#But the effort is so LOW why are you like this .

[choerypetal]

Love at first sight. / Squid Games!Men

summary; a little prompt for each men in squid game x reader.

also my english isn't my first language so i do apologize for a few errors! enjoys x

including; in-ho, thanos, myung-gi, dae-ho & gi-hun

In-ho: 

Praise yourself for catching In-ho’s attention amidst the chaos of the games. Not only did he manage to maintain his composure, but he also came to terms with the truth—it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him, but his heart betraying him. He had been ensnared in a dangerous blend of love and death. And no matter the cost, he was determined to ensure your survival, even if it meant faking your death and arranging for the guards to escort you to his shelter.

At first, his actions were subtle—a few fleeting glances, quiet assurances that you weren’t alone. He took it upon himself to ensure someone capable stood between you and danger. This resolve led him to seek out Gi-hun, cornering him with a whispered plea. “I’m not asking for much,” In-ho murmured, his voice low and firm. Gi-hun’s brows knit together as he glanced at you, understanding little of the request but sensing its weight. Though the urge to question why In-ho couldn’t protect you himself lingered, Gi-hun ultimately accepted—he, too, had his own plans to carry out.

Yet, watching Gi-hun hover near you ignited something unexpected in In-ho—a simmering, unanticipated jealousy. His blood boiled harder than he cared to admit.

It was Gi-hun’s proximity to you that set him on edge.

While 001 had extended a friendly hand, In-ho never anticipated him stealing you away entirely. The realization unsettled him, and during the chaos of the Carousel games, panic began to creep in. When he noticed you were nowhere to be found in the room, it nearly consumed him. The thought of losing you made his fists clench, and for a brief, irrational moment, he contemplated throwing a punch at Gi-hun. But it wasn’t until the final elimination, when the doors unlocked, that relief washed over him. There you were—your silhouette unmistakable behind Dae-ho.

In that instant, he didn’t hesitate. Rushing toward you, his breath hitched, words failing him. A shaky exhale escaped his lips, a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. He almost laughed—a scoff of incredulity—before pulling you close, his hand instinctively cradling the back of your head. Without a second thought, he leaned in, his lips pressing a firm but tender kiss to your forehead.

“Silly,” he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. “I never should’ve trusted Gi-hun to keep you safe. Damn it, I thought I’d lost you.” The panic in his voice caught you off guard, the weight of his words sinking in. You hadn’t expected such raw vulnerability from him—not now, not like this. A soft chuckle escaped you, an attempt to lighten the moment. “It’s okay,” you reassured him gently. “Dae-ho found me right away and made sure I was safe.”

That revelation gave In-ho pause, but he filed it away for later. For now, none of it mattered. You were alive and unharmed, and that was everything.

The kiss on your forehead wasn’t just a gesture of relief—it was a silent declaration. You were his, and no one—not Gi-hun, not Dae-ho, not anyone—would ever take you from him again.

Thanos: 

Once a retired rapper, Thanos now found himself thrust into a life-and-death struggle. Among his generation, it was no surprise that some idolized him—his presence commanding a respect so intense, it bordered on worship. To them, he was pristine, untouchable. But this adoration didn’t sit well with everyone, especially loners like you, who preferred to navigate the chaos without attachments.

Ironically, that aloofness was one of the many reasons Thanos found himself drawn to you.

In the early days on the island, Thanos made no effort to reveal his interest. If anything, he mirrored your indifference, matching your cold detachment with his own. But when you began spending time with Myung-gi, the dynamic shifted. Thanos hadn’t expected it, nor did he like it. Watching you bond with someone else left a bitter taste in his mouth, awakening a tension he couldn’t ignore. The loner mindset had been his strategy for survival—a simple equation: fewer people, fewer complications. But your presence complicated everything, especially when it came to your effortlessly beautiful face, which he found himself stealing glances at far too often.

It didn’t take long for his resolve to crack.

Thanos had made himself a promise: to keep his distance, to ignore you as you ignored him. But that promise shattered the moment Nam-Gyu let slip a confession Thanos had sworn him to secrecy about. That little fucker, Thanos thought bitterly, though his anger was tempered by necessity—he needed Nam-Gyu to survive. Yet, when the truth reached you, it unraveled him in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

Instead of drawing you closer, the revelation pushed you further away. Your avoidance became more deliberate, more pronounced than ever before. It stung more than Thanos cared to admit. For the first time in a long time, he was unprepared—for your reaction, for the way it tightened a knot of frustration and longing deep inside him.

Which only added more tension between the two of you.

The final games loomed, a trial where survival would demand more than just cunning—it called for a kind of ruthless cleansing. Thanos knew, without hesitation, that when the moment came, he’d be the first to grab your hand and shield you. Even if it meant overreacting, even if it jeopardized his own chances, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing you. Certainly not to Myung-gi, if it came down to that.

“You know...” he murmured late that night, his voice low and almost hesitant. Your back was turned to him, your body stiff on the thin mattress. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, couldn’t even steal a glance. Not after everything. The weight of his breath lingered against the back of your neck, and you flinched slightly, betraying your nerves. His presence, so close and unyielding, was suffocating yet magnetic.

“Tomorrow is... big,” he continued, his words faltering as his gaze shifted across the dimly lit dormitory. For a moment, his eyes locked on Player 333, who sat sharpening a weapon in the corner—a stark reminder of the danger waiting ahead. Thanos clenched his jaw, then turned his focus back to you.

“If we’re not careful...” he trailed off, his voice softening, almost breaking. “Who knows if I’ll ever get to see your beautiful face again?”He exhaled sharply, frustrated with himself, as if admitting even that much was a risk. “I know it’s—” 

Your head snapped toward him, your brows furrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut through the tension between you. For a moment, silence hung in the air, charged and heavy. Then, your voice broke it, calm yet biting. “If you keep this up, you might be the one ending up with a bullet in the face,” you said, your tone so nonchalant it bordered on cute—a contrast that left Thanos momentarily stunned. He blinked, almost scoffing in disbelief, one hand pressing dramatically against his chest.

“Ouch,” he drawled, his lips curling into a grin. “I’m hurt, sweetheart.”

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Do. Not. Call me sweetheart.”

Before you could say more, Nam-Gyu chimed in from his corner, a mischievous smirk playing on his face. “I bet she’s in love,” he teased, his words practically dripping with mockery.

Thanos’s cocky grin widened at that, his eyes gleaming with a maddening mix of pride and amusement. The sheer arrogance in his expression made your fingers twitch, itching to slap that smug look right off his face. But instead, you gave him one final glare—a death wish in your eyes, though to Thanos, it looked like the beginning of a love story.

“I bet she is,” he echoed, his voice soft but certain, the words carrying a weight of truth that made your chest tighten. He didn’t try to stop you as you turned and walked away, but his gaze lingered, following every step you took. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your finger without even realizing it. A wimp for you, and you alone.

Myung-gi: 

Everyone knew who Player 333 was—you included. Unlike many in this room who were desperate to claw their way out of debt, you knew Myung-gi only by name. You’d heard the rumors: how he’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant, how his past was littered with mistakes and secrets. But something in you—a stubborn spark of hope, perhaps—whispered that he wasn’t as bad as everyone wanted him to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to him than the stories let on.

Myung-gi had noticed you, though. He’d seen the way you were with Jun-hee—the way your smile seemed to ease her fears, how your arms would wrap gently around her petite frame after every game, grounding her, giving her the space to breathe. The quiet strength and warmth you brought to her felt almost unreal, a motherly presence in a place devoid of comfort.

It was that tenderness, that undeniable light, that struck him like a blow to the chest.

Myung-gi was in love.

And he hated every single moment of it.

Why? Because he knew himself. He knew what he’d done to Jun-hee—how he’d left her while she was pregnant with his child, drowning in debt and fear. He’d been a coward, an asshole, and he knew it. That self-loathing festered, a constant reminder of his failures. And yet, it was exactly why he didn’t expect you to see him as anything other than the man he despised.

But fate had other plans.

Your first real interaction with him came after he saved you—something neither of you had anticipated.

It happened during the Bathroom games, where survival left no room for personal grudges. Confronting Thanos wasn’t at the forefront of Myung-gi’s mind, but then he heard it—your name, slipping from Thanos’s lips with such filth that it ignited a rage Myung-gi didn’t know he was capable of.

Everyone knew your past as an escort within the crypto community. Your name wasn’t hard to find, whispered in private conversations and occasionally tied to scandalous wallets. But Myung-gi knew better than to judge. Still, hearing Thanos—the retired rapper—speak of you like that, as though you were nothing more than a commodity, was the last straw.

“She was good for a foreigner. Not many—”

That was as far as Thanos got before Myung-gi’s fist collided with his jaw, cutting him off mid-sentence. The sickening crack of impact echoed through the grimy bathroom, followed by a faint splatter of blood. Myung-gi emerged from the stall alive but seething, his knuckles raw and his breath ragged. As he stepped out, his gaze immediately locked with yours. Jun-hee stood beside you, clinging to your arm for reassurance, but the look on your face was unreadable—a mix of surprise, understanding, and something softer.

A small, almost imperceptible smile crept across Myung-gi’s lips.

In that moment, he made a silent promise: no matter what it took, he’d make sure both of you got out of this alive.

Dae-ho: 

Dae-ho never believed in love at first sight. With everything he’d endured in his life—the trials, the sacrifices, the relentless pursuit of strength—he saw himself as a knight in shining armor, bound by duty but never destined for romance. That belief held firm until he met you.

It happened during the Carousel game. Like In-ho, he’d noticed you before—your stoic demeanor during Green Light, Red Light had left him quietly impressed. The way you moved, swift yet calculated, managing to evade the statue’s unrelenting gaze with precision, was nothing short of remarkable. It was then that something shifted in him. Against all reason, Dae-ho found himself believing in love at first sight.

At first, he thought he was imagining it. He even considered pinching himself, blinking twice to dispel the notion. But the feeling persisted, undeniable and maddening. It wasn’t until later, when you tended to his wounds after one of the brutal games, that he finally saw you up close—and the full weight of your beauty struck him like a blow. Your lashes fluttered delicately as you focused on your task, your fingers gentle but firm as you dabbed rubbing alcohol onto his injuries. He hissed at the sting, his lips parting in a soft groan of pain.

“Be still, please,” you murmured, your tone calm but commanding. Something about the way you said it—the quiet strength in your voice—silenced his protests. He nodded, his muscles relaxing under your care, though the tension in his chest was harder to soothe.

For the first time, Dae-ho felt vulnerable—not because of his wounds, but because of you.

“You know…” His voice was low, almost hesitant, but there was a softness to it that made you pause. You could’ve sworn his lips curved into the faintest smile. “I never would’ve thought I’d see you like this—healing me. Back at the Carousel, I swore to myself I’d keep you close, that we’d find the door as quickly as anyone else. But then… the next thing I knew, Thanos had taken you before I could…”

He trailed off, his words tinged with shame. The vulnerability in his voice made you glance up at him, your fingers stilling as you finished securing the bandage. His eyes widened at your sudden attention, and he immediately began to stammer.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

You interrupted him with a soft sigh, sliding the remaining bandage back into your pocket. “Don’t apologize. We just weren’t lucky, that’s all. I wanted to prove to myself that I could handle it—that I wasn’t just someone who had to count on others.” Your gaze softened as you added, almost reluctantly, “But… I have to admit, not having you there in that room—it was horrible.”

Your quiet confession was enough to undo him. Without a word, Dae-ho wrapped his arms around you, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his wounds. Still, he didn’t let go. His embrace was warm, protective, and when he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead, it felt like a promise.

“Nevertheless,” he murmured, his voice filled with a quiet reassurance, “I’m just glad we made it through. That you’re here with me.” His lips quirked into a small grin as he added, with a teasing lilt, “And that I get to cuddle with you for another night.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his words, the tension between you easing for a moment. For now, at least, you both had each other.

Gi-hun: 

Unlike the others, you weren’t a player. But you knew Gi-hun from the previous game he was in. He was so certain you had died right in front of his eyes back then that when he saw the mask ripped off your face—revealing you as one of the Guards—his shock was palpable. Another Guard had been taken hostage by the remaining candidates, and though you could have cursed every word that came to mind, you found yourself frozen, your voice stolen by the chaos.

In-ho was the first to recognize you. He knew you were on shift at this hour, but what he hadn’t expected was the look of sheer horror that crossed Gi-hun’s face when your name escaped his lips.

“Y/N...?” Gi-hun’s voice trembled, disbelief heavy in the air as though he was trying to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

“You know them?” one of the players sneered, their stolen gun now aimed squarely at Gi-hun. Bodies of your co-workers—faces you barely had time to register—lay scattered across the floor, lifeless, just feet away. The metallic tang of blood filled the air.

But this time, Gi-hun wasn’t about to let anyone lay a finger on you. He remembered the vow you both had made:

"We belong to each other. And I will get you home."

With those words etched into his resolve, Gi-hun made his move. Chaos erupted as the gun exchanged hands, bullets flying. The air was filled with deafening roars of defiance and the sickening splatter of blood.

In the end, In-ho stood back, his heart cold and unyielding, as he watched Gi-hun fall. The final shot rang out, and his lifeless body crumpled to the ground. Blood speckled your cheek, and you stared in stunned silence at the empty shell of a man you had once loved.

From the shadows, a familiar voice cut through the carnage, low and mocking.

“Welcome back home, love.”

You turned toward the source, and there he was Gi-hun—his gruesome smile sending chills down your spine.

[luvleyshif4]

bf!rafe Cameron x gf!reader

Summery~ bf!rafe coming back home from work to find a flustered and horny gf!reader but she can’t say it cause she’s shy.

Content~ Sexual tension, shy reader, slight humping, neck kissing, use of words like ‘princess, baby’ etc…

Authors Note~ Heyy!! I’m kinda trying out a new format so that’s why this looks like what it looks like… also this was so yum to write idk why but I just lowkey love this so much. Enjoy💗💗

Rafe walks through the front door, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck, and hair messy from a long day at work. He drops his keys on the counter, letting out a sigh before he catches sight of you leaning against the kitchen island.

you stood there, clutching a glass of water in an effort to distract yourself from the way your stomach flips every time you see him.

"Hey, princess," he greets, his deep voice tinged with affection as he crosses the room in a few easy strides.

He reaches you, his hands immediately finding your waist like they always do, and presses a soft, casual kiss to your lips.

You're breathless by the time he pulls away, though he doesn't notice, already moving toward the fridge. "Miss me?" he teases lightly, throwing a glance over his shoulder as he grabs a water bottle.

"Always," you mumble, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. He shoots you a quick grin, but you can tell he doesn't think much of it. He's too busy twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning against the counter opposite you, taking a long sip.

"So," he starts, setting the bottle down and resting one hand on the counter behind him. "Dad had me running in circles all day. He's got this big deal he's working on, and guess who got stuck doing all the legwork."

You nod along, trying to seem like you're listening, but your eyes keep drifting to the way his chest looked with the first few buttons open, the way his throat moves when he talks. His voice, low and casual, is like a drug, making your pulse race.

He's oblivious to your inner turmoil, stepping closer to you as he continues talking. His hands naturally find your waist again as he leans in slightly, not because he's trying to fluster you, but because it's just second nature for him to be close to you.

"And then-" His words trail off as, without even thinking, he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. The movement is so smooth, so casual, that it barely registers for him.

But for you, it's like a spark to a flame.

Your breath hitches as he sets you down, his hands still lingering on your hips.

He doesn't notice, though. He's still talking, still distracted, one hand on the counter beside you and the other lazily brushing against your hip.

It's too much. You can't take it anymore.

You slide forward slightly, your hips brushing against his, and suddenly, his voice falters.

He looks down at the contact, then back up at you, his expression flickering between confusion and realization.

"Oh," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you can't stop yourself. Your hips roll gently, testing the waters, and you swear you see his jaw clench.

"Baby..." His tone shifts, softer, deeper.

His hands tighten on your hips as he steps closer, his body completely flush against yours now. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

You mumble something incoherent, too shy to respond, but the way his lips curve into a grin makes it clear he understands now.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, "Too shy, huh?" He chuckles softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

His mouth trails down your jaw to your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your skin. Each press of his lips leaves you breathless, and before you realize it, your hands are tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

Your breathing grows heavier, the sensation of his lips on your neck too much and not enough all at once. A quiet sound escapes your lips, a soft moan that you can't hold back, and he freezes for a moment.

"Alright," he murmurs, his voice dropping further as he effortlessly lifts you off the counter and walks towards the bedroom. "Let me take care of you."

Authors Note~ I was thinking If there could be a part 2 for this…and if there could..how would it be? LEMME KNOW IF I SHOULD MAKE ONE💗

[im-so-normal-iswear]

Jealous triple s, and how they deal with it, would they be insecure? Would they be unbothered?

take your time!

Jealous Sonic, Shadow, and Silver x Reader

Sonic:

Sonic’s confidence is one of his most defining traits, but when he gets jealous, that cool, carefree demeanor takes a serious hit. He’s usually so sure of himself, it’s part of his charm. But when someone else starts vying for your attention? That’s when cracks begin to show.

It starts small. You’re chatting with someone else, and Sonic catches sight of your laugh, the way your eyes light up. He doesn’t like how that person leans in a little too close or how their hand lingers just a moment too long. Sonic doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s... uncomfortable.

"Hey, Y/N!" Sonic’s voice cuts through the conversation, loud and bright. He zips up to your side, arm slinging around your shoulder in an overly casual gesture. "Whatcha talkin’ about? Anything cool, or is it just boring stuff?"

He flashes his signature grin, it sidnt reach his eyes tho as he just stared at them. The other person gets the hint, offering a polite excuse to leave, and Sonic is immediately all over you.

"Phew! Thought I’d have to rescue you from that snoozefest." He laughs, but his eyes linger on your face, searching. "You’re not, like, too close with them, are you?"

If you call him out on his jealousy, he’ll deny it, waving it off with a sheepish chuckle. "Jealous? Me? Nah, I’m way too cool for that." Before speeding away to not have to deal with his problems.

Despite his bravado, Sonic can’t help but feel a little insecure. What if he’s not enough? He’s fast, adventurous, and fun, but is that all you see him as? These thoughts are fleeting, though, because Sonic doesn’t like to dwell on negativity. He’s quick to bounce back, reminding himself that no one can match his charm.

When his jealousy peaks, he doubles down on his efforts to impress you. He’ll drag you on adventures, race you to the nearest horizon, and show off every trick in his arsenal. Sonic wants to be the one who keeps you smiling, even if it means pushing himself a little harder to outshine everyone else.

Shadow:

Shadow’s jealousy is a bit more on the intense side. He’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, far from it, but he lets himself relax more around you, he valies you for that.

He notices everything, the way someone’s eyes linger on you, the subtle changes in their tone, and how easily they make you laugh. Shadow doesn’t say anything at first, but his silence speaks volumes. His eyes narrow, his body language stiffens, and the air around him grows thick with tension.

"Do you enjoy their company?" he asks you one evening, his tone calm but icy. It’s not an accusation, but the question seemed like a trap.

If you assure him that you’re just being polite or that it’s nothing serious, Shadow nods, but the thought lingers in his mind. He doesn’t understand why it bothers him so much, why the thought of others spending more time with you makes him ache.

Shadow isn’t one to act out of insecurity, but jealousy brings out a possessive streak he can’t quite control. He’s not above making his presence known, standing just a little too close to you when someone else is around or fixing them with a withering glare that sends them running.

"0You don’t need them," he tells you firmly, his voice low. "You have me."

Shadow’s jealousy stems from his fear of losing the one person who makes him feel "human",(mobian? Idfk anymore man :(.) grounded. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he worries that someone else might give you something he can’t. After all, he’s not the most expressive or affectionate person, and sometimes he wonders if that’s enough for you.

If you reassure him, Shadow relaxes, his usually stone cold exterior softening. "I don’t want to lose you," he admits quietly, almost ashamed of his own weakness.

While Shadow tries to keep his jealousy in check, it occasionally slips out in subtle ways.

Silver:

Silver is naturally anxious, and jealousy only amplifies that side of him. He’s not used to navigating these kinds of emotions, so when he sees someone else getting a little too friendly with you, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

At first, Silver tries to ignore it, convincing himself that he’s overreacting. "They’re just being nice," he tells himself, but the knot in his stomach says otherwise. He starts overthinking everything, what if they’re better for you? What if you realize he’s not enough?

You notice how quiet he gets, his usual bright demeanor overshadowed by uncertainty. When you ask him what’s wrong, he hesitates before blurting out, "Do you like them more than me?"

Silver immediately regrets his words, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to-! I just... I don’t want to lose you."

His honesty is endearing, even if his jealousy is a little misplaced. Silver doesn’t want to control you or keep you from talking to others, but he can’t help feeling like he has to prove himself.

If his jealousy gets the better of him, Silver might become a bit clingy, always wanting to be by your side. "Can I stay with you for a bit?" he asks, his voice soft and hopeful.

Silver’s jealousy isn’t rooted in possessiveness but in his fear of not being good enough. He looks up to you, admires you, and sometimes he wonders what you see in him. But your reassurance means the world to him.

"You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me," Silver says one day. "I just want to make sure I’m the best for you, too."

[kiryoutann]

warning(s): MDNI, ANGST, simon riley being an asshole (like really), kind of gore description as metaphor for REAALLYY desperate love??? non-consensual tracking by reader (SURPRISE!!)

Simon might be the worst denialist ever. Because, how could he say it was all casual?

“I forgot something in your car.” You tell him.

Simon's frown deepened, his head tilting slightly as he seemed to contemplate your words. It was absurd—after all these weeks, here you are, standing in front of his apartment, having somehow discovered the address, and claiming to have forgotten something in his car.

But he doesn't say anything, just continues to make his way to the car. You follow closely behind him. He opens the door to the passenger seat, then steps aside to let you check the car. You stretch your hand under the passenger seat, blindly feeling for anything, brushing through the dust and small gravel collected there until you finally touch something cold and metallic.

Pulling it out, the phone you had planted there weeks earlier came into view. You knew this meant Simon had laid his eyes on it too. It wouldn’t take long for him to connect the dots and figure out you had been tracking him this whole time.

Fucking hell. Simon remembered what he had said about modern phones. He closed the car door with a sharp click, then turned to you.

“So you’ve been followin’ me, then?”

“You didn't return my texts,” you stated bluntly.

"I asked you a question." He growls, almost like he's threatening you.

You observed the anger brewing in the depths of his dark eyes, radiating from him like a hot flame. Good, you thought silently. At least there was something that riled him up; otherwise, you would be suffering alone while he goes to fuck any willing bodies he can get his hands on.

"Why didn't you call me?" You ask again. “Why does it say your number is no longer in service? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” he snap, voice dripping with venom. “You think I owe you an explanation?”

Your blurry vision missed a flicker of change in his expression. When the tears escaped and the world came into focus again, all you saw was Simon gritting his teeth, jaw locked. He turned and began to walk away.

You followed him, quickening your pace to catch up. “Simon! Simon, wait!”

Despite your best efforts, he continues to keep his back turned to you, refusing to even spare you a glance. He fixed his gaze straight ahead, seemingly hell-bent on creating a vast gulf between you. You called out his name once more, your voice echoing in the stillness of the night, but he kept right on walking.

“Yes, I deserve an explanation! I don’t know why you’re being like this. We were fine the last time we were together. What happened? Why did you just disappear on me?”

You reached out, your fingers brushing against the sleeve of his jacket to get him to stop and face you. He came to a halt. A jolt of electricity surged through you as he encircled your fingers with his own, but it soon faded as he let go of your grip on the leather. Something inside you dropped away, leaving a shameful hollow space inside.

Simon towers over you, his stature imposing and intimidating. He locks a hard glare on you. “I asked you a question, didn't I?” His voice fell to a dangerously low tone. “Why the fuck have you been following me?”

The dam holding back your tears broke, leaving you choking on your own sobs. How could he not know? All these tears, all these cries… how could he still fail to see that it was all for him? To be stripped bare only for him to overlook it. Should you skin yourself alive then? To tear your heart out, to hold the raw, bleeding organ in the palm of your trembling hand as an offering?

“Because I want to know where you are,” You settle for the simpler version, hyperventilating as you take a breath. “You know my place, my workplace... You even went to my cousin’s wedding. And yet, I know nothing about you, Simon. Nothing.”

“You think just ‘cause we fucked a few times, that gives you the right to pry into my life?”

A sharp pang of pain shot through your chest. The world was ruby-colored, either from your boiling anger or the hemorrhage from the sharpness of his words. Your jaw clenched, your gaze sharpened.

“Fuck you, Simon,” you spat. “You know we’re not just fucking.”

The clenched fists at your sides tremble, and you don’t know if it’s from anger or hurt or the weight of your own expectation to make him see it. Or perhaps it’s all three. How could he speak like this when there's a specific section in your dresser for the clothes he frequently brings and leaves, when he constantly returns and stays longer even as the morning has risen, when he drove you to the countryside and dances and twirls you around like those old couples do? Not when he embraces you until your tears subside, nor when each of his kisses offers that one thing you've chased your whole life.

There’s no way this isn’t love. He just needs to stop denying it.

Simon's eyes narrowed into slits. "Then you read it all wrong, darlin'."

The way he said it was cold, without a shred of sympathy—but nothing was colder than the way Simon continually turned his back to you as he continued to walk farther and farther away, as if all he wanted was to get as far away from you as possible. Disgusting woman in love. But you never got the hint, did you? You kept following him, running after him like a stupid little dog created solely to love, love, love, and never be loved back.

[sneak peek of chapter 13 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING.".]

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION.

[prime-adeptus]

Attuned

Sho always knows when something is wrong.

✧ PAIRING: Haizono Shohei x Reader

✦ CONTENT: Gender-neutral reader; established relationship, fluff, emotional hurt/comfort. Sho is a bit of a tsun. 0,6k words

✧ A/N: He's really growing on me. // reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!

cross-posted on AO3 | divider by cafekitsune

You weren’t responding to his texts.

Where could they be…?

Sho stared at the open conversation on his phone with pursed lips, the little delivered message ticking him off more than he’d expected. You were normally quick to reply, having never ever left him hanging, so the fact that you weren’t even looking at your phone was highly unusual. He’d never say this to you out loud, not in a million years, but he was worried about you.

“What a pain,” he grumbled offhandedly, pushing himself off of the couch.

Leo looked up from his phone with his eyebrows raised, curious. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing to do with you.”

A mischievous grin came to Leo’s features. “Lover’s quarrel?”

“Fuck off.”

“Have fun!” he called out smugly as Sho made his way out of the Vagastrom dorm, making sure to raise the middle finger at his friend one last time before he left. He’s been with you long enough to recognise some of your patterns.

Comes with loving someone, dumbass, as he had said to you before.

His current objective was obvious: find you and figure out what was wrong. Darkwick Academy’s campus was massive, which meant the search would take more effort than usual. Not to mention how chilly it was outside. He could practically feel the tick mark appearing on his temple as he realised how low the chances of you bringing along a jacket were.

Way to worry him even more.

He started at Frostheim. It didn’t prove quite helpful. Fuji might as well have been in tears when he heard that you weren’t responding to messages. Luca was willing to help search for you, but something in his gut told him that he needed to do this alone. Why would you need a guy other than him to take care of you? It didn’t make sense.

The Pit was completely out of the question. You’d never venture in there by yourself, not with how much you disliked the atmosphere and the crowd there. Jabberwock was his next destination, but its cheeky captain said he hasn’t seen you around, so that was another thing crossed out on the list.

By the time he found you, it was nearly evening, and it was on a park bench near the academy’s main building. A complaint rested at the tip of his tongue, ready to nag you, but it died as soon as he got a clearer view of you. You were hugging your knees close to your chest and staring off into space, rocking yourself back and forth. Sho relaxed just the slightest before taking a seat next to you, unable to hold back the relieved sigh from leaving his lips.

“I’ve been looking for you all day, y’know.”

You perked up, looking at him and giving him an awkward smile. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”

“Who was it? I’ll beat ‘em up.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s not that. I’m just… not feeling great.”

“It’s cold out. You’re gonna get sick,” he said, frowning at the sight of you wearing a simple blouse without a jacket on. Without much thought, he shrugged off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders, giving your arms a warm squeeze. You looked up at him with surprise before breaking into a genuine smile this time, eyes twinkling with joy.

“You were worried about me?” You sounded so hopeful and so… cute that it made him want to pinch your cheek in retaliation. He didn’t know why you were always so surprised that he cared about you. He was your boyfriend for a reason. “I’m sorry for the trouble, Sho. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you I like it when you bother me?” he retorted, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Dummy.”

You wrapped his jacket tighter around your body, the smile not once leaving your face. “You’re a total softie, aren’t ya?”

“Shut up.” He rolled his eyes in mock annoyance but still pulled you closer. You could tease him all you want. At least you were smiling now.

[rose24207]

anything with maifa!lando and his gf!reader with lots of angst and jealousy

What she is to me

Summary: In the ruthless world of power and betrayal, Lando’s desperate attempts to shield you from the darkness of his empire begin to unravel when a mysterious woman threatens to destroy the fragile trust between you both.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, hurt no comfort, miscommunication

TW: Mafia, accused cheating

A/N: This one was definitely due for! Sorry for the delay! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The air in the lavish penthouse was thick with tension. You sat perched on the armrest of the leather couch, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you stared at Lando, who stood by the bar, his back to you. His tailored suit was slightly undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck as he poured himself a glass of scotch with a deliberate slowness that only made your anger burn hotter.

"You really think I'm stupid, don't you?" Your voice sliced through the silence, sharp and accusing.

He sighed, resting both hands on the edge of the bar. "You know I don't."

"Then why the hell did I see her leaving your office tonight?" Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady. "You promised me, Lando. No secrets. No lies."

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he didn’t turn around. "It’s not what you think," he said flatly, the familiar calmness in his tone only fueling your frustration.

"Not what I think?!" You stood abruptly, your voice rising. "Do you know how humiliating it was to stand there and watch her walk out like she owns you? Like she owns us?"

Finally, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. But his jaw was tight, and his stormy blue eyes burned with something darker than regret. "You think I’d betray you with her?" He spat the last word like it was venom. "After everything I’ve done to keep you safe? After the people I’ve put in the ground for you?"

Your chest heaved, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. "This isn’t about keeping me safe, Lando. This is about trust. You’re keeping me in the dark, shutting me out, and now I don’t even know who you are anymore."

His silence was deafening, and for a moment, you wondered if he would even try to fight for you. But then he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t know what she is to me. What she knows. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking me this."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your tone. "Tell me what’s so important that you’re willing to tear us apart over it."

He was close now, his scent—whiskey, cedar, and danger—invading your senses. But instead of answering, he cupped your face, his touch firm yet tender, and pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m trying to protect you," he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Even if it means you hate me for it."

Tears spilled over, and you pushed him away. "I don’t want your protection, Lando. I want you. I want the truth."

But he only watched you as you grabbed your coat, his expression hardening as you walked toward the door.

"I’ll come back when you’re ready to stop running from me," you said quietly, your back to him.

"You’ll come back when you realize you can’t run from me either," he replied, his voice low and menacing.

And just like that, the door slammed shut behind you, leaving him alone with his demons.

The memory of her still burned in your mind. You couldn’t shake the image of the tall, blonde slipping out of Lando’s office earlier that night. Her fitted red dress clung to her like a second skin, her crimson lipstick still pristine as if she hadn’t just been in a heated discussion—or worse—with your boyfriend. She had paused when she saw you, her lips curling into a smirk so sly it made your stomach churn.

“Oh,” she had purred, her voice rich and sultry, dripping with condescension. “You must be her.”

You hadn’t even managed to respond before she brushed past you, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floor. Her perfume lingered in the air—some expensive floral blend that made you nauseous.

You had stood frozen, fists clenched at your sides, until Lando emerged seconds later, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up like he’d been working tirelessly. But the flicker of frustration in his expression betrayed him.

“Who the hell was that?” you had demanded, your voice louder than you intended.

“No one you need to worry about,” he had replied, his jaw tightening. He brushed past you, offering no further explanation as he disappeared into the main hall.

“No one I need to worry about?” you had echoed under your breath, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and disbelief.

And now, standing outside of his penthouse, the anger had festered into something darker, something laced with hurt and betrayal.

Lando’s words still rang in your ears: I’m trying to protect you. As if that excuse could erase the image of her smug smile or the sound of her voice dripping with familiarity when she had spoken about him—about you.

You had walked out because staying felt suffocating, but the streets outside did nothing to soothe you. The city was alive with its usual chaos, the bright lights and blaring horns a cruel reminder that the world kept spinning, even when yours felt like it was shattering.

An hour passed, then two. You found yourself wandering aimlessly, Lando’s words replaying in your mind. Was he right? Did you really not understand what he was up against?

But then, the other side of your mind argued, if he couldn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth, what did that say about the two of you?

By the time you returned to the penthouse, it was nearly midnight. You half-expected to find him gone, retreating to one of his clandestine meetings or drowning himself in scotch, but instead, you found him sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor.

He didn’t look up when you walked in.

“I couldn’t stay out there,” you admitted quietly, closing the door behind you.

“I knew you’d come back,” he said, his voice rough, almost tired.

You hesitated, your arms crossed protectively over your chest as you took a few cautious steps forward. “You’re not even going to deny it, are you? That she’s someone important?”

Finally, he looked up, and the vulnerability in his eyes caught you off guard. “She’s a threat. Not to us, but to what I’ve built—to the people I’ve had to answer to, the people I’ve had to keep off our backs.”

“So you do trust her?” you asked bitterly, your voice rising again. “You let her walk out of here like she—like she knows everything about you, but I’m the one you keep in the dark?”

“It’s not about trust,” he snapped, standing abruptly. “It’s about survival. She’s a piece on the chessboard, one I have to keep in play if I want to keep you safe.”

“Stop saying that!” you shouted, tears stinging your eyes again. “Stop using ‘protecting me’ as an excuse to lie to me!”

He stepped closer, his voice softer but no less intense. “Do you know what she said about you tonight? She said you’re my biggest weakness. That if I wasn’t so tied up in you, I could be untouchable. She’s not wrong.”

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, taking a step back. “So what, Lando? You keep her close and push me away because she says I make you weak?”

He reached for you, but you slapped his hand away. “No,” he growled, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I keep her close because if I don’t, she’ll use what she knows to destroy everything. And I push you away because I’d rather have you hate me than see you hurt.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, you saw just how deeply the shadows of his world had seeped into him. But it didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

“And what happens to us, Lando?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happens when there’s nothing left of you for me to hold onto?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his silence speaking volumes.

And that silence was your answer.

Thank you for reading!

[adieutristana]

Jinx and her girlfriend stopping Vi and Caitlyn's wedding just for fun

LMAOO?? this is messy… anyways of course! thank you for the request <3

summary; jinx and her girlfriend crashing caitlyn and vi’s wedding.

characters included; jinx (romantic), vi (platonic), caitlyn (platonic)

tags/warnings; crack kinda, fluff, caitvi, mentions of war/combat, in-laws

men dni.

stating that jinx doesn't like caitlyn kiramman is like saying that grass is green.

saying that she doesn't like caitlyn with her sister even more so.

she’s tried to be patient, tried to appreciate the fact that her sister had someone to love and love her in return. despite the fact that that someone was a topsider, an enforcer no less.

could she not find someone in zaun that would be just as good for her? someone who wasn’t allied with the people who killed their parents?

regardless, jinx came to terms with the relationship as time went on. jinx and vi weren’t exactly on good terms to begin with- and getting herself involved in vi’s relationship wasn’t bound to make things any less tense. while vi knew that jinx didn’t approve of the relationship- especially after the stunt she pulled with kidnapping the two of them, the two of them didn’t talk about it explicitly.

caitlyn had grown to tolerate jinx, sometimes even going as far as to show genuine concern for the girl and talk to her in her own time. their encounters had always been fleeting, no more than a few sentences exchanged, but it was peaceful. it was something. she could live with this, jinx thought.

that was until they got engaged.

“hey, jinx. caitlyn and i recently got engaged, and while i know you’re less than happy about the relationship, i still want you to be there. you’re my sister and i don’t want you to miss this. you’re welcome to bring your girlfriend with you. i’ve put the invitation in here, love you.

-vi”

jinx is seething next to you, fighting herself to not rip up the stupid envelope and throw away the stupid invitation and curse out her stupid sister. your hand on her shoulder with your thumb gently running along the skin, doing everything you can to soothe your girlfriend.

“baby, she’s just trying to include you… you’re sisters.”

you whisper, voice low and soft as you can manage. she shakes her head and goes to start picking at her cuticiles- which you have to physically stop her from doing.

“she’s doing it to get to me. she can’t be actually marrying her, can she?”

she says through gritted teeth, and you can’t tell if jinx is trying to ask you or herself. you can’t tell if she wants an answer, either, but decide to not give her one for fear of making things even worse.

the girl is almost rocking herself forward and back in an effort to try and stop herself from doing something she’ll regret, and it breaks your heart to see her like this. after caitlyn shooting off her finger, after the war, the way that caitlyn spoke about zaun and its inhabitants, you could understand perfectly well why jinx wouldn’t approve of her. but this was worse than you’ve ever seen her in regards to the issue.

it was finally settling in that caitlyn was there to stay. maybe part of jinx was convinced that this would all blow over, it was a phase, and vi would wake up and realize that she didn’t need her. despite the fact that jinx told her she deserved to be with her.

“i shouldn’t have said that. i shouldn’t.”

she mutters. it truly does break your heart to see jinx like this, so distraught and torn. she tried to be supportive, tried to see things from her sister's point of view (especially with your help), but she just couldn't.

you let out a heavy sigh, observing your girlfriend's pained expression. part of you wants to keep trying to talk to her and comfort her, the other part wants to let her have time to think and process everything. either way, you'd be there the entire way through. but sometimes with jinx, despite how long you've been together, it can be difficult to tell the exact thing she needs. but for your own conscience, you have to know that you at least tried.

"jinx... we don't have to go if you don't want to."

you offer, pressing close to jinx so that your shoulders are now touching. your approach is careful. if she doesn't want to take it, she doesn't have to, but it's something at the very least. she lets out a shaky breath, keeping her gaze downcast. it's like she's begun to shut down.

"no... no, we'll be there. we'll be there."

she mumbles. voice barely audible, but stern.

✧.*

"you're sure about this?"

you ask, hands occupied with tying a black tie onto jinx.

"yeah, i'm sure. all according to plan, right?"

she smirks, hands on her hips. you'd decided to go to a secondhand shop in the undercity to grab some clothes for jinx that would be acceptable for a wedding- gods know she doesn't have any. a simple white long-sleeved blouse, black tie, and black slacks. not too polished, not too flashy, but just formal enough for her sister's big day.

you'd also taken it upon yourself to carefully braid jinx's usual unruly hair, despite her (playful) protests. though the way she relaxed under your touch and her shoulders dropped the moment your fingertips grazed her scalp told you everything you needed to know.

"alright, ready!"

jinx exclaims before grabbing the last of her things and swiftly grabbing your arm, leading you toward the exit of her hideout. she seems oddly energetic- possibly even giddy. she hadn't been excited for this day at all until coming up with one of her typical schemes, and now it seemed as if the girl was just itching to get to the chapel.

while reluctant at first considering these were about to be basically your in-laws, you found yourself agreeing to jinx's plan. you've always been on board with the chaos innate in jinx, but the way she lit up as she described her so-called 'master plan' to you cemented that you simply couldn't say no. it was a fun idea, and jinx was counting on you to help enact it. who were you to refuse her?

✧.*

the kirammans have truly outdone themselves.

a large chapel decorated with luxurious shades of blue and gold, with hints of bright pink thrown into the flower arrangements. chandeliers, soft candlelight, windows of stained glass and pews large enough to sit an entire city.

you and jinx exchange a few polite yet drawn out 'hello's, 'nice to see you's, and 'thanks for coming's from council members, ex-fighters and members of the remaining kiramman clan.

you slide down a white pew near the front of the chapel with jinx, one that had been reserved for vi's guests. jinx huffs, folding her arms out onto the edge of the pew in front and resting her chin on them.

"just got here, and you're already bored?"

you tease, tilting your head to look down at the girl.

"yeah. this sucks."

"it hasn't started yet."

"yeah, and it'll suck worse when it does."

jinx starts bouncing her left leg, heel quickly tapping across the floor and nearly echoing through the large room. she huffs, looking to the altar, then back, toward the aisle, all around, waiting for something to happen.

"and you're completely sure that we're doing this, right?"

jinx nods, giving a little 'mhm.'

you'd discussed the plan several times in the days leading up to the wedding. jinx hadn't left a single base uncovered in terms of timing, execution, what to say, what to do. one of your favorite things about her had always been her tendency to get wrapped up the second that she really puts her mind to something. whether that be jinx drowning out any external noises while tinkering, using all of her strength to handle weapons twice her weight, or scouring all of zaun for materials, her dedication was always evident.

guests continue pouring in, and it seems as if caitlyn has invited the entire population of piltover. maybe she has. unsurprisingly and unfortunately, there aren't many on vi's side, but the ones that are count. jinx, yourself, a few old friends of vi's from the lanes, and seemingly some new friends and colleagues. vi's circle had always been small, but the people in it were of such high value.

yourself and jinx pass a few more minutes with jinx's head on your shoulder, exchanging soft kisses in anticipation for what's to come, fixing jinx's tie and simply people-watching. before the chord of a pipe organ is heard, and all heads turn to the back of the room- where caitlyn is being led down the aisle by her father.

that dress alone could cost more than the lifetime salary of ten zaunites. regardless, it's beautiful. sleek, pure white, with a silver tiara atop loosely curled blue hair. the room is still, the only things moving being the two kirammans. the moment is picturesque, it's captivating.

shortly after comes vi, walking down the aisle by unaccompanied. she looks considerably more anxious than her fiancee, but with so much pure glee that it's weighed out. she anxiously looks over at her side of the chapel, her face softening the slightest bit when she lays eyes on jinx. the girl gives her a soft smile, and although jinx doesn't react, you almost swear you could see vi mouthing something to her sister.

when both women are on the altar and the ceremony starts, it's like gears begin turning in jinx's head. she takes your hand into hers, squeezing it against her lip as her eyes turn to you.

"ready, toots?"

she whispers, the slightest smirk evident on her expression. you nod, squeezing her hand back. neither of your eyes move from the scene unfolding in front of you. caitlyn and vi with their hands clasped, looking into each other's eyes so lovingly as they exchange vows. everything was in place, you'd made sure everything was planted and taken care of before the actual event.

"if anybody should object to this marriage, speak now or forever hold your peace."

jinx immediately shoots up from her seat, hand raised high.

"yeah, i've got somethin'!"

she keeps her gaze on the now bewildered couple as you pull a remote from your pocket, triggering pink and blue smoke bombs from the corridors of the chapel. the crowd immediately erupts into a scatter of screams, people rushing from their seats and trying to take cover. just some colored smoke bombs; nothing that would cause harm, but sure as hell enough to cause a commotion. jinx places her hands on her hips, shaking her head.

"just some smoke bombs... pussies."

she remarks, before grabbing your hand and beginning to make her way out of the chapel with haste. not before turning over her shoulder and yelling, "tough luck!" to the couple first, though. you're giggling beside your girlfriend as the two of you run off into the streets of piltover, not even sure of your destination. only enjoying the thrill of it all and the feeling of running off into nowhere with each other. jinx's laugh is infectious, the sound ringing in your ears as she pulls you into an alleyway.

your girlfriend quickly presses your back to a wall as she grasps your waist, grinning at you.

"how was that for a wedding?"

"pretty damn good."

she barks out another laugh, before connecting her lips to yours.

[vyl3tpwny]

genuine question: why is genesis so low on ur topsters?

also, if you can: could i hear why hawaii: part ii is rated 3.5 on ur rateyourmusic? (as opposed to like. anything higher)

(p. s. your music inspires me to be the sincerest version of myself, and for that i thank you. the impact you've had on my life is unforgettable.)

genesis isn't rated low. my number one album of all time is genesis' "the lamb lies down on broadway", for about 16 years running. my topster is organized by relative colour, it's not perfect but it just looks nice!

—

when it comes to talking about music, what i like and like about it, almost 100% of the time i NEVER want to discourage people, talk down to artists, or claim my opinion as fact. the only time i will actively talk down about art is if it's purposefully harmful (see artists like: Tom Macdonald, etc).

with that said, music by miracle musical - and by extension tally hall - often does this thing where there are a handful of really impressive, well written songs that just blow me away. but then the rest of the album outside of those handful of songs are either just ok/catchy or don't interest me very much. the tally hall gang's highs are very high, and equally their lows are just sort of pace-killers for the albums.

it's dynamics like these that prevent me from liking some of my other albums for similar problems! i think albums like queen of misfits and glitter are bogged down by an absurd amount of boring filler that could have just been left out or reworked to be more interesting, it makes it hard to ever listen to those albums front to back. ironically i don't feel that way about fairytails, my 40-song long ass album, almost everything in it still feels rather purposeful to me. i listen to my own music a lot, and once i've finished a project i tend to try and listen to it and enjoy it from an audience perspective rather than an artist one.

while i'm on the topic, i don't necessarily agree with even rating hawaii pt. ii 3.5 because in the past few years i've completely lost interest in the idea of weighing albums by arbitrary scores. nowadays i like to just give 4-5's to albums i like and then ignore anything else. it doesn't really make sense to me to assign a number score to something with good faith, other than to show that score to other people. interfacing with art is not a black and white process. despite the so-called 3.5/5.0 score i gave hawaii pt. ii whenever that was, the reality is that record has influenced me and i've enjoyed it. honestly that's what matters the most. we can sit here and talk album dynamics, technicalities, compositional proficiency, lyric profundity, and """""consistency"""""" (which is a word music critics love to throw around without actually realizing what the fuck they're talking about) all day, but what matters the most is:

Did you like the music? (Yes/No)

Did it inspire you in some way? (Yes/No) [Optional]

Does it seek to do harm? (Yes/No)

Do you respect the efforts and goals of the artist? (Yes/No) [Should always be the inverse of Question 3; i.e; if you answer No to 3, then you should answer Yes to 4]

honestly if you answer yes, yes, no, yes, then it's a good album. i really don't care. not every piece of art has to push the envelope to new heights and be the most innovative thing in the world - i mean wouldn't that be extremely fatiguing and overwhelming? everyone wants to be a critic and tear down shit that doesn't click with them within the first viewing/listen these days, i don't know why, it's probably an ego thing, bred by the echo chambers in the corners of the internet. but a lot of music criticism can be COMPLETELY discarded in favour of "this just isn't for me", and a lot of people go leaps and bounds, doing mental gymnastics over internal compensations, to just avoid saying the dreaded phrase of "this just isn't for me".

trust me, i'm someone who has immense experience with tearing other people down to compensate for my internal insecurities, it happens extremely often which is why a lot of art criticism makes ZERO fucking sense. it's never about making meaningful commentary about anything, it's always just trying to justify in the format of a dissertation - the subjective experience of "this just isn't for me".

so. do i like hawaii pt. ii? yep. is it a perfect album? no. why did i rate it 3.5? probably because at the time i wanted someone somewhere to perceive me as Very Articulated and Well Educated In The Realm of Discussing Art In Front of Other People, in Order to Appear Superior in Intellect and Refined in Taste, Because I'm Insecure Just Like Everyone Else.

[avocadopepito]

Charity Gala

Pietro Maximoff x reader

TW : language, and some dirty talk i guess ?

The Avengers Tower was buzzing with activity as the final preparations for Tony Stark's charity gala fell into place. The event, dedicated to funding cutting-edge prosthetic technology for veterans, promised to be the highlight of the year. Tony spared no expense-as usual-transforming the tower into a glittering beacon of innovation and elegance.

Y/N stood in front of her bedroom mirror, slipping into a sleek, floor-length gown that Tony himself had commissioned. The deep emerald fabric shimmered under the soft light, complementing her eyes and the quiet confidence she inherited from her father. As she adjusted the delicate bracelet on her wrist—a gift from her mother Pepper—there was a rapid knock on the door.

“Come in,” she called.

Pietro clad in a crisp suit, stepped inside, looking every bit as uncomfortable as she’d expected. His silver hair was tousled, as though he’d run his hands through it repeatedly in frustration, and he tugged at the tie around his neck.

“Why do people wear these?” Pietro grumbled, gesturing to his outfit. “It’s like a straitjacket.”

Y/N turned, taking in the sight of him with an amused smile. “You clean up well, Maximoff. Who knew you had it in you?”

He rolled his eyes, but the faint blush on his cheeks didn’t escape her notice. “You look... nice,” he added awkwardly, his Sokovian accent softening the words.

“Nice?” she teased, stepping closer. “I think I deserve better than ‘nice.’”

Pietro’s lips curved into a grin as he met her gaze. “You look stunning,” he admitted, his voice low. He then use his thumb to lift her chin, and kiss her as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Much better,” she quipped, grabbing her clutch. “Now, let’s go before my dad sends a search party.”

***

The elevator doors opened to reveal the grand ballroom of Avengers Tower, a breathtaking space transformed into an opulent celebration of innovation and generosity. A canopy of shimmering lights hung from the ceiling, mimicking a star-filled night sky. Stark’s signature flair was everywhere—from the holographic displays showcasing Stark Industries’ latest prosthetic models to the sleek bar, stocked with drinks served by bartenders in tailored suits.

As Y/N stepped into the room, all eyes turned to her. The gown, her effortless confidence, and the way she carried herself made her the embodiment of Stark charm and sophistication. Pietro were at her side, his body tensing uncomfortably as he felt like a fish out of water. Y/N kind of fell it, she knew it was not the type of thing that Pietro was cool with. And it's why she's so grateful, because he made an effort for her.

“You can relax. I'm with you, and I'm not going to leave you alone” she whispered softly, low enough for only him to hear. His body relaxed, and even if he'd like to be anywhere but here, he knew this was important to Y/N. And he love her.

“Ah, there’s my precious girl!” Tony’s voice boomed from across the room. He strode toward them, dressed in a sharp black tuxedo that was custom-made, no doubt. His grin widened as he caught sight of Y/N’s companion. “And you brought a date! Didn’t know Speedy here owned a suit.”

“First time for everything,” Pietro replied with a smirk.

“You should be thanking me, dad.” She added. “I’m single-handedly increasing the elegance factor of this room.”

Tony chuckled, but his eyes darted to Pietro, scrutinizing him. “Well, don’t think I won’t interrogate you later,” he said lightly, though his tone carried a hint of warning.

“Looking forward to it,” Pietro replied, matching Tony’s gaze with surprising ease.

“Behave,” Y/N said, shooting Tony a pointed look before linking her arm through Pietro’s and guiding him away.

The evening unfolded in a whirlwind of introductions and conversations. Guests ranged from political figures to celebrities and military leaders. As Y/N navigated the crowd, Pietro stayed by her side, watching with quiet admiration as she worked her magic.

“Miss Stark,” a senator greeted her warmly. “I have to say, this initiative is truly remarkable. Your father must be proud to have you carrying the torch.”

Y/N smiled, her response both gracious and sharp. “Thank you, Senator. My father laid the foundation, but it’s a team effort. We wouldn’t be here without everyone’s collaboration—including the veterans who inspired this project.”

As the senator walked away, Pietro leaned in. “Do you always talk like you’re in a political drama?”

“Only when I’m trying to impress people,” she whispered back, nudging him with her elbow.

A familiar voice interrupted them. “Hey, Y/N! Nice dress.” It was Natasha, dressed in a sleek black gown that was simple yet stunning. Beside her was Steve, who looked as though he’d stepped out of a fashion magazine in his classic tuxedo.

“Thanks, Nat. You’re not looking so bad yourself,” Y/N replied, exchanging a quick hug with the spy.

Sam, who just joined them, grin at Pietro. “Didn’t think I’d see you in anything other than running gear, Maximoff.”

“You and me both, birdy.” Pietro quipped, earning a laugh from the group.

Steve extended a hand to Pietro, his expression polite but assessing. “It’s good to see you here.”

“Likewise, Captain,” Pietro said, shaking his hand firmly.

Natasha gave Y/N a knowing look as the conversation shifted to light banter. “You two make an adorable couple,” she mouthed silently, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Y/N.

As the night progressed, Y/N and Pietro found themselves on the dance floor again. The music shifted between lively jazz and modern hits, creating a dynamic energy in the room. Tony, ever the showman, took the stage at one point to give a heartfelt speech about the importance of the prosthetics initiative. Y/N felt a swell of pride watching her father speak, his charisma lighting up the room.

“I see where you get it from,” Pietro said, leaning close.

“What, my dad’s flair for dramatics?”

“No,” he said, his voice softer. “Your ability to make everyone believe in you.”

Y/N glanced at him, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, the chaos of the gala faded, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble.

“I think you’re starting to enjoy yourself,” she notices, deflecting the sudden wave of emotion.

“Maybe,” Pietro admitted with a grin. “But only because of you.”

Tony finally finish his speech, the crowd cheering him. The music then shifted to a slower tempo as couple starts to dance in the center of the reception.

“May I have this dance, Miss ?” Pietro face to Y/N, offering her his hand.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then placed her hand in his, smiling “With pleasure, sir.”

As they moved to the soft rhythm, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them under the glittering chandelier.

“I want to thank you for being here with me, I know it’s not the place you love the most.”

Pietro’s gaze softened, and right now, he realized how important she was to him.

“I know it’s important for you. And I fucking love you Y/N, so much that it’s killing me.” Y/N smiles then lean in and kissing him, the world suddenly feels like stopping.

“I love you too Pietro. And I have to admit, you’re full of surprises tonight” she murmured.

Pietro leaned in, his voice a quiet murmur in her ear. “And the night’s not over yet. If you know how much I want to rip this dress out of you. I want to eat you, and fuck you until you can't take it anymore.”

Hundreds of shivers ran down Y/N's spine, her cheeks turning red and this sudden urge to cut the gala short. “Is that a promess, Mister Maximoff ?” She tease with confidence.

“Trust me, it's more than that princess.”

xxxxxxxx

If you didn’t know how much I love Aaron Taylor Johnson, now you know it. I hope he’s my husband in an another life, who knows, multiverse is real after all, right ?

Anyway, I've been thinking about doing a full story with this ship, maybe not Y/N like Tony's daughter, but Doctor Strange's niece (it was a story that I starts on wattpad years ago but she never see the light). Sooo tell me if you'd like me to do it !

[hungrytummyprompts]

bratty?

"Are you kidding me?" The music abruptly stopped as Ryan held up his hands before storming over to the guitarist and ripping the sheet music away from him. "Did you even fucking try to read this? At all?" He pressed his fingers to his temples with a great sigh. "I don't know why Cass even insists on hiring musicians. She knows I can play all the instruments myself."

The man at the guitar put the instrument down and stood roughly. "Then why don't you?"

"Because Cass insists on hiring you. Only for you to butcher my fucking music. I want it played as written for the recording, mate. It's my vision, my song. No improv, no creative flair. This is a Reks Lee song, one hundred percent by Reks Lee. Not by Reks Lee and some random nobody his manager picked up off the street."

He turned away before the poor sod could answer, continuing to try and massage away the headache threatening to crack his skull. It did nothing to help.

"I'd always heard Reks Lee was great to work with." A snide voice piped in from behind him. One of the other special hired helpers, he supposed. "Didn't realise he was such a prick."

So great. Not only am I stressed beyond belief, tired as fuck and packed in a schedule tighter than a nun's holes, but my reputation in the industry is about to get completely fucked too. Whoop de doo.

Ryan handed back the crumpled sheet music with a sigh. "Look, just...just play the music, okay? We need this done by five, we only have the studio until five, I want it done early if possible because I've got to go straight on to a bloody performance in bloody Milton Keynes of all places. So...please."

He stalked back to his place as his stomach twisted in that frustratingly familiar ache that came with not having eaten a thing today and barely eating yesterday. Add starving to that stupid list. Ever since he'd started gaining real notoriety, Cass had really been on his arse, keeping him busy at all hours to make the most out of having at least one genuinely famous client. That often meant wall to wall work without a single break to eat and a very grumpy singer. He paused to adjust his microphone and that was when the hell cramps in his belly released in a low, longing growl. Loud enough for the others to hear, judging by the snort of laughter from the amateur guitarist.

"So are you always this much of a cunt or just when you're hungry?"

Perhaps it was a subconscious effort to save face or protect what little reputation he had left, but he answered with a terse "just when I'm hungry" through gritted teeth. His stomach punctuated that with another insistent, burbling groan and he found himself pressing a hand to his belly, trying to ease the discomfort just a little. He gave his tummy a rub, trying to work out the knots and cramps, but every time one released another took its place.

"When did you last eat, man?"

"None of your fucking business."

"More than a day ago then. Got it."

Ryan rolled his eyes so hard they could have popped right out of his head. "Well, the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can eat." His stomach moaned miserably again.

"Anyway, you'd think you'd be less pissy considering I only got the sheet music yesterday. Like, come on, man, give me some time to learn it before you jump down my ass."

"...What? No, excuse me, what?" Frustrated, he dragged his hands through his hair. "Are you telling me Cass only...yesterday?" He took a deep breath, then kicked the microphone stand, stomped to the nearest chair and hid his face in his arms. After a moment, he heard the snide helper, he did not know her name, come up beside him.

"How about I order some pizza or something?"

"I don't have time for pizza." The thought was tempting, though. He was so fucking hungry, just the thought of even a cheap pizza from the nearby dive set his mouth watering and his stomach grumbling. "I have to get this done. Cass-"

"Get a new agent." The guitarist told him sharply, sitting down next to him. "Or manager, whatever she is. And learn to tell her no, man, for fuck's sake."

Learn to say no. That had always been a problem for Ryan. People pleaser, he'd called himself, but really it was just code for 'easy to abuse'. It was second nature by now to keep his head down and his mouth shut, do as he was told and deal with the consequences as they came.

"'Sides, your gut sounding off like that'll get in all the recordings anyway." Ryan huffed while the others laughed. One of his arms came down away from his face and clamped around his belly instead as it let out another hollow groan. "Saige, order a few pizzas. We'll fill our bellies and have another crack at the recording when everyone's in a better place physically and mentally. Trust me, man, there will be way fewer interruptions then. We might actually get a smooth run without you losing your shit again."

Ryan sighed, rubbing his poor, aching belly as he thought it over. "Fine...pizza sounds good. I'll pay."

"No, I'm buying it." Saige insisted, shaking a finger at him.

"... I'll at least chip in. Come on, this is embarrassing enough."

"You won't stop until I cave, will you?"

"I'm one stubborn bastard."

Saige laughed as she put in the order. "Fine. Pay me back later. For now, let's get you fed."

[sequinsmile-x]

Confetti

She didn’t think it would be this difficult.

AKA - the one where Emily takes a pregnancy test.

-x-

Hi besties,

Today was my first day back at work since 20th December and my brain is a pile of mush, so here's a fic I prepared earlier.

This is for the wonderful and very talented @eyesontheskyline who did a lot of research for her incredible fic 'reckless (just enough)' - which you should read if you haven't for some reason yet. I borrowed said research for part of this, so it only felt right to dedicate it to her <3

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Warnings: pregnancy, trying to conceive, references to infertility, mentions of blood, very minor Aaron whump I guess

Words: 2.5k

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She wakes up first, although she isn’t sure she ever really fell asleep. She’d spent the night struggling to drift off, her chest tight with anxiety she couldn’t shift despite her best efforts. 

Normally, she’s the last to wake up. Aaron’s love of early mornings was apparently genetic so he and Jack were always awake before her. She’d wake to Aaron waking her up with a kiss against her cheek or his hand on her back, or she’d hear Jack in his room either getting ready for school or playing with his toys on a weekend.

The silence of the house unsettles her, makes her skin itch, and she blows out a breath as she rolls onto her back. She turns and smiles at her husband as his arm stays in place, warm and heavy across her hips, his face slack and his mouth slightly open. She takes the opportunity to look at him, to run her fingers through his hair and smile as it flops back onto his forehead. He looked younger like this, carefree as if nothing bad had ever happened to him, and it makes her ache, makes love fill her chest as she swears to herself she’ll do her best to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him again. She leans in to kiss his cheek, and it wakes him up. He presses his hand against her lower back and tugs her closer, his head turning so he can capture her lips with his. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles, scrunching her nose up at his morning breath but kissing him again anyway, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“Don’t apologise,” he replies, kissing her forehead as he pulls away, his voice rough from sleep and misuse, “I like being woken up by you.” 

She hums and tucks herself up against him, rests her head against his chest so she can hear his heartbeat and anchors herself to him with her hand on his shoulder and her leg over his hip, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

He wraps his arms around her and holds her closer, and the sound of his heartbeat drowning out the overwhelming silence of the house. He reaches for her hand and links his fingers through hers as he drops a kiss on the top of her head. 

“It’s not like you to be up first,” he says carefully, running his hand up and down her back, his fingers sneaking under a t-shirt that used to be his. He feels how she tenses in his arms, her stuttered breath passing from her chest to his, and he rubs a circle on her back, desperate to ease the anxiety he knew only one thing could. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” she replies, and it feels like an understatement. She’d laid next to him most of the night, tried to let the press of him against her and the feeling of his breath skipping across her skin lull her to sleep but it hadn’t worked. She’d drifted in and out of bouts of restless sleep as she thought of the pregnancy tests lined up in their bathroom cabinet, now familiar anxiety bubbling low in her gut as she spent the entire night trying to tell herself not to get her hopes up again. 

It had been a year since they’d started trying. They’d been engaged and married since she threw away her birth control and they said that they’d try, both of them hopeful in a way that now felt nothing short of naive. Her doctors in Paris had assured her that the damage Ian had done to her hadn’t affected her uterus, that there was no reason they could see why she couldn’t have a baby if she chose to in the future, but she couldn’t help but wonder if they were wrong. 

She didn’t think it would be this difficult. She’d fallen pregnant the first time she’d ever had sex. A few moments with a boy who was supposed to be her friend that changed her life and made her militant about birth control ever since, the harsh words of a doctor questioning her age but not her fake ID who hadn’t realised she spoke Italian still ringing around her head even now. She thought it would be easy this time too. She’d allowed herself fantasies of Aaron standing on the other side of the bathroom door as she peed on a stick and her running out with a positive test in her hands and happy tears on her cheeks. She’d imagined it all being easy because this time this was something she could want and that she could have. 

They’d had agreed that after a year they’d go to her doctor, because she knew she’d be told to try for that long anyway, and now it was here the thought made her feel sick. Nausea rolling in her belly when she thinks of taking a pregnancy test and looking at a negative result again, something that was apparently no less painful when she did it for the 11th time last month than it had been the 1st. It felt definitive, like the test she’d take today would draw a line in the sand and bring this part of their lives to a close so the next stage could take over. And she’d have to come to terms with either never having a baby, or the fact it certainly wasn’t going to be simple to have one. 

“Em-”

“I should get it over with,” she says, swallowing thickly as she sits up, a chill left in his wake as she separates herself from him and gets out of bed, not sure she could take kind platitudes from him again, “I’ll start getting ready for the day.” 

He sighs and sits up, “Em-”

“Aaron,” she says, turning to look at him, stopping him in place with tears shining in her eyes, “Please just…” she drifts off and clears her throat, smiling tightly at him as she flicks the switch for the ensuite’s light, “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

He nods and stays put, sitting on the edge of the bed to wait her out. It’s where he sat as she did this every month, the amount of time it would take her to come out to see him getting longer each time, the look on her face somehow breaking his heart even more than it had the time before. He wanted this as much as she did, and it hurt to see how much pressure she was putting on herself as time went on. As if somehow she’d convinced herself that his love for her was conditional, that it was dependent on this one thing. He told her time and time again that she was what was important to him, that everything else would be wonderful and a bonus, but that her and her love were the things that had helped bring him back to life, that had helped him feel worthy of love again. 

Everything else was confetti - beautiful and bright with her by his side, but just strips of paper fated to dissolve in the rain without her. 

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be right here.” 

She smiles sadly and walks over, stamping her lips against his before she walks away again, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

She closes the door behind her and blows out a slow breath, giving herself a moment to try to centre herself before she carries on. She pulls a test out of the cabinet and wraps her hand around it tightly, screwing her eyes shut before she shakes her head at herself and heads to the toilet. Once she’s done she clips the lid on and puts it on the counter, sighing as she flushes the toilet because she knows Aaron will hear and know that the countdown is on. She actively ignores the test as she washes her hands and starts her skincare routine. 

It isn’t lost on her that close to 30 years ago she was staring at a pregnancy test and hoping for an entirely different result to what she wanted now. The process was harder then, more complicated and drawn than simply peeing on a stick, something that only added to her panic as she read the instructions again and again to make sure she did it correctly. The thirty minutes she’d had to wait for the result had been tortuous in a different way to the three she had to wait now, the time drawn out into what felt like hours as her fate felt like it had already been decided for her

She pats her face dry after washing it and reaches for her serum, and she looks down at the test despite her intentions to ignore it as long as possible, the result both what she wants and what she fears until she sees it. She gasps as she reads one single word on the digital screen, her hand coming up to her mouth to try and capture it as she drops the serum she’d been holding, the glass bottle smashing into countless pieces as it hits the tiled floor. 

Pregnant. 

She was pregnant. 

“Oh my god,” she says, picking up the test with shaky hands, holding it closer as if the result would change or she’d read it wrong, and she chokes on a sound between a laugh and a sob, relief and love and half a dozen things she can’t name rushing through her all at once. “Holy shit.” 

There’s a knock on the door just before it opens and Aaron’s already talking as he walks in. 

“Sweetheart, is everything okay? I heard something break,” he says, drifting off when he sees the tears shining in her eyes and the test in her hands. He sighs sadly, opening his arms out to comfort her, “Oh, Em I’m sorry-”

Her eyes go wide as he steps forward, “Aaron, no wait there’s glass-”

“Ow, Goddamn it,” he exclaims, hissing as he lifts his foot, blood already visible from where he’d cut himself. 

“Sorry, honey,” she says, placing the test on the counter as she steps over the glass between them. She wraps her arm around his shoulder to guide him over to the toilet and helps him sit on the closed lid, “I dropped my serum,” she says, wiping her cheeks, only aware she was still crying when she kneels in front of him, “That’s expensive stuff too.” 

He chuckles and cups her cheek, wiping away a fresh tear, “It’s okay, I think we can afford it.” 

She smiles and then winces when she looks at the sole of his foot, “It’s not deep, but it does look sore,” she says, reaching for the tweezers behind her on the counter. She raises her eyebrow and brandishes the tweezers at him, “You’re lucky I love you, I use this for my eyebrows usually.” 

“Well, I appreciate the - ow,” he exclaims, furrowing his brow as she pulls out the small shard of glass. She smiles apologetically and shrugs.

“It hurts less if you don’t know it’s coming,” she says, standing up briefly to get the first aid kit from the medicine cabinet, her eyes drifting to the positive test again for a brief moment before she kneels back in front of him, “I’ll just wrap a bandage around it for you to stop the bleeding.”

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, watching as she wraps it around his foot, a tender gentleness to her touch that he knows he couldn’t live without. A soft type of love she gave him and Jack without question or the expectation of getting the same in return. He so desperately wanted to watch her love a baby that was half him and half her in the same way. She smiles up at him when she’s done and he wraps his arms around her as soon as she stands up, encouraging her to sit on his lap. She wraps her arms around his neck and kisses his cheek. 

“I know usually we tell Jack you have to kiss an injury to make it better,” she says, kissing his cheek again, “But I’m not kissing your foot, so you’ll have to deal with a kiss on the cheek.” 

“I’ll never say no to a kiss on the cheek from you,” he smiles and hooks his finger under her chin to turn her head to face him and he kisses her on the lips, “I’m sorry it was negative.” 

She furrows her brow, “What?” 

“The test,” he replies, “I’m sorry it was negative, and I’m sorry I stood on glass and took all the focus off of you-”

“Aaron, honey,” she says, chuckling as she cuts off his spiral, shaking her head at him because he’s the only person she knows who would apologise for standing on glass, “It isn’t negative.”

He stops, his brow knitting together in confusion, “It isn’t?”

“It isn’t,” she shakes her head and unwraps one of her arms from around his neck to get the test from the counter, “I’m pregnant.” 

He takes the test from her, his view of her and the result immediately blurry with tears, “You’re pregnant?” He says, tears slipping down his cheeks, “We’re having a baby?” 

She nods and leans forward, kissing away his tears before she rests her forehead against his, “We’re having a baby.” 

He kisses her fiercely, “I love you so much,” he kisses her again, “And I hope you know that would be true no matter what. I love you.” 

“I know,” she nods, a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob catching in her chest, “I love you too,” she kisses him again and rests her forehead against his, “We really should do something about the glass before Jack wakes up and comes looking for us.”

He nods, his forehead gently knocking against hers, “In a minute,” he says, kissing her again, entirely unable to stop himself from doing so, “Let’s just sit here for a little bit. We’ve waited a long time for this.” 

“Okay,” she says because she doesn’t want to move either, rooted to the spot in his lap, the absurdity of the fact they were having this life-changing, romantic moment whilst sitting on the closed lid of the toilet not lost on her, “Just for a little bit.” 

He kisses her temple and slips his hand onto her still flat belly, “You’re never going to let me forget that I stepped on glass and interrupted you telling me that we’re having a baby are you?” 

She shakes her head and places his hand over hers, happiness she didn’t think was possible warming her from the inside out, “Not a chance, honey.” 

[writingdevil]

Firstly I wanted to say that I loved tongues and teeth it was a super fun story that got me real attached to Paranoid and Opportunist’s relationship in it. So when you said that you were taking requests I knew I just had to ask for more of them. Specifically I think it would be real sweet if Paranoid was defending Opportunist to someone like Cheated who’s more hesitant about his trustworthiness. Maybe Opportunist even overhears the conversation and teases him about it later but is actually really appreciative of it that could be fun. Idk I just thought this would be a fun premise and would love to see what you write for it.

(Thank you for liking my story!This is also my first request so I'm so excited for to write this!This takes place in PT.7 after Oppy talks to Smitten,Cheated and Skeptic.Enjoy!)

"Hey Paranoid,can I talk to you for a minute?"

Opportunist stopped in his tracks of getting more sticks for the fire,slowly hiding behind a tree as Cheated brought Jitters aside to talk to him.

Jitters was immediately panicking."What's wrong?" he asked,feathers and shoulders rising in alarm."Are you hurt?Are you hiding something?"

"What?"Cheated asked,staring up at Jitters in confusion."No,no-nothing's wrong.I just have a question."

"Oh."Opportunist had to bite his lip to stop laughter from pouring out as Jitters' blank face and his whole body deflated at once.He still looked wary as he said,"Okay?Go on."

Cheated sighed harshly,making sure to look Jitters in the eye,before finally asking in a low whisper, "What did he do?"

"...What?"

"What did he do?Did he threaten you?I bet he lied to you!"

"Cheated,what are you-"Cheated suddenly cut Jitters off by grabbing his shoulders,pulling him in closer with an urgency in his eyes and voice as he said,"Paranoid,you can not believe a thing Opportunist tells you!"

Jitters pulled himself out of Cheated's grip,giving him a confused look."Wait,this is about Oppy?Why?"

"Because he's a liar that only serves himself!" Cheated hissed,and Opportunist's wings lowered in shame at the truth."He doesn't care about anyone other than himself-including you,no matter what bullshit he's after telling you!He doesn't play fair, Paranoid!"

Jitters twisted his body in a way that prevented Opportunist from seeing his face,but judging from the long silence that followed,Opportunist doubted that Jitters' response was going to be good.

Finally,he watched as Jitters slowly tilted his head to one side and quietly said,"He doesn't really play fair,does he?"

Despite his best efforts,Opportunist felt his heart drop at Jitters' words.He knew they still didn't completely trust each other,but he thought that he had made some progress with Jitters.

He thought Jitters had given him the chance that others hadn't.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and was about to walk off,having heard all these insults before, when Jitters spoke up,"But that doesn't mean that he didn't care about us."

He froze,and he forced himself to slowly turn his head back,staring at the surprised expression on Cheated's ragged face.

"I think he was just afraid.I was afraid everytime we faced off against the princess.I think he found it-easier to just side with the voice with the most sway,because that might be how He survives.I think he was mainly concerned about survival, about keeping Him safe,no matter what,because why wouldn't he?"

"Because he's an asshole,"Cheated grumbled,and Jitters shrugged."Sometimes I would think that too, but realistically,he had to look out for the Decider because he was still a part of Him.Otherwise,what would be the point in all that deceit if there was nothing good to come out of it for us?"

Opportunist saw the way Cheated's face shifted, how his anger was slowly disappearing and changing into annoyed understanding at Jitters' words.Opportunist was gobsmacked at the sight.

Jitters lowered his head,and he saw him lift his arm up to inspect."These new bodies are weird.I'm not sure how I feel about it."

"Me neither,"Cheated quietly agreed,stretching out his wings that were too small for his body.

"It's hard to believe that we have our own free will now,that we can move and speak and do whatever we want."

"I guess that's a good thing though,right?"Cheated said,"We don't have to fight for control anymore."

"I suppose so,"Jitters said,in a way that Opportunist wondered if he preferred to be back in someone's head,if that was easier for him.

"But,"Jitters said,"if we have all this newfound freedom and control for ourselves,then why has Oppy stuck around?"Opportunist gulped,as he watched how Cheated didn't have an answer to that.

"He's the one in control of his own body,but he's still hanging around us and helping find the others. Why do you think that is?"

"Because he's got some trick up his sleeve!" Cheated insisted,but Opportunist argument now sounded weak in his own voice.Jitters shrugged again,looking around the forest,and Opportunist caught the calm look in his eyes,as if defending Opportunist was something he was sure in,that he didn't doubt or worry about.

Opportunist's loyalty was something Jitters had full faith in.

That was only cemented as Jitters said,"He might, but if he's deciding to stick around the flock for so long,don't you think he would've tried something by now?"Then Jitters walked off,leaving Cheated-and Opportunist-to soak in his words.

He saw Cheated's face go through a mix of emotions in a matter of seconds-first anger,then shock, confusion,and then finally-soft acceptance, to which he just sighed and rolled his eyes,before walking back to camp.

Opportunist stood in that spot for a few minutes, until he felt somebody tap him on the shoulder.He yelped and whirled around,clutching the bundle of sticks to his chest,as he found Hunted standing there and giving him a perplexed look."What are you doing?"

"Nothing!"

-

Twenty minutes later,they were all sitting around a newly fed fire,and Opportunist immediately scanned for where Jitters was,and went straight over to him.

"What a fruitful day this has been,"he said as a greeting,giving Jitters a big smile as he sat down next to him.Jitters just smiled at him tiredly,turning to look back at the glow of the fire."More like hectic."

"Of course you would think that."They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes,but Opportunist couldn't help but turn to stare at Jitters,his heart as warm as the fire felt for how he defended Opportunist.

Jitters' face scrunched up as he tensed up,and he sent Opportunist a light glare as he sharply asked, "Why are you staring at me?"

Opportunist continued to look at him for a few seconds,before bursting out into quiet chuckles. Now Jitters was even more confused as he sat up straighter."What?What is it?"

Opportunist shook his head,and he gave Jitters a cocky grin as he said,"Just didn't know how soft you were,Jitters."

"What do you mean?"

Opportunist bumped shoulders with him as he said,"I'm just flattered that you don't think I have a trick up my sleeve."

Realisation dawned on Jitters,making his body relax but his feathers puff up in embarrassment. "Oh,"he quietly said,"you heard all that?"He nodded. "Yep.Forget Hero-you should be my knight in shining armour."

Jitters rolled his eyes and groaned."I just didn't want him to get the wrong idea."

"Uh-huh,"Opportunist said,still grinning playfully at him,"what would I do without you,Jitters?"

"I just,"Jitters continued,as if deaf to Opportunist's teasing and more concerned with explaining himself,"I don't think there's any point in worrying about stuff like that now."

Opportunist's grin shrunk as he asked,"Stuff like what?"Jitters gestured towards him and answered, "Stuff like if you want to trick us.Because you don't. You're here now with everyone else,helping them stay together,and that should be good enough right now-because it's good enough for me."

Opportunist stared at Jitters,before a shaky,small smile crept up on his face.He quickly ducked his head before Jitters could see,not used to having someone come to his defense before.Usually it was him trying to convince the others to believe him.

He found that he liked the change.

He draped his wing over Jitters and said,"Thanks, Jitters,I appreciate it."

He didn't need to look up to feel the warm smile Jitters sent him.

[mammomlette]

People don’t talk about MC needing to wear a magical ring to not accidentally yk cause NATURAL DISASTERS with their powers??? Not only accidentally but without realising???

Diavolo or smthn is asking too much of MC or being a bit too annoying and their other hand slowly drifts towards the ring and they hold onto it while maintaining dead eye contact. Like continue to piss me off hoe I’ll blink and blow a hole in your castle idk

Obv they never do it (or do they?) but the threat is there and it’s a risk dia (or whoever but I’m using dia) can’t take

[staring-at-a-blank-pagee]

hmm, the warp star is looking a little different.... oh well, no big deal! kirby loves everybody, which means that he loves you too! stay safe for kirby <3

[oblivious-aro]

Hey, remember that weird misogynistic quote from Danny Phantom I mentioned?

You'll never believe what Walmart.com is selling on their shirts.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

Genuinely unfortunate that I’m attracted to men bc a lot of straight men these days r so embarrassing my heart can’t take it anymore