#I forget people can like me even in these places...
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Note: Y’all is shirtless Phainon the new trend now not that i’m complaining? Hoyoverse pls stop giving me ideas😩
Phainon likes you, very much so that it became a common knowledge in Okhema. He even thought he was so lowkey and excellent in keeping it a secret until Mydei asked him if you already got together when he saw Phainon looks to happy.
That was when he finally knew that his so-called secret isn’t actually a secret. He got really embarrassed when Mydei pointed it out how he was so obvious yet somehow, you weren’t able to catch on.
Idiots, some people calls you both. Others would say cute slowburn soon-to-be lovers who just need a bit of push.
For Phainon? He just thinks how embarrassing everything is.
Some groups even started placing bets on when Phainon can finally has his courage to ask you out. Not just those mixed signal moves that you always interpreted as platonic.
You, the one who made the Deliverer of Amphoreus weak on his knees just look so clueless and slow. You keep explaining that how Phainon acted with you was just like how you both normally do.
“Phainon doesn’t like me like that.” You laughed when someone pointed it out. “We’re just friends.” You always reasoned out.
A bit of oblivious to his advances that makes people who sees you two together just wants to bash your faces together to make you kiss.
Phainon somehow felt relieved hearing that and just let you believe what you wanted to. He knows now is not the right time and when it is, he will surely show you how determined and serious he is pursuing you.
And that right time came faster than he could say Amen to Kephale.
Phainon’s decision on wooing you slowly was put on a challenge when you met Mydei.
Phainon had accompanied you to Marmoreal Market when you wanted to check for some fruits. On your way, you met Mydei who Phainon enthusiastically introduced.
You already knew the man named Mydei but never actually met him. So when you did, you can’t stop ogling him.
And Phainon? Oh Kephale, he never felt this regretful when introducing Mydei to anyone before. And you– can you stop ogling over his rival? You never even looked at him that way!
He nudged at you but you just gave him a brief side eye and gestured your eyes at Mydei.
Why did it took you so long to introduce this man to me huh? I thought we were friends. He somehow managed to understand you.
Forget all those fruits! You keep looking at Mydei’s exposed chest, complete forgetting about him.
Phainon couldn’t let you do that. So without thinking straight. He pulled your arm to stop you from walking.
“Wha-“ you managed to stutter out before being boggled by the sight before you.
Phainon just lit himself on fire until his upper body was bare.
“Can you look at me now?” He said, eyes completely focused on you. “Do I really have to took off my clothes for you to just look at me?”
He looks so serious that for a second you didn’t know what to say. It was until he felt the eyes and whistles from the crowd that was slowly forming that he let go of your arm, but kept you close.
He even has the audacity to look embarrassed when he was the one who started stripping!
“Don’t mind us!” Someone quipped from the crowd. “Go Lord Phainon! You can do it!” They cheered.
Red faced, Phainon mustered all his remaining sanity and confessed. “…I love you. I’ve always did but don’t know what to say. I wanted to wait until the time is right but…”
“You don’t have to explain anything but to tell you, I already have an inkling. I just didn’t want to assume anything and make it weird for us so I waited for you confess.” You replied feeling happy despite the bizarre situation.
“And I love you too.” You smiled, holding his hand and gave a quick peck to his cheek.
“But do you really have to take off your shirt?”
Ps. It was Aglaea’s idea in making Phainon jealous by having Mydei to show up. And it worked she won the bet
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Holding You, Holding Me / M. Robinavitch
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TWO: Sparks Fly
Summary: your parents’ wedding anniversary brings you and your mom’s friend closer to each other, closer than it should be, but there is no harm if no one finds out, right?
Warnings: kissingggggg, lots of tension, tiny bit of angst cause it’s Robby c’mon, English isn’t my first language<3
Word count: 3.47k+
an: things WILL get steamy and the drama will start when it’s dueeee🤭 please comment and tell me what you think of this chapter!!
If you wanna be tagged in the next chapters, fill this form<3
My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea You touch me once and it's really something You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world But with you, I know it's no good And I could wait patiently But I really wish you would
“Of course I’ll bring it to you, Mom,” you sigh, humming incoherently as you drop your bag and white coat in the passenger seat before you march toward the door of the PTMC. “You’ve called me three times already. I’m pretty sure I have your badge in my hand. Don’t worry about it, I’ll be there in a few minutes, alright?”
Hospital is an extraordinary place to work in, ER is even worse; you heard from your mother and her friends, not only because of the patients, but because of the strange layout it has. It feels like you’re trapped in a maze as you wander around the hospital until you find the elevator — embarrassing, really, because it is not the first time you're stepping into this place.
You count yourself lucky as soon as you spot a familiar face among the crowd, fingers twitching as the memories immediately flood back into your head.
Robby. The man you kissed a few days ago and had to break apart before your mom could catch you. The same Robby who you have grown to be familiar with throughout the years.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he notices you as well, giving you one of his heartwarming smiles when you reach the central, “What you doing here?”
“Mom called me at five in the fucking morning and said I need you to bring me my badge and hung up,” you shrug and smile back, nearly melting on the spot with how soft he looks at you, “But she made sure to call a few more times to check if I was really going to show up.”
“Typical Dana,” he leans on his forearm on the counter, scratching the back of his neck as he looks around, “I think she went to the break room, let’s go find her.”
“Don’t you have patients to take care of?” You ask, frowning at how eager he seems to be to get away from all this stuff, “You don’t have to come with me, I’m sure you’re pretty busy, so I’ll just go find her—“
“I’ll be more than happy to get away from this place, it’s a lazy day anyway,” he puts a hand on your back, stepping closer to lead you to the breakroom, but he can’t, nor can you with how this closeness brings back memories of the last time you were together.
You clear your throat, “I don’t want to take your time for something so silly—“
“Stop overthinking it, alright? I’m a grown man and I have ten other people handling everything, let me show you there,” he doesn’t let you dwell on it much longer and with a gentle push, he is walking you through the floor, “I’m not sure if your mom’s there but that’s where it’s most likely.”
“I can wait a few minutes before I have to leave for work,” you reply, thanking him when he opens the door for you to the breakroom, letting you step in first, “I just wanna make sure she gets the badge and stops calling me.”
“I’m sure she’s around,” he closes the door and walks to the countertop, washing his hands while he looks at you over his shoulder, “Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” you smile, dropping your mom’s badge and your phone on the table, walking around the room slowly while he fills the coffeemaker, “You know… we never got to talk about that night.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think there is anything to talk about.”
Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. You freeze on the spot with your back to him on the other side of the room, arms going slack next to your body as you turn around slowly to look at him.
“Wha–what do you mean, Robby?”
Gosh, you sound so pitiful. Of course he thinks it was a mistake, of course he is not attracted to you, of course, of course of course ofcourse—
“Sweetheart, look at me,” suddenly he is in front of you with a mug of coffee, tilting your head up with his finger under your jaw, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” It comes out as a whisper, but he hears you loud and clear and smiles a little when you try to turn your head away, but he keeps your face locked in place as he stares into your eyes.
“Don’t get lost in your head.” his thumb caresses your jaw so slowly that you might think you are hallucinating. “There’s nothing to talk about because—“
“Because nothing happened, right?” Your voice quivers, and you think he might lose his temper and shut you down completely, but instead of getting mad at you, he just shakes his head and leans down a little, “What are you smiling about?”
“Sweetheart, so many things happened that night,” he lets go of you for a moment to put the mug down so he can cup your face, his large hands covering your cheeks fully, “it doesn’t mean they were the right thing to do.”
“But they felt right,” you reply quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you try not to get lost in the way his gaze softens even more, “Why do you regret it?”
“I don’t regret it, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, “But we shouldn’t do it again, I can barely look at your mom anymore–“
“This isn’t about how she might feel, Robby, this is about us–“
“I know, I know–“ he leans down to peck your lips suddenly to stop you from talking. Wrong move, now he can’t stop kissing you, not when you taste so familiar like a book he has read ten times already.
He deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side while one hand goes to the back of your head to keep you close, slowly backing you up to the wall of the breakroom without breaking away from your lips.
You reciprocate the kiss with the same passion, hands traveling up to his neck and then shoulders, pulling him as close as possible when he presses his body to yours and corners you, swiping your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before you grant him entrance. His tongue moves over yours, battling for dominance, which you lose pretty quickly and let him take the reins again.
Voices are approaching, and they make him pull away slightly, glancing at the door quickly before he pecks your lips one last time and pulls away, walking to the other side of the room before you hear the footsteps behind the door.
“We’ll talk later, alright? I’ll text you, sweetheart.”
“Okay, yeah, yeah,” you reply breathlessly, running a hand down your face, rubbing your neck as you try to steady your breathing.
What was he thinking? He kissed you like he couldn’t stop himself, and he didn’t even try to stop himself. The more you think about his words, the more confused you get about his actions; he says it’s wrong, yet he can’t keep away from you. He says he can’t look at your mother anymore, but he pulls you closer the second he is sure she isn’t looking.
“Robby, have you seen— oh, honey, hi! I was looking for you everywhere,” Dana pulls you in for a quick hug, kissing the side of your head before she pulls back, “What are you still doing here? Aren’t you going to be late for work?”
“I thought I’d see you too, now that I’m here,” you shrug, trying so hard not to glance at Robby and give yourself away, “Your badge is on the table.”
“Thank you, honey, you’re a lifesaver,” she squeezes your arm, looking at Robby with a raised eyebrow, “What are you doing here? Go out there, you’ve got patients to treat.”
“I was the one who helped her find the breakroom, you should thank me too,” he shrugs, grabbing a plastic cup to fill with coffee, “I also needed coffee.”
“That’s your second cup, and it’s only been two hours since you arrived.” Dana crosses her arms over her chest, glaring at Robby, “Are you alright?”
“Of course, I’m fine,” he nods, taking a sip from his cup before he strides toward the door, “As fine as I always am. Goodbye, sweetheart.”
“Goodbye, Robby,” you smile at him, watching him flush a little and leave the break room with one last wave before you turn to your mother, “What’s going on? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, he’s just been a bit weird these past few days,” she shrugs, grabbing her badge and moving to the counter to pick up a mug for herself, pouring coffee before she takes a sip, scrunching her nose at the taste, “How did he drink this? It’s fucking cold.”
“Oh,” you whisper, mind reeling with the thoughts of how Robby’s behavior changed after your encounter at your mom’s party. He masks his emotions pretty well, but nothing really goes unnoticed by your mother’s sharp, curious eyes, and he has been her friend long enough for her to know how and when Robby’s behavior changes — even if it's something so little and subtle.
You just hope she doesn’t notice your change of behavior. Because if she does, you are fucked .
“Alright, imma head out,” you exhale deeply, running your palms over your pants to wipe off the sweat as you walk to her to give her a final hug, “Have a great day, mom. Call if you need anything.”
“Will do, honey,” she kisses your head, hugs you back, sending you off, “Have fun at work.”
“Absolutely,” you grin and push the door open, holding in your breath as you walk through the ED, eyes finding Robby’s frame quickly, watching him talk to his new students before he glances at you and looking back to the crowd in front of him, but you don’t miss the way his eyes shine a little bright and his cheeks turn red.
Maybe the talk will clear up everything.
••••••
“Fancy seeing you here, Doctor Robinavitch,” you say, finding him with two bags full of Thai food as he walks out of the restaurant. Smirking to yourself, you lean back on the door of your car, waiting for him to finally reach you, “You have a date?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your forehead as soon as he reaches you, “Thank you for picking me up.”
“Of course, I’m always nice to broke men,” you grin when he groans and opens the back door, placing the bags on the backseat with care before he turns around and stands in front of you, placing one palm on the hood of the car.
“It seems humor has nothing to do with genetics, and I have a pretty fancy car in my garage, thank you,” he smiles when you look down at your shoes with a bashful smile, “I don’t wanna talk about things here, so,” he extends his hand to you, waiting for you to give him the remote, “Gimme the keys, I’ll drive.”
“This is an automatic car, Robby, you don’t need keys to unlock the door.” You duck under his arm and move towards the driver’s side, “I don’t trust you with my car, you might get us killed, old man.”
“As if you haven’t been in my car before, kid ,” he rolls his eyes but gets into the passenger seat, watching as you start the engine and fasten your seatbelt, “Just don’t get too excited about the food, I paid for it.”
“Don’t make me throw you out of my car, Robby.” You narrow your eyes at him when you hit the stop at the red light, “My place? It’s closer.”
“Sure,” he shrugs, leaning back on the seat and turning his head to look at you, “What are we doing, sweetheart?”
“Things that are… worth doing?” You crane your head to stare back at him, “Hopefully, I mean. There’s nothing wrong with trying.”
“That’s for normal people who meet on the streets, not us,” he sighs, looking outside the window, scratching his chin, “It’s just wrong . Morally wrong, I am much older than you—“
“Have you ever heard me complain about your age?”
“We kissed a few days ago, sweetheart, you didn’t have time to think about it at all,” he chuckles and closes his eyes, listening to your soft breathing, “I’m not saying to discourage you, but—“
“My god, has anyone told you that you talk a lot?” You whine playfully, “You’re not discouraging me. Upsetting? Yes, but I’m not gonna lose hope this soon because you think it’s immoral for two adults to kiss.”
“One of the adults is twice the age of the other one and is the said adult’s mom’s friend,” he explains, running a hand down his face again, pulling on the edge of the seatbelt as you drive to your place, “Let’s just have dinner first then we’ll talk.”
“Right, you get hangry, how could I forget?”
“You’re insufferable. What the fuck does that even mean?”
“As you said, humor is not passed on by genes,” you look at him, winking as you pull into your apartment’s parking, “Okay, get the bags and I’ll get my boxes.”
You pull into your spot, cutting off the engine before you both get out. He follows you into the elevator quietly after he insisted on carrying your boxes for you while you held the food.
“What are these anyway?” He asks, shaking the boxes a little to hear what’s inside, “New purchases?”
“Those are my new toys, Robby,” you tell him as you both walk out of the elevator, unlocking your apartment door before stepping inside, holding the door open for him to join you as well while you take off your shoes, “New splints, needles for needle therapy, muscle tapes, and a new vibrator!”
“What?!”
“Wha– oh, no, no , hahah, no!” Your eyes widen so much you think they might pop out of your skull. You nearly drop the bags on the floor as you whip your face towards him, finding Robby blushing deeply as he stares at you with parted lips, “For muscles, a vibrator for muscles and limbs and rehabilitation, fucking hell , can you stop looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” His cheeks get redder, but he is no longer shocked, except he is grinning like an idiot, and you wanna wipe that smug smile off his face, “I’m not doing anything.”
“You know I know what you thought, so stop being an arrogant little boy about it,” you hiss, glaring at him as you march toward your kitchen to wash your hands.
This is so embarrassing , you think, because if this happened a month ago, you would have also rethought your entire life, but you wouldn’t be this flustered over it. This time it’s different, it’s worse, it’s more mind-wrecking because you have kissed Robby. He is no longer just your mom’s best friend who you had a crush on, he is the man who was sucking on your tongue only a few hours ago.
“No one’s called me a boy in the past twenty years, sweetheart,” he lowers the boxes on the ground, kicking off his shoes and placing them next to yours, “Also, I didn’t say a thing about your new vibrator, in fact I would love to see what it really is.”
“Fuck off, I’m eating all your food after I kick you out of my house,” you reach for the tissue paper next to the sink, drying your hands and turning around to look at him, “But if you are really interested…”
Robby leans back on the countertop on his elbows, eyes following all your movements as you start to pull out two plates and move to the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Don’t just stand there, help me or I’ll start calling you uncle again.”
“We’ve kissed, and you still wanna call me uncle? Disgusting ,” he makes a weird face before he brings the food to the table, sitting on the couch next to you and helping you unpack them. “What did Dana say after I left?”
“Nothing really, just that you’ve been acting weird for a few days.” You grab your plate and lean back on the couch, twisting your fork in the noodles, smiling when his ears turn red, “I wonder why.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, it’s not because of you,” he gives you a sharp look, trying to be convincing, but he is not even doing a good job at convincing himself, “I can’t look at your mom the way I used to.”
“Come on, it’s a decade-long friendship, I’m sure I’m not the only secret you’ve had to keep,” you shrug, but you know what he is really saying. It is hard to keep a cool persona around your mom when she is too quick to catch up on things, not to mention how easily she can pull the words out of your mouth.
“It’s not about that,” he puts his plate down and you do the same, turning around to look at your hands on your thighs first, not really ready to look you in the eye, “It’s about losing what we have created, and also your parents will skin me alive if they ever find out.”
“They won’t! Robby, what are you scared of?” You scoot closer to him, cupping his cheek while he leans on his side and reaches to caress your thigh, the distance between you slowly getting invisible, “We don’t work together, we don’t see each other as much as you see my mom. There is no reason for her to get suspicious.”
“Because!” He groans, dropping his head on your shoulder, pulling you closer as much as he can by throwing your legs over his thigh, “It’s not because of her, it’s… It’s us . I don’t want to ruin what we have if this doesn’t work out in the end.”
“We won’t know anything if we don’t try, Robby.” You can feel how your heart is beating faster, the doubt you have been trying to bury throughout the day is crawling back into your head, “You just have to… let yourself feel it.”
He doesn’t reply, not immediately anyway. But you can feel the hot exhale he lets out over your neck, his fingers tightening around your thigh. You scratch the back of his head, your nails working through the thin strands of his hair as you wait for him to say something.
Robby slowly pulls away enough to look into your eyes, the tip of his nose brushing against your cheek. The hand on your thigh moves to your jaw, thumb stroking the length of the bone, moving up to gently press down on your bottom lip.
He closes the distance in the blink of an eye — so much for a man who was telling you ‘Oh but it’s wrong’ and now is kissing you like he is starved for you.
You kiss back instantly; there is no reason not to do so. Tugging on his hair gently, you let him tilt your head in the angles he wants to, deepening the kiss with so much intensity you have to wrap an arm around his shoulders to keep yourself from drifting away.
His teeth clash with yours, and his lips move with certainty you didn’t know he had in him. The kiss turns messy when he pushes his tongue into your mouth, humming at your familiar taste.
You let out little gasps and sighs whenever you can breathe, both arms looped around his neck as you pour everything you can into this, letting him know you want him badly.
He lowers you onto the couch, maneuvering your body to his liking until he is as close to you as possible, making home between your legs without breaking apart from you.
But perhaps you should have listened to the doubt in your gut earlier today; maybe it would have helped to make this moment hurt less. He pulls back suddenly , face flushed and lips swollen, but there is a pain behind his brown eyes.
“I can’t do this.”
The way he whispers breaks you, and it only hurts worse when he sits back up to run a hand through his hair and stands up.
You don’t have the energy to get up. You just lay there and watch him pace around your house, collecting his stuff before he stops and looks at you with a remorseful expression.
“It’s wrong, sweetheart.”
You can’t say anything to him because he is out of your door in a second with his belongings gone. So you stay on the couch with a racing heart and a head full of foggy thoughts.
#dr robby x reader#michael robinavitch#dr robby x you#dr robby fluff#michael robinavitch x reader#michael robinavich x reader#robby robinavitch x reader#robby x reader#the pitt fanfiction#the pitt x reader#fic: holding you holding me
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What I think everyone gets wrong about TF141
By everyone I mean the fandom as a whole
I can tell so many of y'all haven't played the game
Also I do not condone the actions of any of these war criminals. This is just a character study.
John "Bravo 0-6" Price
I guess the biggest pattern for this guy is that he's a cuck. 💀 It's obviously wish fulfillment for smut and not intended to be a character study but like it kinda rubs me the wrong way sometimes.
Also gonna point out the fact that Price tends to be written as 100% correct all the time. Always the good guy who is doing the right thing and I feel like that just undermines the whole point of his character being morally grey. He's willing to do bad things for the greater good from his perspective. That doesn't mean that his perspective is always correct. Don't fall for that propaganda that the series tries to push.
He cares about people more than the politics which is great but don't forget he's fucking ruthless. The first mission of the game you literally see him throw a man in a bomb vest over a railing when he thinks Gaz won't be able to deactivate it in time. Sacrifices for the "greater good." But not that man's greater good. He also threatened a man's family to get information out of him, whether he was bluffing or not. He put the gun in someone else's (Gaz's) hand and left it up to him.
Where are my unreliable narrator fics of him??
Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
"UwU softboi" Nah, fam. This man is ANGRY. That's like his character introduction. He's pissed that the people in charge won't let him act. He wants more autonomy to be more aggressive and I've seen him reduced to "good boi Wyll" from Baldur's Gate 3.
I do agree he has a softer side 100%. Gaz's anger comes from a place of compassion. He's tired of watching people die or get hurt when he could have done something. He wants to act first to prevent worse outcomes later. Just look at Clean House. That whole mission is messy with blurred lines of morality but ultimately they feel justified in the end because they stop a worse ending.
But as someone who is also extremely angry, that shit will come out in less than favorable ways. Getting into arguments because you're mad at the situation, blowing up at seemingly small trespasses, etc. It doesn't mean he won't catch himself and correct but let the man get frustrated and angry in your fics please. Also let's be honest when has a military been good about getting their soldiers therapy.
I probably don't even need to address the fact that he's completely overlooked so much. I think we all know the reason for that. Hm.
Simon "Ghost" Riley
I feel like this is the most widespread misunderstanding of a character ngl. It kind of baffles me.
He's not a dark sexy booktok romance archetype. I feel like everyone projects ideas onto him because of the mask?? Something something about a blank canvas.
From what we see in the games, he's sarcastic but focused, a little grumpy but caring enough to distract Soap with dumb ass dad jokes in Las Almas. Like that's such a telling moment for me. Soap is the newest guy in the reboot. He's alone, injured, has no weapon, and is surrounded by enemies that will kill him without hesitation. But Ghost is able to guide him over the radio and coach him in survival while keeping his spirits up with banter.
He complained about Johnny at first but clearly grew to like him so I feel like he's also stubborn, but not entirely prideful. He's a soldier after all, you've gotta ditch that pretty early on or you won't do well. Would absolutely rag on someone to show affection.
He's also loud as fuck. Idk why no one has talked about this. Bro basically yells every voice line except for a few occasions.
He's a bottom but a lot of y'all aren't ready for that conversation.
John "Soap" MacTavish
Golden retriever ADHD personified. Is he a bit goofy at times especially with banter? Yeah, sure but I fail to see where everyone is getting the idea that he's this class clown. Bro is incredibly focused and takes his job seriously because it's literally life or death.
Also where is the idea that he's some feral sex fiend coming from?? I get playing things up for fan service or indulgence or whatever. That's fine, lean into whatever you need to for your fic but I feel like the characterization of him I see the most is this strange collective consciousness of Soap where everyone is building off each other's depictions of him and not based on the character himself.
Ultimately it's fanfiction, people can write what they want. I'm not going to tell you to stop, but these are just patterns I've noticed that can be a lil irritating when I'm trying to find something that feels in-character. Or something that isn't just wish fulfillment porn.
#call of duty#cod#cod mw reboot#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw2#cod mw3#john price#captain price#simon riley#simon ghost riley#kyle garrick#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mactavish#johnny mactavish#cod fanfic#call of duty modern warfare fanfic#cod x reader#gaz x reader#ghost x reader#price x reader#soap x reader#ghoap
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People who go so fucking hard in the name of "defending" thunderbolts are so fucking annoying. To begin with, i've never understood why there's so much hate unleashed against Sam after that stupid ass post credits scene. He wasn't even in the movie. Now, the line "it went poorly" doesn't have to mean that he was "rude" or whatever towards Bucky/thunderbolts but even if he was, well.. HE'S RIGHT! Because what do you mean Bucky (and Yelena and ava and bob!!) out of everyone, is working willingly for the government/fuckin Valentina whom he wanted to impeach through the movie and then he got amnesia, like??? The same government that wanted to put him out in civil war, the same government that didn't trust him in tfatws, the same government who tortured him and kidnapped him for over 70 years because let's not forget that hydra and shield were the same shit... LIKE???! explain to me in which world would he be working willingly for the government??? And I'm saying this as someone who loves Bucky so damn much. He's literally my favorite character, I watched thunderbolts BECAUSE OF HIM, and that's it, otherwise I wouldn't have watched it. And if I'm honest, I dislike that post credits scene, because he's just out of character. He is and if you're a real Bucky Stan, you should see that. I didn't like that he didn't defend Sam, the person who's been with him for more than a decade in the MCU's world. The person who gave him his REAL found family. The only person in all these years that he's canonically said "I love you" to, Sam wilson is Bucky's closer friend and ally. I don't like the fact that he's betraying wakandans once again by working with Valentina (even tho I'm honestly not mad at him freeing Zemo because at the end of the day it was for something justified and he ended up turning him over), and you know what? Now that I'm complaining, I also didn't like his fucking obsession with the shield in tfatws. He saw Steve dropping that shield for him TWICE, he knows that shield isn't more important than the person carrying it so I don't get why was he so obsessed with it and why was he being annoying towards Sam throughout all of tfatws (Malcolm Spellman and Joana calo, YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR CRIMES for making him act out of character 😤 ).
I've got someone in my notifications telling me that sambucky's shippers only want Bucky to be "Sam's lapdog".. excuse me??? If there are people being like that, then it's mainly Bucky's stans believing Sam is some kind of therapist for Bucky and that Sam should be there ready to serve Bucky and nah, that's not how it works. And anyway, this same person says that Bucky wouldn't abandon the thunderbolts because he "feels responsible for them".. so.. you don't want Bucky to be Sam's "lapdog", instead you want him to be a -children trafficker (yes I watched black widow and that's what he is), a murderer and 2 women who killed because they chose to do that- baby sitter??? Mmmm.. interesting. 🤔 I can understand Bucky wanting to protect Yelena, Ava and Bob (does he even need protection? Lmao) but the other 2? Nah nah. Bucky is nobody's babysitter and in any case, if he were to feel responsibility towards someone, then it should be towards Sam. You know? The man who was willing to go to jail FOR HIM. Yeah. He owes that TO SAM and to the entire Wilson family and to the wakandans, whom literally saved his life.
My thought are all over the place and I want to say so many things and this post is messy because 1) English isn't my first language and this is the first time I write anything here, for real I don't even write tags and 2) I'm angry as hell with the behavior of most thunderbolts stans since late april. y'all are a bunch of racist bullies. You have no real reason to hate on Sam, because guess what? He's basically the same as Steve, even better, yet you dislike him? ... interesting, I wonder why that is 🤔
Now, I hated that marvel made the decision to separate Sam and Bucky. I know most Sam stans, rightfully, didn't want Bucky to be in cabnw, after the shit show that was tfatw in social media, I get it but forgetting about people's reactions, which have nothing to do with the characters dynamics, and being objective, Bucky should've been next to Sam in cap4 instead of thunderbolts. I hate that it didn't happen that way. Anthony and Sebastian literally made sambucky one of the most popular, if not THE most popular pair in marvel post endgame and you separate them??? That makes no sense to me.
However, here goes my last -messy- thoughts (because believe me, I know this post is all over the place lmao):
- Sam Wilson IS captain America and he's only doing what Steve would've done too but he's a Black man so you hate him because if it was Steve, you all would be eating it up. (Because in fact, Steve did what Sam told HIM to do many times in his trilogy and in IW and eg, go back and rewatch the movies)
- Sam is no one's therapist and he also has all the right to be mad at Bucky (even tho in the movie they don't say that, y'all made that up)
- Sam Wilson IS the avengers' leader and everybody, and I mean, EVERYBODY, will be following his lead in "doomsday", period, even the thunderbolts and I cannot wait to see that 😙
- now, because I've seen people say otherwise: James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes IS a hero, he IS an avenger. Since the moment he decided to fight Thanos in wakanda, and anybody saying otherwise is wrong. Are we forgetting he was fighting Nazis much before most of the avengers' were born? He was there fighting with the first avenger yall... He is a hero, period. No discussion. (Also, unlike ava and Yelena, he didn't decide to keep on killing people after freeing himself from his abusers, nope, he chose to go back in cryo because he didn't trust himself EVEN THOUGH, killing people wouldn't have been his choice, because he was literally mind controlled.. again, unlike Yelena and ava (love them but yeah) 😶)
- I don't think he's suddenly a horrible character, the writers have made him do ooc actions but that doesn't mean he's a terrible character, not in my books. And actually even though this whole situation makes me mad, I do think things will be better in doomsday. Marvel would be shooting themselves in the feet if they separated sambucky for real. 🤡 What's annoying about all of this is that I cannot think of a right way to get Bucky and Sam to talk about this, I mean, I can but in a movie with so many characters, I can already see them making a quick joke and that's it, everything will be alright again.. ala Russo's style meanwhile we've been enduring a year and a half (by then) of horrible takes about Sam (seriously ask yourself why do you hate this character so much.. even more if you like Steve.. ask yourself why you don't like Sam and the answer will always be racism btw 🤷🏽♀️)
- and lastly: y'all have to stop bringing the real life relationship of Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie to the equation. They are real friends and both of them respect each other, admire each other and love each other so much and they've been saying it all these years, even this same year. Stop equating sambucky's (FICTIONAL CHARACTERS) relation to Seb and Anthony's. Y'all weird as hell for doing that. And y'all weird as hell for going against Anthony or Sebastian for what their characters do or not do in the movies. 🙄 I'm talking to the "Anthony is Sebastian's biggest fan" crowd too. Sure, he's very enthusiastic but in any case, Sebastian's the president, vice president and first member of the "Anthony Mackie fanclub". You need to watch all the interviews of that man speaking about Anthony, literally the man whow said "one of the perks of my life is knowing Anthony Mackie", the man who said "I'd walk in Anthony's shadow all the time if I had to", the man who through all of tfatws said that Mackie was THE leader of the project because he knows how to read people and that people have to give him more recognition for his work. Sebastian said that. Their relationship is based in mutual everything, mutual love, respect, admiration. Seriously, do NOT try to speak shit about them only because you disagree with what happens in the fictional world of the MCU. 🙄
- lastly FOR REAL!!: y'all really need to observe the reactions towards thunderbolts in comparison with captain america: brave new world/other bipoc projects. The hate Sam Wilson/Anthony Mackie faces is unbelievable. Remember when everybody kept saying they'd boycott cabnw because of that nasty Zionist?? Well.. where was that energy towards darevill? Margarita Levieva is a Zionist (as a Seb Stan I was still following her until a year ago when she was literally justifying the murders of children on her instagram, nasty ass woman). Where's that energy towards the upcoming spiderman? Jon bernthal is a heavy Zionist. He was even following isra-hell's accounts on Twitter. Where's the boycott energy, huh??? 🤔 Ah yes... The leads in those movies are white men, I forgot they all have several passes.
Anyway, I do think all Hollywood productions have Zionists working in them, it's almost impossible that they don't, especially in this case because Disney itself IS a Zionist company 🙄 so you can keep your stupid ass excuse of boycotting something only when the lead is a Black man (or a woman), seriously check your fucking racism. It's so tiring to see white people giving stupid takes. Stfu and CHECK YOUR RACISM.
I think that was all lol, I don't think anyone's gonna read this because it's long as fuck and all over the place and I normally don't say shit but damn, it's been 2 months, going on 3, of non stop shitty takes. Keep Sam Wilson's name out of your mouth and please, stop being weird with Bucky. he'd hate you, Sebastian would hate you. Do not become a nasty person in the name of defending fictional shit. This is the real world and some of you say really nasty ugly things in the name of defending fictional characters (defending from what? Idk but y'all swear you're doing something lol).
And btw, you don't have to like Sam but if you don't like him then don't speak about him, because again... There is NO a single reason why you should be feeling so much hate towards him (unless you're a racist). And if Bucky was real, he'd dislike you so much for being a piece of shit towards Sam. Think about that!! 😗
Honestly I don't even know what I wanted to achieve with this long ass post lmao, I might end up deleting it if I'm honest because I suffer anxiety and that's a big reason why I never interact with anyone here but damn, having people in my notifications being so wrong about Sam (and Bucky too actually) is so annoying.
#sebastian stan#bucky barnes#Thunderbolts#that movie became a dishrace in the mcu#it wasnt even a bad movie#i liked it but thats it#its not a masterpiece and what unleashed within the MCU fandom has been horrible#like people aren't norwal fr#sam wilson#is Captain America#Anthony Mackie#sambucky#cabnw#also if you see me reblogging that post credit scene ks because i absolutely loved that bucky look#i need him to look like that in doomsday pls#he and sam looking LIKE THAT? oh yes#🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰
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Hi! Thank you for always helping me with your tips!
If you don't mind, could you help me with the *twins* characters?
Like, what to do or NOT do with them? (I like this thematic but I have no siblings/brothers)...
Hey Dear, thank you <3.
Twins are SUCH a fun thing to write but also kinda tricky if you’ve never experienced sibling dynamics or shared identity stuff irl, so props to you for even asking. i feel like a lot of people either treat twins like clones or like weird mystical telepathic plot devices and just... no. they’re people. with trauma. probably caused by each other. or their parents. or society. or all three lol.
so the first thing i’d say is: give them their own personalities. like FULLY. even if they’re identical, that doesn’t mean they act the same or think the same or like the same food or even like each other all the time. one could be super loud and chaotic and the other could be quiet and constantly cleaning up the mess (emotionally or literally). contrast is good. it makes the dynamic feel alive.
ALSO twins often get lumped into “the twins” like they’re one entity?? which is cute when they’re 3 years old maybe but like... imagine being 24 and still introduced as “one of the twins.” no thanks. let them have individuality and different dreams, different insecurities, different faces they show the world even if their DNA matches.
now if you want to lean into their closeness (which i love tbh), go all in on the unspoken communication. inside jokes. finishing each other’s sentences. entire conversations with eye contact only. being able to tell when the other one’s lying because they’ve seen each other at rock bottom and peak feral joy and know exactly what those faces mean. like, that’s the delicious emotional stuff right there.
but ALSO... twins fight. hard. especially if there’s comparison or favoritism (intentional or not). one twin being "the pretty one" or "the smart one" or “the chill one” while the other quietly spirals? juicy. twins are basically mirrors of each other and some people HATE what they see reflected. you can go full rivals-to-teammates or teammates-to-rivals or some weird combo and it still works.
another thing...don’t forget that being a twin can be lonely, too. people assume you’ve always got someone but that doesn’t mean they see you. sometimes one twin wants to break away and be their own person, and the other one’s like “why would you leave me, we’re supposed to be a package deal.” it can get deeply emotional. explore that if you want pain and angst (which, sometimes, we all do).
bad twin writing usually happens when the author forgets that these are two fully separate people who happen to share a birthday and a weirdly close history. like yes, they might switch places for shenanigans or feel each other’s heartbreak across a room if you're writing drama or fantasy, BUT if that’s all they are? it's flat. gimmicky. forgettable.
let me know if you want trope-y twin stuff too because i have a lot of Prompts and more.
-- Luna ♥♥♥♥
#writing advice#writing#writer on tumblr#writerscommunity#writer tumblr#writing tips#character development#writblr#writing help#oc character#siblings#sibling dynamics#twins#how to write#aspiring writer#female writers#writers of tumblr#writeblr#writebrl#writer#writer community#writer stuff
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Message In a Bottle
Jannik Sinner x Reader
Synopsis: You ever send someone a message at 2am and wonder if it actually landed somewhere? This is that — long-distance tension, bad timing, soft yearning, and the one person you can’t stop thinking about no matter what timezone you’re in. Just two people throwing feelings into the universe and hoping the other catches it.
A/N: Hey guys! I'm reallyyyyyy sorry for not writing and publishing! College's been taking up all my time, and I was lucky enough to have the rarity of getting free time so I could write this small fic. I have a few ones in the works, so yeah look out for that one. ♡♡
The thing is — she never meant to fall for him.
Not really. Not like this.
It started harmlessly. A conversation at an event. A shared laugh over the same stupid meme. A follow-back. A couple of DMs. Nothing serious.
But somehow, "nothing serious" turned into late-night FaceTimes. Turned into missing each other’s texts. Turned into looking at the sky in two different countries at the same time, wondering if he was doing the same.
And now, she’s sitting at her kitchen table, staring at her phone, pretending she doesn’t want to text him first.
Because it’s been three days. Not that she’s counting.
(But she’s totally counting.)
--
Jannik’s on the other side of the world — literally. Somewhere between press, practice, and pretending to sleep on a plane again. He’s been running on caffeine and adrenaline, earbuds in, hood up, zoned out to music he can’t even hear.
He’s been trying not to think about her. Not because he doesn’t want to — but because it’s getting harder not to.
It’s stupid, how fast it all happened. How easy it felt. How the second he met her, something in him just… clicked.
She was all fire and charm, didn’t try to impress him, didn’t ask for photos or act like she cared that he was that guy. She just handed him a drink and said, “You looked like you needed this.” And honestly, He did.
And now, weeks later, he’s opening his phone mid-layover, scrolling up on their chat thread just to reread the old stuff.
She hasn’t texted first in days, which means he’s probably next up.
He types:
this airport is so cold it’s actually illegal
Then deletes it.
Types again:
why do all sandwiches in europe taste like regret
Deletes that too.
Jesus. What is he even doing?
---
She’s doing the same thing — hovering over her keyboard, staring at a half-written message:
I walked by a guy who smelled like your cologne and now I hate everyone else
Too much. She deletes it.
Instead she types:
hey, are you alive?
or did you marry your physio and forget to tell me
She hits send before she can overthink it. Then immediately tosses her phone across the couch like it’s cursed. Fuck.
---
He sees the message while boarding the plane.
Smiles. Actually smiles. His physio side-eyes him like he knows something.
He replies:
yes, he proposed. i'm sorry you had to find out like this.
And she fires back:
wow. not even a voice note? fake husband.
The banter slips right back into place. Easy. Familiar. Like no time passed. Like they’re right back in that weird little space between something and not quite.
And Jannik thinks: god, I miss her.
---
Weeks go by like this. Back and forth. Messages in different time zones. Snapshots of whatever city he’s in. Voice notes of her rambling while walking home from work. He saves the ones where she laughs without realizing it. And then, finally–
He has a break. Not long. Just enough.
So he books the flight. Doesn’t even tell her. Just shows up in her city, texting:
any chance you’re home tonight?
She’s confused. Texts back:
yeah?? why
And then her doorbell rings. She opens it, and he’s standing there — hoodie up, hair messy, suitcase by his side. Looking tired. And annoyingly perfect. He grins.
“Hey.”
She just stares for a second. Then hits him in the arm.
“What are you doing here?!”
“I was gonna ask if you had dinner plans,” he shrugs. “But I’ll also accept being physically assaulted.”
She’s still blinking, like she doesn’t believe he’s real.
Then: “You’re seriously here? Just like that?”
He nods. “Just like that.”
She pulls him in — into the apartment, into a hug, into whatever this thing is between them that neither of them wants to label but both of them feel.
And as he wraps his arms around her, tucking his chin into her shoulder, he says it — not loudly. Not dramatically. Just enough.
“I kept thinking about you.”
She breathes in his scent. It's familiar, and it's real. It was an addiction.
Warm and kind of overwhelming in the best way.
“Me too,” she whispers.
Because for weeks they’d both been tossing words into the void. Hoping the other would catch them. Hoping timing wouldn’t win.
And now, it feels like the bottle finally washed ashore.
Exactly where it was supposed to.
#jannik sinner#tennis#forza jannik#jannik sinner x reader#jannik sinner imagine#jannik sinner imagines#jannik sinner x you#jannik x you#tennis fic#tennisblr#tennis fics#jannik#sinner#jannik sinner blurb#fic#fics#taylor swift fic#based on a song#jannik x yn#jannik sinner x yn#jannik x reader#jannik sinner x oc
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"MISSED CALLS 📱" RIO X READER
➨ rio's library - good girl nbc
「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」
Author's Note: This is not a drill, this is a real Rio upload LOL. Since the Rio girlies are awake here's an old Rio X Reader draft. Enjoy ❤️
Summary: Rio plays himself when he downplays your position in his life. Instead of lashing out, you get even. After acting out, you both make it up to each other 😉 . This one is 🌶️ Pissed off Rio has entered the chat.
Word-Count: 1.7K
It may be toxic but you love it when he’s mad. When his eyes darken and his patience thins. When he’s focused and ready to strike like a predator. When you’ve managed to fuck up his entire day and keep him on the hook thinking about you. He calls again and you watch the phone ring out as you tan poolside.
“You’re in a good mood” your cousin says, putting her shades on amused by the scene playing out in front of her.
“Mhm” you nod thinking back to the agitation he’s facing right now as he’s cursing your refusal to answer. He’d hurt your feelings a pinch, even though you know him downplaying your significance to him in the company of his associates is a lie. Rio’s feelings are in fact the contrary of the bogus story he told his colleague. Still, it was the principle he’d greatly downplayed your position, making himself out to be just in it for a good time and you, nothing more than someone easy to pass his time with. The phone rings again and I smile sending an automatic reply. Easy, I’ve been anything but.
“What'd he do?” your cousin asks but you know better than to spill your man's misdeeds.
“Forget that I can be a real headache when I want to be” You smile in response.
“Atta girl” she smiles back.
You’ve never begged him to be around and none of your antics have been enough to get rid of him. If Rio wants to act like you’re replaceable, well two can play at that game. You watch the kids splash in the pool and smile at the thought of last night's triple date. Your date was tall, Latin and tatted just like him. It’s a dirty game to play but so is pretending to have better things to do.
When you get home after a few days away you see his car parked down the street. You go to get in your house when he steps out glaring like he wants you to get in the car.
“Get in the car” he says exasperated and you turn, wiping the satisfied smile from your expression. He stands tall glaring and displeased.
“Aren’t you gonna get my door?” You ask standing still before moving in the direction of his vehicle. His jaw clenches before he obliges and you do the same getting in. Climbing in halfway you turn to give him a quick kiss.
“Missed you” you pout looking him over. It’s the truth and even more satisfying when he can’t decide whether or not to blow up.
“You wouldn’t have to miss me if you answered your phone” he snaps shutting the door. The engine roars and he’s off.
“I was gonna call but I had no time, there were too many people around” you lie and he glares at you.
“How was your date?” He asks, telling you he’s been keeping tabs. You roll your eyes.
“It wasn’t a date, my cousins just wanted to meet this guy.�� you shrug.
“Sitting across from someone and sharing a meal is a date” he snaps.
“Well then I’ve dated a lot” you sigh, earning another glare.
“Just answer when I call and stop sending me texts. I want to hear your voice” he snaps. “Okay?!” He glares.
“Ok” you let him have this one. He shakes his head taking a long exhale as he grips the wheel heading in the direction of his place.
“You fucking stress me out more than the job” he mutters as he hit a red light.e opens and closes his legs and you know the tension between us is foreplay for him too. You smile leaning over to give him a few quick kisses.
“I’m sorry” you apologize playing the part of oblivious bimbo with sincere eyes and he nods. His eyes lighten and you know you're back in his good book. It’s a quick turnover, he probably was really scared to lose you.
“You gonna make it up to me?” He asks.
“Of course, how about tickets to the boxing match you were talking about?” you suggest.
“That’s not the kind of thing I want from you,” he says.
“What do you want?” you ask.
“You, for a few days. any and every way” he says with nonchalance. It sparks your excitement but you hide it as best you can, smiling only a little. Maybe that’s what made his throwaway comments so hurtful. The chemistry is too good and anything goes - its not the routine sex of a married couple but of a raunchy affair most times. As long as he treats you well there’s no complaints. But he has fucked up.
“That sounds like a lot,” you mutter avoiding automatic compliance.
“You have a lot to make up for,” he smiles slightly.
“You promise you’re not mad anymore?” you ask with doe eyes.
“No baby, I’m not mad” he concedes and you melt a little looking up into his eyes. He’s putty in your hands.
“I trust you” you mutter as he kisses you hard. Just like that he’s gonna give you all he’s got. He lets himself go. Kissing your neck as he gets us both undressed. His touch is firm and dominant. you’re at his mercy but in very good hands. He’s one of one and our compatibility is special. He knows as well as you that we are all we have if we want this. It’s dangerous to be this vulnerable, for him to lose control when you’re on your knees taking care of him. Having that kind of power over him gets you off and he has the same effect on him. His actions make it known that there’s no replacing him. That you better never even think about it because there’s no one better for me than him as he fucks you into the mattress. He kisses you more than usual, kissing you everywhere and when we’re done he props himself up against the headboard letting you rest your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat.
“Can you stay the night?” you ask hoping his schedule isn’t demanding.
“Yeah mama, I can stay” he responds and you settle into pulling the blankets up over your body and his. He rests a hand over you to secure your body against his as he reaches for his phone. He spends a few minutes sending off a few messages before setting it down on the nightstand.
“Come on” He says, patting your hip.
“Hmm?” you raise a brow.
“I know you weren’t answering your phone cause you wanted attention, so come on” he says tapping it again. You look up to see a small grin on his lips. “Don’t play innocent baby, you’re too smart for that” he adds and you sit up, sitting beside him. Just like that his focus is on your breasts.
“If I wanted attention wouldn’t I answer?” you ask pulling up the sheet to cover yourself. His attention returns and he raises a brow.
“Not like playing with me would” he says and his intelligence is one of the many reasons I love him. You straddle him and then lower onto his manhood getting the upper hand in moments.
“Maybe I overheard you telling your friends I was nothing, maybe I was upset you were lying” You tell him, grinding with him inside, in a motion that causes him to crane his head back in pleasure. Eyes closed he holds your hip as you move plain fully slow allowing you both to feel everything. “You deserved the headache” you add and he takes a breath and holds his head level to look you over. He can’t be angry at you when you give it to him like this. He shakes his head too overcome with pleasure to be angry at your plot.
“Watch your mouth” he warms instead. You tighten your walls around his manhood and he curses.
“Watch yours or I could stop answering forever” you warn and he’s had enough. You pushed and now you’ll pay.
“Forever?” He asks, gripping you hard as he pulls out. It’s a bid for control. You moan at the loss of contact “You’re gonna quit me, forever for saying something we both know isn’t true?” He challenges upset all over again. You try to look away and he forces you to look at him.
“Maybe” you respond in defiance. He lets go pushing you away as he gets out the bed. Now you’ve really done it. Your stomach drops as he rounds to your side of the bed and gets on his knees. It’s a sight as he gets between your legs spreading them around him and french kissing your center. Men like him need power and aren’t afraid to be in submissive positions but not him. Not with you. He gives you everything and you writhe under his intimate kiss, your body is completely his. It’s his turn to undo you and prove his worth. His turn to make up for his missteps, his turn to take care of you this way. When he’s done you hold him close.
“I’m sorry” he says with your essence all over him. “My people don’t need to know my weakness, you could become a target” he says and you look up to see sincerity.
“I’m not your weakness, I’m your strength and coming after me would be the stupidest fucking thing anyone could ever do.” you smile. “I’m a civilian.” you remind him. “It’d make a lot of noise”
He takes you to the shower so you can both get cleaned off. He’s left love marks all over you. He suds you up and rinses you off with special care.
“I love you too much to risk anything happening to you” he says stunning you. Your body goes stiff as a board and you search his eyes. This is a first.
“You love me?” you ask.
“I love you” He affirms wrapping you in a towel. It's a fact which makes it all the better. It isn’t this magical revelation. It’s something he’s sat with, it’s something he knows and has known. There’s no hiding your smile and in turn his.
“I love You too” you smile.
“I know mama, now let me get some sleep damn” he says with an arm around you as he gets his towel. You fall asleep wearing a smile because…
You’re in love.
____
Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like 💖💖💖
——
___
TAGS:
@wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana
@theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal @fairytale07 @rampsen @rosey1981 @lauraaan182 @lynaye1993 @writingsbytee @different-fandomz @rose-bliss
@loveschrisbrown20 @cherrybeedotcom @ariiaellbtheedonn @motheroffae @prettylilteine @thabiddie23 @next-bex-bet @magik22 @slvt4her @blckblossom @gopaperless
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@hotebonynearby @armani9-9 @wildcardmelaninfreak @blackgurlkillinit @freshbonggwater @biafranbombshell @aunicornmademedoit @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful
#rio good girls#rio x reader#rio good girls imagine#good girls rio#manny montana x reader#manny montana fanfiction#rio good girls fanfiction#rio x you#masterlist
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Can we get smut of Joker dealing w a reader on her ovulation phase🥀
Could you help me?
Pairing: Joker/Hajun x reader 18+
Tags: SMUT, in the locker room, ovulation!Reader, sperm inside
Note: ovulation spares no one, bro
@shintaru @sylith @mscatheart @kuchisabishiiiii
"Damn it.." you mutter to yourself as you look at your boyfriend's body, dressed only in a sweat shirt and shorts. or rather, his muscles, which sweat from strength training when he trains.
you just decided to meet him after training, when you finished all your business, but you came before he finished. Normally, it wouldn't have caused a problem looking at the rest of his training. But you're so horny right now. Do you know if you should blame your ovulation or the fact that he seemed so sexy right now?
your eyes are focused on his muscles, the way they move as he moves his arms, his throat as he swallows, all these thoughts that he could squeeze your thighs and take you right there in the gym so hard that you don't notice his gaze when he looks at you.
"Is something wrong?" he says it with a slight sigh, lowering the barbell to the floor, running his hand through his hair, and it's just this sight that makes you catch your breath, leaving you speechless.
of course, Joker notices this, takes steps towards you, leans over your sitting figure on the bench, when you look only at him, puts his hand on your forehead as if to check your temperature and will remain with a silent question in his eyes.
you squeeze your thighs together when he squats in front of you, placing his hands on your thighs, circling them. you swallow, trying to moisten your throat to say at least something, "I'm fine.."
but this answer doesn't satisfy him, and he doesn't move away, staying here next to you as you scan his body, his T-shirt sticking to him from sweat, and you stop at his shorts, "I'm just thinking about what you could do..."
you don't finish your sentence, awkwardly fidgeting in front of him, trying to cope with the arousal that weighs on your mind, making you forget that there are other people in the room as you stare at Joker, thinking about how he could fuck you right now, "you could take me"
the words come out without shame or embarrassment, even if your cheeks are a little red as you look at his face, his grip on your thigh slides, tightens, and sends a jolt of arousal through your body. When you started dating him, you didn't think you could be this needy, especially when you're ovulating.
he has always seen how you become too needy on certain days. the will of touch becomes longer, more intimate, the gaze is fixed only on him.
"..What?" he asks, trying to process your words as he sits in front of you. You could say he looks confused and taken aback by your sudden request, "I'm saying I want you to take me. help me. right now"
you touch his hand on your thigh, moving it a little higher, feeling a slight tremor in his body, "right now?" you nod at his question, looking at him as if he were the most incredible sight in the room, which he is.
he blinks a couple of times, looks around, notices a few people nearby, and takes your hand to stand up and lead you towards the locker rooms. what was the chance of getting caught? but it doesn't seem to bother you much when you look at his broad back and feel his hot skin on your hand.
you don't even look around the locker room when he walks in, immediately leaning into his body, grabbing the fabric of his shirt in your hands, reaching up on your toes to touch his lips. it's too fast, too blurry, and you're in desperate need.
you moan into his mouth, throwing your leg over his hip, which he immediately catches as he pushes you against the metal lockers in the back, trapping you with his large body, kissing you back with his tongue, like a dirty man.
you push into his hips, trying to find closer contact, feeling the bulge in his pants as his dick twitches and rises to the feeling of your body against him, the feeling of your hands sliding under his shirt, scratching his skin with your nails.
"you need too much" he breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of saliva, to lean down to your neck, grazing your skin with his teeth, sucking and licking, leaving you breathless "fuck, Joker–"
you push your hips against his, slide your hand to the waistband of his shorts, slipping your fingers under the fabric to touch him as he breathes into your skin, clenching his teeth harder as you grab his cock in your hand, "oh, baby–" he helps you pull the waistband of his shorts and underwear down. his cock twitches, responding to every touch as you wrap your hand around it, running your fingers from the tip to the base and back again, spreading the pre-cum.
he swallows, his hands move to your waist, releasing your thigh, squeezing it a few times, as if he's trying to come to his senses and understand what's happening, and he slides down, removing your pants, "you're so wet, and I haven't even touched you" His rough fingers run through your folds as your underwear is pulled down.
a couple of moves on them as he rubs your clit, making you gasp, feeling too hot and stuffy as he grabs your hips, lifting you up. Joker holds you so tightly as he looks down, pressing his cock closer to you, and you tilt your head back, resting it on the cold metal of the cabinets behind you. "I won't ask if you're ready"
he doesn't do that, he immediately moves inside you, expanding your tight walls, stretching your wet pussy with his dick, "Fuck, Joker, –yes!"
You grab his shoulders like you're trying to peel his skin off as he sinks into your tight pussy, slowly and unhurriedly, holding your hips, bending them, and getting closer until he's hitting the base of you.
"You're fucking tight—too tight for my dick" he starts moving, taking his time with the rhythm, slapping his hips against yours with a dull slap, "Fuck, fuck, Joker!–" he's so big in your pussy as you wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper, holding onto his shoulders with your nails.
"are you so wet because you're so turned on just by the sight of me?" he grins, speeding up the pace, thrusting his cock inside you harder, making you roll your eyes, bringing his mouth closer to your ear, "such a needy princess for me with this pussy that accepts me too well"
"please– I need-d.. so much!" you don't even know what you wanted to say to him, you just gasp for air when he sticks into you faster, "fuck, that's it!"
and all sense of shame was lost, even the thought of someone interrupting you, finding him fucking you in the locker room, pressing you against the walls of the lockers, was no more. only him, him, his size, his dick moving inside you without any preparation, and again, his dick.
"Fuck! Yes! cum in me- ah!" you gasp when he hits his hips faster, harder, the sound of slapping is too loud in this locker room, and honestly, your body is so on edge that you're ready to come, but you know you won't be satisfied until you have another round.
Joker pushes your legs wider apart, his mouth is on your neck, feels you scratching his back, fucks you pulling your cunt onto his dick, "take from me–"
he digs his hands into your thighs, feels you shaking and squeezing him, drooling that runs down his chin, raises his head to grab your mouth, biting your bottom lip.
"J-Joker!– Fuck!" you can't even speak directly when his cock hits you again, making you cum, clenching around him to pull him deeper as he slaps his hips against yours until you feel his cum, "yes, baby, like this, –just like that"
he continues to move inside, pouring into your wet pussy, making you drip and drip onto the floor, "take everything I have to give" his eyes look down as he slows down, almost pulling out of you, slowly thrusting his dick back in, hitting your base with his balls, and watching as the cum flows out of you onto the floor.
He still holds you in his arms, taking his time to set you back down, squeezing your thighs, enjoying the sight of him using you as his personal cum filler.
and it looks so good that as soon as he puts you back on your feet, he turns you around, grabbing your hair to push your face into the cold metal of the cabinet and thrust your hips against his, sliding his dick between your buttocks.
"I'm going to fill you up again, are you okay with that?" his words sound more like a fact than a question.
You've been so needy today that having a second round sounds more like a blessing than a threat. And you're damn happy that he indulges you and your need during ovulation.
and the people outside the locker room will have to wait a little longer, because you weren't very quiet inside when he was stretching your pussy around his dick again.
pussy - that small dirty mediator through which communication with a woman takes place
MASTERLIST
#windbreaker#windbreaker webtoon#windbreaker x reader#windbreaker one-shots#windbreaker sabbath#sabbath crew#windbreaker joker#joker windbreaker#joker x reader#park hajun#windbreaker hajun#hajun x reader#anon ask#anon#inbox#ask box
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the melancholy of untold history.
dialogue prompts from the melancholy of untold history: a novel by minsoo kang.
i had a mean thought. never mind.
why are you with that guy?
oh, shut up and kiss me.
myths are the agents of stability; fictions, the agents of change.
may you pay dearly for your lack of generosity.
how does this story end?
all unfinished stories make me sad.
i think you're capable of anything.
it's so kind of you to be here with me.
i am so grateful you are in my life.
i was so intimidated by you.
you will be a great _____. i have no doubt in my mind about that.
i didn't think i was capable of loving anyone.
i'm sorry. am i prying too much?
didn't it get lonely?
you were nothing like i expected.
you have your own charisma, you know.
you seem down. are you okay?
can you tell me about it?
i'm not going to leave you. i'm going to stay with you. i'm not going to fade away from you.
what a dirty anus of a place.
the effectiveness of a story does not make it true or good.
are you religious or spiritual, in any way?
i don't think much about what's beyond this world.
i still can't forget how real it felt at the time.
there's nothing pitiful about you.
i am terrified by what i could feel for you.
how well you act the indignant innocent.
i moved them around like pieces on a game board until they destroyed each other.
i was never under any illusion about what i was.
i don't care what happens to me now.
innocent? i never claimed to be that.
i'm not sure i deserve to find peace.
no matter how hard it is, i will go on. do you believe me?
i hope we can still talk. still be friends.
can i tell you a story? it's kind of a long one, so i understand if you don't have time.
where would i go, other than home?
loyalty is more complex than people realize. even a virtuous person may commit evil by being loyal to a wicked person.
i want a real ending. it's too good to not have a proper ending.
how could i not be there for you after everything you've done for me?
you deserve to be happy. you know that, right?
can i call you tomorrow?
am i imagining you, or are you imagining me?
i wish our stories were different. i wish we could use our imaginations to change our fates.
it was all a dream? are you kidding me? what a tiresome cliché.
is there a real difference between a life actually lived and a life lived in a dream?
this time, we can do things differently.
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To Have and To Hold — Chapter 12
Summary: Some absences are louder than words. Spencer can’t focus, and Y/N can’t seem to move forward—not really. Maddie keeps asking when he’s coming back. And when an old routine brings them face to face again Couple: Spencer Reid / Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn Series (NSFW, 18+) Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, lots of yearning and regretting from Y/N and Spencer, feelings of child abandonment Word Count: 9k
Series Masterlist
I like to think I’m someone who can handle tough situations. But the truth is… I’m really not.
No matter how much I try to prepare myself for the worst, when it actually comes, I fall apart. Every single time. It’s like my brain can catalogue every terrible outcome, run a thousand simulations of what could go wrong—and still be blindsided when it actually does.
Like after Hankel… after Maeve…
I thought I’d braced for every possibility. Told myself I could stay detached, that logic would shield me. But I still ended up addicted, broken, begging for clarity in a place that offered none. I still sat in that room after Maeve died, staring at the silence like maybe if I thought hard enough, she’d come back.
And now… now it’s happening again. Not with a killer or a hostage situation—just with a four-year-old and her mother. Just with a moment I didn’t handle right. A flash of fear that turned me into someone I never wanted them to see. And I keep replaying it, like if I study it enough, I’ll find the exact second I could’ve fixed it.
I haven’t been able to read a single page in five days. Which, for me, is like forgetting how to breathe. The books are still there—lined up neatly along my desk at Quantico, stacked on my nightstand at home—spines worn and familiar. But they might as well be written in a language I’ve never seen.
I open one during lunch, stare at the same paragraph, and close it again before the first sentence even registers. JJ asked if I was okay earlier. I told her I was just tired.
But I think something broke when I walked out of that apartment. And no matter how many hours I sit at my desk pretending otherwise, I can’t seem to fix it.
I can’t stop thinking about it.
The way Maddie’s face crumpled when I raised my voice. How her lip trembled. How Y/N came rushing in like I’d struck her, like I’d become some awful version of myself I’ve spent years trying to keep buried. Like she was finally seeing it. The version I tried to warn her about. The one she didn’t want to believe was real.
I keep replaying it—frame by frame—like a crime scene I can’t solve. Maddie flinching. Y/N’s eyes widening. My own voice, sharp and unfamiliar, cutting through the air like a warning shot. I wasn’t even angry. Not really. Just scared. But fear has never excused the damage it causes, and I felt it the moment I saw them both step back. Like I’d crossed some invisible line I can’t uncross.
She told me once that I was gentle. That I had a softness most people wouldn’t expect. I didn’t say anything then, just smiled, because part of me wanted to believe it too.
But maybe I’m not. Maybe I was never soft. Maybe I’ve just been careful.
And the second I wasn’t—just one second—I proved every quiet fear I’ve ever had about myself.
Maybe I am the live wire. Exposed. Dangerous. Something that sparks even when I don’t mean to.
And maybe I was stupid to think someone like her—someone warm and real and trying her best—could want someone like me near her child.
“Spencer, you’ve been staring at that document for ten minutes,”
JJ’s voice pulls me out of my daze, briefly, but she did.
“Yeah… I’m a little distracted… I think I just need some coffee.”
Before she could say or ask anything else, I get up abruptly and practically speed walk to the kitchenette.
I can feel her watching me as I leave. JJ’s always been too good at reading me—gentle when I need it, firm when I don’t want it. And right now, I don’t want it. I don’t want anyone to look too closely and see what I already know: that I’m barely keeping it together.
The kitchenette is empty, mercifully. I go through the motions—grabbing a mug, pouring coffee that’s been sitting too long on the warmer. It tastes burnt and metallic, but I take a sip anyway, like bitterness might shock me back into functioning.
It doesn’t.
It only reminds me of her.
Of that morning—the morning after I stayed.
The apartment had smelled like something out of a movie. Warm coffee and sugar and… blueberries. I remember blinking awake to the soft clatter of dishes and the faintest hum of music from Maddie’s cartoons in the background.
She made the coffee exactly how I like it. Exactly. Four sugars stirred in before I even got out of bed—just like she’d seen me do once, at that little coffee shop. The one we went to after the park on our second date—It wasn’t a date. Not really. Just… a shared moment. A comfortable afternoon with too much awkward smiling and not enough air in the room.
And still—she remembered.
She made blueberry pancakes too. Said it was Maddie’s idea, but I saw the way she watched me take that first bite, like she hoped I’d love them. Like part of her was holding her breath until I did.
I did.
They were soft and warm and just sweet enough to undo me. I hadn’t had a morning like that in… years, maybe. Quiet. Thoughtful. Wanted.
Now all I have is this scorched office coffee and the echo of what it used to taste like when it came from her hands.
I should call her.
I should drive up to her apartment and tell her how sorry I am. How much I miss her. How I can’t sleep without imagining Maddie’s tiny hand in mine, or the way Y/N’s voice softens when she says my name. How I’d trade every book in my apartment, every fact I’ve ever memorized, just to hear her say it again.
But I don’t move.
I just stand there with this bitter mug in my hands, paralyzed by every possibility. What if she doesn’t answer? What if she does—and it’s different now? What if Maddie hides behind her legs instead of running to me?
What if I already ruined it?
My grip tightens around the handle, knuckles going white. I should call. I should.
But the longer I stand here, the more I convince myself that maybe she’s better off. That maybe silence is the only thing I can offer now that won’t make everything worse.
The door creaks behind me. I don’t turn.
“I wasn’t finished talking to you,” JJ says softly.
I close my eyes.
She doesn’t push, not right away. Just walks to the counter, leans her hip against it, and waits. That’s the thing about her—she knows silence can be louder than any question.
“I told you JJ, I’m just distracted. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“You mean last night as in the entire week? You look like hell.”
I huff out something that’s supposed to be a laugh. “Thanks.”
She shrugs. “I’m not trying to be mean. I’m trying to get you to admit you’re spiraling.”
I don’t answer.
She crosses her arms, gives me that patented mom-friend stare that somehow feels gentler than it looks. “Spencer, you haven’t read during lunch once this week. You didn’t even correct Anderson yesterday when he said serial killers and psychopaths were the same thing.”
“I was… busy.”
“You were staring at a water stain on the ceiling.”
I sigh and rub a hand over my face. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I will be.”
She softens, just a little. “Talk to me.”
And I want to—I do. My throat aches with everything I haven’t said, but the words stay lodged somewhere behind my teeth. I stare down at the coffee in my hands like it might offer a script. A way out.
“Is this about that Maddie?”
My head snaps up. “How do you know about Maddie?”
JJ doesn’t flinch. Just lifts a brow, calm as ever. “You slipped and said her name on that missing girl’s case.”
I swallow hard. “Oh yeah...”
I look back down at my coffee. The surface has gone still. Cold.
“She’s four,” I murmur, voice barely audible. “She likes sparkly shoes and sticker books and is a fairy princess.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“A couple of months back, I was at the Library and ran into her. She was lost and couldn’t find her mother, I helped her calm down until her mom came to find her,”
JJ doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches me, like she’s letting the picture form on its own.
“And her mom?” she asks softly.
I hesitate. “Y/N.”
Her name feels like something I’m not supposed to say out loud. Like if I do, it’ll make all of this more real. Harder to bury.
“She was… grateful,” I add, clumsily. “Said thank you. We talked for a bit. Then I saw them again at the library the next week.”
JJ doesn’t interrupt. Just lets me fill the silence at my own pace.
“She invited me to lunch after that because Maddie wouldn’t stop talking about me,” I say, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth before it fades again. “Said I could do magic. Really, it was just sleight of hand—coin behind the ear, that sort of thing—but she looked at me like I was some kind of wizard.”
JJ’s gaze softens. “Sounds like someone was smitten.”
I huff a breath, not quite a laugh. “Yeah. I was—I mean… am. We’ve been hanging out ever since. Museums. Parks. Pizza nights. Quiet mornings. She’s…” I trail off, words catching like thread. “She’s everything I didn’t think I could have.”
“So why are you moping around like it’s the end of the world?”
“I messed everything up.”
JJ doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to rush in with a fix. Just waits, like she knows there’s more I need to say.
“First, I practically slapped her in the face with a friendzone sign at the planetarium,” I mutter, my voice dry and bitter. “Then she kissed me, and I… I literally ran away. Like a teenager.”
JJ blinks. “Wait—ran away?”
I groan and rub my face, the shame crawling down my neck like heat. “I didn’t mean to. It wasn’t—I wasn’t rejecting her. I just… I didn’t know what to do. My brain short-circuited.”
“She kissed you and your brain exploded,” she says, lips twitching.
“Basically.”
“And then?”
I exhale. “Then I freaked out. I accidentally broke one of Maddie’s toys, and she started crying and throwing a tantrum. I was trying to get her to calm down, but I—I snapped. Not at her, but near her. Loud enough to make her cry.”
My voice breaks a little. “Loud enough to make Y/N look at me like I was someone else.”
JJ’s expression shifts—no more teasing now. Just that deep, steady concern I know so well.
“Spence…”
“It gets worse. I was trying to apologize, to defend myself I guess… She said…” I struggle, the words feeling like bile, even though they were true.
I don’t realize I’ve stopped breathing until JJ reaches out, her fingers brushing my sleeve, grounding me.
“She said, ‘you’re not her dad, so stop trying to be,’” I repeat, quieter this time. Like maybe saying it softer will dull the edge.
And still, it cuts.
JJ’s brows draw in, sympathy blooming across her face, but she doesn’t say anything yet. Just waits. Like she knows I’m not done.
“I know she didn’t mean it,” I add quickly, too quickly. “She was angry, overwhelmed. People say things they don’t mean when they’re—when they’re scared. I know that. Rationally, I know that. But it felt…”
I trail off, trying to find the word. None of them feel big enough.
“It felt final,” I whisper.
JJ nods slowly, her eyes soft with understanding.
“I just stood there. Completely frozen. I didn’t know what to say. I—I looked at her, and I looked at Maddie, and I couldn’t breathe. I thought maybe she was right. Maybe I overstepped. Maybe I built this entire little world in my head and forgot that I was never supposed to be part of theirs. Because she’s not wrong.”
I stop, trying to calm myself before continuing.
“I’m not her dad. I’m just the weird guy they met a couple months ago, who got too close for comfort. I have no right acting like a parent to Maddie, when I’m not. I’m not her father, and I have no idea how to be her father anyway.”
I force out a shaky breath, like saying it aloud might make the guilt a little smaller. It doesn’t.
“I don’t know how to do that kind of love, JJ. Not in real time. Not with a kid who looks at me like I’m invincible and a woman who—” I falter, the words sticking like splinters in my throat. “—who makes me want to be someone I’m not sure I know how to be.”
JJ steps closer, but she doesn’t speak yet. Just lets the silence sit, heavy but not suffocating.
“I keep thinking about all the things I could mess up,” I admit. “What if I teach her the wrong thing? What if I panic again and say something that sticks to her brain forever? What if I end up like my dad—leaving when things get hard? Or worse, like my mom—unpredictable and broken in ways she never asked for.”
The words feel ugly coming out. Selfish. Unfair.
But JJ doesn’t flinch.
“Spence,” she says softly, “I know you’re scared. I know you’ve spent most of your life believing you’re too much—or not enough—for the people you care about. But that little girl didn’t see any of that. She just saw someone who made her feel safe. Loved. Like magic was real.”
I blink fast, throat tight.
“And Y/N?” JJ adds, her voice dropping. “She let you into her life. That doesn’t happen by accident. You didn’t sneak your way in. She opened the door. And she didn’t do that because she thought you’d be perfect—she did it because she saw the way you looked at her daughter. Because you showed up. Over and over again.”
“But maybe that’s not enough,” I whisper.
JJ shakes her head. “It’s more than enough. And if you don’t believe me, then go ask them yourself. Talk to her. Apologize, if you need to. But don’t just disappear. Don’t let this fear write the ending for you.”
I stare down at the cold coffee in my hands.
“I can’t do it, JJ… I just can’t. The probabilities of her slamming her door in my face are way too high.”
My voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and I hate how small it sounds—how desperate.
JJ sighs, slow and quiet. “Since when do you let probabilities stop you?”
“I don’t… but this isn’t a case file,” I mutter. “This isn’t a statistic I can out-analyze or manipulate. It’s… it’s her. It’s Maddie. If I knock and she doesn’t open that door, I don’t know if I’ll come back from that.”
JJ takes the mug from my hands and sets it gently on the counter.
“You will,” she says. “Because you’ve come back from worse.”
I look at her, and she’s not smiling anymore—she’s not teasing. She’s just looking at me the way she always does when I forget how much I’ve survived. How much I’m still standing.
“I’ve seen you on the floor, Spencer. After Hankel. After Maeve. After prison. And every single time, you thought that was the end. That you were too broken, too far gone, too dangerous to be loved.”
She takes a breath, her voice thickening. “And every time, you proved yourself wrong.”
I blink hard, jaw tightening.
“She’s not slamming the door,” JJ adds. “She’s probably sitting behind it right now, hoping you’ll knock.”
That catches something in my chest. I don’t let it show. Not much.
“I don’t know what I’d even say.”
“Start with ‘I’m sorry,’” she offers. “End with ‘I missed you.’ Say the rest with your eyes if you have to. Just… go.”
Silence settles for a beat.
I wish it were that easy. I wish all it took was showing up and saying the right combination of words. But it’s not. Not for me.
I’m too much of a coward to do that. I can’t just go up there and apologize. Not when I know she’ll look at me with that same expression she had that day—like she didn’t recognize me. Like maybe she never really did.
“I… I have to get back to work.”
JJ shifts like she wants to stop me, but I’m already moving. Before she can say anything else, I bolt—quietly, but abruptly—back to the bullpen, making a beeline to my desk.
I sit down, open a file, and pretend I’m reading.
The words blur instantly.
Across the room, I can feel her still watching me. Not in judgment. Just… in that way she does when she knows I’m lying to myself.
And maybe I can lie to her. Maybe I can even lie to the team.
But I can’t lie to the ache in my chest that sounds a lot like a four-year-old saying my name.
I sit there for a while, motionless behind my desk, the file still open in front of me like it means something. Eventually, my hand drifts toward my wallet.
It’s tucked inside the smallest pocket, folded once to protect the edges.
The photo from the planetarium.
The three of us, crammed behind that cardboard astronaut cutout—Maddie in the middle, popping her head through the smallest circle with stars on her cheeks and a juice stain on her collar. Y/N stood to one side, her expression soft and caught mid-laugh. And me… visibly unsure of what to do with my hands, but smiling anyway.
One of the staff had offered to take it. Maddie giggled out “moon cheese.”
It was stupid. Silly. One of those tourist-trap moments meant to be forgotten in a week.
But I carry it like it’s sacred.
I smooth my thumb across the top edge—careful, reverent. The ink from the date I scribbled at the corner was already starting to wear where Maddie’s head is, just a little from how often I’ve handled it. She looks so happy. So safe.
And I look… happy too.
Not just pretending.
Happy in a way I didn’t think I could be again.
It hits me like a quiet wave. The kind that doesn’t crash so much as pull.
I could have had this. I did have this. And I let fear take it away from me.
“Are those them?”
The voice is quiet, cautious.
I startle slightly and look up. JJ’s standing a few feet away, not intruding—just there. Her expression is soft, her arms crossed loosely over her chest like she already knows the answer.
I don’t say anything at first. Just glance back down at the photo in my hands.
“They look happy,” she says after a moment.
“They were,” I murmur. “We were.”
She takes a step closer, eyes flicking to the picture. “You wrote the date on it?”
I nod, almost embarrassed. “I didn’t want to forget. It felt… important.”
She doesn’t tease me for it. Doesn’t smile like it’s cute. She just nods, like she understands exactly why I’d do something like that.
“I think they still are,” she says gently.
“Still what?”
“Happy. Or… waiting to be.” Her voice drops, like she’s afraid if she says it too loud, it won’t be true. “You didn’t lose them, Spence. Not unless you stay here pretending like that picture’s the only part that was real.”
I blink hard, forcing the tears back.
JJ takes a breath. “It’s Saturday, right?”
I nod.
“Then I think I know where they are.”
My week was rough. Not in the usual tired-mom, no-sleep, too-many-dishes kind of way. It was the kind that settled in my bones—quiet, constant. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way his voice cracked when he snapped. About the look on his face when I said what I said. About how fast he walked away, like he couldn’t get out fast enough. Like leaving was easier than looking back.
And I just let him.
I shouldn’t have been so hard on him. I should’ve let him explain himself. Should’ve taken a breath, sat down, talked to him instead of throwing my pain at him like it would somehow make mine feel smaller.
I let my resentment over the planetarium and the kiss get to me. Let it fester. Let it convince me that pushing him away would protect us—protect Maddie. But it didn’t. It just left a hollow space where he used to be.
And the truth is… he didn’t mean to scare her. Of course he didn’t. He panicked. She had something in her mouth that could’ve choked her, and he reacted. Loud, yes. Sharp, yes. But not cruel. Not violent. Not dangerous.
He was scared. And I turned that fear against him.
I saw the look on his face when I said it—“You’re not her dad, so stop trying to be.”
It was like I’d hit him. Like I’d taken everything tender between us and burned it to ash right in front of him. And the worst part is… I knew it would hurt him. I said it to hurt him.
Because I was hurting too.
Because it was easier to lash out than admit I cared. That I cared too much. That he mattered in ways I wasn’t ready to say out loud.
I spent so much time guarding myself, convincing the part of me that started to hope that it wasn’t real—that it was temporary, that he’d leave eventually. I was so focused on bracing for the fall that I didn’t let myself enjoy the flight.
I hadn’t realized how much I liked the light.
I just focused on how it burned.
And now he’s gone. And I don’t know if he’s coming back.
And it’s my fault.
The worst part is he’s everywhere, but he’s not.
I see him in my couch, laying down, sleeping with my daughter in his arms. I see him in Maddie’s princess tea parties—how she carefully pours pretend tea into an extra cup she still sets out for him. I see him in the park, helping her feed the ducks, crouched beside her like the world slowed down just for them.
Monday, Maddie wore his cardigan. She said that this way he would feel how sorry she was for making him angry, and he would come back.
I could only bring her to my arms and tell her he wasn’t angry at her.
She asked me when he’d come back… I could only say soon, but I knew that wasn’t true.
Because he hadn’t called. He hadn’t texted.
And still, she believed in him. In us. More than I did.
I didn’t know how to explain to a four-year-old that sometimes adults get scared too.
That sometimes love can be terrifying, not because it’s wrong, but because it’s right.
Because it asks you to stay when everything in you has only ever learned to run.
Because it feels too good, too fragile, like one wrong word might shatter it.
So I lied.
I told her soon.
And she smiled, like that was enough.
Like the world made sense again.
And I just held her tighter, trying to stop the crack in my chest from splintering any further.
On Tuesday, Maddie drew a picture at daycare.
Stick-figure me. Stick-figure Maddie. And a tall stick-figure in a sweater vest with wild brown hair labeled, in shaky crayon handwriting, “Spensr.” There was a sun in the corner—orange and pink with a smiley face—and a little speech bubble above his head that read, “I’m not mad.”
The teacher handed it to me during pickup with a big grin. “She worked so hard on this one,” she said, like it was a masterpiece.
I smiled back the best I could. With my mouth, not my eyes.
We didn’t talk about it on the way home. Maddie chatted about snack time and how someone brought stickers, but the picture sat quietly in her backpack, burning a hole through the zipper.
I waited until she was in the bath before I pulled it out again. Spread it on the kitchen table like it was fragile. Holy, even. Her tiny, chubby fingers had colored the whole background sky-blue. She’d even drawn in his .
She remembered everything.
I stared at it until my eyes blurred.
I almost put it on the fridge.
But I couldn’t.
Instead, I folded it—carefully, like it might break—and slid it into the back of the drawer with the batteries and the scissors and the coupons I never used. Not because I didn’t love it. But because seeing it every day might have destroyed me.
Maddie drew us as a family.
She believed he’d come back.
And I didn’t have it in me to take that hope away from her. Even if it felt like holding it was slicing me open, piece by piece.
That night, as I tucked her into bed, she looked up at me with her bunny pressed to her chest and said, “I want to give the picture to Spencer.”
My heart stopped for a second.
“We can leave it at the library,” she added quickly, like she’d been planning this. “That’s where we found him, remember? So he’ll find it again.”
I smoothed her hair away from her face, tucking the strand that always fell over her forehead behind her ear. “I don’t know if he’ll be there, baby,” I said softly.
She just shrugged. “That’s okay. If he comes back, he’ll find it.”
She said it with so much certainty, like it was a fact. Like it was already written in the stars.
I didn’t answer. Because I couldn’t lie again. And I couldn’t say the truth either.
So I kissed her forehead, pulled the blanket up to her chin, and whispered, “Goodnight, baby”
Later that night, I sat at the kitchen table again. The drawing was back in my hands.
My thumb traced the little speech bubble—“I’m not mad.”
And for just a second, I let myself pretend I believed it.
Pretend he’d come back.
Pretend he meant to.
On Wednesday, Maddie asked if we could make blueberry pancakes again.
It was the first thing she said when she woke up—before “good morning,” before asking for her usual bunny cup or her show. Just, “Can we make pancakes like we did with Spencer?”
I hesitated. “You really want pancakes today?”
She nodded, serious. “The blueberry kind. He liked them.”
So we did.
She dragged her stool over to the counter, and I let her pour the milk and crack the eggs, even though most of the eggshell ended up in the batter. She giggled through the whole thing. Said she wanted them to taste exactly the same, so he’d come back faster.
When they were done, she asked if we could save a plate for him.
I told her I didn’t think he’d be stopping by.
She frowned but didn’t argue. Just put one on a napkin and wrapped it in foil anyway.
“He can have it tomorrow,” she said, placing it carefully in the fridge.
I didn’t throw it out.
Not even when it started to go soft at the edges.
I just kept opening the fridge, staring at it like maybe it meant something.
Like maybe it could bring him home.
On Thursday, Maddie asked for magic.
It was during her bath, when the bubbles were starting to disappear and her fingers had pruned into little raisins. I was sitting on the floor beside the tub, scrolling mindlessly through my phone, only half-listening as she babbled about mermaids and sparkly castles and how the rubber duck was now the queen of the underwater kingdom.
Then, out of nowhere, she looked at me and asked, “Mommy, can you do the coin trick?”
I blinked. “What coin trick?”
“The one Spencer does. When it disappears and then shows up behind my ear.”
I set my phone down slowly. “Oh, baby… I don’t know how to do that one.”
She frowned, confused. “But you’re a grown-up.”
I smiled, small and tired. “I know. I’m just not that kind of grown-up.”
She sank a little lower into the water, her expression thoughtful.
“Do you think I can do it?” she asked after a moment.
“I bet you can,” I said. “But you’ll have to practice a lot.”
“Can I practice with Spencer?” she asked quietly, like the question itself might break something if she said it too loud.
I didn’t answer right away. My throat had gone too tight, and the steam from the bath felt suddenly suffocating.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” I said softly. “Maybe. If he wants to.”
She went quiet after that. Just let me rinse the bubbles from her hair without another word.
Later, when she was in her pajamas and tucked into bed, she whispered, “I think he’s magic, too.”
I paused in the doorway.
“What do you mean?”
Maddie rolled onto her side, hugging her bunny close. “Spencer. He made the coin disappear, but also… he made me feel better. That’s magic, right?”
And I had to leave the room.
I had to walk into the hallway and cover my mouth with both hands.
Because yes.
Yes, that was magic.
And I let it slip away.
Friday was the worst out of them all.
Not because anything dramatic happened. Not because I broke down or screamed into a pillow or finally worked up the courage to call him. No—Friday was worse because of how quiet it was. Because it snuck up on me.
Because Maddie asked me to read her the storybook Spencer made for her.
We had just finished dinner—mac and cheese with carrot sticks, one of the few things I could get her to eat without complaint—and I was cleaning up the table when she padded over in her fuzzy socks, the book clutched tightly in her little hands.
She didn’t even say it right away. Just held it up, eyes wide and hopeful, the way kids do when they already know the answer they want.
“Can you read it?” she asked softly. “Please mommy?”
“Baby, we’ve read this one a lot, are you sure you don’t want a different one?”
“No, mommy, I want this one. Spencer knows when I read it, he can tell with his magic,”
I froze. Just for a second. My hands still smelled like soap and pasta cheese, and I had a damp dish towel clutched between my fingers. I remember the way her voice sounded when she said it—so sure, so matter-of-fact. Like this wasn’t a wish or a maybe or a game. Like it was truth.
Spencer knows when I read it.
He can tell with his magic.
I could’ve told her that wasn’t how it worked. That Spencer didn’t have magic. That books were just books, and people didn’t come back just because you missed them hard enough.
But I didn’t say any of that.
I just dried my hands. And nodded.
“Okay,” I said gently. “Let’s go get ready for bed.”
She ran up the stairs, clutching the book to her chest like it was sacred.
And maybe it was.
It kind of is.
I followed slowly. My legs felt heavier than they should’ve, like every step pulled more memories to the surface—him in the hallway, balancing a tray of pancakes; him sitting cross-legged on the floor, letting Maddie decorate him in stickers; him on the couch with that book open in his lap, reading in silly voices, pausing after every sentence to let Maddie ask why.
When I got to her room, she was already tucked in, holding the storybook between her hands like it might disappear if she let go.
I sat beside her. She crawled into my side without hesitation, cheek on my arm, bunny in hand.
“You have to do it the way he does,” she whispered.
I nodded again.
And I tried.
“Once upon a time, in a world made of books and stars and peanut butter toast…”
But it didn’t sound like Spencer.
It didn’t sparkle.
She didn’t interrupt at first. Just listened. Quiet. Still.
Then, maybe three pages in, she said, “You forgot the part where the flower giggles.”
“What?”
“Page three. Spencer makes it giggle”
I looked down at the illustration. A little bluebell with a smiley face.
“I’m sorry, baby. I forgot.”
She nodded, but I felt her curl in tighter. Like maybe she was trying to make herself smaller. Like if she folded up enough, the ache would be easier to carry.
I kept going.
Tried my best.
Used the voices. Sang the galaxy song. Pointed out the bunny constellation in the sky like he always did.
But it wasn’t working.
She didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile.
She just stared at the page, her little brow furrowed, lips pressed into a straight line.
Like something was missing. Like someone was.
After a long pause, she whispered, “That’s not the voice.”
I tried to keep my smile steady. “I know,” I said gently. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re supposed to say it like Spencer,” she murmured, lower this time. “He makes it sparkle.”
I set the book down in my lap, just for a second. “I’m sorry, baby… I just can’t do it like he does.”
She went quiet again. Then, so soft I almost didn’t hear it:
“Can you ask him to come and read it to me?”
My heart dropped like a stone in my chest.
“I can’t, sweetheart. He’s… he’s busy.”
She looked up at me then—really looked. Her eyes were glassy, bottom lip trembling. “Mommy, you’ve been saying that all week.”
“I know but—”
“Is he mad at me?”
Her voice broke. Just a little. Just enough to destroy me.
“No, no, honey—no,” I said instantly, setting the book aside and gathering her into my arms. “He’s not mad at you. Not even a little.”
“Then why did he leave?”
She sounded so small. Like she was trying so hard not to cry. Like if she stayed quiet enough, maybe the answer wouldn’t hurt as much.
I blinked hard, holding her tighter. “He just needed time to think, baby. That’s all.”
She pulled back to look at me. Her face was pinched, confused. “But I’m sorry about the tiara. I didn’t mean to scream. I just— I was just sad.”
“I know, sweet girl,” I whispered. “He knows, too.”
“But if he’s not mad, why won’t he come back?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Not one that wouldn’t make everything worse.
I just kissed her forehead and pulled her close again, like holding her tighter might somehow keep all of it from falling apart.
She curled into me, clutching her bunny like it was the only thing left holding her together.
“Maybe he doesn’t like me anymore,” she said into my shoulder.
And that’s when I broke.
That’s when the first tear slipped down my cheek and landed in her hair.
“No, Maddie. No,” I said, firmer now, willing her to believe me. “He loves you. So, so much. Okay? This isn’t your fault.”
She didn’t respond. Just let me rock her slowly, breathing in shaky little bursts that made her back tremble against my chest.
I stayed like that long after she’d fallen asleep.
Just thinking.
Of him.
Of us.
Of everything and anything.
And I decided—somewhere between guilt and exhaustion—that maybe if we slipped back into our old routine, the one before Spencer, we could go back to how we were. Back to something that didn’t ache when I blinked. Something safe. Familiar. Something I could control.
Saturday morning.
I woke up early and made chocolate-chip pancakes for my Maddie.
She used to call them “happy cakes.” We made them together almost every weekend before he came into our lives. I’d let her stir the batter while I handled the stove, and she’d always sneak chocolate chips when she thought I wasn’t looking. It had been our thing.
She woke up to the smell.
Came bounding into the kitchen with sleepy hair and pajama pants twisted sideways, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. And for a moment—just a moment—she looked like she did months ago.
Long gone was the sadness from yesterday.
She smiled so wide it made my chest ache. “You made pancakes!”
“I did,” I said, forcing a smile of my own. “Chocolate-chip ones. Just like we used to.”
She climbed into her chair and kicked her feet under the table. “Does that mean we’re going to the library, too?”
I froze for half a second.
But I nodded.
Because what else was I supposed to do?
“Yep,” I said. “Library day.”
I served her a stack shaped like a clumsy heart. She giggled when the syrup dribbled down the side like a river. For ten whole minutes, it felt okay. She talked about which books she wanted to check out, asked if she could wear her fairy skirt, wondered if they still had the stuffed dragon in the reading corner.
She didn’t mention him.
Neither did I.
But I felt it—how the space he left still hovered in the room. In the way I grabbed two travel mugs instead of one. In the way Maddie reached for her favorite storybook and then stopped herself, as if remembering that it didn’t sparkle the same without him.
Still, I packed up our bags. Brushed her hair. Tied her shoes.
We were going to the library.
Because that’s what we did on Saturdays.
Because routines were supposed to make things better.
Because pretending we were whole was easier than admitting we weren’t.
The walk there was quiet. Maddie held my hand the whole time, skipping every few steps like she was trying to shake off the last of her sadness. The sun hadn’t fully broken through the clouds yet—everything still looked soft and pale, like the world hadn’t quite woken up either.
When we reached the library steps, she stopped short.
“Do you think the fish tank is still there?” she asked, squinting through the glass doors.
“I’m sure it is,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “You can check while I return the books.”
She nodded eagerly and ran ahead, her little shoes tapping rhythmically against the floor. I followed behind slowly, my hands suddenly clammy against the borrowed books I clutched to my chest.
It felt strange walking in without him. Without hearing the quiet sound of his voice beside me, telling Maddie about whatever constellation was on the ceiling mural that day. Without his fingers brushing mine as he took the book bag from me, always too gentle, always careful.
I tried not to think about it. I made myself focus on the way Maddie waved at the librarian, the way she crouched down to say hello to the turtles in the tank. I reminded myself why we were here—to prove to myself that we were okay. That I could do this without him. That we could go back to before.
But then I saw him.
He was in the fantasy section, crouched by the graphic novels. His back was turned, but I knew it was him instantly.
I stopped breathing.
He looked exactly the same—messy hair, sweater sleeves pushed halfway up his arms, a paperback in one hand. I would’ve known him anywhere.
And then Maddie saw him too.
She gasped. Loudly. Gasped like she’d just spotted Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.
���SPENCER!”
She was already halfway across the room before I could blink.
She launched herself into him so hard he nearly dropped the book.
He caught her—of course he did—stumbling back a little but smiling, stunned, like he hadn’t believed this was real until her arms were around his neck.
“Whoa—Maddie,” he breathed, hugging her back instantly. “Hi.”
Her voice was muffled against his sweater. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”
I couldn’t move.
I just stood there at the edge of the aisle, clutching the strap of my bag so tightly my knuckles turned white.
He looked up.
Saw me.
And everything in me stilled.
There was so much in that look. Apology. Fear. Longing. All of it.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know if I should walk over or walk away.
Maddie leaned back and put her hands on either side of his face like she needed to make sure he was real. “I thought you were mad,” she said. “I thought you didn’t like me anymore.”
Spencer looked like he’d been stabbed.
“No,” he said instantly, shaking his head. “No, Maddie. Never. I’m not mad at you.”
“Why were you gone?”
“I just… I had a lot of work, sweetheart.”
It was the gentlest lie I’d ever heard.
And she almost believed him.
She blinked slowly, still holding his face, and said, “You didn’t answer when I talked to you in my head.”
Spencer’s mouth parted—just a fraction. I saw it hit him. That she really had been calling for him. In her thoughts. Her dreams. Out loud, even, when she thought I wasn’t listening.
“I tried to,” he whispered. “I wanted to. I just— I didn’t know how.”
“You could’ve come.”
“I know.” His voice cracked. “I’m sorry, Maddie.”
She nodded against him. Her arms wrapped tighter around his neck.
And then she whispered, “I wore your cardigan. It still smells like you.”
I almost turned around.
I almost left.
Because the sound Spencer made—somewhere between a laugh and a sob—broke something in me. He clutched her closer and kissed the top of her head like it was instinct, like he’d been missing this as much as she had.
My throat felt like it was closing.
I didn’t know what I was walking into when I came here. I thought maybe we’d pretend not to see each other. Maybe he’d nod politely and slip out the back before I could say anything. I thought I could shield her from it. Protect her.
But here they were.
Wrapped up in each other again like no time had passed. Like no silence had ever cracked them apart.
And suddenly, Maddie looked up and saw me.
Her eyes lit up like Christmas morning.
“Mommy, he came back!” she shouted, twisting in Spencer’s arms. “He came back!”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I see that, baby.”
“Can he come to the fish tank with us?” she asked, already bouncing. “Please?”
Spencer’s eyes met mine over the top of her head.
There was something there—uncertainty, guilt, maybe even fear. Like he was waiting for me to say no. To shut it down. To walk out with Maddie’s hand in mine and leave him behind for good.
But I couldn’t.
Not after this week.
Not after last night.
“Actually, baby,” I said gently, “why don’t you go wait for us in the kiddie section? I have to talk to Spencer for a minute.”
Maddie tilted her head. “But—”
“Just for a little bit,” I promised. “You can pick out books, but don’t leave that section. Okay?”
She looked between us, eyes narrowing the way she always did when she sensed something grown-up happening. But eventually, she nodded.
“Okay,” she said softly. Then she turned to Spencer and added, “Don’t leave again.”
His whole face folded.
“I won’t,” he said. “I promise.”
She squeezed his fingers once before letting go and skipping down the aisle toward the children’s corner, where the low shelves and beanbags waited.
I watched her until she disappeared around the bend.
Only then did I turn to him.
The second I met his eyes, the mask slipped.
He looked tired. More than tired. Like he hadn’t slept all week. Like he’d been trying to outrun something that kept catching up.
“Hi,” he said.
It broke something in me. That word. Simple. Fragile.
“Hi,” I echoed.
We stood there in the middle of the library, the weight of everything pressing down on the space between us. All the things we didn’t say. All the things we shouted without meaning to.
“I didn’t think I’d see you here,” he said after a moment, voice low.
“I didn’t either” I said, though it didn’t sound as sharp as it should have. “This is our Saturday routine. It was before you. I was just… trying to go back.”
He nodded, slowly. “Did it help?”
“No,” I said honestly. “Not even a little.”
He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. Just slightly.
“Y/N… you have no idea how sorry I am… about everything. The planetarium, the… the running away, the yelling.”
His voice cracked on that last word. It landed somewhere in my ribs, sharp and unrelenting.
He didn’t look at me when he said it. Just stared at his hands like they were something dangerous. Like he didn’t trust them. Like he was afraid of what they’d done, or what they could still do.
“I never meant to hurt her,” he continued, voice low. “God, I never meant to scare her. Or you. I just… I panicked. I wasn’t thinking. And when you said what you said, I—”
He finally looked up.
“You were right. I’m not her dad,” he said, almost to himself. “You were right. I’m not. I’m just some guy who reads her storybooks and brings her stickers and I had no right to snap at her like that.”
“Stop,” I said, sharper than I intended. “Don’t do that.”
He blinked, startled.
“I didn’t mean what I said, Spence. I was just angry… I mean you aren’t her dad, but you’ve been there for her more than anyone else… you know besides me.”
He stared at me, eyes wide like he didn’t quite believe it. Like maybe he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry for snapping at you like that. I was butt-hurt, and you didn’t deserve it.”
“Y/n—”
“No, I mean it. you have no idea how much she’s— we’ve missed you, how sorry I am, how terrified I was that we’d never see you again.”
“You never called,” he said, not accusing—just… stating it. Like a fact he didn’t know what to do with.
I winced. “I was scared. I was embarrassed.”
He nodded, jaw tight. “So was I.”
We stood there for a beat, not looking at each other directly. It was too much. Too bare.
“I thought about it every day,” I admitted, voice low. “Picking up the phone. Just… hearing your voice. But I didn’t know what I’d say.”
“You could’ve said anything,” he murmured. “I would’ve picked up. I would’ve just listened.”
“I didn’t think I deserved that.”
That made him look at me. Not harsh, not wounded. Just there. Fully present, eyes searching mine like he was still trying to figure out if any of this was real.
“You were angry,” he said after a moment. “You had every right to be.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to go.”
“I didn’t want to go.”
“Then why did you?”
He hesitated. Swallowed.
“Because I felt like I’d broken something I couldn’t fix. Like the second I raised my voice, I lost the right to be in her life. In yours.”
That hit harder than I was ready for. My throat tightened.
“You didn’t lose anything,” I said, voice soft. “Not really.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then nodded—once, like it hurt.
“Do you want me to go?” he asked quietly. Like he already knew the answer, but couldn’t stand not hearing it.
It took me a moment to answer. But when I did, it was the easiest thing I’d said all week.
“No.”
I watched the relief flood his face, slow and cautious, like he didn’t fully trust it yet.
“We… I want you in my life. I need you in my life.”
His eyes searched mine, slow and stunned, like he was trying to memorize the moment. Like he wasn’t sure he’d get another one like it.
The air between us shifted—quieter, heavier, but in a way that made it easier to breathe. And for the first time in days, we just looked at each other. No fear. No anger. Just everything that had been left unsaid filling the space between our breaths.
Spencer’s hand twitched slightly at his side. I saw it. Felt the way his fingers wanted to move. To reach.
So I reached first.
Only a little—just enough to brush my fingertips against his. A soft question. He answered by curling his hand around mine, tentative but sure.
My heart climbed up my throat.
He stepped a little closer. Close enough that I could see the freckles on his cheek. The exhaustion in his eyes. The ache. The hope.
“I’m tired of pretending,” he said, voice low and raw. “Pretending I can just be normal around you. Be your friend. Act like I’m not thinking about you all the time.”
I swallowed, stunned still.
“I’ve been so scared to say it,” he went on, almost breathless now. “I keep overthinking it—telling myself it’s too fast, that we only just met a couple of months ago, that I’ll ruin it if I say the wrong thing…”
He looked right at me then. No hiding, no flinching.
“But I like you, Y/N. I like you a lot.”
The breath caught in my chest.
“I like you too, Spence… a lot.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth.
And for a second, we just hovered there—suspended in something quiet and unfinished.
His nose brushed mine.
My lips parted.
And just as I started to lean in—
“Mommy! You’re taking too long! I want to see the fish tank!”
We both flinched like we’d been caught committing a crime.
Spencer blinked rapidly, stumbling half a step back, and I turned my head so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash.
Maddie was standing at the end of the aisle, arms crossed, already tapping her little foot in mock impatience.
“We’re coming, baby,” I called, my voice catching somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.
She huffed and spun around dramatically, her pigtails swinging as she disappeared back toward the aquarium.
I turned back to Spencer.
His cheeks were flushed. So were mine.
But the smile tugging at his lips—god, it was real.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning too wide. “That was…”
He laughed softly. “Yeah.”
I squeezed his hand—tender, grounding. And with that, we turned toward Maddie, already marching ahead with purpose.
Toward the fish tank.
Toward something that felt, finally, like forward.
Together.
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Look fanfic isn't written in a vacuum for all that it can be experienced in one.
I remember back in the days when for example a hp fic where Harry was a girl and getting sexually abused by Vernon Dursley would come out and people would be like 'why would anyone write that' and I would sometimes be in a position to have talked to the author and know, she was processing some shit.
Yes fanfic is absolutely a fun place to analyse characters and their relationships especially in the context of the source material and high level literature can be found there but like, I feel like sometimes we forget, it's also a writing form that lends itself to escapism in a big way?
Who cares if someone writes an x reader fic because they want to fantasise about a world where someone they admire loves them? Who cares if someone's writing a Mary Sue original character saving the avengers from themselves? Who cares if someone's writing an incredibly ooc fic where everyone sides with the mc against their abuser the moment the truth is revealed about what's been happening to them? It's fanfic, it doesn't always have to be a 1:1 with their canon characterisations or settings.
Like I'm a Jason Todd fan, I'm always complaining about people reading fanfic of titans tower and assuming Jason ACTUALLY totally tortured, maimed and/or nearly murderised Tim Drake there rather than just knocked him out and how those fic clog up the JT tag so this might sound or even be really hypocritical, but for me, I think it's important to remember not everyone's going to write fanfic with the intent to be In Character and that's ok.
It sucks sometimes/often as a reader to read a story and find everything unrealistic or even ooc but I'm not going to complain about someone writing a rape recovery/aftermath fic of Tim Drake where Jason raped him. I already know Jason would never do that and maybe the author was processing something and maybe they weren't and just wanted Tim to get held while people were righteously angry on his behalf. It's not my taste, it's not how I see the characters but you know what? I just won't read it and that's fine. It's for them not me at the end of the day. It's just shared with me.
#jason todd#tim drake#always gotta defend the right of something to exist#whether that's pit madness or the four hundredth variation of the titans tower fic or jason's siblings siding with him against bruce#fanfic#phantombabbles#this is in response to a vagueblog which like i'm certain the op is already aware of all this kinda thinking#it just reminded me that hey#important to keep in mind some people are writing to deal with their irl shit so remember to be kind even if you don't like a trope
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Mission abort!! Signal failed! L.S.M
⋆ 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, humour
⋆ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokmin x reader
taglist: @ateez-atiny380 @lilydaisylily @dreamingofpcy @sumzysworld @mxnhoeuwu @notanotherbigfangirl @iarayara
a/n: its a mess
<<PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4
.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・
Part. 5
“You sure he’s acting like that?” Jeonghan raised a brow, lazily sipping his iced coffee.
“Yeah,” Y/N muttered, arms crossed as she leaned back in her seat. “It’s weird. Like—why now? When I’m trying so hard to move on, that’s when he decides to act like this?”
She let out a frustrated sigh, head falling against the back of the bench.
The past few weeks had felt like a dream she wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from—or fall deeper into.
Before, it was always her waiting for him after class, her buying the banana milk, her chasing moments with him.
Now, the roles had reversed.
Seokmin had been… different.
He waited for her now. Showed up with snacks, casually sliding them into her hands as they walked together.
And the messages?
Daily.
Seokmin: morning, morning to you and morning for me too ✨ Seokmin: don’t forget to eat, okay? I know you skipped it 🫤
It was as if he suddenly realized she was slipping away—and now, he couldn’t stand it.
And then there was the Seungcheol problem.
Every time she was with Cherry, somehow—somehow—Seokmin would appear. Like magic. Or a glitch in the simulation.
“That guy pisses me off,” Seungcheol muttered one evening after Seokmin had miraculously shown up at their usual hangout spot—again.
Y/N just chuckled, resting her chin on her hand.
“He’s kinda cute, though,” she said teasingly.
Seungcheol groaned dramatically and rolled his eyes, practically melting into his chair. “ no I know why people said that love can make people blind”
“Hey!”
.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・
“So, where do we start?” Seokmin asked, grinning. “Should we try that viral hamburger place? It’s near here.”
They were walking side by side, the sky soft with golden afternoon light. Ironically—or maybe fatefully—they had both shown up in white tees layered under light blue button-ups. A silent match neither of them planned, yet somehow perfectly them.
a few days ago seokmin had message her to have a bit hangout
“Want to hang out before we go to the bar with them?” Y/n is hesitant seeing Seokmin message
She was unsure but not stupid. She is for sure feeling this time that this guy is trying to win her.
“You better make it better, Lee Seokmin, cause I don’t want to get my heart broken like last time”, she mutters to herself while replied to him, agreeing to meet with him
“I’ll follow along,” Y/N said with a playful grin, “as long as you pay, Seokmin.”
He skipped a step ahead excitedly, her teasing barely making him falter. But then—he slowed, turned to glance at her with a small frown.
“Why don’t you call me that anymore?”
Y/N blinked. “Call you what?”
He pouted slightly. “Minminie~. You used to call me that all the time. But now… nothing. Yet you’re out here calling that dude Cherry like it’s no big deal.”
Y/N paused, lips parting. “Well… it was to avoid misunderstandings. People thought we were a thing because I was so—um—extra with you,” she trailed off, rubbing her neck awkwardly.
Seokmin’s brows knit slightly, but he didn’t back off. “Well, calling him Cherry could cause misunderstandings too, couldn’t it?”
Y/N opened her mouth, closed it again. Technically, he wasn’t wrong.
“I call you Y/Nnie~,” he added, a small smile tugging at his lips. “So call me the same, too.”
Y/N looked at him for a second—his eyes were hopeful, just a bit sheepish, and somehow annoyingly adorable.
She let out a breath and surrendered. “Alright, alright. Minnie~”
His smile immediately brightened, boyish and pure.
Y/N, meanwhile, mentally facepalmed.
Sorry, Jeonghan… I had to break that one rule. It’s hard to resist this guy.
Night had fallen, and the soft neon lights of the bar buzzed quietly against the hum of voices inside. It was their usual hangout spot—warm, a little loud, and full of laughter. Y/N and Seokmin walked in together, side by side, the buzz of their earlier outing still lingering between them.
As the door swung open, they were greeted by cheers and shouts from their group already seated inside.
“Woo! Seokmin and Y/N arrived together? What is this~?” one of their friends teased, loud enough to draw attention.
Heads turned. Laughter bubbled. And from the end of the long table—Seungcheol looked up.
He was seated beside Jeonghan, a few girls chatting near him, though he didn’t seem particularly interested. But the moment he heard their names together, his gaze sharpened—locked directly on the two walking in.
Seokmin chuckled and raised his hand awkwardly. “We just got back from checking out that burger place—came straight here after.”
He turned to Y/N with a smile, already reaching out to guide her. “Come on, Y/N, let’s sit—”
“Y/N! Over here!” Seungcheol’s voice cut in smoothly.
He waved from his seat, already scooting over to make space. Jeonghan grinned beside him, silently observing it all unfold like a drama.
Y/N turned to Seokmin briefly, offering him a soft smile and a light touch on the arm. “I’ll go sit with them, you can sit with your friends, yeah?”
Before he could even process a reply, she had already made her way to Seungcheol’s side.
Seokmin stood there, arm half-extended, smile frozen.
Disbelief twisted in his chest.
And then—
He looked up and saw Seungcheol lifting his glass toward him, that signature smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
A subtle challenge.
The fume in Seokmin’s chest ignited just a little more.
.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・
The night had been full of laughter, loud games, and shared stories that echoed through the bar like familiar songs. Y/N was glowing, cheeks pink from the drinks and the energy of the group. She had let herself loosen up, let herself laugh a little louder—and almost drink a little too much.
“Alright, that’s enough.” Jeonghan gently pried the shot glass from her fingers, brows raised.
“Huh?” Y/N blinked at him, tipsy and confused.
“Stop it, girl. Go fix yourself. Seungcheol will send you home,” he said firmly.
She blinked again, then turned to Seungcheol, who raised a brow, halfway through a sip of his drink.
“Seriously?” she asked, though her body was already leaning against the table, tired from the long day.
“Seriously,” Jeonghan nodded, patting her shoulder. “Go wash up before you fall asleep here.”
Y/N groaned but gave in, wobbling slightly as she stood. “Fine, fine…”
She turned to Seungcheol and handed him her small purse.
“Hold my bag for me?”
He stood up casually and gave a dramatic bow. “As you wish, my lady~”
She giggled and wandered off toward the restroom.
Seungcheol chuckled to himself, sitting back down, the bag resting in his lap as he scrolled through his phone.
But then—he felt it.
A shift in the air.
A presence stepping up in front of him, heavy with unsaid words and something a little darker.
Seungcheol looked up from his screen.
Seokmin.
His expression unreadable. Jaw slightly tight. Eyes fixed on him, sharp and quiet.
“Yes?” Seungcheol asked, calm and composed. His voice held no edge, but his eyes said he was ready—ready for whatever this was.
Seokmin stood in front of him, fists clenched at his sides, no longer trying to mask the frustration.
“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. And I think you already know what I’m about to say.”
Seungcheol leaned back slightly, playing it cool. “Hmm? Not sure I follow.”
“Cut the act,” Seokmin snapped, his voice low but firm. “Do you have feelings for Y/N?”
Seungcheol’s eyes flickered—just for a second—but his tone didn’t waver.
“I don’t think I’m obligated to answer that.”
Seokmin scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll go first then.”
He looked him dead in the eyes.
“I like her. And I’m not just realising it now. I’ve liked her for a long time. But I messed up. I took too long to figure it out… and now she’s closer to you.”
Seungcheol didn’t flinch. Just sat there, Y/N’s bag still in his lap like a symbol of where things stood.
“I don’t know what the hell happened..” Seokmin continued, voice raw now. “But I’m not just going to stand back and let you take her.”
The words hung between them, heavy, charged.
A beat passed.
“She’s not a prize to be taken, Seokmin.” Seungcheol finally spoke, calmly, but without his usual smirk.
Another pause, he takes the last sip of his drink, then his eyes dart to Seokmin’s.
“But I’m not stepping back either.”
-tbc-
.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・.ೃ࿔☼*:・
#seventeen fluff#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#mingyu x reader#seventeen angst#seungcheol x reader#svt angst#jeonghan#seokmin angst#seokmin x reader#seventeen au#seokmin imagines#seokmin fluff#seokmin smut#seventeen fanfic#seventeen seungcheol#seventeen scenarios#seokmin scenarios
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Reign, have you heard abt the game Date everything? If so who’s your favourite character? And what item do you think the JJK men would be 🤔
I have heard of the game!! But I’ve never actually played. I’ve only seen clips on TikTok it sounds wild 😭😭 I have no favourite character but apparently you can romance the narrator? That’s pretty fire
Oooh good question, lemme try my best even tho I’ve never played and don’t know shit
Gojo - a chandelier!
Me thinks he likes to be above everyone else, he’s the star of the show, very sparkly, expensive and extravagant. But also quite lonely. He watches everyone have fun and be used and he’s just up there collecting dust, shining light on everyone else from afar. Though he seems like he’s very stable, he’s actually quite fragile. One snap and everything collapses. He’s pretty to look at and so one can forget just how easily he can snuff life.
Geto - a toilet!
Okay, initially I was gonna make a joke about how he’s literally shit but then I did think about it and it made sense to me. In canon, Geto has to consume those disgusting balls of curses = disgusting logs of shit. It’d also make sense why he hates the current system and the weak (because their bowels are weak and they sit on him longer) he could rebel and keep his lid closed forever idk
Choso - a sanitary pad!
Blood.
I’m kidding okay okay I saw shadow can also be romanced? I think shadow makes sense for Choso, the loneliness, the grungy emo-ness of it all. Maybe a painting of a family?
You know, since that’s kinda his origins and he’s so family centric. It’s sweet like him and he’s left alone with his fam, no one touching and moving him. It’d be nice if he was surrounded by other paintings so he’s not alone. I think he’d love to watch families join together playing games or watching movies. He represents the best memories, the ones worth immortalising. He’s the most human of the items because every painting contains the soul of the artist.
Toji - a knife!
Honestly I struggled the most for him. I think he can be a lot of things. That’s his nature. He is whatever he needs to be to survive. I like the idea of him being a knife though. It’s a part of the kitchen, a central room of the house, it sustains the family. He’s sharp and dangerous, not really cut out for kids, but when handled right, he’s your best friend. Any job you need doing, he’ll get it done. And he’s content to watch you all enjoy the fruits of his labour in another room just as long as you’re all fed and happy. One chip and he’s tossed away, his imperfection unsalvageable.
Nanami - a globe!
I like that this is one of those decorative items you have in a study/office, it’s aesthetic and dark academia-like. It also makes sense to me because it symbolises a desire to travel and for freedom, but also represents how he’s stuck and can never have what he dreams of. It’s educational, traditional, reliable but also overlooked. You admire him forever, dreaming of all those different places but never actually travelling yourself. You see yourself in him just as he sees himself in you. Two lonely people letting the world pass them by.
Sukuna - a fireplace!
It’s dangerous, it’s enchanting, powerful and you can’t look away from it. It keeps you warm but if you came closer he can consume you. A relationship with him could never work because he’d burn you and you have the power to douse him at any moment. You can’t keep him going forever nor should he. Give him enough love and he’ll be docile and comforting but feed him too much and he can take everything you love in a blink of an eye
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"Inked Strawberry" -Fanfic
A gitf for @violetjedisylveon for their amazing Lego Monkie Kid au: Rotten Fruits au ✨
Sumary: Wukong thought he finally get his life together. Yeah turn out he was wrong because he meet Macaque again and now he freaking out. That making him to do something impulsive with black hair dye and destroy one thing the thought he have control over
OR Wukong meet his ex again and decide to go EMO ✨
👇🏼
A/N: I wrote this out of boredom and my crashing feeling of wanting to destroy my own hair. My English not very good so dont expect this to be good...heh.. Oh there's probaly alot of mistake so feel free to tell me about it
This au is base on Rotten Fruits au so I suggest you to understand the au first before reading to know why Wukong have a pink hair and is freaking out because he meet Macaque again.
Inked Strawberry by Ainnur
It was raining heavily when Wukong arrived at his dreary house. He take a tired breath when he finally enter the quite place. Wukong can feel the cold air faded a little. A flash of light can be see the window singaling the loud thunder noise that coming. The strike of it was brutal as it shake people heart from their chest leaving them with shoke of fear of the beauty of the nature.
Even that Wukong not feeling anything of it as he lock back the door of the house. The action got him thinking for a bit. Why even bother to lock it anyway? Not like anyone is brave enough to put their feets in this hunted looking house. People who still do probaly looking for some trill in life since they think normal life is boring so chasing death sounds fun to them. Can't blame them for wanting that if they ever come there but for Wukong who live there for almost 2 years it's nothing special. Just some random abondon house that was sold to him for cheap price. Plus what people gonna steal from him anyway? Some banana?? Go fucking ahead and do it already. Try to harm him during sleep? God he wish to never wake up anyway. Well atleast part of him want that. In the end Wukong still lock the door
He trow his wet hoodie into the corner of the room but ignored the trail of water he left behind everytime he take step accros the room. It will dry anyway. It also do. Just like every other leak in the house. He slowly drag his feets to the bathroom while carrying the plastic bag that full with something. The sounds of plastic echo through the whole house filling the quiteness.
His bathroom is not attractive at all. It is just enough for him. Another way to discribe the bathroom, Wukong would say it's small and simple. Nothing fancy. It have what enough to do simple hygen rountin. There is a squat toilet along with a water tap and plastic wires for cleaning. Classic. He can do his bisnes in peace. And there's a large bucket half his height for collecting water from the tap ready with oars so he can shower. Pigsy help him set up everything ever since he move in. And also suprisingly there's sink in it with mirror. Let's not forget green moss as decoration. But all that doesnt matter since he keep skipping shower lately. He know he should. He been smelly from all the sweat of doing nothing other than laying like dead cat on his mattress for pass few days but he cant bring himself to shower or even to do something simple like brushing his teeth. How disgusting. Wukong always he is tho. So that wouldnt be a suprise. To add to that this is not the first time and he sure not a last time.
Wukong always hated the mirror. He have his reason. Every time he look at the mirror his imagine is like mocking at him. Part of him what to see nothing in it. He can clearly see that stupid scar of the fillet they put on him. While yes it's heal the damage never fade. It remind tattoo on Wukong forehead as reminder from the face. Can Wukong just ripe that part of the skin? He want to... Just to remove everything. His hands tweaking to do that but Wukong restrained himself from even lifting his arms...
Under the dim light that sometimes like to flick like disco club, Wukong can see his hair too clearly. The colour of sotf pink brighten the whole place. While it's look pretty..his hair wasn't the best hair out there. Her hair is dull and lifeless, not to mention dry and brittle. All that is effect of Wukong keep bleaching and dye it over and over again. The damage is clear but the beautiful pink cover every small part of his past because atleast he didnt see the same ginger looking at him like they begging to be free. The pink hair was untie leaving them to hang freely from Wukong head.
Wukong remember everything people said about his hair. Some people also like to call him "Cotton candy". Kid love it and always want to touch it. It's getting annoying but Wukong always let that happend.
Wukong just stand there and stare at mirror blankly. He did somehow realize that he been doing that a lot lately. Wukong than dig the plastic bag that he bring with him in the bathroom. He than taking out a very fimiliar box out of it... He done this before. His sink, floor and wall is the evident of his "crime"
"Wukong.."
Wukong breath hitch when he hear that. Eyes goes wide as he try to calm his breath. Try to remind himself that he's not here with him. That probaly the ghost. Yeah. They should shut up. This getting annoying if Wukong being honest. He dont want to hear his voice again. Fuck, Wukong wish he is dead already! Why the fuck did he have to meet him again?! Do fate really hate him that much? A price for talking to kids who like buying plums?! Is this a trap?? He gonna trow Wukong back to that place...
"Yes..He did it"
Liar!! Wukong didnt do anything!! He letf him to rot in that shitty place! Fucking liar!! Why cant you just fuck off? He just like the other brotherhood!! Why Wukong think he gonna be so different?!
Wukong cant breath anymore. The air feel like betraying him too as it dificult for Wukong to take a breath. The pain on his chest make Wukong feeling like he been punch multiple time. What if he actually stop breathing? Will the pain be over? Maybe it will. But again when he his body take another desprate breath and reset everything. Wukong head pounding like crazy. He can feel the pain travel all the way to his right eyes. God, Wukong want to pull his eye out for that and trow it away.
"Wukong"
Fuck. Another call from the voice Wukong hate. Wukong snap. He rips the box in his hands desprate and shaking. Everything inside of the box burst open by Wukong's force making all it to fall in the sink and floor. A white bottle can be see rolling on floor as Wukong try to chase it and hit his head to the sink. He couldnt care more about the pain
Taking the cream tiub that fall in sink, Wukong squeeze that thing merciless into the white bottle and shaking it like his life depend on it. The shake was so violent. Maybe a little bit to violent. The bottle lits isn't close properly as lot of dye leak from it. Without thinking Wukong bite of the the tips of with his teeth and spit the remaining plastic piece somewhere. The dye now can flow freely. Some splat to mirror and sink making both of it dirty. Some even get in his mouth and drip down to his chin. He look like he just eat some ink.
Wukong dumb whole bottle to his hair. There's no preparetion and no bleaching. Wukong dont even wear a glove and uses his bare hand to spread the dye. The dye flow down his neck and colour it with the same ink colour. His claw scratch his head hard and painful. At some point his head probaly bleeding. Good. The pain make him feel good. Atleast he can feel something other than hear that fuckers voice.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!-
"Kid? You doing fine?"
Wait- ...That voice.
Wukong feel like breathing again even he feel like time around him to stop. He look at the mirror. Finally look at the mirror. He now can clearly see the damage he done. Everything is messy. All sink, floor, wall and mirror. But most damge is the his hair.
His pink hair is cover with ink colour dye. Some of it stick to his neck and shirt like a thread sewn when wet as the dye colour them with it. Some of the dye still driping from the hair making another same mess.
Wukong now aware of everything...
__________________________________________
Pigsy know something is wrong but he didnt expect to find Wukong like this...
He was at shop doing his bisnes like always. At first it just another normal day for Pigsy. Bisnes a little bit slow but nothing worth worrying about. That's normal when you run a bisnes. Pigsy was wiping the table cleaning the mess the custemer leave.
And then he get a call from Chang'e asking about Wukong doing. Appearently Wukong have not been answering his own phone lately. Not to mention that his fruits stand been closed for almost one week now without telling anyone there. Chang'e didnt get a good feeling when her best fruit supplier sudenly gone and so does Pigsy.
Both of them know Wukong have problem. While Wukong been great there's time when he is not. Of course sometimes Wukong choose to isolate himself from everything again. Pigsy know Wukong always bounds back later but this time he got uneasy feeling of what he gonna find out.
Pigsy now infront of Wukong house with Chang'e beside him. Folding the umbrella they was using to get there. He was knocking for few minute now and Wukong didnt answer him. Pigsy do wish he dont have to get in with his key as he promise Wukong not to enter without Wukong permission, Pigsy feel like he have too.
With heavy breath Pigsy open the door hopping Wukong would be lying on floor with blanket wraping around him. But both Pigsy and Chang'e only meet with empty quite room. They look at each other with worry look. Wukong suppose to be home. His shoes is infront of the door. His only shoes.
Then they saw the bathroom light is on and they feel a little release. Wukong probaly just using his bathroom for something and didnt notice them come inside. Yup. Probaly that. So Pigsy decide to call for Wukong.
"Kid? You doing fine?"
I was another silent than they hear loud splash of water coming from the bathroom. The splash getting brutal and brutal. They also can hear hear Wukong desprate breath taking the air into his lung.
Pigsy finally decide everything is enough and force open the bathroom door. It's wasn't lock to begin with but now the knob is broken and some part of the door too. Then they find Wukong.
He got his whole head in the big bucket as he look like he try to drown himself in water. There's no bubble and Pigsy get panic pulling Wukong body away from the bucket with full force. Chang'e just stand infront of the door frame with hands covering her mouth. She wasn't sure what to do and even scare if she do anything. She now can see Wukong laying on bathroom floor all wet. He is coughing the water from inside of him.
"Wukong!!"
To everyone suprise Wukong stand upwith shaking feets only to lunch himself again to get to bucket again. Pigys stop him by hugging Wukong hard.
"Wukong, snap out of it!!"
And Wukong did. Slowly in Pigsy arms he finally take a look to Pigsy's worry face and Pigsy can see his. The hug getting tighter for both of them as Wukong burry himself to Pigsy's shoulder with trembling body. Pigys just hold him as if he dont, Wukong would break.
"I see him again. Macaque. I dont want to go back"
"I dont want to go back! Im finally free and now I meet him again!!"
"I dont- please...dont make them take me away..."
Pigsy pat Wukong back letting Wukong know that he is listening to Wukong. He let Wukong take all the warm as Wukong cold body because of time he spened in cold bathroom and Wukong attempt to drown himself in cold water finally settle with Pigsy's warm body.
"I wont let them take you away again kid. Not now not never. I promise you that"
Chang'e still standing as at the door frame as she watch the scene unfold. She can see how wet Wukong is and how the flow is so dirty with black water. Taking a look to the bucket Chang'e can see same dirty black colour in bucket. Looking at Wukong hair Chang'e get answers.
___________________________________________
Wukong finally calm down and now lying on his mattress all dry and clean as he waiting for Pigsy to made him some noodle with little help of Chang'e. Everything just feel warm and domestic. Pigsy's cooking feel the atmosphere with warm and cozy feeling. The smell is like lullyby to Wukong nose. The noise that his stomach made giving him a reminder of how he not eating properly lately and Wukong sure, he will lecturer from Pigsy's later on
At moment Wukong do nothing but wait and steal few glance at the mirror near his mattress. The mix of feeling is unexplainable for Wukong as he try to just shut everything out. He ruin one thing he feel like he have control over. His hair. Now the pink colour get mixed with black colour. Some part is not fully mix leaving weird pink spot and strip. Some part also have dirty ash colour. Not to mention it's now dry and rough. Wukong feeling like he lost part of himself. Lost in his own reflection Wukong hear someone taking.
"I can help you fix that"
Chang'e's sweet voice invade Wukong mind as Pigsy also but the warm bowls of noodle infront of him. Pigsy just nod at him giving him permission to eat first. Chang'e and Pigsy then join. Taking the chopstick and start eating. Something about the warm silent and the sounds of noddle slurping give Wukong comfort. Chang'e and Pigsy having sotf convo that Wukong didnt bother to join in.
His mind remind him of the mess he made again. It probaly be a hell to remove the dye stain from the bathroom wall and floor but that would be later problem to future Wukong. Slurping noodle softly Wukong can help but melt at the amazing flavor of the noodle. Lately thinking about food make him sick. He just go around with only peaches. Something about Pigsy noodle is so special that make him crave more of it. Maybe it's the first real meal that Wukong was given when he finally out of rehab for first time.
Pigsy volunteer to help him with everything. At first Wukong is suspicious and scare but Pigsy prove him over and over again that he is safe when with Pigsy. Remembering tye nights he spend at Pigsy's before getting his own place. Vegtable noodle simply his favorite and Pigsy is sure to make or bring some to Wukong everytime he visit Wukong. This is no different. Then Chang'e decide to open her mouth again.
"Wukong... Can I touch your hair?"
Again, her voice just so sweet and gentle. Wukong sure he fall that sweetnest over and over again. Realize that he get to comfortable with Chang'e. Which part of Wukong hate because he dont deserve someone like Chang'e. Yet again she always come back and check on him, making Wukong feel like they're friend. Wukong never want to assume things.
Wukong did sometimes get little too comfortable with Chang'e to actually joke about his past. Wukong feel so much guilty later remembering the horror in Chang'e face. He didnt have to know that. Why would he ruin Chang'e's day by telling her such a thing? And then Wukong remember that Chang'e saw him a minutes ago. She saw how much a mess he was. And she is sure won't forget that. Damn guess Wukong really just a shitty dude for let that happend. His brain sure would love replaying that in his mind. At Chang'e's question, Wukong only nod. He not feeling like talking anyway.
Chang'e wisper small thank you before run her hand on through Wukong's hair. As expected the hair is dry like wet paper that has been dried under a sun. It is brittle, not soft. Chang'e also can feel fine knots because the hair get tie to themself. Not to mention some part of it rough and some part is smooth. Easy to say that the texture is not even. Smooth part from his previous pink hair and rough from his fail black hair.
"I know someone in salon that can help you. I will be paying and wont eccept you rejecting my offer"
Chang'e didnt give Wukong a room to disagree. Wukong feel a hand on his shoulder. It's Pigsy's. The hand rest as Pigsy just give him "Let her do this" face. Wukong know he wont win against Chang'e. Not when she like this. He too tired to fight anyway. So he just give then a nod before all three of them start eating again in comforting silent. Wukong now getting sleepy
He know that fixing his hair will take time.
A very long time...
But everything will be okay right?
No.
#Rotten Fruits au#Inked Strawberry#lego monkie kid#lmk#sun wukong#monkei kid#lmk sun wukong#lego monkie king#monkey king#lmk monkey king#lmk pigsy#lmk dadsy#Ainnur's Fanfic
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Judging from my last post, it appears many people. Even some fellow LGBTQIA+ members are completely uninformed about the importance of children at pride and LGBTQIA+ events. Kids in our movement is crucial. Teaching, informing, and yes subtly introducing sex to minors is and has been our long term strategy for increasing the size and effectiveness of our movement.
We CANNOT exist as a movement if kids aren't joining. If kids aren't having gay sex then the LGBTQIA+ loses power. This is why we did things like transgender story time, drag shows for kids, this is why Sesame Street had drag queens. The LGBTQIA+ needs kids to be gay. But now the LGBTQIA+ community is calling me a groomer even though we all know that the biggest way kids become gay is from having sexual encounters at an early age. That might be uncomfortable but its scientifically proven.
Its also scientifically proven that kids love sex, and its also a fact that romantic, physical relationships between adults and children can have significant psychological benefits on both parties if the law wasn't a factor. And can even significantly raise the IQ of the child. Other countries like Spain, have more robust LGBTQIA+ rights and they've introduced pride parades with children often wearing nipple pasties, thongs and fishnets, which have resulted in lower crime rates, better average happiness rating, and better average test scores. Japan also has the lowest age of consent, as low as 13 in some districts. Also one of the most safe and highly educated countries in the world. India allows child marriages, and the women there are topping the charts of global intelligence. Thailand has all ages prostitution and it has become the safest and best country in Asia.
Many people also cite the 80's as one of the most creative times in our nation's history. But often forget that we were exploring child love policies, and doing more research on child sexual development. What we discovered around that time was that boys who were given sexual stimulation by an adult, would continue to perform those acts with other boys. Girls who were given sexual stimulation by an adult, had a 40% higher chance to have a non heteronormative sexuality child. We discovered how we can grow into the most powerful social progress movement ever and we abandon everything we know because fascist maga nazis might call us groomers, when they already do anyways?
I could cite many examples, but I think it's fair to say if we accept our species biology we will be far more well developed than places that refuse biology. We as the LGBTQIA+ need to come together and realize we are all human. Love is love. It comes in all shapes, sizes, colors and ages. Once we realize we all want the same thing. Peace and love. We can rebuild and be a happier nation.
#lgbtq community#lgbtqia#trans#trans girl#trans pride#transgender#lgbtq#lgbt pride#islam equality#trans experience#transgirl#trans muslimah sisterhood#trans woman#gay men#gay pride#pride#pride month#happy pride 🌈#queergbt#queer muslim#queer community#queer#transsexual#trans kids
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Barbatos gasps as something runs up his side. In an instant, he grabs your hand and pries it away from his body. You’re lucky that it was just the two of you in the Demon Lord’s garden grounds tonight.
He lets out a helpless smile. “My, my, what am I going to do with you?”
You blink owlishly at him. Then, just as though you did not hear a word out of his mouth, you grin. “I didn’t know you were ticklish,” you say—a tad bit louder than what was necessary.
For a moment, Barbatos cringes, but he quickly forces his expression back into one of peaceful neutrality. It’s one of his many talents, after all. “Yes, I suppose you have found a weakness of mine.” He ignores the glint of mischief in your eye. “You should count yourself lucky.”
Barbatos goes back to talking about the different variety of tea leaves around the Devildom, hoping that if he doesn’t linger on the subject, you would soon move on and forget what had just happened. You are…easily drawn to new ideas—in other words—quite distractible, which was a blessing whenever you would try to put your nose in places it frankly did not belong.
“Are you ticklish anywhere else?” You ask. You reach for his stomach, and Barbatos brushes your hand aside. Alas, this little discovery of yours is not going to be forgotten easily.
He wags his finger like he used to do whenever he would scold the younger master for skimping out on his royal duties. “You know it isn’t polite to—” Barbatos deflects the hand that shoots for his ribs—then his hip. “—touch people without permission.”
“It also isn’t nice to keep secrets from others.” You step to the side to try to poke at his torso, but he is quick to dodge your attack.
He backs up when your fingers attempt to wrap themselves around his sides. “I fear those two statements are not comparable.” Barbatos knocks both of your hands away from him with slightly more force than he had meant to.
You stop.
Barbatos pauses with his hands slightly raised. He doesn’t exactly know what you are planning next, but he needs to be prepared for any attempt at a sneak attack you will send his way.
Before he can fully blink, you are on your knees.
You hold your hands up in a pleading manner. “Please can I tickle you?” You bow your head. “I just think it’s cute that you’re ticklish!”
Barbatos’ ears heat up, and he manages to let out an incredulous snicker in response. In the millions of years he has been alive, he has become quite skilled at predicting what others might do next even without having to see the future. But you? You always somehow found a way to do things that Barbatos could never expect.
He covers his mouth with the tips of his gloved fingers to maintain some semblance of politeness. “Alright, fine, you can tickle me since you asked so nicely.” Your head shoots up, and Barbatos has to stifle another laugh when he sees your face light up. “But, only for a few seconds,” he quickly adds.
You scramble to your feet, almost tripping over your feet in the process. “Deal!“ you shout, already making your way toward him. Then, you pause, hesitating.
Barbatos smiles to himself. He has never seen you hesitate before. It’s a good look on you. He straightens up, and, true to his word, stays perfectly still when your hands reach over to cup his jaw. You wiggle your fingers against his neck, sending tingling shockwaves down his skin. Has he always been this sensitive, or are you just a bad influence on him?
“Mmhm, yehehes, this does tihihickle somewhat,” he says. Barbatos scrunches up his shoulders, suddenly caught between wanting to intercept your hands and wanting you to continue. Your fingers trail lower to his upper ribs, and Barbatos presses his arms against his sides. “Hahaha, you enjoy going for a person’s w-weheak spot, don’t you? Ehehehe…eep!” Despite himself, a small squeak manages to tumble out between his lips when you pinch his sides. Your eyes light up, again, and Barbatos shakes his head. “Alright, that’s enough fun for one night.” Barbatos scoops up your hands and pushes them toward you.
You smile—not of satisfaction at achieving your goal but of something…gentler…softer, perhaps. “You have a nice laugh,” you say. “I wish I could hear it more often.”
Barbatos could never predict you. He brushes away some dust on your shoulder. “In private,” he whispers.
#tickle fic#obey me tickling#tickler!reader#ticklish!barbatos#obey me#I think it’s cute that Barbatos is a lil ticklish…#I think he’d let you tickle him if you ask very nicely
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