize it.

The point is, we want you to feel free to express yourself! ICE believes in freedom of expression, except for graduate students who want to lead protests or write op-eds. Your clothing should tell a story about you! Just not who you are or that you are acting in any kind of official capacity. Wear a pink button-down, a shirt, a jacket, and some sort of backwards hat. Wear something that looks like what Ben Affleck would wear if he were really going through it and was visiting the Dunkin’ drive-through on foot. Wear something that, if you showed up at a costume party in this outfit, would make people say, “A soldier, but wrong somehow, like he’s in a video game,” or, “Did I see you at Charlottesville?”

If the person you are shoving into a van has any inkling that you are an officer of the law, you are doing it wrong. You should look like someone who is going to Home Depot because you forgot something (what you forgot was an arrest warrant for your next stop).

As Coco Chanel said, whenever you assemble an outfit, before you leave the house, look in the mirror, and take one thing off! Specifically, your badge identifying you as an officer of the law. Coco collaborated with the Nazis.

Remember, the right ensemble and accessories can say: I’m accountable to the people of the United States, and we are still operating under rule of law. So before you get dressed each morning, think about the message you want your outfit to send. It shouldn’t be that.

[tinytennisskirt]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 • 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡, 𝐚 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝—𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 ‘𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜’.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞. 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐧𝐧𝐧 <𝟑 𝐫𝐨𝐦-𝐜𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐭

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨- 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟐𝟖𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞/𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫- 𝐣𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟓𝐭𝐡

Art Donaldson had a problem.

He had been waiting way too long for you to finish your research, quietly watching you take notes on some book for the past forty minutes. And Art had been there waiting for you to get home from your meeting at the Stanford paper prior to all of this waiting. But he was patient, though he was hungry beyond any belief. You promised to get food once you got in, but here you were forty minutes later.

Art, though completely infatuated with the idea of eating the entire menu of the local food joint- still admired your dedication. You’d always been like this, very focused, very on top of things, even when it got in the way of parties, events, and games. You were on top of things so that you could enjoy more at the end of the day. Plus, it wasn’t all the time you delayed plans. It wasn’t exactly like he ever minded anyway.

He’d known you since he was twelve and met you in the mess hall of Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy. You were always a good, no- great tennis player, but school, writing, and reading, always came first. It was a wonder that Stanford had such a notorious knack for creating excellent pro tennis players and journalists.

You shut your journal with a sharp knocking sound, blowing a gust of wind in your face. Immediately, you wanted to toss the book across the room to fully detach. You’d been sucked in again, you couldn’t help it, you were given the best piece to write about out of everyone. One you actually wanted to research. You’d talked Art’s ear off about it the day prior, which was also why he was okay with waiting. This was exciting for you. It was cool to see you so lost in the things you like.

“Hungry?” You asked, looking over at him, knowingly. Your eyes shone with an apology he didn’t need. “I’m sorry, it’s just there’s so much to annotate-” But he was already grinning, standing, and tossing your jacket over your head in milliseconds, and you laughed as you maneuvered it enough to put it on.

He chuckled, “No, it’s fine, I promise. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone use an entire pen’s ink in one sitting.”

“You didn’t say anything, I’m sorry!”

“No-“ He laughed “It was cool to watch, why would I?. Not like you’d hear me anyway.” And he teased.

The air was just beginning to crisp, leaves were just starting to turn, and the air smelled fresh as you and Art made your way across campus. “Oh- I forgot to tell you. Patrick says he’s going to visit when he’s back around, but he’s set on going to a frat party.” Art said. He was sporting a cobalt blue sweater and matching backward hat, if that was of any importance. His hands were in his jean pockets, and he nodded your way as he spoke. “I told him you wouldn’t want to go to anything like that, so I was thinking of trying to wrangle him into a night drinking in my dorm. Thoughts?”

You cringed a little at the party part, but settled when he mentioned the change of plans. “Is he dead set?”

“I like to think I could change his mind.”

“And pry him away from sorority girls?”

“I’m persuasive,” he smiled. You shook your head. “My dorm, though?”

You tsked, smiling back, “When?”

“The only day of the week that you’re completely free.” His smile turned to a grin as you kept down the cobblestone path. Your eyes narrowed, just slightly, then widened. “I checked.” He admit.

“My calendar? Okay, but-”

“Almost done-,” he interjected again, grin widening. “Patrick says he’s bringing vodka, but I also already wrangled him into buying a proper mixer so you and I aren’t paying the overpriced campus mixer prices or going out of our way to find a cheaper one elsewhere…”

You breathed out a laugh, “If he wasn’t broke before…”

“Penniless.”

“Poor guy.” You grinned, it was a cheeky smile. “Thank you, though.”

He shook his head, “Partially because I wanted a mixer too… Don’t thank me too much.” He said as he opened the door for you. The diner on campus was a quaint little 50s-themed place, complete with multi-state license plates and walls plastered in 50s icons. You nearly knocked into the cardboard cutout of Elvis that had truly seen better days.

Art took a seat in front of a large screen-print style Audrey Hepburn that sprawled across the pale turquoise wall. “He should be here Friday, so we can obviously do our regular shit when he’s around, but drinking is on Saturday night because on Sunday you don’t have book club until two…ish.” He gestured.

“I’m weirded out that you looked at my calendar,” you admit with a constant smile, picking up the menu. “I have my doctors' appointments on there as well as what they’re for.”

He chuckled, “I don’t remember anything else, if that helps.”

“It does,” you sighed contentedly. “Saturday is perfect- I’m glad one of us checked. Last time he came unannounced, it was a disaster, I barely saw him.”

“I think that’s why he called ahead,” Art got in before drink orders were taken by the sweet lady who worked at the diner. She was a kind, happy lady with short grey curls and perfect wrinkles when she smiled and a very notable gold rosary around her neck. She knew the two of you by name and was always slipping you both free desserts. However, she didn’t seem all that happy today.

She took the drink orders without her usual cheeky banter. One thing about her is that she would, without a doubt, always flirt with Art. It was part of who he was; he was just a charmer that way, so of course, he would always flirt back ten times harder. No harm in it, she was well past divorced.

Sometimes it was a little out of pocket, but always fun to watch. She jotted down your orange soda and his root beer with her lips pinched, avoiding eye contact like she was working corporate.

Art’s eyes met yours, then looked back at her, then over the woman’s shoulder. As far as you knew, there wasn’t any change in management, the owner was working the cash.

You watched as his expression shifted from puzzled to what looked like the most annoyed look you’d ever seen on his face. As if attracted by magnets, Art pressed his hand to the side of his head. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow, turning to see a girl at the diner’s counter, laughing with one of the other waitstaff.

He seemed to know the girl, though you didn’t. At least not by face. She sat on a turquoise barstool across the joint, sporting a sweater vest and jorts, a curly ginger bob, big front teeth, and light eyebrows that you had to squint to see. She was pretty, by standards, but otherwise not much. She had a honking sort of wheeze-laugh, loud enough you could tell it was disturbing the other students just trying to get a bite.

You looked back at Art as the waitress walked back to the kitchen to get your drinks. “What was that about?” You asked, leaning forward just a bit to be quieter.

“Her,” Art replied coldly. You’d never heard his voice filled with so much dread. Your eyes narrowed just slightly. Clouds passed over the sun outside, casting the sunny diner into shadow. Like something truly ominous was about to be revealed. You appreciated the imagery the world was throwing at you. “You remember me saying something about some girl asking me out after class?”

“A month ago, yeah,” you nodded.

“That’s her. But I didn’t tell you that she’s been following me around and getting her friends to come ask me things. I might’ve told Pat- I’ve been distracted- but it’s getting really…” He breathed out, looking over his shoulder again, “...weird.”

“You have a fan!” You joked. “I’m sorry.”

He hid his own smile, dropping his head, “I guess so,” he sighed, chuckling lowly. “But she for sure is doing damage when I’m not around, because that’s what she’s been doing.”

“She’s talking to people you know behind your back?”

He nodded, lips pressed together. “Yeah. So, I got paired with one girl in my other class, history- her name was Tina- We exchanged information and we figured out our topic. The next day, Tina is someone else’s partner. She-” he gestured to the girl behind him, “-asked Tina to swap, the day it was assigned. I didn’t know it had anything to do with me until I came in the day after.”

You looked at him, baffled as he told the story. “I know it had something to do with me when Tina, who spoke to me just fine the day it was assigned, shot me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen and genuinely- I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this- darted away. And next thing I know, she- over there- is my new partner.”

You rested your chin on your hands. “That’s… too much for a history project.”

“I know!” He hushed.

“That’s- yeah, that’s so odd. She has to like you or something; that’s a lot of work just to be your partner. Was she at least any good? What do you know about her?”

He let a breath slip his lips, tousling a curl that fell on his forehead. “Too much. I know she likes animals and isn’t that bad with history stuff. And that she likes me, yeah. Her name is Brenda, if that makes anything… clearer.”

You chuckled. “Yeah, of course she’s a Brenda.” You looked over at Brenda, who did fit the exact description of a person named Brenda. “Okay, so what did Brenda tell the other girl?”

“No idea,” He replied, looking back up. “Got her friends to ask if I was single. It’s been so much worse since that.” He trailed off, eyebrows narrowing slightly. “I think she told the waitress the same thing… but by worse, I mean-”

You connected the pieces. “Yeah- What the fuck- How is she here? Talking about you before you even get here?” He nodded, agreeing with your questioning. “So she knows you’re single, which she’s taking as an invitation to... Genuinely stalk you? Because somehow she thinks that’s the way to your heart? I mean, did you flirt with her?”

He went quiet, rubbing his temple. You sighed back a smile. “A bit. But for fun, to make it bearable- she’s not my type. At all…” And it should be noted that Art was not a player. He flirted for fun, but it was always more friendly than romantic. He would do it all the time with you, it wasn’t so deep. Very platonic. It was how you’d been such good friends for so many years. He wasn’t serious, you weren’t delusional. Poor Brenda though, addicted- obsessed? “Which would make this my fault, but the stuff she’s saying behind my back- it’s- that’s crazy.”

The drinks were set on the table with no conversation still. Art thanked her gently, kindly. What could Brenda have possibly said to turn a sweet old woman on Art, who was, by nature, a kind person? His mom was the most charitable woman you’d ever met, and raised him with the morals of the greatest gentleman. There was no chance that there was anything he could truly have done to turn anyone off of him the way the waitress seemed to be. He was almost, by definition, a good person.

You talked about the situation until your meal hit a halfway point. You and Art had swapped seats, your back now facing the giant Audrey Hepburn so that he’d have his back to her. You kept watching the back of Brenda’s head. You were both wary of her presence, Art a little more disappointed that he had to be on edge the whole time for the meal he was anticipating so strongly every second of those forty minutes.

When the meal was over, you found you were both pretty anxious to get out of the diner that you loved so much under normal circumstances. You played Art’s story over and over again, finding it weird, then a little disturbing, but also a little funny. You agreed on that. You both tried to keep yourselves unknown, even though you could both feel the eyes she had in the back of her head, watching you make your way to the opposite end of the counter to pay.

While Art was insisting on paying the bill even after you ordered extra sides (thinking you were paying), Brenda overheard. It was obvious that she’d been waiting to hear something, sitting alone, but keeping oddly quiet since you and Art swapped seats. Art only said, “My treat.” And her head swivelled so fast, you could have sworn you heard her neck crack.

You looked away at Art, who met your eyes with a bewildered expression, and huffed gently. He left his usual twenty-dollar tip, and without waiting another second, you were both easily out the door. You went the weird way home, talking about her, the diner lady, possible theories as to what could have been said, and how Art should probably change his routes to class for a little while. You talked about her until he was laughing again, doing laps around the campus until you figured it was probably time to turn in. He thanked you for hearing him and tightly hugged you goodbye before you went your separate ways.

Saturday rolled around in no time at all. Your piece for the paper was coming along nicely, so nicely you’d forgotten to eat lunch. You rolled your phone over and flipped it on.

Art: r u free?

You: yessss

Art: will be over in 5

You: what whyy

Art: bored

Art: have you eaten???

You clicked your tongue, defeated by him reading your mind from five minutes away.

You: noooope

Art: will be over in 10

You spent those ten minutes cleaning up all your papers, brushing your hair, and throwing on a skort to obviously not reveal the fact that you were studying and working in a gigantic purple crewneck and your pink and orange striped underwear. A comfortable writing secret of yours. You smelled the food through the door before there was even a knock.

You put the last binder away and hopped over to the door, opening it to Patrick holding up a bottle of vodka and a very green-coloured glass bottle of margarita mix from the local store that charged fifteen dollars just for the bottle.

“Hiii!” You greeted your other best friend, hugging him as he wrapped his bottle-holding arms around you the best he could.

“How’s it going?” Patrick asked, stepping aside.

“Good, oh-” Your eyes locked on Art, sporting that wide, crooked grin of his with arms holding several brown bags of the food you’d smelled. “You didn’t have to.”

He just kept grinning, “I figured you wouldn’t let yourself actually have the day off. And you always forget lunch.” Which was too true. Much too. “Got your favourite. And the extras.” Both boys started putting things down in your room, the food on your little desk table and the drinks against the foot of your bed. The food was then unpacked and passed around, the three of you sprawled across your dorm room- Patrick at your desk chair, feet up on your radiator, you and Art sharing space on your bed.

Patrick spoke with his mouth full of burger, “Guess who we ran into on the way over?”

You weren’t sure, but he didn’t phrase it very enthusiastically- you could tell, even with the food in his mouth. You had a small inkling, looking over at Art, who pressed his mouth into a straight line and nodded, swallowing before saying anything. “Her.”

“She’s so fucking weird,” Patrick added. “Art, you tell her what happened or I’m going to get out of pocket.”

Art nodded again, eyes meeting yours. You didn’t notice how close together the two of you were sitting, but Patrick noticed how your knees overlapped, how your arms were against each other’s. He had a spark go off in his head like a bad lighter, but like a bad lighter, that spark was gone in seconds... “So she’s been telling people that I am into her,” Art said, deadpan. “And we are ‘talking’.”

Your fingertips shot up to your temples, then covered your mouth, in incredulous reaction. “She’s delusional,” you gawked. “Have you told her to her face that you aren’t interested?” Your stomach slightly flipped.

“Twice now.” Art’s expression was that of slight disgust and a sort of disappointment. “It’s actually fucking weird. Patrick came to watch my practice, we both saw her talking to my coach.”

Patrick nodded, mouth full again, “Had the audacity to come up to us as we were leaving. She has a lisp, you know? Like a big one. Mike Tyson style, she-”

You and Art couldn’t help but laugh, caught off guard by the Mike Tyson comparison. You’d been friends so long, there was that mutual lean, where you both leaned into each other as you laughed. It helped to have some levity for Art. He could do with that. It made this whole thing a lot less overwhelming. Patrick sat, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Mike Tyson?” You giggled. Art reached out and grabbed your fries before they fell off the bed. “Oh- thank you.” You smiled as Art made a little divot in your blankets, tucking the fries snugly into it so they wouldn’t move. It was honestly kind of sweet. Who else would do that for you? Who else would think of that? “Anyways, I hate her. What the fuck is her problem?”

The comment received a good snort from Patrick, who gestured wildly, burger in hand, as he chewed eagerly. “Me too- But fuck, she’s so weird, she’s all over him as he’s telling her we have to go, like she just clings onto his forearm like it’s the most normal thing in the world.”

“She thinks it’s okay to touch you? Freak,”

Both boys chuckled- Patrick continued, “But she asked who I am, and that was awkward, but fine. Art is slipping his arm out of her grasp as she’s yapping about how good Art is at tennis, and every time, I'm watching her do it again, and he’s trying his best, I can’t remove her, so she keeps grabbing him even after his fourth time pulling away.”

Art presses his hand to his forehead, rubbing his eye, “And so we finally get away. My coach says he wasn’t expecting my girlfriend to be ‘so…’,”

“So, what?”

Patrick chortled, “The guy didn’t- couldn’t finish the sentence.”

“She’d told my coach that she was my girlfriend,” Art summarized. “And she was worried that the enhancing drugs I’m taking are affecting me in too many other ways.”

Your eyebrows immediately furrowed, unable to tell if he was joking.

He swallowed and nodded, “And he’s great, so he told me about it and I made sure to tell him she’s not my girlfriend and she does NOT know me, but if she can go around saying that shit…”

You laughed, but not because it was funny, but because it was such an absurd move on her part. Why was she saying anything? The anger made your stomach flip again. Patrick thought it was appropriate to reach down and grab the bottle of alcohol from the foot of your bed. He cracked it open, and immediately, it was passed to Art. “That’s insane. Who- Why?”

The conversation began, a real one, getting deep into psychological reasons why she might be so obsessed and couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. The bottle got passed around, alcohol finding its way into your now-empty soda cup, mixed with that much too expensive mixer Patrick bought. The hatred grew into making fun of her, and the boys had surprisingly sassy things to say. Soon, you were all laughing, making light of it, sprawled dizzily across your dorm bed.

You were lying diagonally, the back of Art’s head resting on your stomach, his body opposite diagonal, and Patrick was sitting across the far end, back to the wall. All three of you were aching from laughter, sighing heavily to catch your breath. Patrick had just compared Brenda to this one tennis teacher back at MRTA, who was a complete nutjob, calling the teacher ‘Brenda from the future’, which was funnier when he said it.

Your head was swimming, you knew you were feeling it. It settled in, a warm feeling, your eyes feeling like they moved from left to right after your brain told them to. Like your whole body was lagging. It made you smile. Your hand sat atop Art’s head, your fingers twisting his hair gently. It felt like-weirdly silky. “She sucks.” Art said. “I wish there was a reset button on people so she’d have no idea who I am.”

“What would make her leave you alone?” You asked, absentmindedly.

“She’s gotta have a boundary,” Patrick said, a little muffled by the cigarette between his lips. “She wants you bad.” Art didn’t have a response. The silence slipped in, filling the room. You were thinking, Art was thinking, Patrick was thinking. “Is she a homewrecker?”

Art turned his head. “Probably.”

He chuckled, “No, like, would she really? I feel like she wants you because she knows you’re for the taking and therefore she’s the only answer.” Patrick was onto something, for once. He was usually not the leader in having good ideas, but he’d had the least to drink (so far). “You flirted with her, so she thinks she’s in the running. You can tell her no, but I think- I think you have to show it.” You and Art both sat up at the same time, him scooting back to where you sat against the pillows at the head of your bed. He swayed a little, locking eyes with you as you shot him a teasing nose scrunch for it.

He tapped the side of your thigh in return. “Art needs a girlfriend.” You both ignored the way Patrick acted out an explosion coming from his head. “I’m a genius.”

Art grinned, shaking his head, “Would it work?”

“That’s your question?” You giggled.

“It might,” Patrick shrugged, passing Art the cigarette.

Art took a drag, “Where am I getting a girlfriend? I can’t date anyone without leading them on, it wouldn’t be real.” He blew the smoke upward. Patrick locked eyes with you. You narrowed your eyebrows playfully in response, unsure of what he was thinking. If you were sober, you would have caught on a lot faster. Your eyes were currently a little slow to blink. Art looked at Patrick as well, for an answer he seemed to have, grinning ear to ear.

You and Art seemed to catch on at the same time. Your eyes widened. “Me?”

“It works!” Patrick said, picking up the bottle and taking a fat swig. “Tell me it wouldn’t!” He gestured widely with both hands. “It doesn’t have to be real. You hang out all the time, you get food all the time, and you’re both comfortable around each other. And just saying, she’s prettier than half the girls I’ve seen on campus-”

“Woah,” you giggled. “But-”

“Okay, calm down,” Patrick shushed you, joking, obviously. “Tell me it’s not worth a shot.”

You and Art looked at each other, with him having to tilt his head back almost all the way. You weren’t exactly yourself, so maybe you could give it proper thought at another time, but the concept hung in the air like static.

You’d always told yourself that you never really had time for a real relationship. There was always so much to do in a day, so many things you were already committed to. You’d always brushed it off, saying you had too much on your plate, secretly thinking maybe it was just too much to prove. Your lower lip settled between your teeth as you weighed it. You were busy, but if there was anyone you had time for, it was him.

You’d never been anyone’s girlfriend. Could you be a fake girlfriend?

He smiled a little- You weren’t sure if he was uncomfortable or weighing the same question. You were both a little too out of it for this. He then shrugged slightly, pressing his hand to his chin, eyebrows raised. He turned back to Patrick, sitting up, “Could work.” The cigarette became yours again.

Patrick looked smug. You shook your head at him too, rolling your eyes as you took a lengthy drag off the cigarette.

He was open, “I’m not against it. You’d be saving me.”

You blew the smoke at Patrick, over Art, “I don’t know, would the rumours stop?”

“After a while, if she gives up,” Patrick said, slouching down a little. “Which she pretty much has to, right?” Wrong.

You clicked your tongue, taking a second drag, “I think the better answer is you guys fake date. Then she’d be gone for sure.” You gestured with the cigarette between your fingers.

Art and Patrick shared a look, then the three of you were back to finding things a little too funny, and the idea was pushed to the back burner. A few more shots were downed, a conclusion never found, but it was still hanging in the air.

Eventually, it was so late that you were all too tired to leave or do anything. Patrick fell asleep at the end of the bed, and you and Art were left awake, lying down, both of you about a shot away from being sick, on the verge of sleeping too. The only light left was the dim light of your corner lamp. You weren’t even sure he was awake until he rubbed his eyes and looked over at you to check if you were awake still.

He had been thinking about the fake dating thing. You were one of his best friends, and had been his best friend for years. When he thought of you, he thought about your passion, dedication to your work, and your killer tennis serve. He agreed with Patrick that you were one of the prettier girls- to him, at least. He looked over your eyelashes, your nose, and your face in general while you stared off at the wall. You did spend a lot of time together, you were comfortable touching, and you always smelled really good. He could fake date you; he knew that. It was weird that he was debating it, because it felt like a funny but solid idea for getting Brenda off his back. It was cut and dry. So when you turned to look at him, why did it feel so strange?

“I’m so drunk,” you whispered, smiling at the ceiling, a hand coming up to cover your eyes.

“Me too,” he replied, unable to not grin in response. Dizzy, he pulled the blanket from beside him and tossed it over you, making sure it covered your feet. “Do you need anything?”

You didn’t answer, the words just skimmed past you. “Are we fake dating?” You asked, shutting your eyes with a tired giggle. Your head was pounding already and other thoughts came and went, but the answer had come to you, clear. Easy. Of course you’d do this for him.

He chuckled, “I think so. Thank you.” He felt the gratitude sweep over him the way the alcohol did.

“No, always…” You mumbled. “Tomorrow. Fuck Brenda.”

“Fuck Brenda,” Art returned, leaning over you, careful not to let his shirt fall in your face as he turned your lamp off with a click.

taglist/don’t be afraid to ask to be added:

@dumbbandpoetic @reanisans00 @matchpointfaist @queensunshinee @theynothem @y08h @animalcrossingshameless

[twd-bee3]

At Midnight

Summary: You wake up from a nightmare, and Daryl immediately soothes you. This is a softer side of him that is reserved for you.

Warnings/Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, established relationship, female reader (she/her), season seven, no use of y/n

Word count: 677 words

A/N: The prompt for this piece was created by @dixondisease. This was supposed to be posted yesterday for her account's anniversy, but I forgot. Even though I haven't posted any on this account, I love writing nightmare comfort fics!! I have written quite a few for many different characters. They were my favorite stories when I started reading fanfiction, which was about ten years ago. Anyway, enjoy a lighter piece <3.

You two had been sleeping peacefully when Daryl felt you start to shift beside him. You were whimpering softly and mumbling things that he couldn't quite understand. Your distress was obvious, and he woke up immediately. He pulled you closer and gently stroked your hair. You were shaking, and he could feel your damp skin.

“Shhh, you're okay. I got you, baby.”

Instinctively, you leaned into his touch, but your body was still tense. You were struggling to wake up, and Daryl could tell that you were deep in a nightmare. In an attempt to coax you out of that state, he kissed the top of your head and kept whispering.

“You're safe. It's just a dream, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

You let out another small whine before your eyelids fluttered open, and you looked at Daryl. You'd started crying at some point, and you were still in a daze. For a moment, you glanced around your shared room as if you weren't sure where you were. You still weren't talking.

“It's okay, baby. We're in our home in Alexandria. You're here with me and I ain't lettin' nothin' happen to you.”

After a moment, you nodded and spoke softly. You were much more subdued than usual, and you still seemed a bit anxious. “Sorry. It felt like I was back there again.”

“I know, sweet girl. I know. You ain't there, though. You ain't never goin' back.

As he spoke, one hand was still stroking your hair, and the other had started rubbing gentle circles on your back. You'd had nightmares before, so he knew how to handle them. It never failed to make his chest ache, though. His girl was so fiery, and it was heartbreaking to see the fear in your eyes when you got like this.

You leaned into his touch and nodded slowly. The anxiety was still present, but Daryl's gentle care definitely lessened it. You always felt loved when he treated you like this - like you were something precious.

“I'm okay. Nothin' is gonna happen to me.”

Seeing that you were starting to calm down, he smiled softly and nodded back. “Exactly. I'm stayin' here with you and I ain't goin' nowhere.”

The panic had passed, and the wave of shame hit you. Even though Daryl always reassured you and had his own demons, you felt guilty. Your ex used to always complain that you were “too much”. You hadn't been with him in years, but his words had stuck with you.

“I'm sorry that you have to deal with me when I get like this. I should be over it by now.”

“Oh, sweetheart. You ain't gotta apologize for nothin'.”

Wanting to soothe you further, Daryl leaned closer and pressed soft kisses on various parts of your face. It always made you giggle when he did this, and tonight was no different. Your soft laughter filled the room, and it only encouraged him more.

You were squirming around, but it was obvious that you weren't making any real effort to get away from him. “Stop gettin' me. You're actin' like a crazy person.”

“Just for you, baby. Only for you.”

He'd stopped peppering your face with kisses, and you melted into his warm touch. You were still exhausted, and it would only be a matter of time before you were out again. Your eyelids were already feeling heavy.

Daryl could see the sleepy expression on your face, and he continued gently rubbing your back. His voice was always gruff, but it was much softer around his girl. He lay you back on his chest and made sure you were settled.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. I ain't want you bitchin' 'bout bein' tired when you're on watch tomorrow.”

Rolling your eyes at his teasing, you snuggled against his chest and gently kissed the underside of his jaw. You would've come up with a smartass response, but your body felt heavy with fatigue. Instead, you mumbled softly and closed your eyes.

“Thank you for bein' here with me.”

“Always.”

[blogficsesp]

I'll be waiting (ch. 2)

When a wound puts you in the way of your almost ex-husband, the months without talking are over and perhaps it is the opportunity to resume your marriage or end it.

*English is not my first language

*Sorry for medical inaccuracies

Chapter 2

It was a weird morning. First, he forgot to start his coffee machine and now he must buy one on the road to the ED. Also, suddenly, the zipper of his second favorite hoodie didn’t want to function. He wasn’t a superstitious person, but deep down he knew that something wasn’t right today.

When he entered the ED, things looked as usual: busy and noisy. At least something was just like always. Or so he thought…

“Good morning, Ahmad”. The security guard looked at him like he was a ghost, not the attending physician.

“Good morning, Dr. Robby.”

Robby made a frown and kept walking to Jack and Dana, both were talking like something was wrong. And Robby’s stomach made a flip.

“Good morning. What’s happening? Why the long faces?”

Always the good friend and more sensitive, Dana broke the silence. “Listen, about an hour ago there was a little fight, nothing mayor, the security guards acted really fast, and no patient or companion were hurt, but one of our own was in the middle and took a fall.”

“So, I guess that they are here, right? And probably Gloria is gonna be up in my ass about it, that’s it?”

Dana and Jack exchanged looks before Jack spoke. “Yes, that’s part of what we needed to tell you. They are waiting for exams results and an x-ray in south 4. From what I observed, it’s only a dislocated shoulder and some scratches, nothing more.”

Robby looked at his friends, and something clicked in his mind, if something happened to one of their team, they had already said it, so, there was only one choice. “When are you gonna tell me my wife is the patient?” He didn’t want to get angry at them, they were trying to keep it as quiet as they can.

“What really happened?” Rooby looked at both, searching for answers, anxious.

This time, Dana spoke. “She was with the family of an oncological patient, just a kid… Anyway, from what I know from the nurses there, the father was abusive, the doctors called child’s service and everything went downhill.”

“How is she?” Robby looked at Jack.

“In pain, levels normal for a dislocated shoulder, but nothing else”.

“She hit her head?”

“No”.

Robby scratched his neck and squeezed his lips, took a breath and lowered his arms, as if preparing for an inevitable battle. “Alright, let’s go, Jack”.

He started walking, beside him, Abbot looked unimpressed but worried. “Look, brother, she’ll be fine, just a couple of weeks”.

“I know…”

“You could send someone else if you’re not ready to talk to her, she understands.”

Robby knew all that, but he wanted, no, he needed to see her. Look at her and make sure that she was as fine as she could be.

When they came to south 4, he inhaled and ran the curtain. There, in the bed, was the love of his life. She looked at both, her hands were trembling, Robby didn’t know if it was for the pain or the aftershock.

“Hello, Jack told me what happened to you”.

Robby came close to the bedside, he didn’t touch you, but it was the closest you have been in more than a year, and you became more nervous. “Yeah, everything was quickly, didn’t have time to react.”

“Did you hit your head?” Robby looked at you with clinical eyes, trying to see if the shoulder was the only problem.

“No, at least I don’t think so…”

“Then I’m ordering more exams, we need to rule out a concussion”.

Jack had that small smile that said a lot without saying anything. He knew that his friend probably was dying to touch you, but was too stubborn to do it, even to examinate your shoulder. They were looking at each other like a deer in the headlights. He cleared his throat. “OK, Robby, can we continue with the shift change? I’m sure that she would be the best patient, right, y/n?”

The look she gave him said that he was going to pay for that later, but he didn’t care, he cared about both. And he wanted to go to sleep.

“Yes, of course… I see you later”. Robby said to his wife, her hands still trembling, so he did what he always did when she was anxious and squeezed her hand before going out with Abbot. His heart was beating fast, and everything he could think about was the warmth of your hand.

______

Taglist: @emma8895eb

[lambmurdock]

m. murdock

content warnings: stalking, allusions to violence and assault, MDNI

wc: 1,041

notes: (divider by @cursed-carmine)

dedicated to: @upended-jellyfish i couldn't have written this without your help, your encouragement, and the fact that you gave me the idea in the first place haha. i appreciate you so much!! <3

Even though your crazy ex-boyfriend was currently lying half beaten to death in an alley, you were still shaking, terrified. You didn’t really have anyone else in the city, your ex had isolated you from all your friends, and you were never close with your family in the first place. So, going home alone was the last thing you wanted. 

So when you ask Daredevil to watch over you on your way home, just to make sure nothing else happens to you, he couldn’t say no. Not with you looking up at him, eyes wide, tears streaming down your face quicker than you can brush away. 

He takes you home that night, says goodnight outside your apartment building, and even lets you hug him. You thank him and pray that he knows how much you mean it, that he knows just how grateful you really are. He listens as you walk away, up the stairs, and follows you with his senses until you reach your apartment. He waits until you’ve locked the door before slipping away, calling it a night and going home. 

Over the next few days, he finds you running across his mind more often than not. The way your shampoo invaded his senses as you hugged him that night. The cadence of your voice as you spoke–a siren song to him, drawing his thoughts back to you when they slipped back to the things he should be thinking about–his work, his friends, his life. 

You’re an itch he has to scratch. And so he does. He goes back to your apartment one night after his patrol, sneaking in and watching over you as you sleep. He tells himself it’s just to check up on you, a one-off just to see how you are. 

But it happens again.

And again.

And again. 

Until one day, it becomes a part of his routine, coming to see you after his patrols to watch over you. He doesn’t notice at first how your presence becomes a crutch for him, a way to ground himself after a long day or a hard patrol. He comes to you thinking he’s seen the worst of humanity and like some sort of angel, and without even meaning to, you show him that there’s still light in the world. You had become his anchor. 

—

Just as you’re about to close your eyes, you see it—a movement in the shadows. You let out a scream as you sit up, scrambling to turn the bedside lamp on. Your breathing’s choppy as you turn back around. You glance around the space, and just like that, it’s gone. Everything’s still. No monsters are lurking in the corners of your room. 

Maybe you hallucinated it. Or maybe it was your imagination, just your mind playing tricks on you in the dark. Besides, why would anyone be in your apartment? Why would anyone bother with you? You weren’t anyone special. You were a nobody. 

It didn’t matter anyway. No one was there. So you disregard it, lie back down, curl the blanket under your chin, and you go back to sleep. 

But it happens again. 

And again. 

And again. 

Until one day, it becomes a part of your routine, the darkness playing games with you like a nighttime ritual. As regular as brushing your teeth or making sure the front door is locked. For some reason, Matt took it as a sign from God, you always forgot to lock the windows. He thought maybe you were careless on purpose, that deep down you wanted the devil to come into your home, even if you didn’t know it yet. 

Secretly, you liked having your own little shadow. It was a small comfort to imagine you had some quiet company. Something that couldn’t judge you or perceive you, but who still stayed by your side on those cold nights in the big city. Something that you couldn’t push away or let slip through your fingers. Something that was unconditionally yours. 

—

You’re asleep by the time he gets there tonight. He doesn’t have to wait before sneaking in, opening your living room window, and climbing in with a practiced ease. He closes it behind himself and heads to your bedroom, his footsteps silent.

He stands in the far corner, breathing in your scent. It’s much stronger in here. It bleeds from your skin and onto your sheets, seeping into the air. He lets out the breath he took in, and as always, the tension in his shoulders releases. Your steady heartbeat like a lullaby as he makes himself comfortable in the darkness of your room. 

—

You wake up in a cold sweat, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob, desperately gasping for air. Your hands clutch the sheets, knuckles turning white, shaking. You can’t fully recall the nightmare anymore. It’s already lost in the limbo between dreams and reality. The only thing left–a hollow pit in your stomach, like walking down a flight of stairs and missing the last one. 

Matt listens as you cry, hears as your heart practically beats out of your chest. The sound hits his ears harder than any of the blows he took tonight. You need him right now. He could chase away your fears, keep you safe and tucked up in his arms from everything that would ever dare to hurt you. So he moves towards you, slow and steady, like approaching a wounded animal. You don’t notice he’s there until the bed dips and his arms wrap around you. 

Your sobs turn into muffled screams as he puts his gloved hand over your mouth, shushing you quietly. 

“It’s me. Sweetheart, it’s me.” He lets you turn around to look at him. It takes you a second to recognise him in the dark, your screams subsiding as he pulls his hand away from your mouth. 

Your eyes widen as you take him in. Despite your shock, your body relaxes, breath comes to you more easily. Your heartbeat less a pounding in his ears now and more like a hyperactive kitten pawing at the furniture. 

“Daredevil? W-what are you..?”

His hand strokes over your hair gently, his voice dangerously soft,  “You asked me to watch over you. Don’t you remember?” 

[igotatasteforoldermendelrey]

To call you mine.

Picture from lydiatovey on Pinterest.

A/N : hi guys! It’s been a while… Sorry about that. Anyway I’m back with some dbf!joel x reader. Hope you will like it.

English is not my first language, you might find mistakes in there.

+18

Ship : dbf!Joel x reader

Summary : after getting caught by the cops at a rave party you didn’t want to go in the first place, you call Joel to come get you out. Follows an interesting night…

Warnings : age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, Joel in his mid forties), angst, feelings, mention of drugs (not used by any of them), subjective themes, cursing, happy ending!

If I forgot anything, please tell me!

I do not consent to any of my work to be translated or posted anywhere else without my permission.

Banners made on Pinterest.

A single mistake and it messed everything up. You weren’t like that. You were not reckless, greedy and stupid. Your friend had to convince you for one week to accompany her to this rave everyone was talking about. Habitually you would’ve said no, justifying your refusal by saying you had to work for you exams. However, your exams passed you couldn’t use it as an excuse now and Monica knew it. She dragged you to this party only to leave you as you as the cops showed up.

That how you find yourself in this cell, sat on a bench, your make up smudged all over your face. It was a shit week, a shit day and an even shittier evening. It wasn’t even a nice party, people that were high on drugs screaming in your ears on beat to an awful sound.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a cop calling out your last name. You raised your stare to look at him.

Your dad’s here to get you. Come on. He opened the cell door and let you out, walking behind you to the front desk.

You knew really well that the man that was going to be waiting on you wasn’t your father. Hell your real dad would have skinned you alive. You already knew the man was going to be pissed and when the door opened in front of you, you weren’t surprised to find Joel scolding, his hip cocked against the counter.

It was two in the morning. Even for a Sunday Joel was long asleep when the ring of his phone woke him up. He could have said no and leave you to face the consequences of your actions but he couldn’t. He could already see your sad eyes in his head, your lips wobbling.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t acknowledge you and turned toward the man behind the counter, ready to pay your bail. You were cold, shiver apparent on your skin, you had a headache and you were sure it was going to be even worse when the old man will scold you.

Joel finished his business and turn towards you, grunting a let’s go while pushing you toward the exit. He still didn’t talk to you, walking in front of you toward his truck. You climbed in the passenger seat, looking at the window. The older man turned on the heating, seeing you were still trembling in the tiny little thing you called a dress.

You drove several minutes in utter silence, the light in the street the only thing distracting you from the man seated not so far from you. His grip on the wheel was tight, so tight his knuckles were turning white.

Aren’t you gonna say something or do you plan on doing a silent treatment until you die?

What do you want me to say? I’m not your father.

That’s not what the cop seemed to think. You replied with a smirk and turned to look at him.

He sighed. What has gotten into you? You’re not like that. You’re a good girl, you don’t get in trouble. So what was that?

I just wanted to have some fun it’s not that big of a deal. A roll of eyes.

Don’t bullshit me. You and I both know you’re aware of what getting arrested could’ve led to if I wasn’t there to save your ass. Is this again because of your friend Tracey?

Trac- Are you talking about Monica?

Yes. Since you know here you’re always unbothered by everything. Like a brat.

I’m a big girl, Joel. I don’t need you to lecture me.

And yet I had to come get your ass because you couldn’t call your father.

You know damn well he would’ve let me there.

Yes he would’ve. Maybe I should’ve. He muttered as if he was scolding himself for even answering the phone.

So why did you come? You pressed him, getting slightly closer.

Because I didn’t want you to die of hypothermia in those… are those underwear? He took a double look at your outfit, his eyes widening.

They’re not mine. You pulled the bottom of your dress to cover more skin. Monica said that’s how everyone at a rave dressed up.

And since when have you stopped thinking by yourself?

Oh come on, Joel. I’m graduating college this summer. I just wanted to let loose a little before getting serious again.

Couldn’t you just go to a bar or something? Like everyone.

I didn’t even want to go there. She persuaded me.

And where was she when the cops showed up? Your silence answered his questions. You need to change of friends. They’re no good for you.

You didn’t reply and content to look out the window. When Joel parked his truck in front of your building, you searched your bag for your keys.

Fuck me. You groaned, eyes closed.

What?

My keys are at Monica’s. I was supposed to go back at her place to get my stuff. Fuck. I’m so fucking dumb. Your eyes were tingling, the tears not far away.

Joel started the car again, driving off the parking lot.

Where are we going?

At mine. It’s not like you can show up at your father’s dressed like that and at this time.

You didn’t move away from your spot close to him, your shoulders brushing.

Joel knew you were trouble. He has known it since he met you. The first time your father presented you to him, you were freshly back from college, coming home for a month during summer. You were radiant, a grin fixed on your lips, talking easily with him. This day is engraved in his mind, the way your dress was flowing around you, the smell of your perfume, the one you were still wearing today. You were in your early twenties while he was in late thirties to not say he was going to be forty in a month. Nothing could happen here and yet his body seemed to completely ignore his morals. As soon as you were in his vicinity it seemed like he was physically pulled towards your father’s house, towards you.

The worse is that you never blandly did anything that could justify his reaction. You never flirted with him, never stayed too long in the living room when he was over to watch tv with your father. You acted normally like a twenty something would do with an older man like him around. And yet, he was sure you weren’t blind to the effects you had on him. Sometimes he could swear you would stare at him a little longer than you should or laugh a little louder to his joke. Still, he didn’t say anything since he couldn’t prove that this impression were not fabricated by his perverted mind.

Thank you for coming get me. You whispered, watching his side.

You owe me one.

You want me to get on my knees to thank you? You asked with a smirk.

He chocked on his saliva. That was a first. You never so openly acknowledged any kind of attraction toward him.

Y/n, come on… You can say shit like that.

Why? It’s not like they’re not true.

What? He refused to look at you, he knew one look at his face and you would realise how flustered he was.

I’ve seen the way you look at me Joel. The way you have to fix your pants every time I’m near. I’m not dumb, I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

You’re imagining things, sweets.

If it conforts you thinking that.

~~~

You were in his house. For the first time you got the chance to take a look at his personal belongings. His house was neatly arranged, no forgotten cup on the coffee table, no trace of dirty dishes. Every lights were turned off, a trace of the fact he was asleep when you called.

When you’re done inspecting every inch of my house will you want to take a shower? He asked you without emotions.

If it doesn’t bother you too much.

You’re already bothering me. Might as well do that clean.

Ahah. You’re so funny. You brushed past him, walking into his kitchen. You didn’t even ask before you started opening his cabinets in the search of a glass. When you find one you took it to the sink and put some water in it.

Joel should be bothered by the fact you were acting as if you were at your own place. He should be. He wasn’t. The vision of you standing in his kitchen, getting a glass of water as if you were accustomed was truly doing marvellous things to his mind. He cleared his throat before his mind explode.

Did you… did you take anything tonight? Like any substances I should be aware of in case you wake up not feeling well?

No. They offered me stuff though.

You refused?

Yeah. I didn’t want to be found dancing naked in the middle of a road in the morning. You finished your glass of water, putting it in the sink. So, where is this shower you promised me?

He showed you upstairs where was his bathroom, got clothes for you since he didn’t want you to stay in your dirty, and tiny, clothes. Here, he placed on the sink sweatshirt and sweat pants. Should fit you.

Thank you. You replied, walking him to the door before pushing it, not closing it fully to tease him even more.

You didn’t know what has gotten into you. Probably when you saw him at the police station, his calm yet angry expression when you came out of the cell. You didn’t miss the panic in his eyes that was quickly replaced by anger when he was sure you were alright. The truth was that you were tired of hiding your attraction, tired of acting like you didn’t want him, no, needed him. You were hoping he would come in the bathroom and get in the shower with you, maybe to punish you for the way you acted. He didn’t do such thing and when you walked out of the bathroom he was gone, you could hear the tv downstairs. You made your way downstairs, wet hair tangled on your shoulders.

He was seated on the couch, pillow in hand, trying to fix himself his bed for the night.

What are you doing? You asked him, your back against a wall.

He looked up at you, staring a second too long at the way his clothes were hugging your form, getting to touch your skin in a way he wanted to. Glad it… he cleared his throat. Fits.

It’s not a surprise, you’re like much bigger than me. Anyway. What are you doing?

My bed?

No you’re not.

Excuse me? He raised his brow.

I already woke you up in the middle of the night, get you to come get me from the police station I’m not gonna steal your bed.

You’re not stealing, I’m offering.

Yeah, you’re offering to break your back.

Take the bed, sweet. I won’t move from here. He replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

As you wish. You sighed, getting back upstairs.

You laid down on his bed, the mattress framing you perfectly. His sheets smelled like him making your mind believe that he was next to you, sleeping. You wished that was the case, only wanting to put your head in his neck, to kiss him like he was yours. Shaking the fantaisies away, you let sleep take you away.

~~~

One hour later.

You woke up covered in sweat, your breathing uneven. Pushing back your hair from your face you tried to get back to sleep unsuccessfully. Deciding you needed water, you got up and went downstairs and there he was, laying on his back on the couch, fast asleep. He seemed peaceful like that, his habitual frown nowhere to be seen, fully relaxed. Until he wasn’t. He noticed you were there even though you made no sound.

Sweetheart? Are you okay? He asked, sleep clear in his voice.

I-… I don’t know. You were standing his living room, your fingers fidgeting.

Come here. He sat up, patting the spot next to him. What’s going on?

Do you think I will find it again? You asked as you sat down.

What?

A purpose. I had one during college. It was to graduate but now that’s going to happen soon… I just… I don’t know. It doesn’t matter anyway, I shouldn’t have woken you up.

You will. Really. You will as long as you didn’t accomplish everything you wanted. He replied while putting his arm around you after you put your head on his shoulder.

You looked up at him, his breath falling on your face. The atmosphere changed, your breathing patterns changed. He was looking down at you with something darker, deeper something he could never confess. You tried to get closer, to close the gap until he kept you still with his arm.

We can’t.

Why? You hated the way you sounded begging.

Because I’m older, because you’re tired, because of your father, because it’s not supposed to happen.

What’s supposed to happen then?

You find someone your age, not too boring marry them, I die alone.

I don’t agree. Yes I’m tired but still capable to consent. It’s not new this… attraction. I always felt it. You did too. We want it. And for the rest, fuck it.

Fuck it? He snorted. Baby, you know we can’t, your father would kill the both of us. He pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. I’m older, wiser- not more intelligent. He interrupted you before you could make a snarky comment. We are almost twenty years apart, honey. You still have so much time to figure out what you want.

I want you. Please Joel… I need you. You begged, clutching his shirt in your hand. Even if it’s just for one night.

With you it cannot be just for one night. He crashed his lips on yours, pulling you on his lap.

~~~

He was holding you close to his bare chest, kissing your shoulder.

You mess with my mind. He muttered in your skin, his breath tickling you.

Because you don’t? You turned in his arms. I got a job offer here in Austin. You caught the glimpse of hope in his his before he hid it away. I’m going to accept it.

So… you’re staying?

You nodded. Joel I was serious when I said I didn’t want that, us, to be just for one night.

So you want to sneak out? He asked with a small smile.

As long as we will need to.

And then?

If you’re as serious about me as I am about you then we make it official. Even to my father.

Can I take you on a date first? You both laughed at that. He took your head between his hands, his legs tangles with yours. Are you sure?

Yes, sir. You mocked a salute to which he groaned.

He sighed out of relief, tightening his embrace on you. You could feel sleep getting to you, not fighting against it this time, leaving Joel’s breathing pattern lull you to sleep.

You don’t know how much I wanted to call you mine. He whispered in your hair before kissing the top of your hair, unsure if you heard him. You did, a small smile on your lips.

[sunarinio]

confused, really

atsumu miya x reader

is he just a friend, or something more?

he knew everything about you. because you told him everything. but did you know everything about him? heaven only knows.

atsumu and you were friends. normal friends. who sometimes talked all night long. normal friends do that right?

because you thought you did. after a conversation that spanned four hours into the night, you cut the call and thought to yourself, “this is it. he told me so much about his childhood today, he definitely likes me back.”

only for you to clench your jaw the next day when hana at the lunch table said “oh, atsumu, do you know hyuga? he went to the same volleyball club as you in middle school” why the hell does she know the name of his middle school volleyball club?

it wasn’t just her, it seemed like atsumu talked to everyone and everyone knew things about him. some things that you did, some things that you didn’t. it wasn’t that you were jealous but you realised you must have overthought this. he talks to everyone. maybe yesterday it was just your turn. you wondered whether the other calls lasted as long as yours did. or could it be he called others for longer? no that would be absurd, a four hour call was already too much.

before you could spiral into more overthinking, atsumu’s voice brought you back. “oh hyuga! now i remember!” he turned to you from across the table “y/n you remember i told you yesterday about the guy in middle school who sneaked in snacks for us after practice? that’s him!” he laughed, his attention going back to hana “he was a lifesaver, i swear. the food they provided was outright tasteless”

and the conversation continued and you were forgotten again. you preferred it this way anyway. the only attention you really wanted was his, not the whole table’s. points stacked up on your side though. you knew something about him that they didn’t.

after classes though you were dejected again. all the overthinking had gotten you to believe that he really didn’t like you back. it was just you fantasizing. you said goodbye to your friends and walked to your dorm.

“hey y/n! wait up!”

you turned back. atsumu.

you smiled involuntarily. “hey tsum, need something?”

he ran up to you, a little breathless, “y/n you have to come with me”

your head tilted to the side, “where?”

“you had said we could watch that anime today. you forgot.” he huffed, crossing his arms.

realisation suddenly hit you. you really had promised him something like that.

you chuckled nervously, “tsumu can we do it on the weekend? i’m not feeling it today” you couldn’t spend more time with him after all that overthinking.

atsumu frowned, “something’s wrong?”

you shook your head, “no, just tired, that’s all. why don’t you watch it with someone else? i think suna watches it”

atsumu’s frowned deepened, “no. i have to watch it with you”

your heart skipped a beat. “why me?”

he looked away, “i don’t know, it just has to be you”

“i don’t think i understand…” you really didn’t. he talked to everyone in the college. you were sure there were other people he could watch it with.

atsumu sighed before meeting you gaze again, “it’s just…i care about your opinion more than anyone else’s alright? i wanna know your thoughts and feelings about it, not suna’s. or anyone else’s.”

your mouth formed an o.

“please? i’ll come to your dorm if you want. but i can’t wait for the next episode,” he almost whined. sometimes you almost forgot miya atsumu was a big baby.

you chuckled, “fine, come on then”

atsumu started walking next to you, a grin on his face as he yapped about the anime continuously with a few inputs from your side into the conversation.

maybe atsumu did talk to everyone. but a little more to you than others.

[teaspacebar]

RIN ITOSHI ˖⁺‧₊˚✦

childhood friends to lovers. hahaha rin is whipped and he doesn't even know it. ~.9k

↩ last

rin never contacts you first.

you’re already messaging him by the time he wakes up at 5am to go for his morning run.

it’s like you think he’s your diary or something.

what you had for breakfast. how your classes went. about a customer at work that was so stupid it sent you spiraling. a new movie that just got announced with your favorite actor.

he replies most of the time — about the stuff that interests him. you’re not really looking for a response anyways. you’ll ask him a question if you wanted his opinion on it.

it used to bother him. in the end, your persistence was something that even he couldn’t fight off and eventually he just let you do it (with some light bullying of course).

but you haven’t texted him in over 24 hours.

which wouldn’t necessarily be a cause for concern (not that rin had any of course), but normally you can’t shut up. or you’ll tell him that you’re busy and will text when you’re free.

but there’s been nothing. not a peep.

so he messaged you. just a simple, hey.

and then another. are you dead, or something?

nothing.

the last one he sent was a few minutes before practice. if this is a joke, it’s not funny.

and rin is itching in his skin. he’s so out of it that isagi is running fucking circles around him. which just pisses him off more.

he has no idea what you’re doing. where you are. did you tell him about a trip that he forgot about? he’s mulling it over and over in his brain until his teeth are grinding so hard that he gives himself a headache.

“you seem off today,” isagi comments as he takes a swig from his water bottle.

“fuck off,” rin snarls, shoving his training clothes into his bag.

bachira comes up between them, grin far too big to be sincere, “now what’s gotten you all riled up? woke up on the wrong side of the bed?”

he’s about to bite the little creature’s head off, when his phone lets out a little ding! he all but scrambles for it, seeing your name pop up in his notifications. his head clears; he can breathe. you’re fine. you sent a little waving gif to him.

he’s gonna kill you.

without thinking, he grabs his bag and flings it over his shoulder, putting his phone to his ear after hitting the call button. he storms out of the locker room, ignoring the shouts of his teammates, when you answer.

“oh! rin, hi,” you sound surprised.

he cuts you off before you can start blabbing, “what happened?”

“what do you mean?”

“you go from texting every five minutes to disappearing off the face of the planet without telling anyone?” his blood is boiling. the relief he felt earlier is buried by anger and frustration. he's keeping his tone level, but his fingernails are biting into his palm with how hard he's clenching his fist.

“rin, my phone broke while i was at a friends." your voice is gentle, like you've caught him in his internal struggle. "i didn't bring my laptop with me either. i just got a new phone today on my way back home."

he's silent, tightness in his throat.

"i didn't mean to worry you."

"you didn't," he snaps.

you hum, "okay." there's rustling on your end, giving him space. "i missed you. you have practice today, yeah?" the sentiment is run through by your question, like it's not a big deal. rin doesn't have the wherewithal to think on it.

"just finished."

"that's good!" you go into talking to him about your day trip, and he listens on his drive home.

he's throwing his training clothes into the wash by the time you've settled down for the night. you've swapped to video call, your face barely visible as you snuggle underneath your comforter.

"rin?"

"hm?"

"i really am sorry that i worried you. i didn't think it was a big deal for you, i guess. thought it was more of a me thing."

he knows what you're referring to. the friendship - if rin could even call it that - was fresh then. a year, at most. no voice channel, no video calls. just the two of you messaging each other (mostly on the horror ARG server you two met on, sometimes directly). the two of you hadn't even shared names yet. he shut down, after sae came home - after their fight. he didn't respond to your messages for weeks. he showed back up quieter, hardened.

you chewed him out. thought that he could've been dead, or worse. a typical reaction for a lonely teenager to have. you weren't really angry at him, back then. you were scared. and yet you stuck by him long enough to be okay with not hearing from him for the entirety of blue lock. even when he was being a dick.

he sighs, "it's fine. just, be careful, alright? you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached to you."

you chuckle into your pillow, "yeah, probably. that's what i have you for, though."

"go to sleep. i have shit to do."

a small squeak leaves your lips as you yawn, "yeah, yeah, go be the best soccer player, or whatever."

"text me when you wake up."

he's never asked you that before.

he wakes up the next day with a exactly what he asked for.

didn't know you were a stage-five clinger. have a good day!!

yeah, he's gonna kill you.

[kingkruell]

MARGINALIA | PART 2

LOVE LETTERS (AND OTHER TRAGEDIES)

WC: 5.287

SUMMARY - gojo satoru, half-drowned in his hoodie and fully drowning in his own crush, sends the text—something about your handwriting curling its toes and your eyebrows having feelings. you laugh. he panics. you say hi. he short-circuits.

a nerdjo series

listening to side by side - crumb

nerdjo artwork by @/629sora on X

[reblog and comment for next part’s taglist]

part 1 >> part 3

“fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck.”

the words tumble out of gojo satoru’s mouth like a prayer on a loop, low and urgent under his breath as he paces his dorm room like a man possessed. beads of sweat glisten at his hairline, clinging to the white strands plastered against his forehead. the rain taps softly against the half-open window, cool night air sneaking in to brush against his skin, but inside the dim, cramped room, he’s burning.

not from the heat. not from the ramen cup he forgot he made.

from you.

from the text.

oh god. the text.

he stops mid-step, fingers tightening in his hair as he stares blankly at the glow of his phone screen on the bed. it might as well be a live grenade. his heart is a fist in his throat.

this isn’t happening.

there is no way gojo satoru—the guy who barely flinches at project deadlines, who routinely forgets socks are a social expectation, who hasn’t seriously thought about a girl since he discovered how many command-line tools exist—just blew a fuse over a couple of dumb messages.

except he did.

and it wasn’t just some girl. it was you.

fucking y/n.

earlier, it had started out like any other rainy thursday. he was wandering the sociology building like a ghost without purpose, nursing a vending machine coffee that tasted criminally close to battery acid. geto warned him, but did he listen? no. because apparently, he was too busy daydreaming like a loser.

because there you were.

just like that.

half-tired, notebook hugged to your chest, earphones dangling from your hoodie. you didn’t see him, but he saw you. all of you. and for one excruciating second, the world kind of stuttered to a halt. gojo watched the way your eyes narrowed at your phone, the way your brow furrowed in concentration, and he had the stupidest, most uncontrollable thought:

i want to be the reason she looks that focused.

he didn’t even say hi.

he couldn’t. he froze like a total coward, eyes wide behind his glasses, mouth twitching like he was buffering.

you walked right past him.

by the time he got back to his room, he was spiraling. the door slammed behind him, rain-slick hoodie still clinging to his back, shoes kicked off like an afterthought. he didn’t turn on the lights, just let the soft blue wash of his monitor screen and the streetlamp outside guide him. he told himself he was going to work on that media ethics assignment. ha. yeah. right.

instead, his thumb hovered over your name in his contacts.

you were still in there from that one group project. the one where he barely made eye contact with you, too busy sweating bullets anytime you leaned over to check his slides. your name had just sat there since. quiet, unbothered. he’d opened the chat more times than he could count, typing out things like “do you know what the professor meant by—” only to backspace until it was blank again.

but tonight? honestly, gojo doesn’t even know what took over him.

maybe it was the coffee. maybe it was the sound of your voice echoing faintly in his head. maybe he finally just lost his grip on self-preservation.

because he sent it.

he actually sent it.

two messages. innocent in theory. mortifying in execution.

your handwriting’s kind of insane. in a good way. like if emotions could curl their toes

also your eyes do this thing when you’re listening really hard. like your eyebrows lean forward first?? anyway

he stares at them like they’re the last thing he’ll ever see before his soul departs his body.

“why the fuck did i say that?!” he screeches, voice cracking in the quiet of the room.

he throws himself face-first into his pillow, limbs flailing dramatically before curling up like a dying spider. his brain is already drafting his obituary. gojo satoru, 19. died of terminal rizz failure. survived by his equally pathetic browser history and one unopened can of monster energy.

he rolls onto his back, eyes wide as he mentally replays the possible outcomes:

• you think it’s weird and block him.

• you think it’s creepy and report him to the dean.

• you laugh at it with your friends and never make eye contact with him again.

but worst of all?

you don’t respond.

time slows. then stretches. then coils into a painful kind of silence. he stares at the message bubbles until they blur. nothing. not even the “typing…” indicator. his stomach twists. he tries to distract himself with anything—with his assignment, even opens up a github repo to trick his brain into feeling productive, but his fingers hover uselessly over the keys. he can’t write a line. he’s too busy imagining you reading it and cringing. or worse, never reading it at all.

hours pass. he doesn’t change out of his hoodie. doesn’t brush his teeth. he just lies there, eyes flicking to the phone every few minutes like clockwork, until exhaustion finally drags him under.

when he wakes up, it’s nearly 11 pm. his neck hurts, his hair’s a mess, and his laptop fan is still whirring. groggily, he grabs his phone with one eye open. he fumbles it. it clatters to the ground. he groans.

no new notifications.

no response.

he stares at the ceiling, heart sinking with finality.

social suicide complete. mission failed. we’ll get ’em next semester.

gojo satoru has fallen, and he might never recover.

the next media ethics class arrived like a guillotine.

gojo hadn’t slept the night beforec not really. he’d laid in bed, eyes pinned to the ceiling, limbs limp with exhaustion but mind wired with that special brand of self-loathing reserved for people who had just committed social suicide via text message. some obscure tech podcast murmured from his speakers, something about open-source compression algorithms. he wasn’t listening. he just needed noise. white, meaningless noise to drown out the replays of his own message.

the message.

god, the message.

he had scrolled back to it more times than he wanted to admit, rereading it like some deranged literary critic dissecting his own obituary. it had started off almost charming in his mind. quirky, even. a little heartfelt.

but now? now it just read like he had a toe-curling kink for handwriting and eyebrows.

why did he say that?

what the hell were “emotions curling their toes”?

what did that mean?

by morning, he’d convinced himself that the only viable course of action was to change his name, drop out, and rebrand as a goat herder in a remote scandinavian village.

but his stupid academic guilt complex, the same one that wouldn’t let him miss a single assignment deadline, dragged him to class anyway. hoodie half-zipped, bag slung haphazardly over one shoulder, he trudged through the gray, rain-slicked campus like a man marching toward execution.

and now, here he was. standing at the door of the lecture hall like it was the gates of hell.

the room buzzed with the usual ambient noise: chair legs scraped against tile, laptops chimed as they booted up, a small group of students near the front debated whether a tabloid could ever be considered real journalism. fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting everything in that cold, slightly too-blue glow that made everyone look vaguely sleep-deprived.

gojo scanned the room once.

and there you were.

you were already seated, halfway through a fresh page in your notebook, your brow slightly furrowed in concentration. your water bottle was propped against your phone, your bag slouched beside your chair like a lazy dog. you looked focused, calm, beautifully unaffected. the exact opposite of how he felt.

and…there it was.

the empty seat beside you.

the seat he always took.

gojo’s breath caught in his throat. his fingers flexed on the strap of his bag.

just sit. it’s fine. just act like nothing happened.

but his feet betrayed him. a cold spike of fear lanced through his chest and propelled him in the opposite direction. his brain screamed “ABORT MISSION, ABORT MISSION!” and he obeyed without hesitation, making a sharp left turn toward the back of the classroom, where he found refuge behind a guy with shoulders the size of a small hatchback.

he dropped into the chair and immediately regretted everything.

his notebook? forgotten. his pen? nowhere in sight. his laptop? dead. of course.

all he had was a buzzing skull and a heart that refused to beat at a normal pace.

class started, but he barely registered the lecture. the professor’s voice was just background noise, a wash of academic syllables about media frameworks and ethical responsibility. gojo stared at a blank corner of the wall and replayed every moment from the past three days like his brain had become a cursed vhs tape.

why didn’t she say anything?

why didn’t she reply?

was it too much?

was it creepy?

a cold sweat crept down the back of his neck.

he caught himself glancing at you once, just once, a flicker of a moment between self-flagellation loops. you didn’t seem upset. or weirded out. you looked… the same.

but maybe that was worse.

when class finally ended, gojo shot up like the room was suddenly underwater and he needed air. he gathered his things with uncharacteristic efficiency, shoving loose pages into his hoodie pocket, slamming his laptop shut even though it hadn’t been on, practically sprinting for the door.

and then—

“hey, gojo.”

he froze.

you said his name like it wasn’t a weapon. soft. casual. friendly, even.

his body seized like someone had unplugged him from reality.

he turned his head toward you, barely.

you were standing by your desk, bag slung over one shoulder, a quiet smile blooming across your lips. your eyes were calm. not mocking, not at all.

huh

his throat cinched tight, like his body had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. he blinked, wide-eyed, caught somewhere between awe and full-on panic—like a deer in headlights with a crush and zero emotional regulation.

and god. why did you have to look like that today?

he’d never seen you wear that skirt before. it hugged your hips just enough to send his brain into a slow, buffering spiral. the way it moved when you walked—soft, swaying, completely unbothered—was unfair. cruel, even. his gaze darted away before he could make it weirder than it already was.

nope. nope nope nope. abort. he was being weird. he was absolutely being weird.

“hi,” he blurted. too fast. too high. the i cracked like glass under pressure.

and then, because his body was a traitor to his entire existence, he bolted.

nearly tripped on someone’s bag. stumbled into the hallway. didn’t stop until he was out of the building and two full blocks away, standing outside a noodle shop he didn’t even like, chest heaving like he’d just outrun a very specific and emotionally perceptive ghost.

he makes his way into the dorms, gojo burst into his dorm room like he was being chased by armed regret.

the door slammed shut behind him with a thud that made his abandoned ramen cup tremble on the desk. his hoodie was half-off, halfway on—he yanked it off like it offended him and threw it across the room. then immediately regretted that, too. what if it was bad hoodie karma? what if the fibers of shame were still on it?

he paced a quick, frantic loop. once. twice. on the third, he tripped over his own backpack and nearly took out the cheap lamp by the bed.

“okay,” he muttered. “okay, okay, okay.”

then, he reached for his phone like a soldier hitting the emergency signal.

group chat

gojo

emergency

gojo

code red

come to my room or i’m deleting myself from the academic system

two minutes later, his door flew open again, this time with the worn-out creak of someone who didn’t even bother knocking.

“every time you say ‘emergency,’ i lose a year off my life,” utahime snapped as she entered, dragging her umbrella with her. “this better not be about your failed protein shake experiment again.”

nanami followed, looking like he’d been dragged there directly from the library. he was holding a book and the disappointment of a man with finals on his mind.

geto came last, coffee in hand, eyes amused already.

gojo flailed toward them like a man going down with the ship.

“she said hi,” he announced.

there was a pause. the silence that followed was not triumphant. it was clinical.

utahime blinked. “and…?”

“and i bolted!” gojo shouted, arms thrown skyward. “like—physically fled the scene! i said ‘hi’ and then literally almost tripped over a backpack trying to escape. i can never show my face in that class again.”

nanami sighed. “you interrupted my reading time for this?”

“you don’t understand,” gojo said, spinning toward him like this was a courtroom drama and nanami was the judge. “i sent her the text. i told her her eyebrows lean forward when she listens and that her handwriting has emotional toes. toes, nanami.”

geto nearly choked on his coffee.

“i didn’t think it could get worse than the eyebrows,” utahime muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“she didn’t respond,” gojo said, collapsing onto the floor like gravity had finally taken him. “it’s been two days. that’s, like, six college years. and then today, in class, she looked normal. like not-murderous. and she said hi. i should’ve just sat down next to her like usual but instead i went full cryptid and sprinted out like a cursed victorian child avoiding eye contact in a hallway.”

geto had officially stopped pretending to sip his coffee. “i’m sorry—emotional toes?”

“curled their toes,” gojo corrected, miserably.

there was a beat of silence. and then, as if summoned by the universe’s sick sense of timing, a sharp ping echoed from gojo’s phone. it lit up beside him on the floor.

all four of them froze.

gojo blinked. “oh no.”

utahime stared. “is that—”

“no,” he whispered.

nanami leaned in slightly. “you gonna check it or just die next to it?”

gojo reached for it like it was a bomb and he didn’t know which wire to cut.

the screen lit up again.

y/n

hi lol sorry for the late response

but lmao the toe thing made me laugh. didn’t know my eyebrows had a personality but i’m honored. also. you’re kinda weird. but like. the good kind??

he reread it. then reread it again. his hand dropped from his mouth.

geto leaned over his shoulder. “damn. she likes weird.”

utahime grinned. “miracles happen.”

gojo’s heart was doing something unnatural. something that felt suspiciously like hope with a caffeine overdose. he rolled onto his back, phone clutched to his chest like it was a lifeline.

“she responded,” he whispered. “she doesn’t hate me. she thinks i’m weird in the good way.”

he stared at the screen for a long moment. then sat up slowly, still dizzy with disbelief.

his fingers hovered over the keyboard

gojo didn’t move for a solid ten seconds. just lay there on the floor, like the world had glitched and he wasn’t sure whether to reboot or ascend.

geto squatted beside him, one brow raised. “is he breathing?”

“hard to say,” utahime said, already rifling through gojo’s snack drawer like she lived there. “he looks like he just saw god. or her instagram story.”

gojo finally inhaled, sharp and sudden, like he’d forgotten that breathing was, in fact, required. “she doesn’t hate me,” he whispered again, like it was a sacred chant. “she laughed. she said i’m weird. but the good kind. the good kind, guys.”

nanami, who’d settled stiffly into the desk chair, sighed and set his book down. “you’re telling me this entire scene,”—he gestured vaguely at the mess of gojo’s body, hoodie, and emotional meltdown—“was over one semi-flirty, eyebrow-themed text and a delayed response?”

“one text?” gojo sat up like he’d been resurrected. “that was a piece of my soul, nanami. that was vulnerability. that was toe metaphors. you can’t just come back from that.”

utahime tossed a protein bar at his head. “well, she did. so now what? you gonna text her back or keep twitching like a victorian orphan with a quill?”

gojo clutched the protein bar like it was a holy artifact. “what do i even say?”

geto settled onto the bed, propping himself up with a pillow that had definitely not been washed in months. “you want honesty or strategy?”

“both,” gojo said.

“okay,” geto shrugged. “be honest, but like…strategically honest. no more body part metaphors. maybe just… ask her something. keep the convo going. be normal.”

“define ‘normal,’” gojo said.

nanami raised an eyebrow. “something you are fundamentally incapable of.”

utahime snorted. “just tell her you’re glad she replied. maybe make a joke. and do not overthink the punctuation.”

gojo scrambled upright, gripping his phone with the reverence of a man about to disarm a bomb.

“i can do this,” he muttered. “this is fine. we’re just talking. humans talk. this is a normal college interaction. i’m not falling apart over a girl who annotates her readings with pink highlighters and wears golden hoop earrings and—”

“gojo,” geto cut in, amused. “focus.”

“right, right.” he stared at the screen like it was staring back. then started typing.

gojo

honored to be the weird good kind.

also didn’t know i outed your eyebrow microexpressions but now i feel weirdly responsible for them

should i apologize or apply for naming rights?

he hovered over the send button. his thumb trembled.

“send it,” utahime said.

“don’t look at me while i do it,” gojo muttered.

“no promises,” geto grinned.

and with a deep breath—he hit send.

the message whooshed off into the void. gojo launched himself backward onto the bed, covering his face with a pillow, muffling a noise that might’ve been a scream or a wheeze. hard to tell.

“you’re ridiculous,” utahime said, chewing through the protein bar like it owed her money.

“and yet somehow,” geto added, “this is the most effort i’ve seen you put into anything that wasn’t a debate about anime endings or multithreaded processing.”

gojo peeked out from under the pillow, hair sticking in every direction. “is it always like this?” he asked. “liking someone?”

nanami stood, dusted off his jeans, and picked up his book like this detour into emotional chaos had already stretched too long.

“no,” he said, “sometimes it’s worse.”

utahime rolled her eyes, but her smirk softened. “you’ll live. probably.”

geto slung an arm over gojo’s shoulder before standing. “just tell us if she responds with another poetic breakdown of your social awkwardness.”

and in the silence that followed, broken only by the sound of crinkling wrappers and someone’s spotify lo-fi playlist looping in the background, gojo felt something strange.

she laughed, he thought. she read it and laughed.

either way, he’d take it.

so….you hadn’t meant to say hi.

or rather, you hadn’t expected it to feel like dropping a match into a very dry field. it was a small word, casually thrown over your shoulder as you zipped your bag, the kind of thing you said to people in passing, people who shared a table in a group project once, people you vaguely recognized. and yet when it hit gojo satoru, he reacted like you’d lobbed a brick at his chest.

you saw him before class even started—gojo, hair an absolute mess as usual, strands defiantly curling and sticking up like they had their own agenda. he looked jittery, the kind of nervous energy that made his limbs twitch just a little too much, like he was trying to run a thousand thoughts through his brain all at once and none of them had a pause button.

as usual, you shifted you bag, nudged your books aside, making room for him in the seat beside uou. It’s a routine by now, kind of like a silent pact: he slides in, maybe fiddles with his hoodie zipper, and we settle into the lecture. It’s a small gesture, but it’s one that’s grown familiar, comforting even.

but today was different, because he suddenly pivoted to sit somewhere further back. and after class, after you said that simple “hi,” you barely caught the way his shoulders jerked up, stiff as glass, or how his eyes, all wide and electric behind his glasses, flicked to you like he was still buffering. he looked… trapped. like you’d cornered him with your voice alone. and then, as if driven by some internal crisis too large for the moment, he took off.

not just turned and walked. no. he fled.

stumbled past chairs and bags with the coordination of a baby deer in combat boots, muttered something that could’ve been a farewell or a final wish, and practically careened out of the classroom.

you watched him go, your lips quirking into a quiet smile, half in disbelief, half in curiosity. then you packed up the rest of your things and left the room without ceremony. the hallway buzzed with student chatter and wet sneakers, but your mind lingered elsewhere.

okay. what the fuck was that?

oh. oh. the text.

the thing is, his message had made you laugh.

you’d gotten it just after a dizzying study session in the library. you hadn’t expected it. hadn’t even remembered he still had your number. you’d stared at his name for a moment, blinking.

and then you’d read it.

gojo

your handwriting’s kind of insane. in a good way. like if emotions could curl their toes

also your eyes do this thing when you’re listening really hard. like your eyebrows lean forward first?? anyway

it was so stupidly specific. so weird. and oddly tender.

you hadn’t responded right away. not out of malice or even confusion (maybe a little), but mostly because you’d been tired. it had been a long week, and his message was oddly placed in a timeline of academic chaos and grocery lists and crumpled notes you kept forgetting to rewrite. you meant to get back to it, but the day swallowed you whole.

when you did reply, it was while walking home in the rain, phone screen spotted with droplets and your fingers half-numb. you sent the message with a casual smile at your phone, thumbs moving instinctively.

hi lol sorry for the late response

but lmao the toe thing made me laugh. didn’t know my eyebrows had a personality but i’m honored. also. you’re kinda weird. but like. the good kind??

you hadn’t really expected anything from it. certainly not for it to mean anything.

but watching him today…panic in his retreat, the split-second way he’d looked at you, like you’d turned gravity on its head… you started to realize something.

gojo satoru was unraveling.

and apparently, you were the reason.

by the time you returned to your dorm, the rain had stopped. the air smelled like wet pavement and cheap shampoo. you dropped your bag by the door and collapsed into the cushions with your phone still in your hand.

it buzzed.

gojo

honored to be the weird good kind.

also didn’t know i outed your eyebrow microexpressions but now i feel weirdly responsible for them

should i apologize or apply for naming rights?

you exhaled slowly. the corners of your mouth lifted again.

there was something charming about him. not the polished kind of charming that knew it was charming, but the kind that stumbled, full of good intentions and poorly timed exits. it was the sort of charm that didn’t ask for anything. it just… flailed. loudly. like with…glitter.

you didn’t know what to make of it yet. you didn’t have to.

still, you typed back.

y/n

if you apply for naming rights, i expect royalties

also: who gave you the right to be this observant?? do you have a side hobby in eyebrow analytics or smth

you hesitated before sending it, thumb hovering, then tapped send anyway.

across the room, your laptop blinked with a reminder about an overdue article analysis. you ignored it. your eyes were still on the screen.

typing…

the indicator blinked, then vanished. then blinked again. and vanished.

you smiled and tucked the phone beneath your thigh.

.

.

the next day came quietly.

your morning routine was the same: lukewarm tea and a podcast you barely listened to while brushing your teeth. you didn’t check your phone first thing, only that he was there when you walked into the café on campus. alone. hoodie on, glasses pushed to the top of his head, typing furiously into a laptop with crumbs of what looked like a chocolate croissant decorating the table like confetti.

you paused. you could have walked right by. you nearly did.

but something in you itched.

you walked over and pulled the chair across from him, sat down like you’d done it before. his hands froze mid-keystroke. slowly, almost comically, his head lifted.

his eyes widened. mouth parted. you could practically see the full-body crash happening behind his expression.

“i didn’t know we were doing surprise interrogations now,” he said, blinking. “do i need a lawyer?”

“no,” you said, shrugging. “just wanted to see if you were real.”

he stared for a moment longer, then sat back. there was an odd quiet to him now, like he didn’t trust the calm.

“you read the text.”

“i did.”

“and you still chose to sit here.”

“i did.”

gojo let out a breath that sounded like it had been trapped since the jurassic era.

you smiled, took a sip of your drink, and tilted your head.

“so,” you said. “what’s your next move, eyebrow analyst?”

he grinned sheepishly, the kind of grin that had probably ruined better men than him.

“i was thinking…” he said, adjusting his glasses, “let me redeem myself with something drinkable. on me.”

and you said…yes.

he blinked like he hadn’t expected that outcome. like he’d offered as a joke, a throwaway line to cover the shaky scaffolding of his nerves. but you said yes anyway, and in that moment, gojo satoru sat a little straighter. just barely. like the air in his lungs had shifted from carbon dioxide to something less fatal.

he stood too fast, nearly knocked over his laptop, and spent the next five seconds wrestling with a tangled charger and a crumpled receipt he insisted on stuffing into his back pocket.

the table between you was still cluttered with the remnants of class: his half-shut laptop, your barely touched drink, the waxy paper wrapper from a croissant he must’ve inhaled before you arrived. after awkwardly standing in front of the cashier ordering your drink, he came back with a warm cup of coffee as he simultaneously fumbled to make space, shifting things around as if arranging a fragile ecosystem. a pen rolled to the floor. he chased it.

“wasn’t sure you’d actually… say yes,” he said, finally settling. his hands hadn’t figured out where they belonged. one hovered near his cup, the other curled against his knee.

you wrapped both palms around the warmth of your coffee. “i wasn’t sure you were actually asking.”

he laughed—short, surprised. “honestly, i wasn’t either.”

outside, the rain had tapered off into a low mist, brushing against the fogged windowpanes. inside, the café remained its usual brand of sleepy academic clutter. warm lights. old speakers playing jazz covers of songs that didn’t need them. the hum of someone’s study playlist bleeding from cheap headphones. the barista, predictably, didn’t glance your way.

“i think i owe you an apology,” he said after a beat. “for the text.”

you looked at him over the rim of your cup. “why? you didn’t say anything mean. just… strange.”

he winced, grinning despite himself. “god. yeah. the eyebrow bit.”

“and the toes,” you added.

“please. i’m trying to repress that part.”

you shrugged. “i laughed.”

he looked up at that, gaze catching yours. his eyes—blue, always blue, but dimmed now with a soft touch—searched your face like it mattered.

“you did?”

you nodded. “not in the way you probably hoped. but it wasn’t a bad thing.”

he blinked slowly. “i’ll take not-bad.”

your fingers traced the curve of your mug. his thumb tapped once, twice, against the side of his.

he didn’t meet your eyes. at least not fully. his loud, unruly, sometimes unbearable confidence in a classroom setting had dulled at the edges. definitely not gone, but contained.

“i noticed you,” he said suddenly.

something behind your ribs pulled taut. you tried not to react as you tilted your head to the side, a small smile etched onto your skin.

he rubbed the back of his neck. “way before the message. just—thought you should know.”

you weren’t sure what to do with that. he’d said it too gently to be performative. too soon to be meaningful.

“i didn’t notice you,” you said after a moment…your eyes wandering around, thinking. you weren’t even trying to land a jab, just being honest—especially with how vulnerable gojo looks right now, it felt right to keep it real. “not really. not until the project. even then, you didn’t say much.”

“was trying not to combust,” he murmured.

you laughed, quiet and involuntary. he looked up at that, eyes flicking to yours like he was surprised by the sound. his mouth curved into a grin.

eventually, he leaned forward, arms crossed on the table.

“i don’t know if i’m someone you’d notice,” he said, barely audible. “but i think i’d regret it if i didn’t at least try to talk to you. without the metaphors this time.”

your gaze softened, just slightly.

“do you always try like this?” you asked.

his laugh was short. almost embarrassed. “only when it feels like it matters.”

to your own surprise, you stayed longer. probably longer than you should. he stayed on his side of the table, close enough to hear your voice when you finally began to speak again. not about eyebrows. not about feelings. just… things. the weather. the professor’s terrible slides. a book you pretended to like last semester.

when you finally glanced at your phone, the time hit you like a cold splash of water. your next class started in ten minutes.

“shit,” you muttered under your breath.

gojo tilted his head slightly. “what’s up?”

you were already reaching for your things, half-distracted, trying to cram your notebook back into your bag without making a mess of it. “class,” you said quickly. “i’m gonna be late.”

he blinked, as if he hadn’t quite realized how long you’d been sitting there.

you stood, adjusting your strap and smoothing the edge of your sleeve, already half-turned toward the door. “sorry. i’ll see you next class.”

“right,” he said.

you took a step.

“i’ll text you,” he added, a little too fast. like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud until it already was.

you paused for a split second, but didn’t turn around.

“okay,” you said over your shoulder.

and then you left.

and just like that, you had him wrapped around your fingers.

god. he was so fucked.

[sumiye-draws-sometimes]

So, thoughts about Wind Breaker season 1:

Firstly, where is everyone's parents?? And this isn't a highschool, it's a gang, so idk why they're treated it like highschool when literally no learning is being done and there's no teachers. Also, is there no police or anything?? Why are all the townspeople and adults letting kids protect them like police 🫠

Also, so if it's like a "3 year highschool" then does Umemiya just graduate normally even though he's like the "leader" of this "school"?? How're you gonna get a job after you graduate if theres no adults or school staff to hand out diplomas or anything... Like I'm VERY confused on the school aspect.

Anyways, Sakura is a pretty fun protagonist. Like, he's already strong but also super traumatized and shy, which leads to some funny scenes. Him being kinda dumb and not understanding social situations is super relatable, too. And I love his name, it's super cute which is the exact opposite impression he goes for lol

The anime was fun, but there were like way too many emotional deep conversations that just kinda dragged on a bit for me. It was okay, but not amazing 10/10 y'know?

Soo screenshot time:

Choji was an awesome villain, I loved it so much. And how he acted like Luck from Black Clover was super entertaining. His whole redemption thing was weird, like him just suddenly decided not to be psycho and sadistic cause he got talk-no-jutsu from Gojo? Kinda wack... I don't think mental illness and depression can get solved that easily

And this was tragic, but Togame was so gay for him, I swear. It was like toxic one-sided love until the switcheroo where Choji suddenly grew a conscience.

Loyal like a dog characters are so freaking funny to me, I love Sugishita. And Umemiya scolding him was hilarious

This line was funny, I had to screenshot it. Suo is a menace.

I feel like Nirei saying all these out of pocket things and blushing every time he looks at Sakura is super overlooked. Everyone else just doesn't care lol

Like by the end my boy Sakura has a male harem, and I love that for him

And finally, they ain't never seen Naruto, I swear. This show is like talk-no-jutsu Tokyo Revengers (but automatically way better because I DID NOT care for Tokyo Revengers)

Hope there's more fighting and action in season 2... And trauma... Cause the friendship is magic bit gets a bit overdone, y'know. I love it, but when most of the episode is inspirational and stuff I get a bit bored 😅

Omg, I forgot to mention that the OST is awesome