#I don't know why they want to control my opinion and want me to agree with them.

[unknown-cold]

Yes there are characters who suffered in the show (I don't deny that) but at least they had some good times, unlike Vi who since she was young cares and takes responsibility for others. And after all the trauma Vi went through in episode 3 as a teenager, she was locked up in prison for 7 years.

And when she got out of prison she didn't rest, she went looking for her sister. And after all this she had to accept the fact that her sister is gone forever, and I'm sure this is one of the hardest facts for Vi to accept that her sister had turned into a monster and Vi will think she's responsible for Jinx's actions.

(I know I've talked about this a lot, but I won't stop talking about it. Firstly, because until now I still receive messages telling me that I shouldn't defend Vi and that Jinx is the only main character in the show and that she is the most suffering character and other such talk, and I just want to tell them that I will not stop talking about Vi's character and I will not stop defending her, and for me Vi is the best character in the entire show and no one can change my opinion)

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

genre(s) -> angst, fluff, smut, non-idol, hybrid au, poly au paring(s) -> ( eventually ) ATEEZ x reader warning(s) -> smut, manhandling, words -> 1.7K

abstract -> “Always used to getting what you want don't you?”

hongjoong’s pov

“Are you sure you want to go to a heat hotel?” Seonghwa asked me and I didn’t know what else to do… “You’re gonna regret it,” Yeosang added. “I don’t want her to feel like she needs to help me… I don’t want to force her” I said and they seemed to understand. 

“She’s already accepted you both… besides she doesn’t mind helping us,” Wooyoung said and I felt like I had to just wait… for whatever reason.

“Hongjoong, are you ready!” I heard as I saw y/n now ready to take me to spend my heat with a stranger… 

“Don’t come back saying you regret it” Seonghwa warned and I think I would regret it either way… but for now I had to go to that stupid hotel.

They took me away and it felt weird not having y/n with me… she won’t be with me for a week. I wouldn’t see the apartment for a whole week. I then saw a tiger hybrid like Seonghwa with her fur white but a bit duller than his… enter the room. 

I could smell her heat, but for some reason, it didn’t push me further into mine. I know I was experiencing my pre-heat but surely I should’ve wanted to succumb to my desires right?

“Have fun” the employee said as I was now left alone with the unknown hybrid… “You're a collectible” she muttered and I growled. “I don’t mean that as offensive… I didn’t even mean to say it but your collar looks expensive” she defended and I knew that it was.

Each collar of hers was the same but different color or different jewels which differentiates me from the other hybrids at home… unique and made for me... which was a crimson red.

“Your owner must have not wanted to deal with a hybrid in heat huh?” she asked and it made me mad how many questions she asked… “No I decided to do it, '' I said and her eyes widened. 

“And your owner actually listened?! No way… I was told all of the hybrid collectors could care less about their hybrid’s opinions!” she laughed and it took lots of control to not threaten her.

I found her annoying so how was I supposed to spend the rest of my time with her?

“You do smell like you’re in heat though… I haven’t started mine but I’m having pre-heat symptoms” she said as she now got closer…

“Ready?”

“Told you so,” Wooyoung said, teasing me and I scoffed. “What happened?” Seonghwa asked, clearly amused. “She kept talking about me as if I was a collectible, it was annoying. She was annoying and she had the same stupid fur color as yours” I muttered and they laughed at my misery.

“All hybrids see us that way because most of the hybrid owners as rich as ours collect hybrids,” Yeosang said and I knew he was right but I didn’t want to hear it…

“Hongjoong! Why would you threaten her?!” y/n soon rushed where we were to yell at me. She was trying to reason with her owner on the walk by phone but I think she just has to pay for damages and the hotel charges for that stuck-up she-tiger…

“She annoyed me” I muttered and she sighed and walked off still talking on the phone negotiating with the she-tiger’s owner. “You do know now you have two options y/n or pills,” Wooyoung said as he tossed me heat suppressants.

I walked silently to my room… Luckily, y/n agreed to move Seonghwa and let me have a room to myself despite the Doberman’s protests.

I sighed… I really didn’t want to take heat suppressants. I never have and starting would be bad for my health…

“Hongjoong” I heard as I saw y/n come in. I was annoyed how she constantly smelt like that panther hybrid especially how he’s been sleeping in her bed as of recently though that is my fault. 

“Have you decided what you want to do?” she asked with a soft smile… she looked so innocent, why did I hate it? I wanted to ruin her…

“Hongjoong?” she said pulling me away from my thoughts. “I’ll just lock myself in here–” “That's not healthy though” She cut me off and I know it wasn’t but the hotel wasn’t an option anymore. 

“I’ll be fine… thank you” I said and she sighed. “I can help you know? I… trust you” she said, actually genuine. “You shouldn’t give your trust to me you know” I said and she smiled. 

“I do though… so Hongjoong?” 

no one’s perspective

You asked one more time before the tiger’s fantasies took over and nodded. Getting closer to the tiger, he grabbed a hold of one of your thighs before pushing you onto the bed he was sitting in a second ago.

If you told Hongjoong he’d share his heart with a human he would’ve laughed at you a few months ago… but the way you looked up at him curious about what he’d do waiting for his move made him feral. 

Those innocent eyes looked up at him… but he knew better. The fox was quite a sex crazed… and the panther a possessive lover, while the Doberman made you the loudest he’s ever heard you. 

It was no secret how much those three loved you… but he never believed that it was truly easy to love you. 

“Don’t look at me like that” he said… even though he likes your eyes looking up at him submissively, even though he knew that it could become an addiction. 

“I thought you were okay with me helping you?” you asked and he hissed. “Not when you make it hard to control myself” he muttered and you offered him one of your genuine smiles… one that differed from the scared and anxious written expression he used to cause. 

“You don’t have to… I'm not fragile, you know?” she asked and I chuckled. “Not that… I know you aren’t. But you make it hard for me not to claim you and mark you for your little mates to see” he teased and you then understood what he meant. 

“I think… you don’t have to worry about that. Do what you’d like” you said and it shocked him. He let you go and sat down on the bed facing his back towards you… not wanting to make a mistake.

“Hongjoong… you’re bonded with Seonghwa right?” you asked and he nodded. “Well… then you really don’t have to worry. I know we had bad impressions but we put that behind us. I’m not stupid… if you want to make me your mate then do it” you said as you put your chin on his shoulder and he chuckled. He turned his head to face you… 

“You’re making it harder on me than anyone i've met” he confessed and she chuckled. “It’s different when you like the person isn’t it?” you said and he didn’t say anything instead he grabbed your jaw but not like he did months ago. He messily and harshly kissed you now desperate…

It was messy as the both of you got lost at the moment. You didn’t even notice when Hongjoong had pinned you down on the bed as his hand stopped your head from moving too much. 

When he pulled away he didn’t give himself any time to let his lungs rest as he sucked and bit on your skin. Specifically on the scar he caused… he didn’t like seeing it so he wanted to cover it with a different meaning. His free hand in the meantime clawed through your shirt and ripped open your bra. He gripped you harshly as if you were trying to run away. 

His tail even gripped onto your thigh letting him comfortably lay between your legs, his chest pressed against yours and his mouth on your neck. 

“Are you sure you want to continue?” he muttered, finally pulling away but not even to look you in the eyes but instead to observe the work he’s done with the dark colored love bites adorning your jaw and neck. 

“Please” you begged and he chuckled. “So pretty when you beg like that” he muttered as he leaned in to give you a loving kiss before trailing down to kissing down to your chest and teasing you until he decided to go lower and stop just at where your panties covered you. 

He ripped them up with his claws as he teased you. The cold air now makes it obvious just how wet you are as he smirks down at you. 

“Anything to say my darling girl?” he asked you and you felt embarrassed having to beg especially when you weren’t used to it. not when the other three were so giving. “Please?” you said and he laughed at your innocence. “Always used to getting what you want don't you?” he teased and he was right… in more ways than one. 

You suddenly yelped as he grabbed the back of your thighs and pressed them up against your chest. “But it's not like I can fight these urges,” he said now feeling his heat slowly getting him pent up.

He lined up his cock against your pussy and teased you as you felt the pressure of his weight on your clit. He wanted to see how your hands pressed against his stomach from his rough handle on you. Almost like prey trying to get free. 

“Please Hongjoong!” you let out and he chuckled as he did what you requested but all in one go making it sting just a little to accommodate his size. 

Hongjoong also let out a string of curses as he freed one hand by putting your leg to rest on his shoulder just to play with your clit making your moans only get louder and your expressions get more lewd. 

He wasn’t normally one to think pervertedly but he definitely wanted to see what type of faces you make when he’s fucking you. 

Both were desperate for one another and this perverted scene wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He was also intending to make more marks on your body… like handprint bruises on your thighs and more purple hickies adorning your body. Maybe even filling you up in so much cum that you’ll be leaking for days.

Just cause he had to share you, didn’t mean he wasn’t a possessive lover but maybe he’ll convince you to mark him up a bit too?

@wonuangel @danirael @angelsaway @krissroo @minkysmilk @mayonnaise-on-toast @robertsbbygirl @superbbananananana @hyukssunflower @kitty4hwa @justconniez @senpai-of-doom @kibs-and-bits @caityelise99 @ilovekinny @ateezennie23 @wooahaelemons @purplelady85 @watamotee33@chidess97 @littlelostdemonofthelight @maliamaiden @burntarm1n @spooo00oky @eastleighsblog @momo-peachy @kitstar1117 @quartzpirate @sunnyhokyu @iwishiwasrichasfuck @theginger543210 @pandolinka @ddaeing @kpopnightingale @slid3er @kekdo-520 @puppyminnnie @sparklinghwa222 @calicanbeevil @itsvxlentine @atinism @loumin908 @smally97 @rxnexxi @acetruepunk @majesticbeluga @namjooncrabs @tashizxy @itstheghostofmypast @smilefordongil @teeziny @totallynotlyntv @kyeos4ng @prodsh00ky @acescavern

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[virtualvault]

Full Body Workout

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x f!reader

Summary: You challenge Miguel to a sparring match.

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+ ONLY, teasing, begging, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected p in v, wrestling/ grappling for control, too many positions to list lol, mirror sex, dirty talk, creampie

WC: 3.4k

A/N: This prompt won the poll that I put out AGES ago. Sorry it took so long, personal life and work life have been getting in the way and my mental health tanked so I didn’t have it in me to write anything. But, I’m back and feeling inspired again so I was able to finish this. Also, let me know your honest opinion on the positions I wrote reader and Miguel in because holy shit that was harder than I thought it was going to be. I wanted to really capture the feeling that they were wrestling around on the floor, but didn't want to make it too confusing. Please let me know if it made any sense lol. It was a challenge, but fun to write so I hope you enjoy and as always, feedback is encouraged and appreciated!!

Miguel is excited that you agreed to join him for his mid-morning workout. But excitement quickly turns to regret as you begin stretching on the mat in front of him. “This was a mistake," he mutters, and you look back and give him a questioning look.

 “How am I supposed to focus when you’re doing that?” He gestures to your ass on full display, sticking straight up in the air.

 You smile cheekily. "Well, if you don't want to watch me stretch, why don't you help me instead?" You teasingly wiggle your hips to entice him. It works, and he comes over to kneel on the floor behind you. Little do you know, he's planning to do a little teasing of his own as payback for distracting him. 

 He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs and gives your ass a light squeeze before maneuvering you onto your back. He raises one of your legs up and throws it over his shoulder, then leans over you. The tension in your hamstring causes a familiar burn and a thrill runs through you. When he switches legs, you feel his hardening bulge rub up against you and a soft moan slips from your lips. You try to move your hips against him, but before you can he places a quick kiss to your forehead and sits upright.

 "Alright, I think you've been thoroughly stretched out, now let's get to it." He shoots you a wink as he stands. You had been hoping he'd let his dick do all the thinking and forfeit his original plans for an entirely different, and way more desirable, form of workout. But he seems determined to stick to his normal routine, much to your disappointment.

 You get up, begrudgingly, to begin your own workout. It's leg day and you decide to start with some lunges. You intentionally face him, not wanting to miss the show. You love watching him workout. His sheer strength never fails to amaze you. Not only that, but he always does everything with such finesse and ease,, and you usually end up just bailing on your workout to watch him, your mouth watering and eyes glued to his body.

 It's not only his movements that are entrancing, but the sounds. My god, the sounds he makes. All the heavy breathing and grunting causes a wet heat to flare between your legs. If you close your eyes, you can picture him above you, fucking you with the same power and agility he's showcasing right now.

 He's in a pushup position, doing reps with a weight bigger than your head. Every time he pulls it up to his chest, he lets out a jagged exhale through his nose and you wish desperately you were feeling it on your neck while he pounds into you from behind.

 You find yourself completely mesmerized by the sounds he's making, the furrow in his brow, and the sweat glistening on his skin. It's a delicious sight and you realize you've completely stopped moving and are simply standing there, staring at him.

 He takes notice as he moves the weight to the other hand and catches a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye. You quickly look away but judging by the smirk on his face you know he caught you. He's too distracting, so you decide to finish the rest of your workout on the elliptical, just waiting for him to be done and hoping he'll take you back to the apartment and relieve you of the ache he's created between your legs.

 As you set your pace on the machine, you curse yourself for not bringing headphones. You can only just barely see him out of the corner of your eye, but you hear him as he's laid out doing bench presses. The grunting is going straight to your core and you feel a warmth starting to form in your belly. Now alight with burning need, you step off and go to stand in front of him. If he's not willing to postpone his workout to fuck you silly like you want, then you think you've got the perfect compromise.

 You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips. “Let’s spar."

 "What?” he asks, finishing the set and then sitting up.

 "You heard me. I wanna spar. C'mon. Or are you scared I'm going to kick your ass?" You goad, knowing full well he could squash you like a bug if he actually tried.

 He smiles at you, amused by your trash talk, but hesitates. "I don't know if that's such a good idea…" It seems like he wants doesn't want to risk the chance of hurting you, which you both know he wouldn't let happen, but he's really just trying to fight the urge to fuck you. He's been struggling since he saw you saunter out in your tight workout clothes this morning. If you were to spar, he knows being that close to you would make him lose what little control he's clinging to.

 "C’mon, I just want to give it a try. I promise, I'll go easy on you," you joke.

“Okay," he chuckles, "but nothing too crazy. Just some basic grappling stuff." He rises off the bench, and lets his eyes roam your body. He curses himself for it as he feels himself growing hard. His eyes stay glued to your ass as he follows you to the mat in the middle of the room.

 He verbally walks you through a few maneuvers and you pick one to try. He gets into position behind you and holds you up against him, and you're supposed to duck out of his grasp. You attempt the move, and fail, so he pulls you back into him to try it again. You get into position, gripping his arm, and wait for him to give you the go ahead. He leans down to speak softly into your ear. "Good, just like that. Now try it again, but just a little faster."

 His words send a tingle across your skin and your grip on him loosens. With your guard effectively down, he spins you around and sweeps your feet out from under you. You let out a squeak and feel brace yourself, but he grabs you before you hit the mat and lowers you to the ground. You notice he now has you completely trapped under him. He holds your arms to your sides and uses his leg to pin one of your own down. He leaves one leg free, and you plant it on the ground, attempting to push yourself out of his hold, but it's useless. You let out a frustrated sigh.

 "Ready to give up?" he taunts, eyes gleaming with mischief.

 "It's not fair. I'm at a disadvantage," you whine, still attempting to free yourself from his grasp.

 "And why is that?" he questions. There are a million reasons you're at a disadvantage going up against him, but your answer is not one he is expecting.

 "My pants," you state plainly.

 "Your…pants,” he echoes, amused, but waiting for clarification.

 "They’re too restrictive. I don't have full range of motion." You wriggle under him and his eyes fall to your shorts. He admires the way the taught fabric hugs your thighs.

 “Hmm. Well, we wouldn't want this to be an unfair fight, would we?” He leans back and grabs the top of your pants and frees you from their confines. He sits back on his haunches and tosses the clothing side. Then, with as much force as you can muster up, you use your feet to push against his hips, effectively knocking him off balance. He topples over and his back hits the mat with a light thud. He's quite impressed, but before he can sit up and praise you, you crawl over to him and straddle his hips.

 "Nice move," he comments, and looks down to see you resting on his bulge and he can feel the wet heat of your core through his shorts. "Thanks. I learned from the best, " you say with a wink and begin grinding on him, causing the fabric to drag along your folds. You quicken the motion as you feel him twitch beneath you.

 After a few moments, you turn the other way and attempt to rid him of his shorts, giving him a glimpse of your bare ass in the process. The second you finish taking them off, he's pulling you back to hover over his face. You steady yourself and go to scold him for taking back control, but before you can say anything he pulls you down onto his face. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you gasp as he begins exploring you thoroughly with his tongue. You shiver at the warmth of his mouth against you.

 When your eyes finally flutter open, you catch a glimpse of his tip dripping with anticipation, begging to be touched. You lean down, grip his thighs, and begin gliding your tongue over his length. He grunts and you feel the sound reverberate over your clit.

 You want to feel it again, so you take him into your mouth and start sucking his head. He bucks his hips, pushing himself to the back of your throat. He lets out a long groan this time and you pull him in deeper. You gag a little and he grips your thighs tight as your throat constricts around him. You feel his heavy breathing grazing your skin as he laps you up feverishly.

 With your own pleasure building rapidly, you pull your mouth off of him and begin stroking him while letting out a steady stream of moans. You can tell you're getting close. Miguel can too, so he sloppily sucks at your clit, then rolls it gently between his teeth. This proves to be too much for you, and you grip him at the base as your orgasm washes over you. As the pleasure rolls through your body, you clench around nothing and realize how empty you feel without him inside you. He nips at your thighs as you come down and you give him a few sloppy strokes before sitting up, desperate to feel him fill you up.

 You start to crawl down his body, but he quickly pulls you backwards. You land with your back to him, and he secures you in place with his arm across your chest. He spreads your legs, holding them open with his own, and uses his free hand to begin rubbing himself against you.

 "I wanted to ride you," you pout, and angle your hips so that his tip catches on your clit as he slides back and forth against you.

 "By all means, go ahead and try." You attempt to wiggle free but it's futile. "Guess we're doing it my way," He enters you slowly, gliding in with no resistance. You both let out a low moan.

 "You take me so well," he praises. You sigh as he bottoms. He places kisses all up your neck while giving you a few seconds to adjust. His free hand settles on your hip, and you expect him to start thrusting into you, but he surprises you when he flips the both of you over.

 He cages you in against the floor and grinds into you, slowly but deeply. He has you whimpering into the mat, needing him to go faster. But you know he loves to torture you like this, intentionally setting a pace that has you writhing and begging for more, while keeping your climax just out of reach.  You crane your neck to try and get a good look at him, but he has his face buried in your neck. You tug on his hair to get his attention.

 "Let me see you," you whine.  When he lifts his head, he's enthralled by the sight of you, lips bitten and eyes wide. He crashes his mouth into yours and glides his tongue over yours, hungrily, before pulling away and flipping you over. He grabs one wrist in each hand and anchors them to the floor above your head.

 Desire flares in you as his eyes meet yours, staring back at you with such fervent need. He brings his face closer, and your noses brush as he stares deep into your eyes. Then without warning he's back inside you and begins fucking you with much more momentum than before. You wrap your legs around his hips and the new angle has his length reaching so deep you swear you can feel it in your stomach.

 "Oh fuck, just like that," you say, breathily. Your ankles dig into his lower back, pulling him even deeper, causing his tip to find the exact spot that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he stretches you. His grip on your wrists loosens and his eyes fall shut as he gets caught up the feeling of your silky walls hugging him. As you contract around him again and again, he drops his head.

 You now have a good view of his exposed neck and can see the sweat glistening on his skin. Your mouth starts to water at the sight, and you place a few sloppy kisses up the slope of his neck before dragging your tongue along the skin to get a taste. You feel his hips falter and he relaxes his grip on you. You take this moment of weakness to muster up as much strength as you can and roll him over until you're straddling him.

 He grunts as his head comes to rest on the floor. He moves his hands to your hips to attempt to regain control, but you grab them and put them above his head, mirroring the position he had you in just moments ago. "Who knew a few kisses to the neck is all it takes to overpower you," you tease. You begin to grind on him nice and slow, your walls dragging along his length. He moans and his lips buck under you.

 "Come on. Please," he implores, voice dripping with want.

 "Lucky for you, it's leg day." You plant your feet on the floor and begin to ride him in earnest, and his breath quickens. As you bounce faster and faster, he squirms underneath you, so much so that his wrists come free from your grasp. You place your hands on his chest to hold him down that way instead.

 Your palms travel the broad expanse of his chest and find it increasingly harder to stay steady as the pressure inside you builds. He senses you're struggling a bit, so he grabs your hips to help guide you up and down on his cock.

 Soon your whole body is thrumming with pleasure and, no longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse on his chest. Not wanting you to lose your momentum, he quickly begins thrusting up into you. He wraps his arms around you to pull you down onto him. Within seconds he has you crying out as you tumble over the edge. You bury your face in his chest and plant light kisses across his soft skin as you ride out your high. He fucks you through it, but you're so wet he eventually slips right out of you.

 You're still buzzing from you last orgasm, but he is desperate to feel your warmth again. He rolls you over into your side, then spots the mirror that panels the wall. He sits up and pulls you into his arms with your back pressed to his chest. He holds you tight to him, arm across your chest like a seat belt and the other across your waist.

 He gets up onto his knees and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. Anticipation pulses through you as his arm momentarily leaves your waist to line himself up with your entrance. Raw with need, he slides in and returns his arm to your waist and begins pulling you down onto him in tandem with his thrusts. If it weren't for his tight grip on you, you would have toppled over.

 Your breathing comes out in short, sharp pants and you look up to see the two of you in the mirror. His body is completely engulfing yours.  Not only are his arms around you, but your thighs are enclosed by his and they're pressing yours together. It makes you feel even tighter and Miguel grunts into your neck, and he can feel himself creeping closer to his own release.

 He lifts his head to kiss up the side of your face, then meets your gaze. It'd be apparent to anyone who could see the two of you like this that he has the upper hand. You can barely move except to angle your hips to take every forceful thrust. But you both know you have just as much control over him and his pleasure as he does you. It's evident in the way he squeezes his eyes shut and his hips stutter every time you walls grip him tight, and the way he has to do everything in his power not to cum as he hears those heavenly noises pouring from your mouth.

 He has to keep himself from cumming, determined to pull one more from you before he finally gives in. Your eyes flutter shut, and you attempt to reach up to run your fingers through his hair, your other hand hanging onto his forearm. Your nails dig into his skin, and he lets out a soft growl at the delicious burn.

 He dips his head down to nip at your ear. "Touch yourself," he commands, and you go to look at him over your shoulder, but he grabs your chin to angle your face to meet his in the mirror.

 "C'mon. I want you to see how fucking good you look when you touch with yourself.  I know your clit must be throbbing, don't you think it deserves a little attention?" The grovel in his voice and his measured thrusts have your mind a little hazy, so you don't move right away. Before your hand can catch up with your brain, he grabs your wrist and shoves it between your thighs for you. He stills his hips and pulls your legs apart so he can get a good look at your spread folds in the mirror.

 "Mmm. It's so swollen, just begging to be played with. Go on, play with that pretty pussy."  He gently glides your hand over your exposed nub, then pulls away you start moving on your own. "Look at you, getting yourself off while I'm inside you. Dirty little thing.”

 You do your best to nod in response. "You make me feel so full," you moan out as you swipe back and forth over your clit.

 He involuntarily bucks his hips, pushing himself deeper into you. He curses under his breath, and you lay your head back and look up at him. “You gonna fuck me?” You question while simultaneously rolling your hips, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

 “Or am I going to have to finish the job myself?” You feign a pout, and he leans down, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth.

 Your words spur him on, and he starts moving again. He's giving you slow, hard thrusts and you squeak as each one hits deeper and deeper. He notices your hand speed up and he fucks you faster to match the pace. The feeling of him filling you up, the soft squelch each time he bottoms out and his ragged breathing grazing your skin is all you can focus on, and he sees your wrist go limp. He's quick to replace your hand with his own. His fingers swirl in fast, tight circles around your clit and you let out what sounds like a sob.

 The sensation is too much, and you go rigid in his arms, white hot pleasure shooting across your body. He sees your eyes roll back as you gush around him, and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. You don't even register what he's saying and eventually go limp in his arms. He can still feel you fluttering around him, and he lets out a deep, guttural moan and releases inside you.

 He gently sets you down onto the mat and collapses beside you, thoroughly drained. As you're attempting to catch your breath, he pulls you up into his side and you rest your head onto his chest.

 "If I knew working out could be this fun, I'd come with you every day," you jest, although you'd be more than willing to add this to your routine.

 “So, same time tomorrow then?” He asks with a smile.

[tangyangie]

𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌—! 🖇

𖡼𖤣𖥧𓋼 with. keiji akaashi 𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

LESSON #0 — CONVINCING ꩜

part of him wants to refuse outright. what do you mean you want his help? you want to learn how to kiss other guys? it's bad enough that he likes you, and now you're going to rub it in by giving him a taste of what he can't have. but, when you look up at him with those eyes—those beautiful, pleading eyes—he can't find it in him to say no. this is a common occurrence. you've gotten him to do your laundry on numerous occasions. this is also how you got your dorm pet(s).

"i said, no."

"but, keiji, please? she's so cute, isn't she?"

"we already have one!"

"yeah, but he's lonely!"

"i'm not cleaning after them, though."

you're going to kill him. you're actually going to be his 'cause of death. sure, you might think it's normal; it's only kissing your best friend as practice for another guy. but, to him, it's way more than that. you're like a cigarette—he wants to try you, so bad, but he knows that once he does, he won't ever be able to go back.

"it's not my problem if you like someone. look up a tutorial on youtube if you're so curious," keiji hums, purposely avoiding eye contact—he's just so interested in this show.

"i have! all they say is 'once you get into it, you'll instantly know how to do it'. i mean, it's the dumbest thing i've ever heard. i didn't look up a step-by-step to skip from looking at them to after the kiss."

he simply shrugs. "they're right, you know. it just clicks when you get comfortable."

"well, i'm not going to be comfortable if i don't know what i'm doing, and i'm scared i'm gonna mess up and embarrass myself in front of him!"

"...ask someone else."

"keiji, no, please! you're my best friend, no one else will get it if i ask! they're just gonna think i'm weird!" you plead, kneeling down and hugging his leg as a last resort.

"what are you—"

"please, keiji?" you interrupt, not wanting your plans derailed.

"i..." he sighs, running his fingers through his hair before begrudgingly agreeing. "fine, okay."

with an excited squeal, you stand up and intertwine your fingers with his. "thank you! what's first?"

"wh—now?!"

LESSON #1 — EYES 🦢

he loves your eyes. he thinks that they're absolutely gorgeous. with or without makeup to enhance your eyelashes, each wisp of color within your iris is a pathway that he wishes he could explore, simply by staring into your eyes for hours. he's a complete moth to the flame, because he swears that if he looks too long, he'll fall in.

"hey, keiji—is there something on my face?"

"what makes you think that?"

"...well, you've been staring at me for a good minute. is it paint, or something?l

"...okay, first things first—do not open your eyes unless you're ready to pull away. no one wants to see that right now, for one, and it just makes a kiss seem... not real. like you're not into it," he explains, pausing his show and turning to sit sideways on the couch. he lifts his glasses off from his nose and sets them on the coffee table.

"is that why you take your glasses off?" you ask, tilting your head curiously. "is it to prevent you from looking, or something?"

"um, no. i just don't like the idea of them fogging up," he says, thinking about what else to elaborate on. "closing your eyes is just because it'd be really awkward if you both started at each other in the eyes."

"okay, i get it, i think. when do i start closing my eyes?"

"whenever you start feeling awkward. or, probably better for you—because you're so inexperienced—is to just mirror him."

"oh, yeah, i'm sooo inexperienced," you scoff, leaning back.

"you asked for my opinion."

"fair enough. what next?"

LESSON #2 — HANDS 𓇼

to him, hands are the most useful part of the body. it controls everything—volleyball, writing, hobbies... even eating, though you can technically do it otherwise. it's just messy that way. one thing he does take pride in, though, is how his look. it's mostly your fault—you compliment them all the time.

"keiji, your hands are so pretty. you've got such nice nails, too."

"um... thank you? i think?"

"what do you mean, you think? you should let me paint them."

"try not to do too much with your hands. it'll just be distracting you or him from the kiss."

he'd almost wanted to intentionally give you bad advice. maybe, that'd keep you to himself. but, unfortunately for him, he's smarter than that. he knows you'd be hurt, and he knows very well that it probably wouldn't work in the first place, and that whoever you'd wanted to kiss would just laugh adoringly at your inexperience. he knows he would.

"where do i put them?"

"honestly, it can be almost anywhere you want."

"in between your toes?"

"...i don't want to know what's going on in your head. try to keep them on the upper body, at least." keiji says, rubbing his forehead with two fingers.

"come a little closer," he motions.

you crawl across a few cushions before plopping down in front of him.

"now, try and find the most comfortable spot for your hands so that you're not deciding in the middle of a kiss."

panic visibly sets within you, and you hover your hands in a multitude of places, when keiji gently holds your wrists as a request for you to stop.

"hey, calm down—here, i'll guide you. shoulders first," he hums, bringing your hands to rest on his shoulders, allowing you to get a feel for it. "next..." cupping his face, resting on his chest, arms around his neck... before you reached having your fingers tangle in his hair.

"oh, this is nice," you say, immediately settling as you gently scratch his scalp with your nails.

"yeah? here?" he asks, trying not to focus on the pleasurable sensation that would lull him to sleep if it were under any other circumstances.

you nod, playing with his curls. "definitely."

he barely notices the soft smile that slips onto his features, simply watching the glint of fascination in your eyes. "now, i'm gonna put my hands here, okay?" he whispers, trailing his hands down to gently grab your waist. "is this okay?"

you nod, still mesmerized by his hair.

"moving on..."

LESSON #3 — LIPS ଳ

you talk way too much, in his opinion. not as much as bokuto, but a lot. to be fair, everyone talks a lot compared to his normal days. even though he may complain in his mind, he knows in his heart he doesn't care at all. he loves watching your lips move, memorizing how each individual letter looks on your lips. sometimes, he'll try to guess what you're listening to based on how well he can read your mouthing now.

"...are you listening to beabadoobee?"

"you listen to bea??"

"yoshimi, forest, magdalene?"

"wh—how'd you know? are you psychic?"

now comes the part he's almost dreading most—not that he could ever want to avoid your lips. he's just nervous. he takes a deep breath, starting his explanation.

"when you're kissing someone, don't tense up. you need to completely relax. no one wants to kiss a rock."

"weird metaphor, but i get it."

"you slightly part your lips. just a little bit."

"how much is a little bit?"

"guess."

you slightly drop your bottom lip, and it's almost perfect. keiji lifts his hand to your chin, just barely pushing your jaw up with his finger.

"do you want chapstick?" you ask.

"are you trying to tell me that my lips look dry?" he raises an eyebrow.

"no! your lips look nice. i'm just saying, i've heard it helps." you defend, getting the chapstick out and applying a quick layer.

"sure," he sighs, leaning a little closer and allowing you to drag the chapstick on his lips for what seems like forever (it was two seconds. he was just focused on you instead).

"ready to focus?" he asks, watching you apply yet another layer. it felt like you were teasing him.

"yep," you smile, re-parting your lips. "like this, right?"

he nods, beginning his next explanation. "don't do that when you kiss people. if you start talking in the middle of a kiss, make it relate to the experience, at least. if you start talking about the weather, you're getting kicked out."

you offer a sheepish grin. be continues.

"anyway, when most people kiss, they tend to lean their heads to the right, but it really depends on the person. i go right, which means you should also go right. with me, at least."

"how do you know that? just how many people have you kissed?" you tease.

he purses his lips. "two."

"was one boku—"

"doesn't matter."

you stifle your giggle, waiting for keiji's next words.

"kissing isn't as difficult as you think. it really does just come to you."

"oh, plea—"

"i'm not done. i'll do my best to help you, but when you kiss someone, you're not really paying attention to that. it just kind of happens."

you nod and stay quiet as he thinks for a moment. "i tend to put whoever's bottom lip i'm kissing in between mine."

"should i try and do the same thing?"

"no. n—not with me, at least."

"m'kay."

"and after a few kisses like that, you just keep going until it gets more intense."

"speaking of which..."

LESSON #4 — TONGUE 🌊

he doesn't have much to say about this. you use it lots? ice cream, popsicles, cleaning off butter knives—he could go on. you made him try the cherry-stem test once, though. he passed, obviously—that was definitely the main reason you asked for his help specifically.

"i don't get it. what's the point?"

"apparently, if you can tie a knot, you're a good kisser."

"hm. let's see if it checks out."

"what're you expecting? you look like the only thing you've kissed is your pillow."

"do i really have to explain this?" keiji sighs, burying his head in his hands for a moment.

"yes, come on! i need this one the most. what do i do with my tongue?"

"it's going to be so weird to talk about. and it's gonna sound so odd. i'm warning you."

"i understand the risks and i read all the terms and conditions. give me the goods. services? i dunno."

"definitely do not start off with it. if you shove your tongue into his mouth, he's gonna shove you away from him."

"understood."

"honestly, don't do anything about it. let him slip it in and take control of it. you lightly suck on it, i guess."

"ew, you're right. i don't wanna hear about this."

"i told you," he responds, leaning back and resting his head above the armrest, his hands acting as a pillow under him.

"do you really shove your tongue down their throat?"

"god, no."

LESSON #5 — PUTTING IT ALL TOGETHER 𓆝

he knew it was coming. he knows you too well to think it'd be as easy as telling you what to do. unfortunately, he plays an incredibly well-developed game of denial. again—you've done this on multiple occasions. half of your essays are written by him. half of the recipes you've learned? him.

"thanks for teaching me how to make this! it's really good. i should get more recipes from you."

"i'm starting to doubt you actually listened."

"of course, i did!"

"then why did i end up making the whole thing?"

"i cut up the vegetables."

"after complaining that the onions were making you cry, so you couldn't cut the others."

"okay, then... i think that's it, right?" you hum, leaning forward and climbing onto his lap. "that's all the information itself?"

your action causes a sharp intake of breath from him, who does his best to hide it. he props himself up onto his elbows to get a better look at you. you look really, really pretty from this angle.

"i—what are you doing?" he stammers, his cheeks turning a pinkish color. in his mind, he blames it on the tv's screensaver. it's on green right now; so, what?

"is this not how people kiss?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"it is, but..." he averts his eyes.

"keiji," you whine, leaning down closer until you're laying on top of him. "i need the practice."

the way you say his name nearly makes him choke, but he covers it up. he's really going to try not to mess it up for you, even though it may benefit his (one-sided) rival.

"okay, fine," keiji sighs, sitting up again. he doesn't dare say anything more lest he seem too eager.

your eyes flit to his lips, barely breaking your shared gaze for less than a second. for this moment, you take in his current aesthetic. flushed, messy-haired, (how you wish he hadn't taken his glasses off so that they could be slightly askew), heavily breathing, shirt ridden up just enough for you to see his stomach... you could find so many little things like this to name.

and, finally, taking in what you've learned, you lean in just a little closer. tilting your head to the right, slightly parting your lips, and itching to tell him just how pretty he is. but, he said no unnecessary talking.

he mirrors your actions, feeling his heart beat so fast that he's genuinely scared he may have a heart attack.

when your lips touch, it's not like the movies. you don't picture a firework exploding in between you, and there's no dramatic music.

there is, however, the most polite man you've ever met on the other side. he's so gentle, kissing you slowly so that you don't get overwhelmed. you didn't even notice how his hands had gotten to cup your face, but everything about the interaction is soft.

it's almost like he thinks you're delicate.

you're both a mess of heavy breathing, your lips sloppily moving against his. and he was right—he does think that your inexperience is cute.

his lips move over yours, the soft texture you'd expect from no man but keiji as ever so gently nips your bottom lip.

your hands crawl up his nape to settle on the roots of his hair, tangling your fingers in the familiar curls as refuge from the unfamiliar feeling of the kiss. he lets a quiet sigh into your mouth, the vibration of the sound waves against your lips causing you to nearly melt.

noticing his hands move from your face to your neck, you take the moment to be just a little cheeky.

"i thought you said not to move your hands much, keiji," you teasingly whisper in between breaths.

he simply scoffs against your mouth. "actually, i said no talking," he murmurs, becoming less and less conscious of what he's doing.

the more your fingers massage his head, the more he wishes you were his. he hasn't kissed anyone like this before—it's simultaneously nothing special yet the most amazing thing he's ever experienced.

his hands slide down your body to rest at your waist, feeling your breath hitch the slightest bit. mumbling an apology he doesn't really mean, he leans forward a bit more to tilt your head back. only then, does it dawn on him.

LESSON #6 — ESCALATION 🦈ྀི

he didn't think it'd get this far. he really didn't. he should've known better than to assume he had the self control for this. looking back on it now, he really did care for you too much. the time he spent with you felt romantic—like an old married couple that always argues yet never harbors the negative emotions. but, alas, you weren't his to care for... or, so it seemed.

"you really should be more careful. you're going to get seriously injured if you keep this up."

"no, i won't, 'kaashi; you don't know anything."

"do you know how many band-aids i've gone through in the past ten minutes?"

"...shut it."

"we should stop," he whispers, barely audible. he doesn't pull away, though.

"why? you want to?" you frown against his lips, brushing the corner of his mouth to place another kiss there. maybe, he just needs some convincing... if this is about what you think it's about.

your hands trail from his neck to his abdomen, your fingers tugging on hem of his shirt. you lean forward and cradle his head until he hits the armrest, and you realize he's much more susceptible now. good morals—he feels guilty about kissing you.

fortunately for him, you don't actually like someone else. dragging the fabric of his shirt up his stomach, you deepen the kiss as a form of distraction. it was a feeble attempt; he noticed right away.

"wait, wait," he breathes, pulling back for a moment. he can't seem to find his words when you look at him like that, your gaze all sparkly and enticing. "i thought you had your eyes on someone. why are you—?!"

"it was an excuse. i just wanted to kiss you," diving back in without giving him a chance to respond to the shock you've just supplied him.

you open a singular eye, noticing how his are wide open. "what happened to closing your eyes?" the giggle that travels through you isn't enough to soothe him. he needs to hear it directly.

his hands lift to your face, gently pushing your head back with his fingers tangled down to your scalp as he shares your stare. "y—you mean it? you actually want to kiss me?"

"was the fact i've been trying to get you to make out with me for the past 20 minutes not proof enough?"

he shakes his head. "you said that you wanted lessons!"

"so that i could kiss you! you're too smart for this, keiji," you laugh, brushing his dark strands of hair out of his face.

he groans, rubbing his eyes. "god, you're..."

"a genius? yeah, i know." you teasingly raise your eyebrows, as you reach over for his glasses.

the confusion evident on his face, his eyes follow your hand. "i was gonna say crazy," he mumbles, watching you place the glasses on his nose.

"but you've gotta admit," you grin, leaning closer again, "i was able to get this far without you suspecting anything. i'm at least a little smart, right?" he flinches when you tilt his glasses to the side.

"what's that for?" he asks, avoiding the question.

you kiss his nose before moving to his jawline. "keep your glasses on next time we kiss. it's so hot when they're crooked.

he gulps. "next time?"

"mhm," you sigh, connecting your lips to his.

notes. this is probably university au 'cause i didn't have a specific time in mind but too old to be high school too young to have a working job... you get the point

also... can you tell i've never actually kissed anyone ha ha so silly (i'm going to cry)

edit: me forgetting to put tags

[a-bright-comet]

Jade Shadows Thoughts

(NOTICE: I have edited this post after a few days and many lovely replies and tags giving me more insight and opinions, overall my view of this quest has gotten a lot more positive, thank you all <3) okaaayyyy I am utterly rattled rn lmao also made the mistake of looking at tumblr after doing the quest and as expected it seems to be a 50/50 of hating or loving it. so here are my personal thoughts, I am a little scared but talk seems to be civil thankfully. I can definitely agree on the sentiment that this quest needed more time, cause let's be honest the people hating this quest wouldn't be jumping to the things they're jumping to if Jade herself got more screen-time before the big drop, warframe's style has always been vague and never 100% straight-forward and I think that unfortunately hurt it a bit this time, as what they didn't show came off wrong to many people and while I sorta see why I disagree on some parts. I also feel like the quest kinda got a bit *too* hyped both by DE and the fanbase's theories, way too short, it deserved and needed to be a bit longer for it's special narrative. Jade kinda got a weird spot, both being the main focus alongside Stalker but also hardly explored. But let's be honest, most of the negativity is caused by this outside-circumstance alone. Now, what I absolutely disagree with is people insisting that DE was trying to say "bodily autonomy bad" or that Stalker didn't care about her and only the child, thing is I thought it was pretty fucking clear that she *wanted* the child in what little was shown and she was going to die no matter the outcome (thanks to the orokin to absolutely no one's surprise) and Stalker in his guilt for all she's done for him wanted to make sure that he at least kept this one promise to Her, cause She wanted it. she still had bodily autonomy in the fact She wanted this, she wanted the child no matter what. and she wanted stalker to protect her and the kid. And he did, like a true loving partner. DE has a long track record of being very autonomy-positive. A point they make time and time again is that ripping it away is *bad* and horrifying, the quest is a bittersweet tragedy, not a horror. Honestly there would be 0 issue if DE had given us a Jade-only quest before this one, I personally would've preferred it as well, she's cool as hell she deserves it. who knows maybe DE will see all of this and make prequel quests? we can only hope. I do not want to assume the worst of anyone or anything cause that's a miserable existence. Look I personally enjoyed the quest and get the feeling whoever wrote it did it out of some personal experience or sorrow, that's at least the vibe I got. It's a tragedy, but her choice was seen till the end, many women choose to still have a child despite knowing they won't make it, many also don't, that's why choice is important. and she did, she chose her child that she was having while likely forcibly infested and turned into a warframe. (also remember there are women on the team who likely looked at this.) there are some other iffy parts of the quest, (really should've been the drifter instead of the operator if they were gonna do that, but that's personal discomfort.) but overall I enjoyed it and open to explore the implications of a born-warframe-child and Stalker healing as they both grow together. These are my thoughts, and I can understand why people like or dislike this quest, but I think it's fine and just ended up in a very unfortunate spot due to outside circumstances beyond it's control. (sorry if any of this comes off as aggressive it is not my intention despite how riled I am by some folk online, I disagree with you but I do not hate you, I don't even know you.)

Her choice, His promise, Their light.

Thank you for reading my first ever text post about something I care about, not sure I'll be doing this again any time soon out of anxiety lol (Edit: and thanks to everyone responding to this post wonderfully, ya'll are great and have lessened my anxiety and have made me appreciate this quest more <3)

[drdemonprince]

what was your journey from libertarian to leftest/anarchist like?

well, as a teen i hated authority and society and wanted complete freedom so i was a libertarian. then i realized i was gay and trans and libertarianism weren't gonna do shit for me. when obama won in 2008 i noticed that i felt relieved, even though i had not voted for him. I went away to academia shortly after that, and became surrounded by liberal people, all of them doing research with a liberal point of view, and what do you know, product of my social environment and queer and desperate for acceptance among the group that said they cared about me, I became a liberal too.

over time academia mistreated me and rejected me for who i really was, and i started to transition and realize that i was disabled. i became more left-leaning frankly because it seemed like that was the only way to be able to survive as what i was, identity wise, and find anyone at all who would correctly gender me or tolerate me. if you want to be able to hang out with other trans people and have them treat you right, there are values you basically have to say that you subscribe to. anyone who didn't subscribe to those political values was mistreated, viewed skeptically, talked to like they were dumb, and ostracized. and some of those values did make sense to me, whereas others didn't.

i saw people pushed to the social margins for being libertarians, for instance, as if that is a political ideology that carries any danger when some random trans woman with a very weak social support system says in a support group that she maybe kinda subscribes to it. i was even terrified of people finding out that i used to believe in anything "wrong" according to the social dogma, for a while. but i tried to make the most sense of the confusing tangle of community held beliefs as i could, so that i wouldnt be completely ostracized from both straight and queer society at once. and so I was vaguely leftist, but with a confused understanding of systemic oppression based on identity (among lots of other things, like abolition and anti-colonialism), and a deep terror of ever saying anything that would ever get me criticized/cancelled/viewed as a bad person.

and then the pandemic happened and i wasn't so beholden to mass community scrutiny anymore. i read a ton i looked at how politics actually plays out, and i got a little bit more capable and secure in myself and came to similarly feel awed by how much people are really capable of when they aren't being controlled or dependent upon approval in order to survive. and anarchy basically asserted that it had always been there in me, i just hadn't known the name for it. and by then i felt safe and strong enough and had enough faith in others to decide it was okay to have opinions that others disagreed with, and that i wouldn't starve out in the cold if i gave voice to them.

like a lot of people, i had misconceptions about what anarchism really was and writers like Graeber, Wengrow, Solnit, etc really disabused me of that notion and made me understand that it wasn't a scary worldview at all, it was the most human and accepting one there really was out there.

My political journey has not been especially principled or philosophical, it has been emotional, intuitive, and rooted in a lot of social influences. i think that's what most political ideologies are about for people, ultimately, belonging and safety.

I was originally a political scientist by training and in that field's body of research we see that most people do not have consistent political belief systems, they agree to a mish-mosh of statements and support various policies that don't all add up in a logically explicable way. they also don't tend to have stable views over time. just as i think morality is a pretty bad explanation of why humans do what they do, and why we help eachother and avoid doing harm, it's very evident that political ideology is a piss poor predictor of political behavior or affiliation. the far clearer explanation far more consistent with the evidence is that people politically align themselves based on their social milleu and their feelings.

this is why i always feel myself holding back from dying for a cause, and blanch when MLMs start talking about needing to do all they can to bring about communism with an almost religious fervor (beyond the fact that such thinking also doesn't line up with a lot of communist thought and theory about how capitalism falls anyway). i dont think that any of these ideologies really carry all that much weight or influence people's actions, affiliations, or political behavior on the level we all pretend that they do. i dont think they're "real". anarchy is more of a philosophy of how to relate to other people in daily life, for me, rather than a religion about how the world needs to be or where we specifically need to be heading. it's more big-I Ideological for plenty of other people, and again, i blanch when they start preaching about it as if their whole life is in service to the idea of it. I think we do anarchism by living as if we're free, every day. and that's what i care about, if i'm being honest. feeling free, safe, and cared for by some other people, without conditions, right now.

[cheeseceli]

I'm not letting go

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, drabble

Prompt: “The only thing that is harder than sleeping alone is sleeping with your ghost”

Warnings: almost heartbreak, pressure of media (about your relationship), established relationship, not proofread.

A/n: don't be like the "fans" here!! Let idols date😭 | daily click

Yoongi has always been scared of falling in love. Not because he was scared of being hurt or abandoned, or falling for the wrong person. He was scared of it feeling good.

He heard the stories before. People falling in love and suddenly life has meaning. People sacrificing everything for the sake of a relationship and he was scared of this. Imagine being so unconditionally in love that you don't recognise yourself unless you're in someone else's arms? Yoongi didn't want to feel that. Sadly, he can't control the heart.

When you showed up in his life, he would've never imagined the impact you would've had. Every little action and thought of his was somehow linked to you, just like yours were to him. At some point, it was like you were slowly becoming one. And he liked it.

He truly enjoyed the feeling of belonging somewhere. He loved the fact he could go to bed smiling just because you wished him good night. God, he loved you. And although it took him time to admit it, that's a statement he's never taking back, even if that's precisely what the people wanted of him.

Gossip never fails on being fast when it's spreading itself. And the lies are also surprisingly quick to make an appearance. "Suga of BTS is spotted with a non celebrity on a date" is a title that sells a lot. "What a gold digger" is also a quick yet bold statement, that to not mention other people's opinion. People loved to intrude in Yoongi's life, and he could take it. But it was too much for you.

Especially when the company barged into your door, demanding you to sign a NDA about all the rumours. That was probably the worst part.

When you agreed to dating Yoongi, to dating Suga, you were well aware of his life as an idol. He had to work a lot, he'd be constantly overseas, you'd need to be discreet. But you were not prepared for the insane inhumanity that came along with fame. You were also not ready to see staff and managers trying to take over your life.

That's how Yoongi found himself on his bed, alone and without a single goodnight message. Today was particularly harsh on you. The company thought it would be better to break you two up and just tell the media they were wrong about the photos that were leaked. The fact they just sent you home while you were broken hearted was something that still lingered on his mind. And he still doesn't know why he didn't do anything about it.

Yoongi truly didn't want to fall in love. Simply because it was too good. And now, the best he ever had was being taken away from him. He could endure being alone, but feeling your ghost wherever he goes is just too much. That's precisely why he decides to wake you up by knocking at your door at 3 am.

"What are you doing here?"

That was it. No smile at his sight, no hugs, not even confusion. Just pain laced in your voice. Oh, how he hated all of that.

"We didn't break up, did we?"

"Your company said we should."

"But did we?"

You sighed. It was clear all that situation was exhausting you. But you still answered the door. You were still there. There was still hope, right?

"I don't know if I'm worthy of all this trouble, honestly. The messages I'm getting from the managers ain't any better from what I read on the internet. And that's your job at the stake here. I'm sure it's all way worse for you."

"So we're still together, but you think that's a mistake?"

"Not a mistake. No, never that" you breathed in and closed your eyes. Just this sight was enough to break a man's heart. "But it would make things easier for you."

"When has anything in my life been easy, Y/n? I don't care about that. Unless you explicitly tell me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore, I will not let you go."

"What about the hate comments?"

"I can sue every single one of them."

"And your company?"

"What are they gonna do, fire me?"

You laughed at that. Even if that happened at the same time your first tear rolled down, Yoongi was relieved to see your smile.

"You're too stubborn, did you know that?"

"It pays off." he said while he finally closed the distance between the two of you, embracing your figure into a hug. He missed the way you would circle his waist with your arms, how you'd hide your face in his neck. He missed you.

"Don't ever go to bed without wishing me a good night ever again."

"Noted." you smiled "I won't."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: sing to me

Thank you for reading!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @lelewright1234

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[howtofightwrite]

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

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[luvsickhanji]

if han jisung were your boyfriend - hc

note: this is just a small headcanon of how i imagine han jisung as a boyfriend, it's my first post, so i would appreciate your thoughts and feedback!

genre: smut, kinda fluffy

warnings: mentions of: oral receiving (f), pet names, creampie, switch!jisung and maybe a perv!jisung if you squint... f!reader

wc: 659

clique aqui para a versão em português

⭑

first of all, you guys met at a coffee shop, or maybe you were childhood friends who ended up falling in love at one point in your life

you started dating after many attempts at a perfect date - jisung seems like the type of person who tries his best to do his best, and for him, your relationship wasn't any different. you went to the movies, went out to dinner, went to a park amusement, but at the end, you both were too shy to say "i like you" to each other and ended up waiting for the other to say it first

but he asked you to be his girlfriend when you least expected it. nothing cheesy or lame, he just blurted out "hey, do you wanna date me?". you just knew that he was calculating the words on his mind, but he unconsciously chose the simplest.

(and this is your side of the story, things you superficially knew)

because he was obsessed with you all this time, since when he heard the barista call a oat milk latte and your name at that coffee shop. he shyly walked up to you to ask for your name and number. he asked about you, and spoke charming pick-up lines:

"hey, i saw you from afar and i couldn't take my eyes off you… you echo like a sports car in an empty tunnel, what's your name?"

since then, he couldn't stop stalking you on social media and hoping for you to respond to his messages asap

he thought you were really hot, and the more he got to know you, the more he wanted to be able to touch you. he felt like you had a reciprocal feeling, but he was afraid he was wrong about it. and that's why he waited until the 5th date to kiss you and ask you to be your boyfriend.

and it was that night that you took him to your apartment, and you had sex until the sun came up… and this started to be a custom in your relationship

when you and jisung have sex, it’s always all night. maybe it's the inconsolable longing he feels for your body, or it's your desire to have him inside you. the reason didn't matter after all, you guys were too addicted to each other to wonder why.

and your connection is so perfect, that whenever one of you comes up with a new idea, the other agrees immediately.

in my opinion jisung is fascinated by four things: cowgirl and your boobs, hips and thighs. he loves cowgirl because he loves worshiping you (and your breasts), when it's you in control, this man gets crazy, he gets loud and he gets out of orbit. and that's why most of the time he prefers to be on top, (he doesn't want to end it in less than 2 minutes).

"hey baby, let's try this position?"

"of course, hannie"

"ji, can i tie you up and try this?"

"absolutely baby, as long as i can touch you later" (he loves touching you, especially using his fingers)

when you guys don't see each other during the week, you text A LOT. every minute you're writing to each other, and it's no surprise that you have a dirty talk saying how much you miss each other and how you wish you were fucking right now. what a dirty mouth (fingers?) he has...

he is a praise guy. he loves giving you compliments and he also loves receiving them.. calling you princess, kitty, baby, honey, sweetheart... all of that pet names. he just in love for the girl that you are.

and to finish this quick introductory thought, jisung is the type of guy who loves giving oral, he loves eating pussy, your pussy (and he's the best doing it). plus you two came to a consensus that you both love creampie. nutting in you ends the night perfectly.

[mikkomacko]

Jersey Leeds

Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Nico's balancing the playoffs and his pregnant wife who's due any day now.

A/n: This one got away from me and is now way longer than I intended. But it's so cute so I hope you all love it.

~

Typically, you're a very calm and easy going person. You don't go out of your way to make life difficult or feel the need to voice your every thought and opinion. Not that there's anything wrong with it, it's just not who you are.

Which is why you went along with the rule Nico had established after the regular season closed out. Your due date was growing closer and closer, a month turned to 3 weeks, and then 2 weeks, and then Nico was pulling his hair out trying to keep calm. He was about to captain his way through the post season for the first time all while trying to be a father for the first time?

At the recommendation of your doctor (and some online advice), Nico had kindly begged you to stay home for the playoff games in New Jersey. He didn't want you in such a wild and stressful environment, didn't want to risk you being around a crowd of fans that have been deprived of playoff hockey for years. It's their first season back in the post season after the rebuild, he'd told you, and he didn't know what to expect. The last thing he wanted to worry about was you and the baby somewhere in the stands while he was on the ice. Especially for a rivalry round against the Rangers. Things get out of control, he also said, what if something happened to you?

So you agreed. You spent the entirety of the first round in your apartment, eyes glued to the TV and hands on the overinflated balloon that was your belly as you watched Nico fight to keep his team in. He played well, enough to keep you from going stir crazy in the living room, but you knew he was thinking about you and the baby at home. Those 2 weeks turned to one, and it was evident in his struggle to find the back of the net that Nico was holding that due date on his shoulders, right on top of the weight of a tight series. If you being at home was going to ease that weight somehow, you'd do it.

But when game 7 found its way back to New Jersey, you couldn't do it.

"Nico you can't confine me to our home!" You argue, folding the white onesie in your hands "I'm pregnant, not imprisoned. If I want to be there I get to be there." You stack it in the laundry basket, picking up the next freshly washed and dried one.

He's set aside his iPad where he had been watching film from last night's game, the screen now dark as he turns his attention to you.

"Love," he sighs, running a hand through his overgrown hair "you know how much I want you to be there. I always want you there, but this is a whole different game now. You don't know what the fans are like and I can't just let you walk into somewhere you might not be safe."

Safe. Lately everything has come down to you being safe. It wasn't any concern before now. You'd gone to every Rangers game, every Flyers game, and every high tense game before that. The organization and the fans know you, they respect you because at the end of the night you're the one taking their captain home just to send him back the next morning. You'd never felt unsafe or unwelcomed at the Rock before.

"I'm just as safe there as here," you respond, still plucking your way through the pile of baby clothes "I've been there before, I'm known there. That's my home just as much as it's yours."

Nico sits up from the headboard, pushing his iPad even further away as he too grabs a couple of bibs and socks from the pile of clothes. He's silent for a moment and you look over at him to see that he's simply holding a pair of baby socks in his large hands, lips pursed in thought. You know he's picturing the tiny feet that'll wear those socks, thinking about how they kick at his hands when he holds you and talks too loud, when he presses his own stomach into yours so he can kiss you and the butterflies that rush through your body tickle at the baby too. You know he's worried, it's his thing. He's always footed too much responsibility, even when he doesn't have to.

"I know it is," he looks up at you, brown eyes gentle and warm but tinged with fear "and it'll be her home too. But it's not yet, and it definitely won't feel like home when hundreds of blue shirts pack in there tomorrow night. You know how these games are normally baby, and while our fans take care of you, I can't promise anything else for the others."

He folds the socks together, tossing them towards the basket with a half-hearted flick of his hand. You pick the pair up and set them in with the rest, handing him the little tee-shirt in your hands. Jack had gifted it to you a week after you told the team about the pregnancy.

"Don't you think the captain should have his family there?" You prod, softly as you watch his lips twitch into a smile at the shirt. It's got the smallest little Devils logo on the front, a C stamped on the shoulder and when he flips it over to look at the 13 and name on the back you notice the way his bottom lip rattles with emotion.

"We'll get there early and stay in the box the whole time. The other girls will be there, I'll stay towards the back and I won't leave until you or someone from the team comes to get me afterwards." You promise, and while that may sound a little dramatic, you don't mind. In fact nothing sounds better than sitting in those plush chairs watching him play while the caterers bring you food and drinks. The only time you'll have to put your swollen feet to work is to go to the bathroom.

Nico runs his thumb over the white letters spelling out Baby Hischier, and you know he's given in by the slow flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks, the smallest bit of hesitance as he thinks this might be the wrong decision but what the hell?

He folds the shirt, pushing himself up from the mess of sheets and you bite back a grin as he rounds the bed to you. A smile has fought it's way onto his face, crinkling at his eyes and sinking dimples into his cheeks. God you hope the baby has that smile of his.

You reach out for him, hands finding his chest before running up to wrap around his neck. He grips the sides of your belly, drawing you closer to him until your belly button is brushing against his abdomen.

"You don't go anywhere without security," he murmurs, right hand coming up to push a strand of hair away from your face. "no dropping into the store during intermission because you wanted something last minute for the baby. And absolutely no trash talking. These fans are fist happy and I don't need you pissing them off even if you're just defending me."

You can't help but laugh. It wouldn't be the first time you'd passionately defended him in the crowd or taunted a fan after he's scored. He knows you so well. You'd never do that now, you know to keep a low profile but it's sweet that he thinks he needs to remind you.

"I promise baby," you swear, sealing it with a kiss and he cups your face to bring you in even closer. "I just want to be there for you. We want to be there for you."

His inhale is uneven, a small tremor of fear or maybe anxiety or even excitement. Maybe all three but it does nothing to wipe away the smile on his face and so you kiss him again, laughing when you feel little hands and feet nudging against his palm on your stomach. Nico keeps kissing you, trailing his lips over your cheeks and nose as you giggle again, and he presses his hand even further into your stomach.

"Yes," he huffs playfully, looking down at your belly "you girls won, I know. I'll get used to it."

~

You stayed as low-key as possible. Simple all black clothes, casual and comfy shoes, minimal makeup and tucked your hair up into a Devils hat and hair clip. Nico appreciated it, slipping his bracelets onto your wrists before he left and giving you a kiss after he reminded you of the rules and precautions and emergency numbers for people at the arena.

The other girls had been notified of your playoff debut and swore up and down that they'd have your back, just as you'd always had theirs. You rode in the party bus with them, hands over your belly as you laughed and caught up with everyone. You missed them lately, and a part of you was heartbroken that you didn't get the first full playoff experience with them. Even the jackets, which you'd ordered and distributed to everyone, were a jab in your emotional heart because you didn't think to get yourself one. At the time you knew you'd be staying home for the games and it didn't seem worth it. Seeing it hang in your room knowing you'd never wear it would be just awful so you didn't bother.

A part of you now wishes you had, and you could almost cry about it if you weren't so excited for the game. But when the bus rolled up to the arena and the lights came up, your happiness at being back was nothing compared to the wave of emotion that took over when the girls pulled out a giant gift bag.

It was red and sparkly, your name written on the tag in a very familiar font. You pushed aside the black tissue paper, eyes welling with tears as you pulled out the black leather jacket. The name Nico had given you last summer and his number, surrounded by bright flames. You unfolded the jacket, swiping at the tears on your cheeks while the girls laughed and cheered. A white card had fallen into your lap, the message simple and sweet.

Knew you'd need it eventually

You didn't need a signature to know who gifted you this. The writing itself was clear but the special signature on the sleeve topped with a heart instead of a 13, said it all. Nico only signed with a heart when it was addressed to you. From that first receipt at the bar you met at after he bought your drinks, to the flowers he'd had delivered to you a few weeks ago just because, that same signature always topped it off.

That's what comes to mind when he takes the ice, finding his spot on the blue line for the national anthem and you holler with the rest of the fans, tucked into the jacket he got specifically for you. The Rock is electric, every fan on their feet and every towel in the air. You keep up for as long as you possibly can but your feet quickly grow sore and tired, so you settle into a seat with a plate of food. At least until you get too into the game and jump back up to cheer with the rest of the girls.

Intermission is spent taking pictures for Instagram, showing off the jackets once again and thanking the artist. You answer texts from family and friends wishing you and Nico good luck tonight, letting you know they're tuning in to watch. An ice cream helmet and a churro are delivered to you courtesy of the security guard Nico has requested follow you at all times, and you enjoy the snack for the entirety of the second period.

With the Devils up 2-0 you feel pretty good. Nico was right, you didn't know what a playoff crowd was like and while it's overwhelming, it's also heartwarming. You can't help but think of how happy Nico must be, how much he deserves this. He's done his best all season to carry the weight of being captain of a team that's constantly left behind and forgotten. The Devils are always the underdogs, and at the front of the pack is your husband, trying his best to build them up into contenders. His first point of the night is a step in the right direction, and you hope he's pulling himself out of the rut he's been in. Maybe you're just superstitious but you convince yourself it's because you're at the game.

As the minutes tick by, you grow even more happy about attending tonight's game. If you're lucky it'll even relax Nico into letting you attend round 2, and hopefully more rounds after that. But you're getting ahead of yourself.

In fact, you don't really have time to think about the next round at all because the baby's begun kicking around in your belly. At first you're amused, making a mental note to tell Nico that he's going to have a hard time keeping his daughter from the rink. But as the girls take turns feeling her kick, the sudden sharp pain in your spine and release of pressure between your legs makes you freeze.

The game grows forgotten, the food and laughs and pictures given up on. There's nothing else to think about except the fact that you are going into labor and your husband is unattainable on the ice below you.

~

Nico has just stepped down the tunnel when he's stopped by personnel, not even around the corner and to the locker room yet. Someone's holding a phone out to him, urging him to take it and he feels his heart drop to his stomach. Why are they looking at him like that? With those hesitant smiles and nervous eyes. He knows it's about you, it has to be and the fact that you're not down here yet let's him know something's wrong.

He rips off his helmet, holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi my love!" You greet, a little breathless but cheerful. Nico doesn't care whose phone he's got, he takes it with him towards the locker room. Why are you calling him?

"Hey darling, what are you doing?" He ignores the other boys, sitting down in his locker and untying his skates. You're not giving him any reason to be nervous but he has a feeling he should be. "Are you down here yet?"

He can hear someone else talking with you, their voice muddled through the phone but he imagines it's one of the girls. "No I'm not going down to the locker room." You carefully say "I actually already left the arena."

It's then that he recognizes the sound of a car radio and the rumble of the highway. He can feel the others looking at him, wondering why he's on the phone and already stripping out of his gear instead of celebrating with them.

"What do you mean you left?" He asks, toweling through his sweaty hair. "I told you to come down here."

Someone honks on the other line. "I know I know, but I need you to stay calm when I say this Nico."

He freezes, heart pounding in his chest but trying his best to not let it rattle in his voice. "What happened? Are you ok?"

By now Jack has picked up on the call, slowly inching towards Nico's stall with questioning eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. We had a great time. So much fun that she kinda decided she wanted to watch it in person."

Nico's head spins. "What? What do you mean?"

"My water broke," you say and Nico's tossing the phone to Jack, ripping off his jersey and pads.

"Ask her how long ago." He instructs, and he hears Jack greet you before asking the question. You must talk to him for a bit because he's mouthing things and holding up fingers as you go. Nico continues to tear through his gear, half-heartedly wiping sweat off as he goes so he can get dressed.

"Five minutes left in the third," Jack recites back to him. "She took the bus here with the girls so Clare is driving her and they're about 2 minutes from the hospital."

Nico tugs on a pair of shorts and shoves his feet into the sneakers he left in his locker this morning. "She's asking that you please shower before coming here because she knows you smell awful."

He wants to laugh, knows you’re teasing him to try and calm him down. It doesn't work. All he can think about is how you're in labor, that your water broke and he wasn't there to help you to the car or drive you to the hospital. He throws on a shirt, taking the phone back from Jack.

"Already dressed, I'm not showering." He's shoving things into his duffle, unsure of what he even needs or should take with him. He at least has the right sense to grab deodorant and cologne from his stall.

"Nico it's not that bad yet." You say on the other end of the phone. "Really you have the time to shower and do media-"

"Media?" He interrupts, "You're not fucking serious? I'm going to the hospital so I can be with you, not talking to the press."

He digs his keys and phone out of the side pocket of his bag, tossing it over his shoulder. He's still got the phone to his ear when he turns back to Jack. "You're on media tonight. Don't say a word about this and call me afterwards."

Jack salutes him, eyes shiny and smile wide. It's then that Nico realizes the whole room is watching him excitedly. Biting back a laugh he address you again.

"I'll be there in 5 minutes. Text me if you get into a room ok?"

"Ok Nico."

"I'll see you soon love," he says quietly, wanting to keep the sweet moment between you two. You return the sentiment, wincing slightly afterwards and he knows you're starting to feel those contractions.

"Hey," he calls before you can hang up. "Don't have that baby until I'm there."

"You got it Cap."

He hangs up, not knowing what to do with the random phone he's been given until the employee that handed it to him is shoving into the room. He quickly gives it back, double checking his pockets for everything just as reporters begin to pour into the room.

"Well boys," he finally addresses the team, looking around at their expectant faces. "We fought hard, we came out on top. And we can do it again later but for now..." Jack has found his way to Nico's side, gripping his shoulder and shaking him excitedly. "I gotta go have a baby."

Hoots and hollers bust out, Jack kisses his cheek and shoves him towards the door. He receives more taps and shoves as he goes, everyone wishing him luck as he prepares for the biggest moment of his life.

~

Nico's fully aware that he looks like a mess. Disheveled, sweaty, gnawing at his bottom lip as he rushes into the labor and delivery lobby. A man in scrubs spots him before he can reach the counter, obviously recognizing him.

"Hischier?" He asks anyway and Nico nods, unsure if he answers around the trembles of his breath. "Right this way, don't worry you haven't missed a thing."

That eases him a bit, enough that he's not breathing down the man's back as they disappear down a long hallway, one left turn, two right turns. Nico finds the room number you'd given him earlier immediately, almost shoving the man out of the way to get to the door. He thinks he apologizes or maybe says excuse me but the only thing running through his mind is seeing you, being there with you.

You're pacing the room when he walks in, one hand on your lower back and the other rubbing circles over your belly. Clare is standing by the side of the bed, watching you like a hawk and Nico feels better knowing she was there. His entrance draws your attention from the TV in the corner of the room, eyes meeting his and your face immediately lights up. He moves to you before you can even take a step towards him, hands reaching up to hold your flush face.

"Why are you up? Are you ok?"

He searches your face, looks for hint of agony or worry but only finds your beautiful eyes and swollen lips. You place a hand over his, laughing softly.

"I'm ok. Still dilating but it feels better to walk." You say. "I sit down for big contractions, I promise."

Nico trusts you, backing away to thank Clare for taking care of you while you continue to move about the room. She leaves to go meet Ryan, promising to check in on you in a couple hours before disappearing out of the room. He perches on the end of the bed, watching you on the edge of his seat in case he needs to get up. The TV is showing highlights of the game tonight before cutting to the locker room just in time to see Nico give his goodbye speech to the team.

Eyebrows raised, you look at him expectantly.

"What?" He asks, defensive.

"You most definitely had time to shower." You say, waddling towards him. His hands find your hips, chin tilting up to look at you just in time to see you dramatically scrunch your nose at him.

"Not a good first impression on your daughter Nico, she's going to think you're stinky all the time."

He laughs, reaching up to move a piece of hair that's stuck to the sweat on your neck. "I have clothes in the baby bag, I'll change my love."

The relief he expected to see on your face is instead one of panic. Eyes wide, mouth dropping open and you squeeze his shoulders.

"I forgot the baby bag!" You wail, throwing your head back in frustration. Nico jumps to his feet when your whine turns to a wince, your hand dropping to your stomach. He carefully turns you until you're sitting on the bed instead, one hand crushing his as you breathe through a contraction.

He waits for it to pass before digging his phone out. "It'll be fine, I'll have Jack stop and get it. The car seats already in my car, nursery set up." Nico brushes your hair back in again, inhaling and exhaling calmly with you. "We're ready for this."

You take another deep breath, eyes not leaving his and he's tries his best to look reassuring.

"We're ready," you repeat quietly "we're having a baby and we're ready."

~

Two hours later, after countless swear words over tearful cheeks, your hand squeezing the life out of Nico's, and a little bit of wooziness on his part, Nico's met his daughter.

She's a tiny little thing, only 6 pounds and 9 ounces. Her fingers and toes scrunched, eyes pinched shut under blonde eyebrows but after only a couple cries, she lays on your chest with a smile. And when he leans in to kiss you, blubbering something about how much he loves you and how precious she is, her little nose scrunches in distaste. Maybe he should've showered. It ends up not mattering though because she still recognizes his voice, especially when he says sweet things in German to her, and her little head tilts towards him, hands wiggling around like she's trying to find him.

As soon as she's swaddled he's taking her, cradling her to his chest in the gentlest but safest way he can. Nico's never thought of himself as impossibly strong but she's so light and so small he's afraid of holding her too tight and hurting her.

You watch him fawn over her while you get cleaned up, brushing out your hair and sponging away the sweat and blood and goop. Nico presses his nose to the top of her head, right where little strands of blonde hair have dried, and takes in the smell of her. Her faces scrunches at him again and he wants to go change and wash up so she'll stop looking at him like that but he can't bare to put her down. Even after you've settled back in the bed and the nurses have cleared out, Nico knows you want to hold her but he still takes his sweet time handing her over.

You look so sweet, so motherly when you hold her to your chest and softly stroke over her cheek. His chest alights with warmth, spreading throughout his veins and his eyes sting with happy tears. He wants to remember this forever. He fumbles for his phone, fingers shaky as he snaps a picture of you smiling widely at her. You look up at him, eyes wet with tears but so unfathomably happy and you say, "she has your nose Neeks."

She does, he realizes, taking in the sharpness of it. Your nose doesn't look like that and while his is a bit different after breaking it, hers is so similar to his. And her blonde hair, just like him. Before he'd grown up, he too had pin straight blonde hair. He imagines her with his eyes too, big and brown, seeping off warmth everywhere they look. He thinks she's so beautiful and he hopes she has your smile because that has to be his favorite thing in the world.

Perfect, his baby girl is perfect.

Nico leaves you two alone, fishing out his clothes and the baby wipes from the bag before disappearing into the bathroom. He does his best to wipe down his body with them, wanting to hurry back to his girls but in the end decides he should just rinse off in the shower there. He forgoes the hospital body wash and conditioner, simply washing his matted hair because he wants her to know what he usually smells like, not some cheap unmarked bottle stuff. He should've asked Jack to grab his bathroom stuff but it's too late now.

Toweling off and redressing in sweats and a t-shirt, Nico combs his fingers through his wet hair and let's it air dry. He put on more deodorant, forgetting the cologne because what if she doesn't like it or has some kind of reaction to it? No he'd rather her think he smells bad.

You let him hold her again when he comes back, moving over so he can squish on the bed next to you and this time when he presses her to his chest, she leans into him, lips smacking quietly as she settles in comfortably. He laughs, shaking his head because she's unable to utter a word but he already knows she's got your same little attitude.

"Nurse came by, said the boys are about to break down the doors to get in here." You say quietly. Nico laughs again, decides he should probably go get whoever's gathered out there so he hands her back to you.

"Wait," you stop him before he can get to the door, "hand me the baby bag please."

He fishes it out from the little storage closet, setting it on the end of the bed and helping you dig through it because he knows you're tired and sore. You pull out a little black beanie with a glittery Devils logo on the front, removing the pink one they put on her head and sliding the new one on. Nico tucks everything away again, taking just a second to look at you and her. You beam at him.

"She's very proud of her dad."

Nico kisses you, a real kiss this time instead of those mushy pecks he gave you earlier. Then he presses a flittering kiss to her head, promising to be back soon before he leaves to gather Jack and the others.

The lobby is packed with hockey players, squished onto the couches, hugging their knees on the floor as they chatter quietly. Nico overhears Jack talking about seeing them earlier, poking fun at how nervous Nico looked. He sneaks up behind him, grabs him by the shoulders and Jack jumps, whirling around to look at him. Nico laughs, not even getting a chance to say anything before his friend is jumping at him. He wraps his arms around him, beaming as the others rise to their feet and join in on the hug. They're all shaking him and patting his head.

"How are we feeling captain daddy?" Wood teases, ruffling his hair. Someone pinches his cheek, comments on his puffy eyes and he shrugs it off.

"Feeling like I just had the best night of my life." He admits and they cheer again. Nico gets them all to settle down and split into to two groups. He doesn't want to overwhelm you or the baby and he doubts he can bring in 15 people. The first group calmly follows him through the hall and to the room, all of them growing quite as they lightly tread into the room in a line.

You smile at everyone as they come in, the baby still cradled to your chest and Jesper is the first to tip toe over, a bouquet of balloons and a teddy bear in his hand. He sets them on the tray next to you, looking at Nico nervously.

"You can say hi," Nico chuckles and you motion Jesper closer, instructing him on how to cradle her. She barely fusses as he holds her, eyes widening and he smiles giddily at Nico. Seeing her in his arms draws the others closer and they set up a stack of cards next to the balloons, Timo settling in the chair next to you and asking about how you're doing. Jesper slowly walks down the line, letting everyone look at her.

Dawson gets a glimpse at her before his head shoots up to look at Nico. "She looks just like you!" He exclaims, loud enough that the baby stirs in Jesper's arm and he freezes. Nico laughs, walks over and reaches in to smooth his thumb over her scrunched nose. She settles back down, but Jesper's freaked enough that he eagerly hands her off to a wide eyed Jack.

"Poor kid," Jack teases, "hopefully she gets her mom's personality or she's screwed." But tears have welled in his eyes and he's staring at her so enthralled that Nico knows Jack already loves her. In fact, they're all looking at her like she's made of precious gems.

Trusting them to be careful, Nico takes Timo's seat next to you. You reach out for his hand and he holds yours between both of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

"You've got a good group there Captain," you say, looking over as Jack shows Woodsy how to hold her head. He grins, unbelievably happy and content in the moment. He hasn't even had a chance to think about the fact that he's moving on to the next round of the playoffs yet. But all that matters right now is his family. He can think about the game later.

"She's already got them whipped into shape." He murmurs, laughing when Woodsy moves a little too fast and she gurgles unhappily, halting him. Dougie scolds him, taking her from his arms with a disappointed shake of his head.

Jack comes over, squishes himself into the chair with Nico even though it means he's sitting half on his lap. You laugh when he wiggles his hand in alongside Nico's, fingers holding both of yours.

"Congrats mom and dad," Jack says, "I've been waiting for a baby sister. All I got was Luke."

"Where is Luke?"

He snickers. "I left him at home."

You gasp but laugh, releasing their hands to shove him. Nico shakes his head, knowing he's going to have to text the younger Hughes brother and let him know he can stop by whenever he wants.

Timo's the last to meet her, blowing little kisses at her and smiling. "Hey little captain," he whispers, just loud enough for Nico to hear. "hope you like it here because you just got stuck with the whole team."

You and Nico look around, notice that everyone is still squished around Timo watching her. They're like moths to a flame following her, inching closer to the bed when Timo hands her to Nico. Jack moves over, perches by your feet so Nico has room to hold her and be close to you.

"You didn't tell us her name," Dougie says, looking between you and Nico. The two of you had been stuck between two different names but now that she's here the decision is clear. Nico was hesitant of it at first, thought it'd be too cliche or something but she's decided for herself.

"It's Jersey," you say with an amused smile. What other name could you give the baby that had done summersaults in your belly during games and decided she wanted to join the world during her father's game and has the whole team smitten with her.

"Jersey Leeds Hischier." Nico adds and the boys all soak it in, tease him a bit for being so sentimental but he doesn't care. This is his home, it's given him everything, and no matter what happens next round or next year or in ten years from now, he wants to remember everything Jersey has given him.

[angel-in-your-basement]

Hi, i Hope to not disturb you, but I'm discovering new things about me with your blog, the problem is that I always feel guilty, and disgusted by myself even if i find It okay or attractive when other Person share It.

Any advice on how to deal with this senseless emotion? 🤡

Thanks to you in advance even if you don't answer, love your writing and your blog, big hug if you are comfortable with them <3

Hi!

Sorry I wasn’t able to get to this sooner! This is gonna be a long one, so I’m gonna put it under the cut. Let’s talk about one of my favourite topics: kinks & shame/guilt/disgust 🥰

So in my experience, over time your brain will get used to the ideas, and the disgust level will go down naturally - especially if you talk about it with other people who are into it, because that helps to normalize it.

But that’s not an 100% fix, so let’s talk about some things you can do to actively manage the icky feelings.

First of all, guilt + shame + disgust are all feelings that are intended to protect us from doing bad things & being bad people. When you start doing or wanting to do something that you’ve been told is “bad”, it’s normal to feel bad! It makes a lot of sense, actually - it’s our brains trying to keep us on track with our values & maintain our relationships.

But, of course, what we’ve been told is bad is generally not objectively bad, it’s heavily influenced by opinion, unprocessed emotion, politics and a whole bunch of other shit. So what we want to do is identify what we’ve internalized, and whether that actually fits for us.

The single best thing you can do is to get curious & (gently & non-judgementally) question those thoughts.

So here’s some questions to get you going & explanations to go with them:

Why is this kink “bad”? Where is that idea coming from? Do you 100% agree with this? Why or why not?

Often, it’s something very black & white like “hurting people = bad”, but when we actually unpack it, there’s a LOT of nuance to it. Like, what counts as hurting? Emotional? Physical? Is someone being hurt always a bad thing, or is it sometimes necessary in order for us to learn/hold boundaries/etc.? What if someone wants to be hurt? Is there any situations hurting someone might be okay in?

What do you feel like it says about you that you’re into it?

Generally, this comes down to something like “if I am into this, I am a bad person”. So I would question again: what’s a bad person? How do you know if someone is one? What is the exact criteria and cut off point for being “bad”?

One particular point to mention here is that it is my very strong belief (guided by research + my job + personal experience) that thoughts, feelings, urges etc. are not “you”, and they are not bad. Where we get into “bad” territory is in how you deal with them. I am a big supporter of identifying the core needs behind your thoughts & urges, and meeting them in healthy ways, like kink! Which leads us to…

What are you getting out of this kink?

For instance, a lot of my kinks, both sub and dom, come from my need to be wanted, and exploring the extremes of that (what if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything to have me? What if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything I tell them?). Other common themes are control, exploration of insecurities, exploration of shame/taboo, and so on.

Do you want to be okay with this kink? If yes, what boundaries do you need in place to help you feel better about exploring it? If no, why not?

This one is important because you don’t HAVE to be okay with a kink. You don’t have to engage with it, even if your horny brain thinks it’s a good idea. If you don’t want to engage with it, set out a plan outside of horny time for how you will hold that boundary. If you do want to engage with it, what parts are most uncomfortable? Do you need to engage with them in order to engage with this kink? Again, if you DO want to be okay with stuff, ease yourself into it. Go slow.

And most importantly: connection

Nothing helps more with shame than to talk about what you’re ashamed of with someone who you know will be kind, non-judgmental and can relate to you. That’s what kinky friends are for!

One final note:

If you are worried that you are a bad person, it’s extremely unlikely that you are. Bad people don’t sit around worrying that they are bad.

[stuck-writing-sickos]

Slick (yandere coworker)

ONE

[Masterlist]

T/w: suggestive, violence, gore

So you got jokes, don't you now?

You notice my keen interest, and it makes you nervous. I'm sorry to see your darting eyes searching for an escape whenever I approach you, but that is all I will be sorry for. You see, I don't care if you find me off-putting: I like to see whichever way you react.

I have drifted through a couple of countries. I assume so have you. Cultures may vary, but under laws, social etiquettes, cuisine and fashion, we all aren't so different. We eat and sleep. We feel good when we get what we want, and we feel bad if we don't. And since not everyone is aware of how similar we are, most of us like people who agree with us a little (or sometimes, unfortunately, a lot) more than the rest. You would assume I am a cynic, but I in fact celebrate this persistent likeness among us all. I think it is humanity. Wouldn't you agree?

And what I rejoice in even more so is the effort that we put into controlling these primal instincts. Self control - a rare and remarkable virtue. You work hard on it: punctual, courteous, and moderate on all front. I like to see it, the way you resist your emotions at any given point to upkeep this image. What minotaur are you keeping away in this intricate prison you have built? Let me in.

You see, I don't want to sleep with you. Sure... it would be nice, but that isn't my end-goal at all. If I were to, it would have been out of morbid curiosity. I want more than sex. I need to know you like an autopsy. I want to cut you open, peeling through your skin, cutting through your muscles, and opening you up to take a look at the way your organs are arranged. I will be precise, I promise, in both slicing you open and sealing you back up. All I want to do is look.

With how wary you are around me, I didn't expect for you to say yes to dinner. Maybe you were sick of eating alone, or maybe you just felt rude not to. Either way, I could tell that whichever reasons compelled you, it wasn't about me at all. No matter.

Again, this isn't about you.

You courteously ordered the mid-range price item. I asked if you were sure. You said you liked that dish. Do you, now? I didn't correct you. You refused wine, even when you were not driving home. You didn't think I would notice you coming in from an Uber, did you? I pretended not to see you coming in - you're not the sole clever one between us. I didn't push it anyhow. I liked what I was seeing: you were cautious and observant, safe under you soft-spoken exterior.

You asked me questions. You wanted to know where I grew up, if I had any siblings, how college was for me,... so on and so forth. You didn't answer any of mine - not really. I got a little antsy, I admit. Not every day do I see someone not keen on talking about themselves.

So you got my history and I got that you grew up "pretty far from here", that your hometown was "quaint but charming", that you went to college for "a degree you "aren't even practicing right now". Funny. You got jokes, don't you? You gave me a little taste of my own medicine. I felt as if we were trying to meet eyes through our own microscopes.

I didn't push you to open up. I thought entertaining your questions would loosen your guard eventually, but you were committed to your fortress. Fine... all good. I could still watch the way you move, precise and gentle as you maneuver around the table with candles, empty glasses and flower vase. You were too smooth, as if holding back a force. It was as if I was looking at a pressure cooker. This level of management implied, at least - from my humble opinion - a boiling chaos from underneath. After all, equilibrium can only be attained by equal forces.

You kept yourself so effortlessly mysterious, it made me wonder why you would even go on this date with me. I bumbled my way through the food and dessert, antsy and eager to see a crack on your mask to no use. I suppose you got into my head... not the other way around. Still, you kept me going - your elusiveness thrilled me.

As I said, I like anomalies.

You got me so good, that by the end of the night past all the talking and electricity, my confidence took such a hit that I offered to drive you home with my tail between my legs. I would love to say I was taking it slow, that I was enjoying the process of solving the puzzle that you were, but truth is I was ashamed of myself. You didn't unravel the way I hoped you would, and I protected myself with the conviction that you were a robot, and that I wasn't that interested in your process after all.

So you could imagine the surprise when you tilted your head with the most deviously clueless look and said "really? I didn't think I was going home."

[skaldish]

I'm about to give you all the single most powerful piece of advice that was ever told to me:

It is important to be a principled person.

This is more important than being a good person. But don't take this to mean I think we should be bad people.

The reason why "being principled" has more weight than "being good" is because the definition of "good" is arbitrary. It changes depending on who you ask, which means the standards of achieving goodness are always going to change and pose contradictions.

Principles are different. They are more actionable and concrete. Principles are ideas and concepts you personally value, in that you find them valuable to your lived experience. This makes them different than something like a commandment, because they're not a doctrine. Their source is your personality—who you are and the experiences that have shaped you—rather than your goals and ambitions alone.

To give an example, here are a few of my own principles:

I value self-sovereignty. I think it's a person's inherent right to be free of undue influence, and to act as agents of their own free will. (Not to be confused with acting with impunity; people have the right to experience the consequences of their own actions the same way they have the right to act upon their own free will.)

I value people. I show people courtesy as a baseline, even during arguments, until it becomes clear the other person simply wishes to engage in the spirit of hostility. And even then I don't really lash out—I just leave. At no point do I lose sight of the fact that the people I'm interacting with are as real as I am, who have feelings and complex lives the same as I do. This means I also really value trying to understand where people are coming from, and to look at things from their perspective, even if I don't agree with it.

I value being accurate, as opposed to being right. This has been a more rewarding approach for me, by comparison.

I value discernment. I want to know what things are, which means differentiating them from what I think they are from what they seem to be, and from what they are not. The reason why I practice discernment is due how I think—my brain understands things based on how they are, rather than based on what they are—but the reason why I value discernment is because it allows me to interact with the world in a much deeper way.

I value being a mammal. Life becomes easier when I (to quote another Tumblr post) let the mammal that is my body love what it loves. Fighting against this in the past proved to be a pointless and joyless endeavor.

I have more, but these are just the things that come to me off the top of my head. And keep in mind, these will likely change as I change as a person, because that is how principles work.

To be honest, I've never put much thought into whether other people should have the same principles as me; people have different personalities and lived experiences than I do, so it makes sense to me that we would all prioritize different things.

But what I do know is that I fundamentally disagree with people whose principles are antithetical to my own, principles like conquest (of self or other), conformity, purity, and controlling others. Whether or not someone realizes they're embodying these principles is another story, but in any case it's how I know who to avoid engaging with. This is regardless of someone's political alignment or identity.

In my opinion, thinking this way makes it easier to stay grounded in a rapidly-changing world, and to remain focused on what's actually important to you in the face of the unknown. It allows you to find stable ground within yourself.

[rockingtheorange]

Why is Nick such an asshole to Taylor and the film? He already toldAmazon he will nto be doing the sequel.

I don't like answering this type of questions so I'll make it as complete as I can, so people can get a life outside their own expectations. (I'm not defending Nick, I'm stating facts.)

First of all, let's not spread false rumors. Nick has not dropped the project. (I'm baffled on how this rumor could start in the first place)

Nick signed a contract for the sequel, he has responsibilities towards it, and consequences if he doesn't follow it. Regardless, it's not us who decide the terms. If he ever decides to leave the project, he'll make a choice and ponder the consequences.

"He could do more". Well, he also could do less. He's an actor and does his job however he feels like. (Do y'all care about every single aspect of your own jobs or studies? Bet you have priorities, right?)

In pop culture, there's this conception of the artist "owes his fans". While I'm inclined to love fanservice of all kind because it makes us, fans, feel appreciated, no one forces us to be a fan, meanwhile the artists are forced to do fanservice as long as they want or their contracts stipulates that.

Now let me go onto the specific part of Nicholas' life and personality.

Let's remind ourselves that we can be the biggest fans and yet know nothing about our favorite celebrities. They show us what they want us to know, it's our choice to decide what we want to follow, hear or understand.

As far as we know Nick, he's always been a quiet reserved person, who suffers from anxiety, doesn't like big social events and hardly uses social media (especially in the recent years)

He's somewhat a fearful person who decides to step outside his comfort zone. We can know that from his song Comfort.

Nick has talked about how one of his "great fears is being misunderstood." You can read about it in the article RWRB related from BritishGQ in which he compares his fear with Henry's experience.

Nick has been showing multiple times in multiple occasions how he loved Henry and loved playing him. He wouldn't have said "yes" to a sequel if he didn't want to. (I'd also say it's a big deal since Nick has always only played in project that didn't get a sequel, and he consciously decided to agree to it.)

In Nick's career, we can see how diverse and interesting his characters must be. He's drawn to peculiar characters and when he finds one, he puts everything he has to offer into it. This leads him to focus on other characters that aren't the same static one from a year or two ago. (He moves on to the next project, and I don't see anything bad about it.)

Working a lot means schedule conflicts and Nick has always had this problem. If he doesn't work on something new, he rests while doing his little hobbies. (Does he need to attend every social event if he doesn't want to? Do y'all ever rest? And if you don't, can other rest instead?)

I added my personal opinion in parenthesis so it doesn't get confused with the facts. Nick is a human with personal interests, ranked scale of values and personal life.

If you don't want to be a fan, don't be. If you want to be a hater, talk it to the wall instead of harming or annoy others. If you have expectations over other people, learn to manage what you can't control. If you think you're in control of someone else, you're not.

Now, excuse me I'll go back to watch RWRB with Henry played by Nicholas Galitzine, the actor who took his fragile character and held him in his hand, and protected him.

[maoam]

I guess I'll tag @sasukesun since this post is addressed to her as well. Anyway, how are you addressing me yet not tagging me (I assume I'm still blocked) and I only got this through another person? You're just being hostile.

I have said multiple times Sasuke isn't girly. Neither is Naruto. You put words in my mouth. His feminity comes from his looks (because that's Kishi's type) and the yin/yang. Sasuke is very neutral in the way he dresses, rather rude in the way he speaks to people (compared to how Japanese generally speak) and definitely not a weak doormat like Hinata. I have addressed all these things multiple times.

Sarada and Boruto's relationship doesn't parallel NaruSasu, if you read Boruto manga you would know that. Sarada is very passive when compared to Naruto. She just asks Sasuke to help Boruto. Can you imagine Naruto doing that? Naruto would help Sasuke by himself, that's how Kishi would write it. He wouldn't write Naruto to sat on his ass and wait for things to happen like he is writing both Sarada and Sumire do. People constantly complain about Sarada being rather irrelevant and it's true.

When I say "dynamic" I'm referring to the fact Minato is the only one who bothered to try to save Kushina and the only one who didn't give up on her. My point was about TROPES Kishimoto likes [link]. And why are you ignoring I pointed out Kishimoto paralleld Boruto to young Naruto, Sasuke to Kushina, and Naruto to Minato in the Boruto movie where they were coparenting Boruto? And again, it's about a trope. It's not complicated. Here is another post I made about similar tropes in both ships [link].

Same with Mario/Saori. Funny how you keep ignoring the latter despite me writing posts about that as well. [link] Can you seriously look me in the eyes and deny the similar tropes? Oh hey here's another [link].

I also made a post pointing out the similarities in how Hinata feels towards Naruto and how Naruto feels towards Sasuke but of course you ignore that because it doesn't fit your narrative about me. [link] If it was like you said, I would have ignored this as well. I also made another in reverse, about similarities in how Hinata feels towards Naruto and how Sasuke feels towards Naruto. [link]

The examples of Oro, Obito and Kabuto, are all about them making Sasuke their possession. And when you add the weird imagery, which Kishi never uses anywhere else, and Oro's comments about Sasuke's beautiful face and body, it's not rocket science to understand what's going on. Notice how I didn't mention Itachi, because despite Itachi wanting to control Sasuke, I never saw 'that type' of thing there. And trust me, I would point it out if there was, it wouldn't make me uncomfortable.

You call me a weirdo and stupid so I feel I have to reply to all this.

"I just express my opinion and if you don't agree you can always block me" I guess this is more directed at sasukesun but can't this apply to you as well? I mean you block and unblock me because you don't want me to see your replies and respond, but you still want to call me stupid and other names. It's just not cool dude...

Also this is you so I'm pretty sure you are the one mad that I'm not raving about girly twink Naruto and masculine buff alpha Sasuke aren't you? Lol. I'm sure my posts about Naruto being a rascal punk who gives people the middle finger and farts in his opponent's face kill that little princess image for you.

[whateversawesome]

SxF Chapter 91: Perspective, History, Empathy

Let me start by saying that I didn't think this chapter would make me so emotional. Was it the same for you?

A small side character like Millie, who we saw only as one of Yor's annoying co-workers, turned out to have a very sad backstory and gave us a glimpse of how things are for young people in Ostania.

This chapter talks a lot about people understanding and misunderstanding each other. Millie was just talking about her own experience and feelings, she was explaining why it was so difficult for her to help during an event like this, and that lady felt personally attacked because she saw things from her own point of view and her sufferings.

In no way the story discards any of those ladies' sufferings; what they went through during the war was very difficult, I'm sure. Nevertheless, comparing their sufferings and demanding Millie to act the same way just because they were able to do it, it's not right.

They both had different experiences because their circumstances were different, so they face life in their own way. That's exactly Yor's point.

Here, Yor demonstrates her best quality (and one of the many reasons why her husband fell in love with her): Emotional strength.

I've said it before and I'll say it again; Yor is a very emotionally intelligent character. The way she stood up for Millie displayed all her emotional strength. She called out that woman in such a smart way!! She wasn't rude but her words were true and very wise.

One of the most important things Yor mentions is that we cannot bear the same load because we're different. And I couldn't agree more👏

Also, if we take it as a metaphor, Yor is such a strong person because she carried a very heavy load: as a child and an orphan, she had to take care of her brother. Because of this, a naturally kind person like her had to learn to murder in order to survive.

It was a beautiful chapter. On top of everything, we learned a few important things:

1.Yor did lose her parents during the war and because of the war.

2.Donovan Desmond did NOT start the war. But plenty of young people like Millie don't know that, so it's possible that since he was Prime Minister during most of the war, he gets blamed for starting it.

3.Donovan Desmond is hated by many. That's probably the reason why he's no longer in office. And it also wouldn't be surprising that the majority of people in Ostania who voted against him want to move on from the war.

3.Melinda still wears her wedding ring and, even though she's separated from her husband, she still counts him as an important person for her. I guess, you can hate a person's actions and opinions, hate what they have become, but care about them at the same time...their marriage is complicated.

4.Not only Yor and Twilight fear the SSS because of their jobs. The general population do too because they know rich and powerful people can make them disappear regardless whether they are spies or not. That means arrests and disappearences of innocent people are common.

5.There was a repression during war time. This means the state controls and restricts certain rights of its citizens. When war happens, the state may determine it's necessary to protect their country and citizens. Chances are that policing of others started then and Ostanians got used to living like that.

And now some questions:

Was Melinda being sincere? In my opinion yes (for the most part). Melinda is no longer campaigning for her husband. In fact, she's going there incognito. Since her husband is no longer the Prime Minister and they don't have any elections to win, she doesn't have to support this types of events. If you think about it, once a politician retires from the public eye, their spouse generally goes back to their normal life.

Something that caught my attention was that it was mentioned Melinda has a lot of enemies; probably because her husband has a lot of enemies too. If that's the case, it would be easier for Melinda to move abroad, where she could have a care-free life, yet, she has chosen to stay in Ostania. Why?

Melinda is still a very mysterious character. We don't know her plans or intentions. We don't know why she separated from her husband. My only guess is that she's suffered a great deal and that's why she's able to empathize with Millie, even though their experiences are different.

What do you think?

Bonus (to end on a light note):

This is the Sxf when we see Yor 😄