#i might have to reply the game again honestly

[shespsycho]

carrd is now linked as i have all the rules up. stats and such are a work in progress. that being said, for those that don't know anything about roni, there is enough there to get an idea about her and her motivations.

[scribbles-ink]

im just thinking what if mike schmidt is the son of the movie's equivalent of henry emily. i had this thought on the way home from the movie at like. 10 pm so at the time it was incoherrent, but im going to expand on it here.

point 1- garrett played a similar role to charlie emily, in that despite being watched over they were both killed by william afton.

p2- in the flashbacks, its very obvious that the entire family is in a place away from society. they're literally in a forest. it wouldn't make sense for william of all people to be there if he wasn't close to the family.

p3- the books and the game mirror eachother, so there is a chance that schmidt could be another fake name, one william recognized because, again, he was a family friend.

p4-what happens when your kid goes missing? idk probaly witness protection or an urge to seperate yourself from the incident, both reasons for the name change.

p5-(kinds joke reason) abby rhymes with charlie and looks similar to her (brown hair, brown eyes)

p6-i argue that abby also took on the role of the puppet/charlie at the end of the movie. she didn't necessarily give them life, not like what was done in the game, she shoeed them how they died. she reminded the children of the life they had before, and of who really took it. by doing that, in a way, she gave them that life back. she gave them their real personality back, one not influenced by william. she cut them from his influence, she gave them the gift (the picture) and it gave them life (their memories)

p7- in the movie, mike says his father 'couldnt deal with it' and left after his mother died. yk what that sounds similar to? book henry emily killing himself in despair. maybe mike's dad is alive maybe he's dead, we dont know. but it is similar enough, an act of completely removing himself from the equation.

p8-book henry has a sister named jen, yk what name that sounds like? jane. who was mike and abby's aunt, and we dont know which parent she was related to.

p9-'but wouldn't mike know about the pizzaria if william was a family friend?' honestly, probably. but theres also a high chance that he wouldnt. if the family lived in nebraska, (which im pretty sure they did) they wouldn't have a need to go to utah, not even for a friend's restaurant. sure, he might know that his dad's friend had a restaurant, but not that it had animatronics or anything. the family probaly moved to utah after garrett's disappearance and after freddy's closed down.

p10-'wouldn't mike know vanessa? theyre similar in age' if they didnt live in the same state, probaly not. william in the movie was a, suprise suprise, shitty father, even foregoing the stabbing of his kid. i doubt hed care enough to take her with him on like. a short out of state trip.

p11(edit)- in the books aunt jane was killed by evil charlie to get to charlie, yk what that sounds like? the animatronics killing aunt jen to get to charlie

p12(edit)-the words at the end of the movie say 'come find me' and the music playong at the end is the puppets song so i think garrett is the puppet which is. again. an emily thing

p13(edit)- mikes dad looks like a mechanic shown in the training videos [cough henry emily cough]

if i think of anything else ill add it but anywys this is why i think the schmidts in the movie are the emilys equivalent. also check out the notes on this post because theres a lot of replies n reblogs that support my theory

[5ueckers]

but i'm a cheerleader

pairing : paige bueckers x cheerleader!reader

warnings : smut. semi–public sex.

notes : this is highkey unrealistic af so don't think too hard abt it! also i got kinda lazy while proofreading and editing, so there may be some errors/might feel a bit clunky at times, sorry in advance 🫠

words : 2148

xl center erupts with screams and applause as the final buzzer rings out— the university of connecticut’s women’s basketball team, for the tenth game in a row, has come out victorious, winning with a whopping forty–seven points over their competitors.

you jump up from where you’ve been sitting cross–legged at the baseline of the court and shake your bright red pom–poms, yelling out one of your cheers. the rest of the girls follow suit after you, their captain, perfectly in sync as the pep band begins to play the uconn husky fight song.

you’re never not tired as hell at the end of a game— the exhaustion from your halftime performance starting to set in and your head dully aching from your tight half–up–half–down hairstyle— but none of that ever deters you. you’re captain for a reason, bringing sharp precision, clean lines, and high energy to every performance, whether its on a court, field, or stage.

but of course, even the best of best have their weaknesses.

yours has actually landed you in trouble before, just once— you missed a whole count because you were distracted by a pair of icy blue eyes watching you intently from uconn’s bench, her intrigued expression being replaced by a smirk once she realized she’d caused your mishap. coach really chewed you out next practice, but you got got the blue–eyed girl’s number after that game, so it was honestly kind of worth it.

your post–game cheer earns its own round of applause from the remaining fans in the stands, and you bow, shaking your poms the whole way back to the baseline, where your coach awaits you. she offers a few nice jobs and back pats, as well as a fair share of critiques, before finally telling you all you’re free to go.

while the rest of your team head for the cheer locker room, you start toward the opposite direction. “y/n?!” one of your teammates calls out after you, confused.

“go on, i’ll meet you guys later!” you reply, before running to meet paige at the other side of the court, by the stands.

there’s still a large crowd of fans waiting to take pictures and have their jerseys signed by your girlfriend, but once she notices you approaching, she yells out, “alright, y’all, that’s it for tonight! thanks for coming!”

her voice softens when she turns to you and smiles, “hey.”

“hey, you,” you say gingerly, hyper–aware of the cameras fixed on paige, and so also you, by extension.

she nods her head in the direction of the arena’s large exit doors, silently instructing you to follow her.

you keep a safe distance while you’re still in the presence of the fans and cameras and the media, but as soon as you’re both in the tunnel, so dark that no one can see you, paige is all over you. her hands fly to your waist if they’re under the control of a magnetic pull as her lips press to yours, gasping into your mouth. you shudder as you melt into the kiss, into her, throwing your arms around her neck. you part your lips, allowing her to lick into your mouth— you want her to eat you alive.

“you were so good out there,” you tell her once you part, voice breathy.

paige grins cockily, already knowing that she played well, and you can see that your red lipstick has transferred onto her mouth, making you laugh. “what? what’s funny?” she questions, confused but chuckling a bit herself.

you shake your head. “nothing, just—” you point at your own lips, which you’re sure have also gotten smudged. “you’ve got something.”

“ah,” she rolls her eyes, genuinely sounding irked, which only makes you laugh harder. “well, you’ve got something—”

she cuts herself off by simply kissing you again, a light peck, taking your hand into hers soon after she separates your bodies.

high on the rush of the win and each other, you two walk hand–in–hand to the women’s locker room— only to be met with aubrey, crouched at her locker as she finishes packing up her things. if not your lipstick literally being smeared all over paige’s lips, then the flush on both of your faces and the way you freeze and suddenly drop each other’s hands, even though both of your teams are aware of your relationship and you have nothing to hide, certainly tells the older girl everything she needs to know.

she simply stuffs a few more of her things into her bag before heading out, lightly punching paige on the shoulder and laughing as she passes by, “see y’all!”

one you hear the door close, you and paige just look at each other before bursting into giggles at the interaction. “she’s never gonna let me live that down.” the blonde groans, wrapping her arms around your waist again.

you just laugh, falling quiet as you find yourself lost in her eyes for the nth time since you first met her. those eyes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. she gets kind of sheepish whenever you look at her for too long, avoiding your gaze and blushing— you’re not sure why, she’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. “i love you.” you say, very seriously.

“i love you, too, y/n,” she responds, just as earnest, and leans in to kiss you, only to be stopped.

“wait,” you say, reaching up and finally taking that godforsaken ponytail down, feeling all the tension in your head release as soon as you do. you drop the hair tie and bow to the ground, haphazardly brushing your hair out of your face with your fingers as it falls out of the style.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty,” the blonde marvels aloud, before finally kissing you again.

your lips move together languidly as her hands move down until they’re cupping your ass, kneading the soft flesh in her palms. “paige,” you whine into her mouth, allowing your head to roll back as her lips trail wet, open–mouthed kisses from your jawline all the way down your exposed collarbones.

“yeah, baby?” she replies and then sucks harshly at a particularly sensitive spot, making you whimper.

“want you,”

“here?” she pulls back slightly to scan the locker room— everyone else’s belongings are gone, it’s just her bag and shoes left in front of her storage space. still, someone may have forgotten something and could easily walk in on you while trying to find it. “someone could see—”

you don’t care. you pull paige back in, connecting your lips again, pushing your tongue into her mouth and kissing her with the kind of fervor that makes it impossible for her to deny you. she guides you backwards until your back is pressed to the one navy blue wall that isn’t lined with lockers, her hands feeling you all over.

her fingertips find their way to the hem of your tiny skirt, pulling up until the fabric is bunched up high on your hips, revealing the even smaller red safety shorts you’re required to wear under your uniform. she steps back briefly to give you some space so you can push them and your panties down your legs, kicking them aside, before she slots her thigh between your legs. already knowing exactly what to do from experience, you grind down against her thigh, and it feels so good when you clit drags against her bare skin, you whimper and repeat the motion again and again.

paige uses one hand to hold you steady with a strong grip on your waist, while the other works at pushing up the top piece to your uniform and bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the locker room. she immediately leans down to suck and lick at one of your firm nipples while rolling over the other with her free thumb. the sounds are obscene— your moans, paige’s slurping, and the squelch of your wet pussy rubbing against her thigh all coming together to fill the room.

“fuck, p,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut. “so good.”

paige releases your nipple from her mouth with low groan, briefly licks at the other, before standing upright. she leans in, dangerously close and she whispers into your ear, “i can feel it, y’know. you really want my fingers that bad?”

you blush, flustered by her referring to the way your pussy keeps clenching against her thigh, showing how needy you are, but still nod. “need it, paige, please,” you whimper, hoping she’ll give in quicker if you beg for it.

you’re proven correct, because your girlfriend plants a quick kiss on your cheek, murmuring, “anything for my girl,” before removing her thigh from between your legs, dropping down to her knees and crouching in front of you. ever the tease, she starts by kissing at your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your skin— beautiful, so pretty, good girl, all mine.

and then two of of her long, slender fingers are prodding at your entrance, easing in nice and slowly. your pussy clenches around the digits, welcoming her inside like an old friend, your walls slick and velvety.

you allow your head to tip back against the wall, eyes closing again, “oh my god.” paige knows your body so well, knows just how to angle her fingers and jab at that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry every time. she adds her mouth to the mix, kitten–licking at your clit before sucking it into her mouth, sending shivers up your spine.

“i’m close,” you cry out, and paige hums against you encouragingly, sending vibrations all throughout your core.

what really has you tipping over the edge is the look in her eyes when you finally will yours open, staring up at you with such adoration as she gets you off. you always said those eyes would be the death of you; your kryptonite. you nearly fold over as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking as the pleasure ebbs throughout your whole body, sobbing out your girlfriend’s name.

“you good?” paige chuckles, amused by your struggling. her lips, covered in your cum and arousal, plus your lipstick from earlier, are glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the locker room— the sight is so hot, you almost feel ready to orgasm again. almost.

“y–yeah, i just—” you swallow thickly, heaving. “need a minute.”

paige’s hands grip your hips, holding you steady until she feels you’re able to stand on your own. only when she’s certain you won’t topple over does she let go of you, sweetly kissing you on your forehead when she stands up. “i’ll be right back, wait here,” she tells you, disappearing momentarily.

“dude! i look fucking insane!” you hear her yell out, making you laugh weakly. you figure she’s found a mirror.

she returns with a wet hand towel, having washed off her mouth, hands, and thigh. she’s gentle as she cleans you up, knowing you’re still sensitive. then, she grabs your panties and shorts from off the carpeted floor, bending over and holding them at your ankles to help you re–dress.

“wait, but i wanted to do you, too,” you whine, a genuine pout setting in on your face as you step back into the panties.

paige shakes her head. “when we get home,” she offers. “i don’t wanna… defile this place any more than we already have.”

you laugh, again, at her choice of words. paige helps you get back into your shorts, as well, and you pull your skirt, bra, and top back down to their regular positions, smoothing over your uniform with the palms of your hands, trying to look at least a little bit presentable for when you walk out of here. paige wanders off toward her locker, changing out of her uniform.

finally feeling stable enough to walk, you find your hair tie and bow on the ground, rolling the former onto your wrist. “wait, c’mere,” you wave paige over, just as she’s pulling a fresh t–shirt over her head.

“hm?” she hums as she approaches, but you just motion for her to lean down a bit. she complies, and you place your bright red bow in her hair, right at the top of her ponytail.

“awww,” you gush at the sight. paige just looks at you, trying her best to appear unimpressed, but you can see the smile playing at her lips. “so pretty! cheer captain!”

she spends all of thirty seconds pretending like she’s not enjoying this, before breaking out into a dance, very poorly imitating your cheer routine from earlier. you encourage her, nonetheless, clapping and cheering, “go paige! go paige!”

she finishes with a ridiculously complex move that you’re pretty sure belongs to some tiktok dance learned recently with kk, grinning, “how was that?”

“10/10, hands down!”

[doobea]

BLLK - REACTIONS TO "I NEED TO GET SOMETHING BACK FROM MY EX."

contents: gn!reader is missing an item that they left at their ex's, their boyfriend isn't too pleased to hear. established relationship, sfw, lots of clinginess and jealousy ensued, a bit possessive (chigiri) characters mentioned: isagi, reo, chigiri, nagi, shidou a/n: this was fun to write hehe

Isagi

He scowls and stops what he's doing, making sure that he heard you right. Usually, he's a pretty secure guy and ever since you guys have been dating there weren't any major red flags or issues in the relationship aside from minor arguments here and there. He's wondering where this is coming from.

"I'm sure it's not all that important, babe." He emphasizes the pet name to knock a little bit of sense to you.

"But Yoichi, it's my emotional support animal." You plead, explaining that you had accidentally left your stuffed teddy bear over at their place after a date and ever since then you've been having trouble sleeping soundly.

Isagi groans and is quick to put on a pair of sneakers, knowing that he can't say no to your puppy eyes. "Okay, but we are washing them at least five times."

"The water bill tho—"

"Five times!"

Reo

Your boyfriend smiles, pulling you into a deep embrace and raking his fingers through your hair before firmly saying, "Absolutely not."

"W-What? But that was my favorite necklace, I have to get it back!" You had saved up so much of your time and money to buy the piece of jewelry you were eyeing for a while. It just so happened that your ex stole it from you during an argument.

Reo knows about this, and he knows that you hate it when he showers you with too many gifts, but he simply refuses to let you revisit a person who even treated you like that in the first place. Eventually, he convinces you to let it go, who would even want a necklace that now carries negative sentiment anyway. "Just let me know which one you want, okay?"

You sigh in defeat and nod, nose brushing against his. "Thanks, Reo."

"Say," Reo begins to twirl with the ends of your hair, "how much does the earth cost?"

You blink at his question. "Uh—"

"I'll buy you the whole earth."

"Baby what?!"

Chigiri

"Go on ahead, darling." Chigiri doesn't look up from the book he's reading and, with a free hand, he takes a long sip from his coffee.

You look at him with surprise, "Really?"

"Mhm," He flicks to the next page. "Just drive safe and tell them I said hi."

It was almost too good to be true for his oddly calm behavior but you didn't have time to worry over it. You really needed to hurry and retrieve back your passport from your ex before who knows what might happen. You plant a chaste kiss on your boyfriend's forehead before heading out.

"I'll be back soon, Hyoma!"

The door shuts with a quiet click and he puts down the book that had his phone tucked in the middle with your location flashed on. When he sees that you're on the go, he grabs his car keys and silently tails you behind, just to be sure your ex doesn't pull anything weird.

Nagi

The big sloth of a man pretends to not hear you. Even when you repeated your sentence again, saying you needed an old film camera back, he drowns himself in the sounds coming from his computer.

"Seishiro, are you mad? It'll be quick." You promise but he doesn't budge from his chair.

He hums in thought, his grey eyes dotting around the in-game map before finally replying, "Lovebug, can't they just deliver it? Going all the way there would be a hassle."

"I don't mind Sei, it's honestly fine, I don't want them to pay a delivery fee for it."

Nagi pouts, wondering why you're acting considerate for someone who's an ex. "That doesn't make sense."

"If I leave now, I can make it back before sundown and then we can—"

You're caught off guard by the sudden large arms that now wrap around your waist, the grip is tight as Nagi could make it. He buries his face in the crook of your neck before pleading, "Mhm, I'll pay for their delivery fee if you can just stay here."

Shidou

Your boyfriend almost chokes on the sandwich he was eating, eyes widening as he gawks at you. He's always thought of you as his mischievous side-kick and co-conspirator in his schemes. Hearing that one, you had an ex was a shock to him, and two, you needed something back from them.

You told your boyfriend that you were merely attempting to retrieve some old clothes that a friend had requested back.

For a moment, Shidou was in deep thought before an uncanny grin crawls to his face. An expression that you're all too familiar with.

"Okay," He chimes a little too innocently, "how do you want to go about this?"

"What do you mean, Ryusei?"

"I mean how do we break in?"

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Predator

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: You are obsessed with Jonathan Crane. And tonight, you're finally going to show him just how much you love him - even if he might not remember the encounter. But when things don't go according to plan, you are the one forced to deal with the consequences. Not that you're complaining...

Warnings: DUB-CON smut (the con is extremely dub on both sides here, folks), mentions of non-con, stalking, yandere!reader, loss of control, mind games, needles, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex work, oral (m receiving), deepthroating, degradation, praise, name-calling, multiple orgasms

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Your heels tap against the tile, clicking like a raptor’s talons, as you make your way across the hotel lobby. You smile, leaning over the counter to talk to the concierge, and try to look a little embarrassed.

“I'm so sorry to bother you,” you say. The hotel clerk is staring, not quite subtly, at your breasts, which is exactly where you want him to look. “But I seem to have lost my room key. May I have another one?”

The clerk collects himself; puts on his business voice as his fingers poise above his keyboard.

“Of course,” he replies. “Name on the reservation?”

“Crane. Jonathan.”

The clerk types rapidly for a moment, and then looks back at you.

“I'm sorry, miss, but I'm only showing one person on this reservation. You're not, ah…”

“Mmm.” You smile. “My boyfriend is here on a business trip. Speaking at the big conference in town. I'm not… exactly supposed to be here with him. I'm sure he wouldn't have told his work I'd be staying with him.”

Your voice drops just a bit lower, hinting at conspiracy. You consider winking, but decide against it. No need to oversell things.

“Boyfriend. Is that right?” the hotel clerk drawls. He looks you up and down briefly.

Rage flashes white hot behind your eyes, there and gone too fast for him to notice. This man assumes that you're some kind of prostitute. You can see it on his face, and it angers you. You're infuriated that he doesn't believe what you’ve told him. Though of course, it's not as if you're telling the truth. 

“That's right,” you agree, pleasantly. “And I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush. I'm dying to get out of this dress.”

You only have to act a little. The tight black dress you're wearing really is uncomfortable, but to play the part you have to dress the part. And besides, you want to look your best tonight.

The image of you undressing seems to be enough to convince the man, who turns back to his computer and starts typing again. You're not proud of throwing yourself around like this. Honestly, you would prefer it if no one but Crane got to enjoy you tonight - even if having him actually see you would throw a wrench into your plans. But you have to do what it takes to get your prize, and you're not above using the tactics that work.

“Could you just confirm the room number for me?” asks the hotel clerk, in a last-ditch effort to preserve some of his professionalism.

“Three-oh-three,” you say with a smile.

The clerk hands over a key card.

“Have a nice night,” he tells you.

You thank him. Snatch the card and walk away, toward the elevators that are waiting like steel traps at the other end of the lobby. That was easier than it should have been. You tuck the card safely into your purse, next to the little syringe and the three condoms. Traveling light tonight. The doors open as you reach the first elevator, as if they were waiting for you.

You smile.

You feel your heart beating heavy in your chest when the elevator doors finally open on your floor. Well, not your floor, really, but Crane’s floor. You've invited yourself, but that doesn't make what's about to happen tonight any less special. 

Before you know it, you're standing in front of his door, the numbers above the peephole staring back at you as you pause for a moment. You're almost lightheaded, just from being here, so close to fulfilling the dream you've had for months.

Jonathan Crane. A genius. A visionary. And the man at the center of your every fantasy. For too long, you've watched him from afar - at first not daring to let yourself dream of having him, but then, slowly, realizing that you have no life without him. That he is the center of your universe, and that your purpose is to trail after him like a desperate satellite. Once you knew that, it became impossible not to be with him. Unbearable to bear spending every day on his periphery when all you wanted was him, him, him. 

You steady yourself. Close your eyes for a few seconds just to savor it. Just being here. Then, you take the card out of your purse and swipe it, quickly tucking it back away before you open the door. The handle turns easily - why wouldn’t it, after all? You are, clearly, meant to be here - despite the fact that you are most certainly not supposed to be here. You step into the room, letting the door close behind you, and take another moment to bask.

“You know, I’d really prefer if you’d knock,” says a voice, suddenly coming from inside the room.

From where you’re standing you can’t see much, but you freeze, instantly. You’re stuck in that strange little hallway that seems to be at the entrance of every hotel room, with just a few coat hangers and a full-length mirror for company. And you can’t move because that’s his voice coming from around the corner. You would recognize it anywhere.

As you stand frozen, two things occur to you. One: it’s strange that Crane sounds like he’s expecting someone. And two: it’s even stranger that he’s here. His schedule says he’s at one of the conference’s dinners right now. You were supposed to have time to prepare. This is not going according to plan.

“I told you,” says a slightly annoyed Crane, his voice getting closer, “that I’d have your money tomorrow. So if you could just-”

His words cut off as he sees you, clearly not whoever he was expecting, and your heart skips at least three beats as you finally come face to face with him. 

“Who are you?” he asks, reasonably.

“O-oh, I’m… terribly sorry,” you reply. Your heart is now hammering at a million miles a minute, making up for lost time. You feel yourself fumbling for words, but manage to wrestle control of your tongue. “I must have the wrong room.”

Crane rakes his eyes over you suspiciously. You can see from the tilt of his head that he doesn’t buy it, and now he’s sizing you up as a threat. You let yourself swoon for just a moment. He’s so intelligent. This is exactly why you’d planned to lie in wait for him; you could never outsmart him and you very likely also couldn’t best him in a fight. Not that you’d ever want it to come to that, but if it did… Well, you doubt you’d be able to keep your mind on self preservation for very long once he got his hands on you.

“How did you get in here?” he presses.

“This is the room they gave me,” you explain. “There must have been some kind of mixup at the front desk.”

It's a slightly different story than the first, but hopefully a more believable one. You open your purse; reach in to pull out the key card and show him. Or maybe you'll go for the syringe. But before your fingers can wrap around anything, Crane snatches your purse and turns swiftly on his heel.

“Hey!”

You follow after him as he strides to the large bed, and dumps out the purse’s contents. The syringe, the condoms, and a few errant bobby pins spill out across the duvet. The key card falls to the floor.

“It’s rude to go through a woman’s purse, you know!” 

Your anger flares in his direction before you can control yourself. You bite your tongue, horrified that you've snapped at him.

“I'd say it's pretty clear that the rules of civility don't apply to you,” Crane retorts, as he reaches for the syringe. “Just what exactly were you planning to do with this?”

“That's… personal?” you mumble.

“Try again.”

God, he's so sexy. How are you supposed to concentrate on getting out of this when his voice is all graveley and dark like that, and he's staring at you with those eyes that look like they could pierce through skin and bone, and-

“Well?”

Crane is growing impatient. You scrabble together your thoughts and open your mouth to speak, plan still only half formed.

“Ah, I mean, that's my medication,” you explain. “It's for… migraines.”

“Hm, really?” Crane replies. “Then you wouldn't mind if I administered it to you.”

“No!” you say, a bit too sharply. 

He's already removed the cap from the needle, and has taken a few steps toward you when your voice rings out. He stops in his tracks, and you swear you can hear your heartbeat thunder around the room. A tense moment of silence passes, before Crane finally speaks again.

“So, this isn't your migraine medication,” he states. “And you're a strange woman who's just shown up in my hotel room, with a purse full of drugs and condoms. I'm calling security.”

Crane calmly walks to the bedside table, stabs the syringe into its wooden surface, and picks up the phone out of its cradle. Your heart rate spikes as he starts to dial.

“Dr. Crane, I don't think you should do that,” you warn.

“And why the fuck is that?”

“Because I don't want to have to tell them… who you really are.”

Crane pauses, and cocks his head at you again. You can feel yourself regaining control of the situation. Like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders; it feels good. So good that you can't help but smile at him as he scrunches his eyebrows together and frowns.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks.

The word passes over your lips like a sin, spreading its venom over your tongue as you say it.

“Scarecrow.”

Crane's eyes widen. You feel red heat rise to your cheeks. He wasn't expecting you to have leverage, and the fact that you've managed to surprise him fills you with an immense pride. 

“Who are you?” Crane asks softly. 

“I'm a fan of your work,” you reply. It might be the first truth you've told all night.

Crane replaces the phone with a sigh. He runs a hand through his hair as he looks up at you.

“Okay, who are you working for?” he asks. “Who sent you?”

You shake your head.

“No, no, no, Dr. Crane - I mean it,” you giggle. “I heard you speak at a different conference a few months ago, and I… Well, is it crazy to say that I fell in love?”

Crane fixes you with a glare that says, yes, it most certainly is crazy. You don't even notice as you rattle on - Jonathan Crane is your favorite subject, after all.

“From there, I wanted to learn everything about you,” you continue. “Where you live, where you work, where you shop for groceries. Some of it was easier to figure out than the rest, of course, but once I learned your schedule it became clear to me. You spend a lot of time out of the house late-late at night.”

Crane studies you carefully as you go on your monologue, but you're too wrapped up in it to care. 

“So I dug deeper, and guess what I found?” you tease. “Dr. Crane has a secret, and now it's our secret to share. You and me.”

You've closed some of the distance between you, and now Crane is so wonderfully close that you could reach out and brush your fingers against him. You resist, not wanting to scare him away, but look up at him expectantly as you wait for his reaction. You've just laid your heart bare for the first time in forever. He has that effect on you, you guess; it's impossible to deny him anything.

“So you're obsessed with me,” Crane says calmly. “I can't lie; it is kind of flattering.” He smiles. Only for a moment, before his expression turns dark. “But you still haven't told me, what the fuck were you planning to do with this?”

He gestures to the syringe, still sticking up with its needle planted in the bedside table, greenish liquid swirling inside of it. You lower your eyes, suddenly bashful. It feels so utterly silly now; you feel like you've actually started to build up a rapport with him, and you don't want to risk harming Crane’s perception of you. Still, knowing him, it will be worse for you if you don't tell the truth upfront, so you're honest yet again.

“It's a blend of a few things,” you admit. “An aphrodisiac, a relaxant, a very mild sedative. I was planning to use it on you so I could…”

“Rape me?” Crane supplies.

“Don't say it like that!” you beg. It sounds so ugly when he says it that way. “I just wanted to show you my love. I wanted to share it with you. That's not a bad thing, is it?”

You take another step toward him, desperate to show him what you mean. If only he'd let you show him. It would be so good for both of you. As you get closer, Crane backs up until he's sitting on the bed, then leaning back into the mattress. You lean down, trying not to hover over him too much, your fingers barely ghosting the sheets as you plant your arms on either side of his body.

“Please,” you whisper. Crane doesn't look afraid, but he is eyeing you carefully. “Please just let me show you?”

Crane considers the situation for a moment. You wait with bated breath, not daring to let yourself imagine what will happen if he says yes. The room spins as you forget to take in enough oxygen, and you feel yourself dip an inch closer to him.

“If I let you live out your twisted fantasy,” he begins, slowly. “You won't tell anyone about what you said earlier?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you promise, your smile immediately brightening at his words.

Crane nods, just once. Curtly.

“Fine then,” he says. Your heart explodes in your chest. “But you’re not using that syringe on me. And you're going to do all the work.”

As he's talking, he's already shrugging out of his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of his bare chest; struck with the irresistible urge to drag your fingers over it. You feel yourself smiling wildly. This is so much better than you'd ever imagined it. Your beloved is actually a willing participant! Why had you ever been prepared to settle for anything less?

Crane slowly unbuckles his belt, and then looks at you expectantly. Your fingers feel almost removed from your body as you reach out to pop the button on his pants. None of this feels real; you must be in a dream. You hope he doesn’t notice how much you’re shaking. It wouldn’t do to have him get any ideas about wrestling his way out of this.

“Let’s go through your little plan together,” says Crane, as you tug down his zipper and start to pull on his waistband. “You were going to drug me, knock me out - and then what?”

The only thing separating you from your prize now is the thin cotton of his boxer-briefs. Beneath, you can tell that he’s already half hard. The realization sends a throbbing ache between your legs. The musky scent of his arousal - or maybe it’s yours - starts to seep into the room, and you lick your lips to get a taste of it like a snake.

“Was gonna get you ready for me,” you answer, already slipping into a haze of fantasy.

“How?” Crane asks.

“With my mouth…”

Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you see his cock twitch at your words. The air catches in your throat again, and you have to force yourself to take deep breaths through your nose. 

“Go on, then,” Crane prods. “Show me.”

He’s sitting up slouched on the bed, arms bent just a little so he can look down at you as you bring yourself to eye level with his cock. He is definitely getting hard; you don’t even have to do anything to him, honestly. But you want to, and even more important than that - Dr. Crane is telling you to. You can’t deny him.

You pull down the thin fabric, and watch as he springs free. His cock is beautiful - just like you’d imagined it would be. There’s already a bead of precum on the tip, just begging to be licked off. You wrap your lips around him eagerly and worship the head of his cock, tasting the salty tang of him as you kiss it. Lovingly. Gently. That’s what you want to be for him as you part your lips and take him deeper, moaning around his length. 

Crane has other ideas. 

He ruts up into your mouth, letting out an absolutely sinful groan as he does it. The sound has you clenching your thighs for dear life as a wave of arousal and pressure runs through you. You want to touch yourself desperately, but know you need to hold on. There’s no way you’re going to waste the energy to get off on your own fingers tonight.

“Sorry,” Crane says. “Forgot I was supposed to be unconscious.”

You can’t reply with his cock in your mouth, but the biting sarcasm in his voice makes you feel things that are probably best left unsaid. Thank goodness you abandoned your morality a long time ago.

In direct contradiction to what he’s just said, Crane tangles a hand in your hair and starts pressing you further down onto his cock. You gag as the tip of your nose touches him, and let out a muffled whine.

“What, too much for you?” Crane laughs. “I thought you wanted to get me ready.”

You try not to whimper as you nod your head. You can feel your mascara starting to run as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and try to blink them back in. Once you’re composed enough to refocus, you start to swirl your tongue against him. Crane’s grip on the back of your head tightens, and you feel a sense of pride swell in you, pressing down the panic. This is exactly what you wanted - to make him feel good. To show him your devotion. You bob your head, pushing past the point of your own comfort to take him as deep as you can.

He lets your throat clench around him for a few minutes before he abruptly pulls you off. Your mouth makes a wet pop as it sucks around nothing, and you look up at your beloved with something that borders on sadness and lust.

“What next?” he demands. “I know you didn’t just come here to suck me off like a cheap whore.”

You stand up and try to collect yourself. Wipe the spit that’s pooled at the base of your chin. Organize your thoughts into some semblance of an intelligible response.

“Want to… to feel you inside me,” you pant.

“Of course you do,” Crane says. He has something in his hand, and he holds it up to show you. The condoms. “You even came prepared. But, let’s not pretend for even a second that you were actually going to use these.”

He throws the roll of condoms behind him, and they disappear somewhere over the side of the bed. Your mouth is hanging open in shock, and Crane smirks at your disbelief. 

“It’s not fun if there’s not a little risk, right?” he says. “Don’t tell me that’s not why you came here in the first place - to get off on the thrill of doing something dangerous.”

“I… I came here for you,” you insist. 

Though it is getting harder and harder to think straight as Crane slips himself fully out of his lingering clothes. When he’s done with that, he moves on to reaching up and grabbing at the zipper on your dress. He pauses with his hands at the back of your neck.

“And what drew you to me in the first place?” he presses. “You know I’m a dangerous man. You know my deepest, darkest secret. But instead of scaring you away, it only pushes you closer. You can’t resist the fear that you feel at the thought of being near me. Wanna know something? I think, deep down, you wanted to get caught.”

Your head is already spinning too much to comprehend what he’s saying. All you know is that his voice has dropped several octaves and it’s making you incredibly, almost painfully, wet. Your eyes roll back in your head as Crane tugs at your zipper and helps you slip out of your dress. Your bra and panties are black lace, and Crane seems to admire them for a moment before unclasping the hooks and pulling off your bra.

“You’re pretty fucking twisted, but you do have a nice rack,” he comments. “I’ll let you take care of the rest.”

With shaking fingers, you slide the lacy waistband over your hips, relishing the soft scratch of fabric as it moves down your thighs. Once they’re pooled on the floor, you step delicately out of your panties, and look down at Crane, still sitting on the bed in front of you.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he says. “I warned you that you’d have to do all the work.”

You straddle him, moving a bit too fast in your eagerness. You’re getting clumsy, but you don’t care. Planting your hands on his shoulders, you feel the way he glides into you as you lower yourself. So insanely good. The stretch as his cock is buried inside of you makes you see stars. You gasp, and then moan as your hips reach his.

“Feels better this way, right?” Crane teases. “A little risk always makes freaks like you cum faster.”

“Mmhmm,” you agree, barely listening to what he’s saying. 

“Go ahead and get yourself off,” Crane says. It almost sounds like a challenge. “Use me like a glorified dildo, just like you wanted.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you start moving, bouncing up and down on his cock as you chase your high. Crane stays still, letting you do all the work just like he said he would. You grind into him, desperate for friction against your clit, and wish more than anything that he’d reach up and play with your nipples. It’s a lewd thought, but you’re so far gone that you don’t care anymore, and eventually you move your hands to pinch them yourself.

The air in the room is getting hotter; thick with sex and filled with moans as you get closer and closer to your release. Crane stares at you, somehow managing to keep a straight face while he watches you fuck yourself on his dick. You press yourself close as you can as you grind down again.

“Gonna come!” you whine. 

And then you do; waves of pleasure crashing over you as the coil in your stomach finally lets go. Your legs shake, both your eyes squeeze shut, and you have to hold onto Crane’s shoulders to keep from falling right off the bed as you gush onto him. 

You’re panting with exertion as you come down from the high. Brain still foggy from the rush of endorphins and the elation of finally fulfilling your fantasy. And the best part is knowing that Crane got to feel all of it. The way you clenched around him; the way you screamed, shameless, as your love for him coated his cock. Getting to share the moment like this was better than you’d ever dared to dream of.

“Good girl,” Crane says. “Now do it again.”

Your eyes shoot open in disbelief. Crane looks up at you, smirking. 

“You heard me,” he growls. “You’re not done yet. I want to see you play with yourself.”

The only reply you can formulate is a moan, but Crane pays no mind to it as he grabs one of your sweaty hands and shoves it between your legs. 

“No moving, now,” he warns you. “Use your fingers and that’s it. My cock stays in you, but you don’t get to use it.”

It’s so hard not to swirl your hips, even just a little. You want so badly to feel that pressure of him, moving against your walls. Even staying still, he fills you up deliciously - but you want more. But, you do as he says and rub your clit, until you’re on the edge of another orgasm. 

“I-I’m close,” you whimper.

“That fast?” Crane taunts. “You’re really that desperate for me?”

You nod, biting your lip. You’re so close you can feel the heat rising in your chest. Your fingers press harder; your breathing goes shallow.

“Please fuck me!” you beg.

“Mm-mnn,” Crane refuses. “This is what you wanted, remember? Make yourself come for me.”

His words are all you need to tip past the point of no return. You cry out, almost shocked at the pleasure that rips through you once again, even more intense than the first time.

“Fuck…” you gasp.

You lower your head to Crane’s shoulder, exhausted after two orgasms back to back. Your sweat is slick against his skin, and it’s so good to rest for even a moment. Your whole body is buzzing so intensely, it feels like you could fall apart at any second.

“Think you can do one more for me?”

Crane’s voice is rough, and right in your ear. He’s relentless. Weakly, you shake your head no. You loll off the side of his shoulder, slumping against him as your body gives out.

“I think you can,” Crane insists. “Come on, you brought three condoms - must have had big plans.”

“Can’t…” you say.

It comes out as more of a breath than a word. Every ounce of your energy is gone.

“How disappointing,” Crane sighs. “And you haven’t even made me come once. I guess I’ll have to fix that.”

In the next instant, your back is pressed against the bed. Crane hovers over you, smug grin spreading across his face.

“I know this isn’t part of your plan,” Crane tells you. “You wanted to be the one in control. It scares you more than anything not to be. But honey, it’s time to accept the truth. You weren’t in control from the moment you stepped in this room.”

You feel his cock drag slowly out of you, before slamming back in so hard that the force lifts your hips off the bed. The shock makes you yelp.

“Doesn’t it feel so good to let go? You begged me to fuck you earlier. Really, I’m just giving you what you want.”

“Want… want you to cum in me,” you pant. 

Your eyes are heavy, but you open them to look at Crane as you say it. You watch his eyes darken as he looks down at you.

“Just like I thought,” he says. “You wanted it to go like this. Your little cocktail of Ambien and Viagra was just a safety net, pretend, so that you wouldn’t have to admit to yourself just how much the idea of losing control over me turned you on. But something got twisted in that fucked up little head of yours, and now you can only cum if I tell you to. Is that right?”

“Y-yes,” you whimper.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. 

“Good.” Crane smiles darkly. “And now you’re going to come one more time for me. We’re not stopping until you do.”

You can tell that he’s serious, and you can already feel your third orgasm building. He's right, about all of it. He's read you like a book, and laid bare the things that you couldn't even admit to yourself. There's a terrifying intimacy in the way he seems to get inside your head, and maybe that is what you wanted all along.

You don't have long to consider it, though, because Crane is pulling at your wrist and bringing your fingers up to his lips. He sucks on your pointer and middle fingers, taking them into his mouth and swirling his tongue as he looks down at you. You're frozen in his glare, unable to look away despite feeling like you're on the verge of passing out.

When he's done, Crane moves your hand so that it's pressed between the two of you, wet fingers brushing against your clit. You squirm, and Crane smiles again. 

“Good girl.”

His thrusts are slower, but more powerful now. Even without moving your fingers, your clit is getting rubbed with each surge of his hips, as he forces your body into the mattress. 

“S-so close,” you gasp.

“I know, sweetheart,” Crane rasps in reply. “I can feel you trying to hold it back, but you won't be able to for long. Come on my cock again.”

As he orders, you obey. It really is impossible to deny him. Your chest feels like it's about to collapse as you stop sucking in air, and your mouth hangs open, useless, as you freeze in time for just a moment when the orgasm finally floods through you, dulling all your other senses. When you regain the slightest amount of control over your body, you cry out for him, rut your hips against his, bring your hands up to claw at his shoulders.

“I told you you'd do it,” Crane pants. “Now it's my turn.”

He pumps into you again, the friction against your too-sore clit almost unbearable. But you're so drunk off his cock that you don't care. The pain is pleasure by this point, and you hold tight to him in a desperate attempt to make him finish inside you, just like you wanted.

Crane is so much stronger than you, though, and he tears away just as he reaches his peak. He isn't careful with his aim; painting you and the bed with white lust as he empties messily, all over you. It's in your face; your hair; and splattered across your chest like fresh blood. You bask in the feeling of being marked by him.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Your chest is heaving with each breath. Crane, still on top of you, brushes a hand against your cheek and uses his thumb to collect some of his spent cum. He brings it down to your clit as he slips out of you, pressing against the still-sensitive nub.

“Ah!”

Overstimulated, you arch your back at his touch. His thumb is rough, but the lubrication of his cum on it feels good. He chuckles softly, and moves away.

“Get some rest,” Crane tells you. His eyes gloss over the bedside table, to where the syringe still waits. “You have a very long night ahead of you… I don't think that we've gotten even, yet.”

[artsekey]

I really hate how ads have taken over the internet. On one hand, I know that hosting a website costs money, right? And ad revenue is one of the simplest ways for free-to-use websites to cover their operating costs.

My question is-- and I would genuinely love an answer-- is this ever going to stop? Tumblr ran for a long time without ads. So did Youtube. I know that the cost of hosting so much media has gone up, but there are a lot of users on these websites that make the content that drives people to use the service that don't see any of the money generated by this revenue. On Youtube, there's at least a way for creators to make some money from what they do. For most, it isn't much, but the opportunity is there. On Tumblr, well... the ability to convert the visibility of my blog into any financial gain practically nonexistent, though they did at one point promise that users would be able to make money from ads run on their blogs (whatever happened to that, Staff?).

"You can pay to avoid seeing ads!" Tumblr says, as if the views on my main blog alone over the past few years have not generated more than enough ad revenue to cover the price they're asking me to pay, the person who is actively making content that brings eyes to their ads.

I'm not mad at Tumblr for hosting ads. I get that it has to happen because it's the easiest way to keep the site free, and honestly, I imagine Tumblr's staunch opposition to monetization has been a real obstacle for the team building Tumblr. But at the same time, it feels like yet another small concession in the usability of the site. I'm tired of ads that auto-play with blaring audio while I'm scrolling. I'm tired of adds that, if I touch them while trying to scroll past them, take me to an external site. Outside of tumblr, I'm tired of looking for information online only to get a webpage that's 95% ads and otherwise illegible. Hell, I recently got an ad on Discord. Was it unobtrusive? Maybe. But it was there, for the first time, and I know that won't be the end.

I know the first reply I'm going to get on this is "use adblock", and yes, that's a solution, but think about how much the landscape for media has changed in just ten years.

Popular forums are basically gone outside of reddit.

Youtube, without Red, is ad hell. You can't watch more than 3-4 minutes of video without getting sent to marketing hell.

Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter-- it's terrible. I firmly believe they've manufactured a worse experience through the implementation of ads to convince you to buy into their premium services.

Just Check out this video of Penguinz0 trying to watch a video on a third-party site.

There's discussion of putting ads into video games.

Remember when games didn't include micro-transactions? Blizzard is charging $70 for one mythic skin. You could almost buy Overwatch 1 twice-over at that price-point.

Influencers make a living by making their lives into advertisements.

Youtube has retaliated against users using ad-block on non-chrome browsers by artificially inflating the load times of it's videos.

What can we do about this? I imagine companies see it as an infinite money hack; users can't stop companies from hosting ads, and the action they could take to voice their displeasure-- leaving the site, using other competitive services-- has been all but obliterated thanks to the homogeneity of popular social media outlets. If someone is truly so incensed about ads, well-- it isn't like they have to engage with them, right? They can enroll in a cheap, auto-renewing service to get rid of ads entirely. Well, wait, the price of premium might just have to go up. Don't worry, it's auto-renewing! You won't even notice it. Oh, no, it's got to go up again, you won't even notice it.

There's no incentive for them to cap this behavior, and no way for us as users to pressure them to do so. We create these spaces; we fill them with color, art, activism, community, and the companies that ride on the tailcoat of the spaces we create tell us to give them more. What comes next?

[mangosrar]

call it what you want pt5

matt sturniolo x fem reader.

y’all…….

“hurry up we’re gonna be late” matt yelled out the car window. watching as you stomped down your drive way towards the car.

you got in the passenger seat, slumping down and throwing your back in the back. matt glanced over at you as he started to drive away. he took note of the way your eyes looked a little darker and droopier than normal and your skin looked duller than usual.

“what’s up with you today? you look uglier than usual” he asked.

you just sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the world going by out the window.

he glanced over at you again, waiting for you to bite back.

“damn, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed” he laughed

“not today matt i’m not in the mood” you muttered, still not looking at him.

you closed your eyes for a second, preparing yourself for the insult that never came. sure matt was a douche bag but he was nice enough to not push you too far, and he knew you well enough to know when to stop.

you really just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. today was the 4 month anniversary of tours and elijahs breakup. it had completely knocked you off of your feet and it wasn’t even 9am. you weren’t sure why it was affecting you this much, but part of you knew it was the fact that you missed him deeply, you missed the way he always used to kiss the top of your head, the way he smelt. but you didn’t miss the way he used to lie to you, the way he manipulated and embarrassed you, and that was the only thing stopping you from letting this dark, cold feeling swallow you whole.

“i’ll pick you up before the game tomorrow” matt spoke, breaking the silence.

“i told you i’m not going” you snapped back at him.

“you can’t be serious y/n, jess went to all of my games you have to go” he said, raising his voice slightly.

“well then how about you ask jess to watch you instead of me” he kept his eyes trained on the road as you replied, turning to look at him with a sharp face.

“trust me if i could i would” he muttered.

“poor matt, jess won’t be there to kiss your boo boos when you get your ass beat at the game” you said, faking sadness.

“what like you used to do for Elijah?” matt said so quietly it was almost a whisper. he knew he struck a nerve, and honestly, he felt fucking horrible for what he had said.

there was a brief pause, you just stared at him with widened eyes, desperately trying to pull yourself together. even the sound of his name rolling off of matts tongue made your heart ache a little. matts jaw clenched and his knuckles turned white from how hard he was gripping the wheel, he didn’t even spare you a glance, keeping his eyes glued to the road ahead.

after a second of gawking at him, you swallowed and turned back around, once again staring out the window. you weren’t sure if it was the fact he was talking about elijah, or the fact that he knew what today was, that upset you more.

he knew and he still fucking said it, he knew how heartbroken you were when it ended, he knew what a terrible boyfriend he was to you, he knew just how bad Elijah claw marks were and he still said it.

and there wasn’t any way he could deny it, everyone saw how distraught you were when he left, even matt who hated your guts, had never mentioned anything about your ex boyfriend until this moment, so why was he doing it now?

-

the whole day had dragged. the second you arrived at school, you had leaped out of the car and headed as far away from matt as you could get. you couldn’t even stand the sight of him on a good day, let alone when he was throwing insults like that at you.

you had tried your very best to avoid seeing elijah all day, out of fear you might break down and start wailing in the middle of the hall, but to your demise, you had caught a glimpse of him coming out of his home room, laughing with his friends, he hadn’t even noticed you.

how was he not destroyed. you knew he probably didn’t even remember what today was.

“hey you okay?” nick whispered, nudging you.

you turned to him and nodded with a smile before turning to look at everyone else sitting around the table in their own conversation.

“you sure? you’ve been staring at the wall for almost 10 minutes” he spoke in a hushed voice, trying not to bring attention to the fact you were barely even there.

“yeah i’m just tired that’s all, english took it out of me” you said, breathing out a laugh through your nose while looking at him.

he didn’t even crack a smile, he just sighed and looked at you with a sad expression.

“i know what today is y/n” he paused, staring into your soul, “you don’t have to pretend your okay”. he brought his hand up to rest on you shoulder, giving it a small squeeze and nodding his head at you.

you just whispered a small “thankyou” and smiled at him before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. you just needed a moment to yourself, to recollect, a moment that no one could interrupt.

“y/n!” god no please spare me.

you kept on walking, desperately trying to get out of whatever situation he was about to put you in.

“i need to talk to you y/n don’t walk away from me”

“what elijah?!” you bawled. finally stopping and turning around to look at him as he walked towards you.

“matt sturniolo?” he questioned. you just rolled your eyes and looked away from him, crossing your arms over your chest. he didn’t even deserve a glance let alone the entertainment of this conversation.

“what have your parents said about this” and there it is.

“that’s none of your business eli” you snapped, still not looking at him.

he paused for a second, you could see him out the corner of your eye, studying your face.

“i mean this whole thing is a little suspicious, it’s only been what? 2 months since we broke up?” 4 months today actually. “and now you’re with this guy? was there something going on when we were together?” he too crossed his arms over his chest while leaning down towards you and squinting his eyes, condescending you.

you could see this coming from a mile off, he was always like this. he always tried to make you seem like a bad person just so his mishaps would be kept in the dark, it was just that now you could recognise it.

“i wasn’t the cheater elijah, you were.” you said, looking up and jabbing a finger at him.

he pulled back, letting his arms fall while laughing. what could possibly be funny to him?

suddenly it was like a flip had been switched, he had turned cold. he moved a step closer to you, before opening his mouth to speak.

“maybe if you weren’t so fucki-“

“hey baby”. if there was ever a moment that you were happy to see matt, it was this one.

he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close to his side, planting a kiss on your temple.

Elijah looked like someone had just slapped him straight across the face. his mouth was slightly agape, and eyes a little wide, staring at matt.

your whole body tensed and you sucked in a breath, patiently waiting for the ticking time bomb that was of matt sturniolo to go off.

matt kept his eyes trained on elijah, sending him a deathly glare. it was like they were wordlessly battling each-other, as you all stood there in complete silence, both of them having a death glare off and you, just frantically switching from watching one then the other, praying to god that this ends soon.

you couldn’t take the anticipation. you had to end whatever moment they were having and fast.

you placed your hand on matts chest and spoke up.

“you ready to go?”

“yeah” he replied instantly, not taking his eyes off of the man in front of him. matts face was stoic and cold, and if it wasn’t for a good cause it probably would have scared you a little.

just as you thought this was never going to end, you heard elijah scoff. you snapped your eyes to him as he began to walk away, but not before throwing you a disgusted look.

your body relaxed against matts, watching as he walked off and out of sight, letting out a breath you hadn’t even realised you were holding.

matt switched his gaze to you once elijah was out of sight, giving you a nudge as if to say “you good”. you couldn’t look at him, you just blinked at the spot where elijah used to be, before pushing matt off and beginning to hurriedly walk away, holding a hand to your forehead.

you heard him shout after you, but turning around and answering all of matts questions was the last thing you needed, so as soon as the school doors were in sight, you may had well have sprinted at them.

why did matt look so angry at Elijah? you knew he was supposed to be your fake boyfriend but that wasn’t fake. he looked like he wanted to rip elijahs face off.

how is he so good at this whole fake thing? you had one question from your parents and you almost crumbled there and then. and here matt was, silently threatening your ex boyfriend like it was an average friday activity.

why was elijah speaking to you? why did he care? he wasnt even upset when you guys broke up so why kick up a fuss now. maybe he just wanted to upset you, or maybe he finally regrets what he did.

you’re mind was moving at 100 miles per hour. matt, elijah, the game, your parents. there was too much going on, but somehow your thoughts couldn’t move an inch without bumping in to matt, and it was making you dizzy.

——————————————————————————

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[thewritetofreespeech]

Can I request an hold me back scenario with gojo, where someone is like being cruel to reader and gojo has to protect his soft girlfriend? Pretty please

Gojo sighed, long and loud, as he leaned back on the bench with his legs stretched out in front of him. “This is boooorring…..”

Gojo hated these co-academy events. ‘Goodwill Event’ his eye. There was no goodwill between any of them. Kyoto sucked, and was just a bunch of puffed shirts, and he couldn’t understand why they came all this way just to get their asses kicked.

Still, it was a nice break outside of classes.

“They’re gonna start soon.” Geto told him. Handing his best friend a melon soda, as sugar usually helped calm him down. “Would it kill you to be patient?”

“It might.” Gojo quipped back before sipping his soda. “You’re not a doctor.”

“No. I’m not. Speaking of, where’s Ieiri and [Y/N]?”

“They went to the bathroom I think?” Gojo replied. “Or something girl related like that.”

The Tokyo team this year was just the 4 of them. Which honestly meant it was just going to be the 2 of them. Gojo loved Ieiri and [Y/N] but their combat skills were no where near what his and Geto’s were. They were better at ‘behind the scenes’ stuff. Healing, cloaking, super sneaky stuff that was really of use to him because he always just smashed in since he was the strongest.

Still, he wasn’t worried about them against the curses they caught for the game. Nor anyone on the Kyoto team for that matter.

“Oh. There they are.” Geto commented dully as he saw girls faces come up over the hill. They had iced drinks. So they must have left and come back before the start of the ceremonies.

Just as they crested the stairs, however, a male blocked their path and started talking to them. Gojo didn’t recognize him. But based on his dumb, old-timey outfit he was wearing he figured he had to be from the Kyoto team.

The conversation goes on for a little while longer, before the man pushes into [Y/N]’s shoulders with two fingers. “Oy!” Gojo snapped. Jumping to his feet. Who the hell did they think they were touching [Y/N] like that?? They did it again and Gojo took a step forward before Geto caught him. “Let me go! You think I’m gonna let some goon touch [Y/N] like that!”

“If you kill him now, we’ll get disqualified.” Geto told him. Face pressed against his ear as he held him in a near choke hold.

“Like I care about that!”

The boys struggle for a moment longer. Gojo trying to break free and Geto desperately trying to hold him back from doing something stupid (like always), until they both stopped as the man suddenly fell to his knees with a groan of pain and the girls walked over to them. “What are you guys doing?”

“Trying to save Satoru from getting expelled.”

“What did that guy say to you?!” The boys reply over top of one another.

“I don’t know. Show of dominance I guess? I wasn’t really paying attention until he poked me. Which was just rude. I told him not to do it again and he did, then asked ‘what are you gonna do about it, so I kicked him in the balls.” [Y/N] took a sip of her drink before she added. “You really shouldn’t ‘assert dominance’ with your legs open like that.”

The boys flinch in sympathetic pain, then look over to the guy still on the ground, before they both laugh. “Well, I guess the Kyoto team is gonna be a man down, eh?”

“Let’s get going before we miss the opening ceremonies. Or he rallies and starts to pick a fight.”

“Trust me. No one is gonna ‘rally’ after a full kick from [Y/N].” Gojo replied. Before he linked hands with her and the 4 of them ran away.

Maybe it wasn’t going to be such a boring day after all.

[avatar-anna]

idk can i just……… hockeyrry being an absolute dickhead on the ice but then getting home with his gf and just absolutely being a crybaby about how sore he is and how bruised up hes gonna be the next day 😭😭😭😭😭 please i am begging u on my hands and knees

"Did you have to get yourself thrown out of the game?"

"It wasn't my fault. He's the one who—fuck, that's cold—He's the one who threw the first punch."

"Because you had been asking for it all night! Honestly," you said, shaking your head at Harry disappointedly. "You'd think you'd be more careful about getting hurt since you're such a baby about it afterwards."

"A baby?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Yeah. A big baby."

Harry scoffed, but didn't say anything after that. You sat next to him as he soaked in the ice bath, nursing all his sore muscles after a particularly physical game. The ice baths weren't necessarily a regular occurrence, but helping Harry with his aches and pains was. He was always picking fights, mouthing off to opposing players and earning a body check in return, which occasionally turned into an all out brawl. You typically held your head in your hands when he got into fights, but not because you were worried about him. Exasperated was probably a better description. Especially because you knew he would moan and groan about his new injuries after the fact. Harry might have been tough on the ice, but he hissed and flinched and complained whenever you had to stretch him out with a roller or cleaned up his cuts or forced him into a tub of ice.

"You don't have to stick around, you know," he muttered, clearly still bothered by your teasing comments.

A baby indeed, you thought. Harry was completely pouting now.

"Yeah? And who's gonna drive your bruised ass home?" you replied. Harry grumbled something under his breath, crossing his arms in the ice, though you could tell he was suppressing a wince. You leaned a little over the tub so your lips pressed right up against his ear. "Who's gonna kiss all those bruises better?"

Your hands found purchase on his shoulders, squeezing gently before slowly sliding down his chest and beneath the surface of the ice water. Harry inhaled deeply through his nose, but you knew it had nothing to do with the cold water biting his skin. Despite the ice, your touch felt like fire licking down his torso until you settled on the tops of his thighs and squeezing again.

"Here?" he asked.

You kissed the corner of his jaw, your teeth grazing his skin just a little. "No. Not here. But if you manage to get out of here and behind the wheel without complaining, I might be able to give you a little something on the way home."

Water splashed and ice cubes hit the floor as Harry practically jumped out of the tub and hurried to get dressed. He suddenly wasn't feeling so sore anymore.

[obeymematches]

I saw one of your stories and I got immediately interested by one of them, then I had an idea more like a head Canon maybe-

So you and Solomon are making a potion for class one of the brothers came into the classroom and a big explosion happened one of you and the brothers didn't brace for impact and then suddenly your future child is there I just want to see everybody's reaction or maybe what will they do in that situation (sorry it's a bit weird but yeah that's all I came up with in my head) ^^"

henlo!!! So you sent in this ask almost 3 years ago (may 20th 2021) I'm so so so sorry i didn't reply sooner, you're probably over this by now 😅 but i felt inspired to write it today so here we go 🫶

🌸Meeting your future kid with him🌸

GN MC

Okay so this time Solomon has some homework to do... sending this kiddo back without messing with the future is gonna take time. Until then you must take care of them! You are the parent afterall!!

Lucifer: 4 months old

Not gonna lie it took him the longest to realize it's YOUR baby WITH him! In his defense, babies can look a bit weird. The baby definitely has your mouth, but his eyes and hairline. He didn't see many infant in his life so this is all new! You can literally see his heart melt when the little baby smiles at him! Shares his part with pride, changes diapers, carries the baby around....just take over when the baby is fussy.

MC I can't wait to meet the baby again... I miss them already, isn't that funny?

Mammon: 3yrs old

Your toddler immediately recognized you and Mammon. You and him looked at each other with an awkward stare, his face is as red as it can be- you are definitely not ready for kids!!! The fact that around 3 years old kids looove disobeying on purpose doesn't help. Mammon gets the hang of it though, he looves his little troublemaker! They could play all day long.

I wanna see ya grow up little man- I looove being your dad!

Levi: 8yrs old

Again, the kis recognizes you and him. Right now he keeps telling you he isn't ready for kids and might never be; same as you!! So how did this happen??? Do you must have one in the future??? Thankfully with an 8yrs old you can already have a conversation, play games with, etc so by the time it's over he grows very fond of them.

MC... I think I have changed my mind- having a kid is a lot like having a small best friend!

Satan: 16yrs

Ah. Your child is as upset as any 16 yr old would be in this case, leaving you and Satan no time to think about the fact you made this person. He does his absolute best to stay calm and see things from the kid's POV, but man is it difficult when your teen keeps lying about important stuff, escapes the house as soon as you lower your guard, fights with anyone over and over who doesn't do as they want despite being so so so sensitive... it is tiring.

I wish I could see what they were like as a little kid... why did I think teens were easy?!

Asmo: 13 yrs

Okay he is very quick at recognizing his own kid; he has YOUR and HIS face memorized. Starts sobbing when he realizes what this means; you are going to be parents!! The thought of loving someone sooo much just sends him over the edge. He buys everyone matching clothes, plans so many vacations you are rarely at home, surprisingly good at answering questions your little one has. (Very comforting, builds their confidence as much as he can!!)

MC, how do I look as a parent? You still love me?

Beel: 1 yr old

Okay, it was obvious the baby is a perfect mix of you two; his eyes are definitely yours though! Beel finds this job to be super important so he spends almost all day with the baby. They play peek-a-boo, he helps your kid to learn to walk and eat with hands, carries them on his shoulder when they get tired. Honestly he doesn't want to let them go back.

MC... I think we should have at least 3 kids!"

Belphie: 6yrs

Okay, he never would've thought he'd have a kid with you; first, you are dating someone else right now and second, he doesn't really like kids. So this one's gonna be complicated. His face turns red though as he has always liked you but you made it clear he is not really your type. Co-parenting brought you much closer; you could see how calm he can stay when he wants to, and how smart he actually is especially when the 6 years old doesn't stop with their questions. How it continues after the kid is back in the future is up to you babe!

[mikanotes]

out of reach ft. baek harin x gn!reader 2.1k words warnings: nervous breakdown, implied manipulation and bullying, reader nd harin are Slightly toxic, smoking, not really proofread Sorry!

author’s note: finally watched pyramid game! harin is so dear to me i love her. anyways here’s this

Clouds of smoke and overpriced cigarettes. The faint smell of perfume, struggling to cover the overwhelming, biting scent of tobacco. The sound of a lighter clicking shut, and a disdainful laugh. Condescending. The very image of a typical rich, high-school bully.

Then she sighs, softly, and it all changes.

The smoke dissipates to reveal a gentler expression (though the void in her eyes cannot be hidden), and the cigarette smell seems to leave with the passing breeze. She smiles softly and relaxes her shoulders. “I’m expecting great things from you.” she says, hiding a don’t you dare disappoint in between her words. She chuckles quietly to herself and turns on her heel. The school princess.

“Let’s go.” she says, her tone on the edge of something hurried. Like her facade, though perfectly constructed and practiced, might threaten to break if she stays any longer. You don’t reply but push yourself off of the wall to walk at her side when she strolls past where you were waiting.

The moment you’re far away enough from that hidden corner by the school entrance, Harin tenses again. You look down and see her thumb pressing its nail into her palm’s skin. Into flesh, at this rate. “Harin.” you call. She blinks out of her thoughts and turns her gaze to you. “What is it?”

“I’m thinking.” she replies honestly, bits of that kind demeanor slowly crumbling to reveal a more honest, yet possibly less furious side to her. One you’re more acquainted with.

“You do that too much.” you heave a deep sigh, “Seriously. Have you had a moment to breathe at all this week?”

Baek Harin is calculating. Always calculating each of her moves— Every interaction with all of her classmates, her family, her past present and future, the adults at her school. She carefully reviews the way she presents herself down to the detail. And now, she calculates everything Seong Suji does, everyone she interacts with, everyone around her, everything she does truthfully and all she does that seems fake— add more to the list. 

That’s just a recipe for disaster. But you’ve also known her for long enough to know that having a calm mind free of worries and overthinking is a privilege Harin hasn’t had since her early childhood years. The way she functions now is her own idea of normal, and it has been for much too long to even consider the idea of changing. So you don’t try to change it. But you try to calm her down, when she allows you to attempt it.

“I’m breathing fine.” she scoffs slightly, “I can’t afford not to think. Especially not…” she trails off like she’s remembered something, and you frown.

She reaches for her pillbox but it escapes her grasp, falling on the concrete. You reach over to grab it but she’s quicker than you. The moment the thing is in her hand, she opens it and shakes three vitamin tabs into her palm, before freezing in place.

You slow down and stop in your tracks, barely a meter back, then slowly approach her. Her eyes are flitting between the box and the pills themselves, her lip trembling as if struggling to get a word out. You start reaching out towards her but she suddenly throws all of the vitamins back into their little chamber. She clicks the pillbox close and puts it back into her pocket, then fumbles to get something else.

“Harin.”

She finally manages to find what she was seemingly so desperate to find, and opens the pack of cigarettes. She grabs one and shakily sets it between her lips, before repeating the whole searching process for her lighter.

“Harin.”

Once the golden thing’s in her hand, she clicks to light up a flame, once, twice, three times, to no avail. You swear her hand is beginning to shake.

“Baek Harin!”

“Fuck.”

She spits the cigarette to the ground and nearly crushes the rest of the pack in her hand. Her teeth bite into her lip to stifle a scream of frustration, you guess, and she goes back to digging her nails into the flesh of her hand.

You slowly set a hand on her shoulder and she lets you, though she does look much too lost in her own head to register anything other than the ground she’s been blankly staring at. “…Let’s go home.” you say, tone softer.

She nods in agreement.

Baek Harin’s definition of a home has changed several times over the years. Haneul Orphanage, the house of the family she was adopted into, and yet neither ever truly gave her the feeling that it was what home was supposed to feel like. She isn’t relieved when she steps foot into her house, she just feels more at ease to continue preparing her so-called schemes. Still, it is a house, her family lives there, and she never lacked anything. It’s a fine place to be.

But when she’s here, in comparison…

“I’m home.” you sigh as you take off your shoes. Harin sees your cat walk past the entrance hallway and stop to look at you, clearly waiting for something. And when you look at it, you smile and go pet it. It’s just that easy for them to get what they want in life, huh? She feels your gaze on her and looks at you.

“What?”

“Are you planning to stay at the door?”

She blinks. Right. She unclasps her shoes and slides them off her feet before she steps inside. She barely notices she’s breathing out a sigh of relief before a wave of exhaustion hits her. It makes her wonder for a moment if she was right to take the pillbox earlier. Maybe she forgot to take them during the day? She had so much to do. Did she? If she’s forgetful about this, she could be about much more important things….

She’s reminded of her near-breakdown just earlier and holds back from picking at her nails. She rarely reaches the brink of losing it this badly. She really needs to do something about the direction the game is going towards, or else she fears she might break at the wrong time.

“Harin.” you call, bringing her out of her thoughts, and she realizes you already walked to your kitchen, and you’re peeking at the corner of the wall to see her. “Do you want something?”

She stares at you a bit coldly, almost frowning. It’s clear she’s not entirely out of her own head, yet.

“Cola.” she says, “Do you have any?”

You scoff. “When do I not?”

She takes off her small backpack and walks further inside. This small place…  She would dislike it. She’s not one to be picky, but growing up in a luxury house for nearly ten years makes you dislike cramped spaces. At least she does. But she’s used to this apartment having you in it, and many times in the past, her, whenever she needed a place to go to that wasn’t her own house.

Sometimes she thinks maybe she isn’t grateful enough to have you. Sometimes.

“My game feels like it’s falling apart.” she sighs, walking into the living room. She plops down on the couch, tossing her bag aside and taking out her phone. “This girl is actively trying to ruin all of it.”

“Seong Suji?” you ask from the kitchen. There’s a hint of something in your voice that she hasn’t heard before. It’s sour and new.

She wants to hear it again.

“Yes. Seong Suji…” she trails off, “I swear even having 24/7 cameras on her wouldn’t help me stop her from doing all this.” she scoffs.

You hum in response, then it grows quiet. Harin feels a smile pull at her lips. She can practically see how much thoughts this small conversation provoked in your mind. Seong Suji? Is she the problem? She is. But is she in this case, too?

She’s curious.

“Still, I guess she’s a bit cute. Interesting, too. I’ve never had anyone stand up to me this much before.”

“Yeah?” you answer blankly, joining her. You set down the two glasses of cola on the coffee table just harshly enough for it to cause an audible clang. “Maybe because you're so used to having everyone bow to you and your every requests?”

“You don’t.”

“Don’t I?”

“You sound bitter.” Harin laughs, setting down her phone on her lap and propping up her elbow on the armrest. She sets her index under her chin and looks at you as you rummage through your backpack. The glimpse she gets of your face confirms you indeed seem unnerved about something. Cute… No, this is more than cute.

“I’m not.” you sigh, visibly straightening up. Your face relaxes and you glance towards her. “What’s with the staring?”

“Nothing. You’re nice to look at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your laptop from your bag and set it down on the table. Her eyes move to focus on it and she furrows her eyebrows. She didn’t know you still carried it around. She had to buy you one when it fell and the screen cracked, before. Irresponsible… Not that she minds buying for you. Not that you ask, either.

“Info on her friends. From other schools, I mean.”

Harin blinks, registering what you mean. “On Suji?” she mutters, eyes narrowing at the laptop. She tilts her head towards you with a small pout. “I never asked you that, did I?” she chuckles a little, leaning over to grab her glass.

This could be useful, but this doesn’t work.

You shake your head slightly. “Didn't.”

“So you’re just playing assistant, are you?” she huffs, “Thanks… But don’t do it again.”

You frown. “Why?”

“I don’t want you to get involved. You don’t even attend my school. It’ll only be trouble.”

— Besides, she doesn’t want you to be associated with this game and place as a whole more than needed. Just having you near the school is enough to make her stomach hurt. She has to have you be away from it all, at least. If not, she’ll feel like she’s still in it even when she’s with you. Then she won’t be able to sigh in relief once she steps inside your place anymore.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I get in trouble for you.”

“Mhm.” she laughs as she drinks, then turns to look at you once she’s done. The emotion leaves her face. “Don’t do it again.” she repeats, tone laced with hints of a threat. She means it.

“That doesn’t work on me, Harin.”

You stare at her and she doesn’t feel like looking away, either. You’re stubborn. She’s worse. This isn’t gonna end, and if it does, you might argue. She doesn’t feel like arguing.

“Do you like me?“ she decides to ask, just to throw you off a little.

“Are you insane?” you bite back, not missing a beat. Her smile deepens. She blinks away and leans back into the couch, sipping on her drink more.

“Not really.”

“False.”

“That’s rude?” she laughs, looking at you again. You raise your eyebrows and smile slightly, leaning to grab your glass.

“Too bad.” you say, before sipping on the cola. It’s a bit nostalgic. Drinking cola under dim lights when it feels like the world is only you two. This happened before, when she felt like her family’s very presence was suffocating, and locking herself in her room wasn’t enough— Or much earlier, when you were just kids, and you’d buy each other cola flavored popsicles. This kind of comfort makes her want more. She almost forgets about the game, for a moment.

The sour air in your voice and on your features seems to be gone now, so she figures the atmosphere is just as calming for you. Though she did enjoy seeing that look on your face… Your genuine, soft smile is one she enjoys a little bit more.

Now that she’s getting comfortable here, she doesn’t want to leave. She’ll take all the time she can get. She knows you don’t mind her staying. You may be above the rest when it comes to telling her off and not doing everything she asks, but you’re not above allowing nearly anything that helps her. And if letting her stay here, at the cost of possibly getting a death glare from her family members and irritating questions about any trouble she could’ve possibly caused for you, can help her? 

Then she knows you wouldn’t refuse. Even if you pretend you could. She knows how important she is to you.

“I’m staying the night.”

“When did I say you could?”

“You didn’t have to.” she hums, reaching over to move strands of your hair away from your face. She smiles. “I know I can.”

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ aftermath ] t. zegras

paring : Trevor Zegras x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) helps Trevor deal with Jamie leaving and breaking his ankle all in 24 hours

warning(s) : injury, some angst

author’s note : it’s me. hi. i’m the problem, it’s me

༺═──────────────═༻

She definitely believes in the snowball effect after the last 24 hours of her life. It’s one of the reasons why she’s currently on a flight in the middle of the night to Raleigh to meet her boyfriend’s hockey team at their hotel.

Both her life and Trevor’s life have changed so much in 24 hours. Trevor left with the Ducks for their road trip expecting to have a fun trip. His best friend was finally 21 and could enjoy all that Nashville had to offer.

Then Jamie got the call that no player ever really wants to get from their general manager.

Hours later, he was on a flight to Philly and leaving the Ducks and a distraught Trevor behind in Tennessee.

She should’ve gotten on a plane then and there. Instead, she tempted fate.

The next day was Trevor’s 200th career NHL game, and he had to play it without his best friend on the ice with him. (Y/N) happily watched from their apartment in Anaheim.

Until Trevor went down along the boards after 3 shifts and two minutes total on the ice. She was on her feet as she watched her boyfriend get helped down the tunnel. He wasn’t putting any pressure on his left leg as the trainers helped him.

She blew up his phone with texts and calls until one in the morning California time. He never replied. Then she texted Mason and asked where the Ducks were staying in Raleigh. She booked a flight and asked Mason to get Trevor’s room number when they got there.

Luckily there was a nonstop flight to Raleigh that left from LAX at three that she just barely made. She packed a duffel bag and ran out the door to catch the flight.

After nearly five hours in the air and multiple timezone changes, (Y/N) lands in North Carolina. She left at three in the morning and landed at eleven in the morning. Mason’s text with Trevor’s room number and a he’s cranky comes through as she grabs her duffel from baggage claim.

Honestly, she should’ve gotten on a flight as soon as Trevor told her that Jamie got traded. This is what happens when you tempt fate.

She orders an Uber from the airport to the hotel where Trevor is staying with the Ducks.

Why he traveled with them after getting hurt is beyond her. Maybe it isn’t a long term injury and it’s just a sprain.

Either way, she’s about to find out.

After a ten minute debate with herself, she lightly knocks on Trevor’s door.

It’s a second before the door opens. As soon as it swings open though, her heart breaks at the sight behind it.

Trevor stands on crutches with his ankle wrapped. His eyes are red and puffy and it looks like he hasn’t slept a wink in two days. Honestly, he probably hasn’t.

"Trev," she pouts.

He shakes his head and quickly spins to walk back into the room. She follows him and lets the door shut behind her. "I don't want you here, (Y/N)," he tells her. The voice crack tells her all she needs to know. He does actually need her here.

"I don't care," she replies. "I'm here anyway." Trevor leans the crutches against the middle table and sits on the bed. "You haven't exactly had the best few days so I came to make sure you're okay."

"I'm not fucking okay!" Trevor shouts at her before rubbing his face and running his fingers through his hair to compose himself. "My best friend plays across the damn country now after getting traded out of nowhere and I might have just broken my damn ankle in a milestone game. I'm going to be out for like two months again."

(Y/N) crouches down in front of him and puts her hands on his knees. "I'm sorry, baby," she softly says. "I can't even begin to imagine how you feel right now. I know Jamie's in Philly right now and I know you won't talk to anyone else about how you feel so that's why I'm here. I don't want you to bottle up your feelings."

"It just sucks," Trevor says, voice shaky. "Everything's changing and I don't like it. I'm probably going to have to go to Jamie's and pack his apartment so I can send his stuff to him, especially now that I'm out and won't be able to do anything."

She gets up and sits next to her boyfriend. She grabs one of his hands and holds it on her lap. She rubs the back of her hand with her thumb. Trevor leans over and drops his head to her shoulder. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and plays with his hair.

"I'm here," she whispers. "I don't care if you don't want me here. I'll always be here."

"I know," Trevor replies. "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just frustrated and confused and in pain."

(Y/N) kisses his temple and buries her face in his hair. "It's okay," she says. "You're feeling a lot right now so I don't blame you for anything you say right now. Just know that I'll be here the entire time. As for Jamie, you know he's a phone call away whenever you wanna talk to him. He'll answer every single time you call him."

He nods. "Yeah," he mumbles. "Can we lay down until I meet with the doctor?"

"Of course," she replies. "Whatever you wanna do. What time do you meet with the doctor?"

"Three," Trevor tells her as he gets comfortable. Well, as comfortable as he can since he's hurt. "I have to leave at two."

That's enough time for both of them to take a two hour nap.

She sets her alarm for 1:30 then settles in next to him. She wraps a leg around his waist and rests her head on his forehead while he wraps an arm around her shoulders.

"Thank you for coming," Trevor whispers, his voice tired. "You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she assures him. "Close your eyes for a bit. I'll wake you up when it's time to leave."

He nods and within seconds, his breathing evens out. She smiles and falls asleep herself knowing that Trevor is finally getting some rest.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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taglist : @fanboysfangirl @dasiysthings @axaslee @dancerbailey3 @goldihocksrocks @love4lando @sweetinsatiable

[parvulous-writings]

It may come to absolutely no surprise to you but.......I have a preference to Halsin in BG3.

If you have any desire to write some fluff......If I could gift this man some honey comb in a jar with a handkerchief wrapped around the top, and there is a duck stitched on the corner of the cloth. I would. Cuz I really wanna. 💕

Words: 2.06K

Notes: Honestly, I do not blame you! Who couldn't love this big bear of a man? He's amazing! Takes place after the main game plot <3 My requests are currently open, though limited! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Halsin Silverbough - Archdruid and friend to many - was an absolute sweetheart, through and through. It was no secret that this strong hulk of a man was not only reasonable when it came to conflict, but actively sought the betterment of those around him. He sought it so actively, in fact, that he rarely ever left time for himself. He was always so ingrained or focused on what he thought needed to be done to right what wrong he could, that he gave little thought to when he may need to just take a step back, and relax. So, you took it upon yourself to give him the opportunity to.

Of course, being the lover of the Archdruid comes with some perks; one of those being that you knew everyone within the Grove. One of the younger druids, a young halfling named Barnan, had taken up beekeeping once the druids had re-settled, and that gave you the perfect idea for Halsin's little treat. "Good morning, Barnan!" You greet the shorter figure as you approach, glass jar in hand. Barnan jumps, startled by your somewhat sudden appearance. "I was wondering if you could lend me a hand.." You chuckle lightly, as Barnan recovers. "Oh, but of course-" He says quickly, patting down the apron that he so often wore over his normal plain clothes. "What is it that you need?" He asks you, a smile starting to spread over his face.

"I was hoping to get Halsin a little something... He's been practically run off of his feet again recently, and I think he deserves a treat..." You explain, not getting too into all the details, but giving the Halfling enough to know that it was important to you. He nods enthusiastically, turning to the shelves he had pitched up outside his little shack; "Let me see if I have anything that might take his fancy..." He muses, tapping gently at his chin. "Actually, I had something in mind already..." You gently tell him, and as he turns, you hold up the glass jar you had brought with you. "Halsin likes honey - I was wondering if one of your hives could spare some honeycomb for him?" Barnan blinks, then begins to nod, reaching for the jar. "Oh, but of course, of course! Let me take that for you..." He then pauses, looking at the jar for a moment, almost... Concerned. "Are you quite sure this will be enough..?" He turns his gaze back to you for a moment. You seem almost shocked - that was one of the larger jars you had found. Though, looking at it now... You supposed Barnan had a point - Halsin naturally had a large appetite. "Do you have a larger jar?" You ask after a moment's pause, and Barnan grins. "I wouldn't be a very good beekeeper if I didn't, now, would I?" He replied, making you laugh. "I'll grab one for you," He tells you as he hands you your jar back. "Wait here, I shan't be long.." You nod and move to take a seat on a stool Barnan often sits on in the morning - he loves his spot here, with a perfect view of the morning sun.

The breeze is lovely; warm and inviting, and carrying the many scents of the various wildflowers that are nearby, that grow all over the grove in fact. Branan really knew how to pick a good spot for himself to stay - and an even better for his beehives. There wasn't much that you considered 'perfect', but this place? A place so gorgeous, and the home of those you held so dear? This was perfect, without a doubt. Lost in your thoughts, you're unsure of how much time actually passes whilst Barnan retrieves some honeycomb for you. When he returns, he's carrying in incredibly large jar in his arms. "You're in luck," He pants to you, as he places the filled jar on the grass by your legs, "There was a fair deal of surplus comb in all the hives - I really should be keeping on top of them more, this far into summer... Ah well, I just suppose the days have been getting away from me!" He laughs. You chuckle along with him. "Thank you, Barnan... I really appreciate this..." You get to your feet, leaning down to pick up the jar with both hands. "Oh it's no trouble, no trouble at all... Give Master Halsin my regards!" "Of course - I wouldn't dream of neglecting to mention your help," You muse. "Have a good day, friend." You smile at him, and Barnan gives a nod, still smiling warmly. "And to you, my friend."

And with that, you start the short walk back to yours and Halsin's shared quarters, deeper in the Grove. It's always a pleasant walk - whether it's in the middle of the day, or the dead of night. During the day, you're greeted with polite 'hellos' and 'how are you's', and at night, you get to bask in the blissful sounds of nature as the world sleeps. By the time you manage to get back to your shared space, Halsin is already awake, half dressed, and lumbering out into the near midday sun. He stretches, basking in the warmth the light blesses him with, as you quickly try to hide the jar behind your back, not quite ready to give him the gift. "Good morning, my heart.." He greets you, smiling lovingly down at you. "I see you did not wake me..." He muses as he moves a bit closer. "May I ask why?" "I just thought that you deserved a bit of a rest... You haven't given much time for yourself recently, and I think you should." You reply, nodding as you spoke. Halsin starts to nod with you, humming quietly in agreement. He could find no fault in your answer. He starts to chuckle lightly; "Sometimes I feel like you know me better than even I know myself," He tells you, opening his arms and stepping forward for a hug. You quickly duck under his arm, spinning round before he can see the honey pot you're concealing with your torso. Halsin's head turns, trying to catch up with where you've flitted to, his expression portraying his almost comical bafflement. "My love..?" He starts, trailing off mid-sentence. "No you haven't done anything." You quickly clear up for him, giving him a smile of reassurance. "Then why do you dodge my embrace, hm?" "I have a surprise for you," You divulge, your tone almost cheeky. "And it'd be an awful shame to ruin it." Halsin can't help but laugh a little bit at this - he thinks himself almost foolish for so quickly jumping to the idea that you would recoil from his embrace, and your audacious tone did also amuse him so. "Alright, I shall... Let it go, this time." He teases. "I hope that the surprise will be ready before this evening, so I may embrace you at least once today..." "It will, it will... So long as you actually let me go continue preparing it.." You tease, and Halsin bows his head a bit in laughter. "As you wish, my love..." He murmurs. "I shall leave you to whatever antics you've managed to entrench yourself in today... Just don't get into trouble." He warns, only half joking. You roll your eyes playfully at him, before ducking inside, and out of his sight.

You're quick to rummage through what belongings you have to find the sewing kit you keep, mainly for clothing repairs, picking out a larger needle than normal, alongside some yellow thread. You set to work carefully, threading the needle carefully through the corner of the cloth that covers the honey jar, keeping it safe from bugs and other wandering hands. The little image comes together rather quickly and with a splash of other colours - a dash of black, and orange - you've finished your little project, and before you sits a embroidered duck chick. You admire it for a moment, proud of it. You know for a fact, that Halsin will love this - even if you weren't as proud of it as you were now, he'd still love it. You push yourself to your feet after a moment or so of making sure that you're satisfied, making your way out into the sun again. You shield your eyes with one hand, cradling the jar in your arm much like a baby. It doesn't take you long to find Halsin, knife and woodblock in hand, carefully chipping away at the carving he's started. You stroll towards him, smile growing on your face as you wait for him to notice you. "Ah, my heart..." Halsin starts, his gaze still focused on the block of wood as he carves. "I thought today may be a good opportunity to finally set about making us some new utensils.." He tells you, before finally glancing up. His jaw goes a bit slack, before he starts to laugh. "This was your surprise?" He asks you, as you present the honeycomb to him. "It is indeed... Do you like it?" "Like it? My love, I'm not quite sure how to express my thanks... You really did mean it when you thought I deserved time for myself, hm?" "Oh, I wouldn't say something I don't mean... I know better than that.." You muse quietly. "Barnan also sends his regards..." You grunt softly as you move to sit beside him. He leans over to you and presses a kiss to your cheek, and you can feel the smile still on his lips. "I shall thank him when I see him next..." He tells you as he moves to take the cloth-lid off of the jar, pausing to chuckle at the embroidered duck. "And I presume this is your handiwork?" He asks you, turning the corner of the cloth slightly towards you to show you. You nod at him. "Such a small detail..." The elf muses, smiling as he ran his thumb over the stitches. "Thank you, my love. Truly." He takes off the cloth, placing it on his lap for later, and before you can say anything else to him, his hand is in the jar, grasping for some of the sweet comb inside. You can't help but laugh at the sight - but you knew there was nothing you'd be able to do to stop him. He ignores you, choosing to focus instead on crunching down on the sweet treat you'd procured for him. He practically groans as the taste hits his tongue, and your grin stretches ever wider. "Enjoying yourself, my love?" You ask him, and he nods hurriedly as he takes another mouthful of honeycomb; you start to wonder if it's even touching the sides at this point. "Slow down, you don't want to eat it all in one sitting, do you?" You tease, and at this, he does slow down a little bit. He pauses for a moment, honey dripping off of his hand and into the jar as he finishes his mouthful. He then brings his hand towards your mouth. "Open," He prompts gently, and you comply, soon tasting the same sweet honey you had gifted to your partner.

As he pulls his hand away to eat the rest of the honey stuck to it himself, you give another quiet chuckle. "I didn't think you'd want to share this treat - I wasn't expecting you to." You tell him, and he picks up another chunk of comb, handing it to you. "I know you didn't expect me to. But with you, my love, I would share all of nature's bounty... It is not for one person to hoard it to themselves, it is to be shared and revelled in.." He says, rather sagely, as you bite into the crunchy snack he had bestowed upon you. "I didn't know you felt so strongly about honeycomb." You teased him, smirking as you did. "Of course I do. And don't talk with your mouth full." He playfully chides, gently bumping his shoulder into yours. You both lapse into a comfortable silence after that, sharing the honey and gazing out on the landscape that you call home. It's a peaceful moment, and one that both you and Halsin will certainly treasure for a very, very long time.

[suzukiblu]

WIP guessing game: help

"I know about Billy, Marvel," Batman says, and Billy . . . blinks.

"You know?!" he sputters. Okay, so apparently his secret identity was just . . . literally never a secret at all, then. Which, well–Batman, so that just figures, really. So actually this is kind of a relief and might even mean that he's fine with–

"Yes," Batman confirms with a nod. "So I understand your current reservations about parenthood."

. . . wait what.

"Huh?" Billy says, blinking stupidly at him.

"I don't know how much of you is still C.C. Batson or what you do or don't remember about being him," Batman says. "But the resemblance is undeniable, if nothing else. Certainly your and your wife's deaths were . . . well, suspicious. And you're hardly the first archeologists to dig up a god or six."

Oh, okay. Well.

This is apparently what Billy gets for his personal mental image of a "hero" being his dad, then, isn't it.

Crap.

"To be honest I've been looking for Billy for a while now, I just didn't want to bring it up before I found him," Batman admits, looking dissatisfied with himself. "My most recent reliable intel puts him in Fawcett City, but I assume you're aware of that, given your evident attachment to the place."

"You're looking for Billy?" Billy asks incredulously. "Why?"

"Because he's your son," Batman says. "And because he's a homeless child who's been abused and neglected and needs help. I honestly don't know where you go when you're not being Captain Marvel–frankly I'm not sure if you even exist when you're not being Captain Marvel, given what little I actually know about your powers and your death and your role as the Champion of Magic and just how damn impossible you are to find when you're off-duty–but I'm assuming that wherever it happens to be is not necessarily conducive to providing a stable home environment and being legally dead certainly can't be helping with that, so my original intention was to find the boy and help you arrange some manner of care for and visitation with him. And given the revelation of your relation to Robin, well . . . I'd like to take Billy in myself, if you'd both be comfortable with that. It seems . . . appropriate, under the circumstances."

"You want to foster Billy because I'm Robin's soulmate?" Billy says, absolutely positive that he's misunderstood literally every single word that just came out of Batman's mouth. There is no possible way that he did not.

"It's not exactly out of my wheelhouse," Batman replies wryly. "Although I'll be keeping this one out of the tights, ideally. Though I make no long-term promises about that because quite frankly at this point I'm spoiled for soulmates who insist on wearing capes and I wouldn't really be surprised to turn up another one, especially given that Robin is yours and your own involvement in the superhero community."

Billy stares at him.

"Wait, are all the Gotham vigilantes your soulkids?" he blurts unthinkingly.

"Not all," Batman says. "But, well . . . probably more of them than you'd expect."

"Oh my god," Billy says in disbelief. "And you're just telling me that?! You don't tell people things, you're Batman!"

"I haven't always been the father I should have been," Batman says, and then he pulls down his cowl. Billy chokes, and then chokes again because apparently Batman is Bruce freaking Wayne and his brain just . . . just needs a moment to process that fact, like there is literally any way whatsoever that he could ever actually process that fact. He would've been less surprised to see a Kardashian under that mask, he's pretty sure. At least they've got athletes in the family, technically! "So I'm not going to make things difficult for you with Robin. Clearly he needs more than I'm capable of providing, and I'm perfectly willing to be transparent and to co-parent with you as much as possible. I want Robin to be safe and content and grow up well, and frankly put, Batson, you've proven yourself to be a good man time and again and I trust you to do what's best by our son."

Okay, well, now Billy just feels like dirt.

"You do know what happened to Billy, don't you?" he asks just a little bit desperately, because there is literally no way that this conversation is a real and actual thing that's really and actually happening. "Like, just–everything that happened there? There's a reason he's not in school or the system or with a relative or anything like that."

"What happened to Billy wasn't your fault," Batman tells him, meeting his eyes all quiet and intent and sincere. "And I will do everything in my power to help you make it right."

"Oh no, you're actually like . . . just genuinely a really good person, aren't you," Billy says despairingly, staring at him all over again and really, really wishing he could swear right now.

Maybe he'll just go throw himself into the sun. Maybe that's what he'll just go and do.

The corner of Batman's mouth quirks up wryly. His eyes even crinkle a little, which Billy can see on account of his total lack of cowl right now, oh god.

Billy despairs.

"I mean it," Batman says gently. "It wasn't your fault, and it doesn't mean you can't be a good father now."

"I need to talk to Robin," Billy says, because he definitely, definitely needs to talk to Robin. Batman inclines his head in an accepting nod, because Batman is probably under the impression that Billy wants to go give Robin a good ol' traditional "I know I'm not your biodad but I'm here for you, champ!" kind of speech, and Billy just . . . really cannot explain the real situation to him right now. Or ever.

Can he just lie to Batman for the rest of their lives, maybe? He can just pretend to be his own dad for the Justice League and keep dodging whatever Bat-surveillance happens to be in Fawcett and parent his older-than-he-is soulmate, right? That's a thing that he can do?

That's probably not a thing that he can do.

Although he might be willing to try, at this point.

[foreingersgod]

Ur so right about cc content being non existent 😭. I was wondering if I could request a cc fic or hc with Pro Tennis player!reader 🫡

Of course my love!! hope you like it :)

A/N: i’m not a huge athlete so apologies if this has slight inaccuracies

Battered and Bruised . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: typically caitlin is the one that comes home with the injuries, but when you take a nasty fall during your big tennis match, she’s the one to take care of you.

you love caitlin, but god did she get hurt a lot. you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t tired of the late nights stood between caitlin legs as she sat on the seat of the toilet, tending to countless bruises and scrapes.

but there were a fair share of sweet moments when she’d come home from an intense game. regardless of the pain she was in, her eyes would never leave your face. she was entranced by how beautiful you looked: hair messy from your evening practices on the court, mascara slightly smudged under your eyes, the way your tongue poked out of the corner of your mouth while you tried to open the bottle of hydrogen peroxide.

“please stop staring, i look like shit” you’d say.

“you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my life” she’d reply, fingers fiddling with your skirt “i’m so insanely lucky”.

and she really meant it, she’s so grateful to have someone like you. someone who was willing to ‘nurse her back to health’, as you put it, no matter how late in the night it was or how little the cut might be. she wished you could understand how much something so little could mean the most.

so when you came home from a pretty nasty game, skin drenched in sweat, knees sore and covered purple, and your feet blistered, she knew this was her moment to return the favor.

“holy shit, YN, you look terrible” caitlin said, shocked to see you so beaten up.

“gee, thanks babe” you dropped your duffel bag and racket at the door, collapsing on the couch. you did your best to give her a sarcastic smile, but everything hurt and you could barely feel your face.

“stop that’s not what i meant,” she wasted no time rushing to your side to sit next to you. pulling up both of your legs to rest across her lap, she gently removed your socks and shoes to rub your aching feet. “what the fuck happened today?”

you honestly don’t really even know what happened, the match started off so well. but the entire time you couldn’t stop thinking about how caitlin wouldn’t be there this time due to conflicting schedules and it really threw you off your game.

“everything happened” you sighed, rubbing your head “first, you weren’t there today, so all i could think about was how badly i wanted to come home to you. then i kept messing up all my drills before we started…and the girl i was against today was so fucking bitchy and such a dirty player! i just couldn’t keep up like i normally do and i just…” you rambled mindlessly as pain shot through your entire body.

she reached over to push the hair out of your face, softly rubbing her thumb over your cheekbone. “YN…”

“and i just kept tripping and i skinned my leg, i think at some point the ball hit me square in the head so now my whole fucking head hurts” you cried.

“baby, it’s ok, shhh, you’re ok” she cooed, forcing you to sit up next to her and she enveloped you into a hug. you just wanted to cuddle up into the side of her hoodie and stay there forever.

caitlin held you for a few minutes while you tried to catch your breath and give your body a break. her hand found its way to your hair once again, pulling out your pony tail and headband to massage your scalp.

“i think it’s my turn to take care of you this time” she finally whispered into your ear. she could practically feel your smile against her shoulder.

“i think that’d be nice”

“alright stay put for me, don’t move a muscle”

your girlfriend grabbed your gear as she headed up the stairs so she could put everything away for you. then she headed into the bathroom, dimming the lights and starting the bath. she made to sure to add your favorite bubble bath (the one your sister got you for Christmas last year) and some epsom salts to ease your sore muscles. on top of all this, she made an extra effort to set out some fresh clothes for you and hang up a new towel on your designated hook.

you perked up when she finally game down the stairs, eager to see what took her so long.

“ok, up you go” she urged, helping you off the couch and up the stairs. her hand rested at the small of your back, fingers lightly toying with the band of your skirt as she guided you towards the bathroom.

once she opened the door to reveal the elegant bath she had prepared for you, you had to bite your lip to suppress a moan of relief. the bubbles, the steam, the smell of the room could just about make you cry.

“i hope it’s ok, i made to sure to add in the stuff you like to help you relax a little bit, but tell me if it’s too much or too hot or anything and i’ll-” your lips found hers before she could finish her sentence. your fingers desperately grabbed at her hoodie, trying to pull her as close to you as you could. lips molding into one another’s with ease.

“this is perfect, caitlin. i don’t even know what to say”

“don’t say anything, just get in” she smiled at you.

like the sweet woman she is, caitlin helped you undress. assisting you with your sports bra and taking off your wristbands for you too. as you stepped in the warm water, you instantly felt alleviated and sunk into the comfort. while you closed your eyes, caitlin sat next to the tub on the toilet, soaking a rag in some cleanser to take off the days makeup and wipe away the sweat and grime.

when it was time to wash up, she forced your hand away from your shampoo bottles and body wash, begging you to let her do it for you. you had to admit, it felt good to let her do all the work for you and pamper you tonight.

after soaking in the tub for nearly an hour and caitlin allowing you to vent about the match, you finally forced yourself out and let caitlin dress you for bed. she had set out your “women’s tennis” college t-shirt and matching shorts for you and helped you into bed.

“so what you’re saying is i’ve got to start getting hurt out there more often?” you teased as cait settled behind you and pulled you against her chest so she could help you brush out your hair.

“god please don’t do that,” she laughed “not that i still wouldn’t do this for you regardless, but you just always take such good care of me when i come home battered and bruised.”

she stopped combing to kiss the side of you head and snake her arms around your waist. “you’re so good to me, baby. i love you, you deserve this and so much more”

though almost falling asleep from pure exhaustion, you managed to turn your head to catch her in one last kiss and a soft “i love you”. you were so blessed to have her in this life and the next.

*ೃ༄

A/N: sorry if this is a little vague for “tennis player!reader”, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless, thank you for the request <3

[kaeichi]

love is in the air.

. . . and maybe that's why mikage reo can view the world with such clouded, pink-hued vision, and why nagi seishiro cannot breathe at all.

series. nagi + reader + reo. no gendered terms, but some implications of m! reader. reader likes boys. bestfriend! nagi. valentines/white day. highschool setting. swearing. humor. fluff & angst.

a/n. repost bc it wasnt showing up in tags T-T i js want a shoujo anime w these two as the MLs...

prev ┊ next ┊ 01 … 02 … 03

⊹ 01 : my dear partner [wc: 4.7k]

TWO YEARS AGO

“…dude. you're scaring all the hoes away.” 

nagi watches your lips move, though he barely registers anything you've been saying since he has stopped listening a while ago—which, honestly, comes as no surprise to anyone.

there’s no real reason to be so lethargic at this hour (it's already late noon, plus he surprisingly had a decent amount of sleep the previous night for once), nor the time to think about trivial things, but he can’t help but think about how exactly every single thing stopped being so bothersome like it used to.

he can't quite pinpoint what brought on this gradual change, but if he had to, then it’d probably be three springs ago—when he’d wake up a little earlier than usual to the gentle kiss of the sun through his window and the cherry blossoms were in perfect bloom. around that time is when he’d received his quiet companion choki, he’d finally scored top 1 in the leaderboards after months and months of grinding in his favorite mobile game, and… when you’d first sat next to him in middle school.

for as long as he remembers, you were simply just there. an unexpected oddity that has not only forced its way through, but has also wedged firmly into every aspect in his life. and somehow, he’d concluded that maybe some things weren't so bad—that some things weren't such a hassle to him after all.

“move, idiot. at this point you might as well hold my hand.” the snow-haired male barely hears your voice over his wandering thoughts, stumbling from the light shove you give him. he has now become acutely aware of your swinging hand, wary of the close proximity and the faint buzz of static that lingers on his skin. huh. maybe it is better to move away.

still, he’d rather not reposition himself. it’s too much work, he’d like to reason, and it's certainly not because of anything else… maybe. he doesn't really know for sure. what he does know though, is that the space beside him suddenly feels strangely empty. 

when he looks at you to see a pout forming on your lips, he can't help but sigh. you're being unreasonable. there's something that's been nagging his curiosity for a while now, and it took him quite a bit to realize what it is.

“seishirooo,” you whined one day, allowing your head to sink against his mattress, taking up nearly the whole space while nagi sits at the corner of the bed. you came over to his place that day to bother him, stating that you needed some comfort because apparently, “no one ever looks at me. i feel so damn invisible.” he shrugged and offered you his controller, challenging you to a 1v1 with him as a distraction.

“…but i look at you all the time?” he replied.

“yeah, but that's different.” and he would've asked you to elaborate more, if not for the fact that you've been horribly vague about it when he does ask, and the perpetually sleepy gamer only has so much patience before he gives up and decides it's something not worth spending his energy on.

besides, you're always emotional like that. this was probably just another one of your fleeting phases.

it's not until he notices you've been longingly gazing at the couples on the campus, quietly seething under your breath that it finally clicks. now, he may not have the greatest understanding when it comes to feelings and all its complexities, but even he can tell you’re reeking with jealousy.

despite being pushed off only seconds ago, nagi shuffles closer again as he falls into step beside you. even if sparks prick his skin, it feels right in this way. “dunno why you ‘need’ hoes when you already have me.”

“just because i'm into guys doesn’t mean that i like you in that way,” you mutter, sending him an odd glance like you thought there’s something wrong with his head for even suggesting that. not knowing how to respond, he settles for staring right back without a word. 

“what's with that look? you know what i mean, seishiro.” you continue, averting your gaze from him. what look? he asks internally. “it's just, well, literally everyone is getting into relationships. and i know we're still first years, but… it just feels like i’m missing out, y’know? 

“do you really? sounds like a hassle to me,” he shrugs, and it truly does—he never saw the appeal of dumb crushes, of drama nearly every day, of possible unrequited “love,” or of wasting half your time and energy on someone just for it to not mean anything at all in the end. video games sound way more fun, and way less heartbreak inducing.

“you can't say that when you haven’t even experienced it,” you argue, still pouting.

“it’s overrated anyways. being single is better.”

“hah! of course you’d say that, you virgin.” 

“you’re one to talk,” nagi boredly quips. “i’m celibate purely by choice, but you on the other hand… if you really think about it, you're basically an incel.”

nearly choking on your spit, you exclaim, “hah?!”

“you don't even really talk to other guys except for me, and on top of that, you're barely approached by anybody,” he explains in a matter-of-fact tone, oblivious to the way his best friend’s confidence waning rapidly by the second the more he speaks.

“yeah? and who’s fault is it, you cockblocker!” 

nagi simply sticks a tongue out as you flip him off.

right after that, the two of you ended up breaking into a sprint as you heard the clicking sound of heels walking on the tiles around the corner, not wanting to get caught for skipping classes. well, you ran, and just dragged him by the wrist. he felt the warmth of your fingers even through the thick barrier of his baggy sleeve.

PRESENT

you try not to trip and fall face first as a cold hand guides you through the crowded hallway.

it's embarrassing enough as it is to be rushing through the middle of the corridor and pushing past the bodies of random students like you're a main character or some sort, but even more so when the (apparently) most popular guy of the campus that you’ve (never) seen is walking right in front of you.

and it gets even more humiliating when said popular guy has taken hostage of your wrist, leading you away to a more secluded area. shocked, harsh whispers echo throughout nearly the whole floor, and multiple eyes shoot daggers at the fingers wrapped around the sleeve of your uniform, and you’ve never wanted to bury yourself alive more than this moment.

after rounding a corner into a miraculously empty hallway, you finally skid to a stop, yanking your hand away, ready to pounce at the culprit who made you go through all that unnecessary attention. however, before you can get a word in, the refined male bows his head low in front of you, and you find yourself face-to-face with sleek purple locks.

“i’m sorry, but i have no time for dating. i’m really flattered, though. i hope we can stay friends still.” he hurriedly says, hope gleaming in his matching purple eyes.

…what. 

who is he again? and why is he rejecting you?

for some reason, you find the stranger’s gaze too bright that you have to look away; so you do exactly that, tilting your chin downwards instead and letting your hair mask your expression.

after a few beats of silence, he clears his throat. “i'm really sorry, it hurts me to see you look so down… i’m sure we can put this behind us and—”

“nice shoes,” you interrupt, still not raising your head to meet his now confused stare. “i can tell you really love wearing them, judging by the busted, worn out stitches. hey, is it just me or is that prada logo kinda wonky too?”

the male's jaw drops down nearly all the way to the floor.

“pardon me?” he says through gritted teeth, keeping his composure by flashing his usual award-winning smile, albeit a lot more stiffer. “i know i just rejected you, but you don't have to be so hostile…” 

when you finally raise your head, your expression can only be described as terribly and solemnly unamused, unimpressed beyond words.

then, you suddenly lean closer, peering closely into his violet irises with thoughtful hum. an unwilling flush of red creeps on the tips of the boy’s ears, his eyes widening comically at the sudden intrusion of space. “you’ll do,” nodding to yourself, you now grab his wrist and pull him away. “come.”

“w-wait, huh? where are we go—” 

“you're the one who made me late. let's go!”

reo isn't quite sure why he's the one being dragged away now.

he has only initially planned to gently turn down the person who last confessed to him, whose family just so happened to be related to his father’s business partners—but now he somehow finds himself on a whole date with that person? (the same one who brazenly insulted him by implying his shoes are fake, by the way!)

“i have other plans today, you know…” the heir says, subtly trying to inch away from you.

you tug him back by his sleeve, with twice as much force than he had used on you earlier. “i can imagine, my dear partner.”

“w-what?” reo stutters, and he's cringes at himself for how he's acting at the moment. the usually composed and charming mikage reo, now reduced to a stuttering and blushing mess? how embarrassing.

“normally my best friend would do this with me, but he slept in today.” leave it to seishiro to leave me all alone on the day that actually matters, you irritatedly mutter under your breath. “well, whatever. come on.”

as you and him enter the packed bubble tea shop, the fingers that were wrapped around his sleeve slides down to interlace with reo’s own clammy ones. he realizes this a second too late, and before he has the chance to let go, the clerk by the entrance greets them with an enthusiastic “welcome, lovebirds!”

“huh?!” reo’s jaw slackens, dumbfounded. he’s really starting to hate himself now—it's unbecoming of him, really, but it's hard to process everything when you're so close to him that the scent of your shampoo keeps invading his senses and subsequently messing with his head.

“here’s your special tickets for today. thank you for participating, and happy valentines!” you drag him straight to the back, where the colorful claw machines are set up. reo catches a glimpse of the pink posters set up on the walls of the quaint shop, which reads: couples get free special tickets! today only! …ah. that's why he's here.

“aoi-san… you're gripping too tight,” he says, gritting his teeth together into a forced smile. 

“aoi?” you repeat, your grip finally loosening until you let go entirely. “huh… i see. by the way, what's your name again?”

needless to say, the purple-haired male is beyond perplexed. “is this your unique attempt at a joke or something?”

“come on, rich boy. we've held hands and i don’t even know your name!” 

“right… which i totally wasn't being forced to do…” he lets out an awkward laugh. sure, some admirers of his tend to get a tad excessive, but they were never able to get far with him, much less forcibly drag him out on a date—and it's not even because they want him to spend his unlimited budget on them and spoil them rotten, but just so they can get… a free special ticket for a claw machine. how did he end up getting in this bizarre situation? more importantly, how does he get out?

you simply shrug. “your fault, rich boy. you should try thinking about anyone other than yourself for once.”

“excuse me?” he narrows his eyes, slightly peeved. he's had enough of your rude attitude; potential business partner or not, he hopes that he never has to interact with you again in the future. “stop calling me that. i have a name, and it's mikage reo.”

the way your eyes widen doesn't go unnoticed by him. “and what did you even mean by that?” he presses defensively.

you plop down on the seat, with reo mirroring you as you insert the rouge ticket decorated with pink hearts into the slot of the claw machine. “well, mikage reo. i’m sure you're aware how aoi’s family is important, right?”

yeah, this person is definitely a weirdo, reo muses. who refers to themselves in third person?

“i heard they had connections everywhere… just like you. it's crucial to maintain a good relationship with someone like that, right?” you conclude—that would explain why reo had taken the time to personally talk to “aoi” one-on-one instead of just flat out rejecting them on the spot.

reo tilts his head to the side. “i’m not following…?”

“mikage.” you emphasize, looking at him straight in the eye before turning your attention back to playing. “i’m saying that the poor kid’s still waiting for an answer. your heartfelt and sincere rejection, to be exact.”

a few seconds of silence pass. well, as silent as it can be with the loud chattering of the crowd and the mechanical whirrs of the claw machine you're currently messing with resounding in the air.

“you mean, you're not…” reo trails off, all color draining from his face. “i’m so, so sorr—”

“aoi’s the one you should apologize to, not me. oh, i got a double! how lucky.” you eagerly grab the prize, the limited edition valentine’s merch exclusive to this boba shop; a plushie collectible that comes with a redeemable code for your favorite video game. you want to collect all of them, but you’re broke as hell and you’re only here due to the free ticket. turning to reo, you shove the second plushie to his chest. “here, this is for you. since you did help me out with getting these.”

“ah, thank you…” reo absentmindedly accepts the small toy, still reeling on how he could make such a careless mistake. “listen, i do apologize—”

“i wonder how'd you even mix us up. is it ‘cause we have the same hair color?” you ask, slightly amused because aside from that, you and aoi look nothing alike. your fingers tap on the surface of the control panel, observing reo’s shame-stricken visage. “or maybe… is it because everyone just looks the same to you?”

at that moment, mikage reo realizes two things: (1) maybe he's more transparent and vulnerable than he thinks, and (2) you're dangerous, and it's better to stay far, far away from you. how could you see right through him so quickly? what if that's something you'll use against him?

he doesn't like to admit it, but it's true—in his perspective, everyone's the same. they're just after him for money and status, and at some point, they've all just become faceless, superficial pawns vying for his attention.

and of course, you’re no exemption.

noticing he’s gone quiet, you continue, “but i guess if my world was as vast as yours, i couldn't possibly keep up with everything either, so i get it. i’m not saying i’m in the same situation as you, but i can kind of relate, i guess. i only keep the ones who's important to me close, and the rest just exist and do whatever. i’m selective, but in that way, at least i can give my all to the ones that really matter.”

reo closes his mouth shut. here you are casually saying that you don't matter to him, and while that isn't a lie in the slightest, he still can't help but feel guilty. maybe it's just the people-pleaser in him, or maybe it’s the way the corners of your lips are slightly quirked up and to form a miniscule, accepting smile, but he wants to reassure you, “still, i’m sure you feel that—”

“i don’t.” you don't mind that he didn't know you, because you didn't even know him either—there’s no reason for you to take it personal. you’d be a hypocrite otherwise. “i really don’t.”

you smile at him. he thinks it's out of understanding, but unbeknownst to him you're actually just entertained by how his inner turmoil is so clearly reflected on his expression. “so don’t worry about it. plus, we’re even now.” you add, gesturing towards the prize.

hopping off the stool, you wave at him as you start to walk away. “...happy valentines. i'll see you around, mikage. maybe. er, probably not.”

“wait!” he hurriedly jumps off the stool as well, clutching the plushie in his hand as he follows after you. “i… let me drive you home.” the words stumble out before he even realizes what he's saying. you're probably just using him, and you're dangerous, and you see right through him, and he should stop wasting his time because his actual valentine's date is probably three seconds away from storming out the restaurant he's booked at—

so why is he doing this?

“drive?” you repeat, because of course he’d have a driver. damn rich people, you think internally. “nuh uh. it's like a ten minute walk, and i’d rather save the environment.”

“then i’ll walk with you.”

“you do realize i’m done dragging you for the day, right?” you quirk a brow up, amused; you could've sworn he was itching to get the hell away half an hour ago. “you're free. you can go home if you want.”

reo smiles, a more genial one this time. “i know.”

“so, you into popular guys now?” 

“hell no.”

nagi narrows his eyes at you. “you’re just into reo, then?” 

while you expected to be grilled first thing in the morning by random people about your apparent relationship with mikage reo (to which you simply replied, “i don’t know who that is, sorry,” and proceeded to run away), you didn't expect to be interrogated by your apathetic best friend as well. 

usually, nagi prefers to be completely silent during the 1st period (and actually all the way through lunch), not bothering to utter more than a few words, but today, he seems uncharacteristically on edge, waiting for you at the corner of the gym with a wrinkle between his brows.

“why are you on a first name basis with him?”

“everyone calls him reo.” he shrugs. “why him?”

“i never said i was into him.”

“then what's all that partner thing about?” he asks, which confuses you a bit. you doubt that reo would go around announcing to everyone how you teasingly called him ‘partner’ and practically dragged him to a date against his will, but it's not like him and nagi are close either, so you wonder where nagi has heard this information from. then, you suddenly recall back to yesterday, where you saw the curtain of your neighbor’s bedroom window swinging side-to-side, as if it was drawn close a mere second before you looked up. 

it seems that your mind wasn't playing tricks with you after all, and that a certain someone was eavesdropping on your conversation with reo as he walked you to your door.

“fake partners, you mean? and it was a just a joke—i met him that day.”

“that day? why are you acting so close if you've just met that day?”

“you're awfully talkative today, seishiro.” 

“i know. it's making me exhausted, and it's all your fault.” he then presses his weight against you, leaning his forehead on your shoulder—as he always does when he's tired and you're within reach. your eyes widen immediately, darting around the gymnasium to see if any of your classmates has noticed.

you don't want people to get the wrong idea about you two. it's not because it kills your chances with anyone due to the assumption that you aren't single (which you still very much are, by the way), or even because of potential issues of being a two-timer due to a certain rich boy—it's just that whenever you get asked if you and your best friend are together, you can't help but flinch from the idea, like ice is being poured inside the back of your shirt. you don’t really know what to call it, but you do know that you've answered the question a hundred times and you're positively sick of it.

“i told you to stop doing this in public,” you hiss, trying to push the giant, clingy sloth off you. “and stop whining, nagi. i’m not going anywhere. besides, i’m not even looking for a relationship or anything like that. not after… you know, what happened during our first year.”

he lifts his head up, frowning at you. “don’t call me nagi. just ‘cause you met a new guy doesn't mean you get to call me nagi.” 

you raise an unimpressed brow. what’s his problem? “only if you stop whining.” 

“…‘m not.” he slurs his words together, only proving your point.

“yes you are!”

“why do you have to be so annoying? you're such a pain,” he sighs, now walking away from you.

“i'm the annoying one?! and don't call me a pain, you—!” without hesitation, you promptly snatch a red ball from the steel ball cart beside you before swinging your arm at him, slamming the dodgeball right to his head. well, you tried to, at least; even with his back facing towards you, nagi only takes one step to the side to avoid it.

“your shitty aim sucks balls,” the tall male comments unenthusiastically, his white fringe falling over his eyes as he gazes at you over his shoulder. his nonchalance only spurs you on, now hauling multiple dodgeballs at him.

“how about you suck my ba—”

“give it up already. you're never gonna hit me.” and nagi actually has the audacity to yawn mid-dodge. of course, it only fuels your irritation even more. you eventually run out of balls to throw, so you mindlessly grab the nearest object to your right and chuck that as well.

…which unfortunately, happens to be nagi’s phone that he's snuck inside the gym, peeking under a face towel on the bench.

“oh, fu—” 

because of your (rightfully) so-called shitty aim, it swung way up high to the left, a few steps away from nagi. in less than a second, he realizes what you have flung at him, and his body moves instinctively; he throws himself towards it, swinging his leg upward and trapping it with his foot with perfect ease before it has the chance to plummet down on the floor.

“why are you making me move so much…” he sighs. “what a pain.” 

“you’re supposed to move anyways, we're in PE. you're welcome,” you smugly reason out. and then not even a second later you fold, shoulders curling inwards as you glance toward his phone; if it weren't for his godly reflexes, you would've broken it. with a small voice, you meekly add, “sorry.”

nagi shrugs in response.

when he saunters over to place his phone on the bench again, a silver glint catches your eye. a small charm swings lightly, small beads of white and black strung haphazardly together attached to the side of his phone case.

“wait, this is…” a phone charm crafted by hand, which is your birthday present for him four years ago. “i didnt know you still had that.”

“why wouldn't i?”

“where was it this whole time? this wasn't here a few days ago.”

“i just kept it in my drawer ‘cause i don’t wanna lose it.”

tilting your head to the side, you ask, “so why'd you suddenly decide to attach it to your phone now?”

he looks away, scratching the back of his neck. “…dunno.” 

eyes dropping into slits, you mutter, “you know, that kinda sounds sus—”

“hey! that was amazing! nagi, right? you should play soccer with me!”

nagi and yourself both turn to the direction of the sudden voice, seeing a familiar figure running towards you, vivid purple eyes gleaming under the gymnasium’s stark white lights.

“mikage?” you exclaim.

ever so slightly, nagi sharpens his usual droopy eyes. “nah.” he immediately says, turning on his heel.

“seishiro? wait, weren't you supposed to be looking for a club?”

“don’t really care.” you follow him, lightly jogging to keep up. as soon as you catch up by his side, the taller male glances at you as he asks, “will you join too?”

is he seriously asking you that… “no?”

“then i won't.” nagi concludes as he continues to walk away from reo.

“hey, wait up!” reo calls out, placing a hand on your shoulder. “ah, i was completely shut down… say, will you help me convince him?”

your brows shoot up as your gaze flicks down where he's casually touching you. after your initial confusion of who he is yesterday, you then recognize him after learning his name—the most popular boy in school, known for his good looks, charisma, and most especially, his wealth. he gets along well with literally everyone, and acts genuinely close with them even if they aren't.

“uh, why should i?”

“remember that limited edition merch you like? i can get you the rest of the collection. in fact, i’ll even buy out the whole place just for you.”

“wha– seriously?” you feel your eye twitch. damn rich people. “it was limited edition. they all ran out of stock already.”

“i have my ways.” well, that's not shady at all. he flashes a grin at your skepticism, winking at you, “anything for my partner.”

and you now understand why he's earned his title. this is probably how he always gets what he wants—with a smile like that, anyone would drop to their knees and do whatever he’d ask. two years ago, you would've keeled over for attention like this, but now, you're nothing but indifferent.

he places his hands on both of your shoulders now, completely stopping you from taking off. wide violet eyes scrutinize your own, making you scrunch your nose at the close proximity. “shouldn't you be begging him and not me?”

“yeah, but...” reo swears he feels an air of animosity radiating from the white-haired male, and that's why he has decided to turn you instead. “you wouldn't leave your partner hanging, right? as partners, we help each other out, riiiight?” he says, dragging his words out.

you lean as far as you physically can from his grip, but he doesn't seem to care, excitedly looking at you with stars evident in his eyes. “mikage, you—” he smiles at you, bright and blinding, and you find yourself withering under his intense gaze. “okay, fine, just—”

“well, that's settled then! they’re joining the club too, nagi seishiro. they can be our manager.” you briefly wonder why he didn't outright offer to have you join the team, but he probably saw how you threw the dodgeballs earlier… though it's not like you have to use your hands in soccer, so what the hell, this is kind of insulting.

“says who, mikage?”

“you're gonna come watch all our games?” he negotiates.

“why don’t you offer that i join the team?”

“ahahaha. haha. hah.” he laughs awkwardly, swinging an arm around your shoulder and ultimately evading your question.

because you were too busy trying to shrug him off, you miss the way nagi’s eyes zero on to reo’s arm around you, wordlessly observing the whole interaction with his lips pressed taut.

you still don’t know why reo hasn't moved away; he's so close that you can see the dark amethyst specks in his irises, the long strands that frame his face are lightly tickling your cheek, and if you lean in even just an inch, you can practically—

“you said anything i want, right?” your voice drops to a low whisper, and reo nods slowly, still seemingly oblivious to the lack of space between you.

“then... what if i said i wanted a kiss?”

reo’s smile drops immediately, recoiling away from you as if you've slapped him, his whole entire face heating up all the way to the tips of his ears. finally out of his grasp, you erupt into boisterous laughter, shaking your head as you leave the flustered boy alone and catching up to nagi.

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