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gingernut1314 · 3 days ago

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Bit of Friendly Banter ch. 6

Summary: Everyone is hanging out at The Last Drop when unwelcomed guests show up baring bad news that only continues to spark tensions between the Undercity and Piltover.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, young Vander, young Silco, young Sevkia, young reader, young Benzo, young Felicia, pre-Sheriff Grayson, baby Viktor, Nadia & Nikolai are Viktor's parents, unrequited love, fear of rejection/ruining friendship, smoking, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna, Felicia & Connol)

Word Count: 4.1K

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“You should choose that one.” You spoke from where you leaned against Silco's back, reaching over his shoulder to tap at the cards in his hand. Silco hummed around his cigarette, smoke puffing from between his thin lips as he ran his fingertips over the worn cards.

His fingers hovered over the one you had pointed at, seeming as if he was going to choose it, but they grabbed for the card next to it, placing it gently on the table’s surface. Sevika scowled at the card, nearly biting her blunt in half.

“If you wanted to play,” Silco started, pulling his cigarette from his mouth to offer it to you. You took it, fingertips brushing as you did and sending your nerves standing on end. “You should have done so.”

“And lose more coin? I’m okay.” You huffed, fitting the cigarette between your lips and pulling the thick, nicotine-riddled smoke into your lungs. Silco’s lips pulled in amusement, seafoam eyes watching as Nadia’s husband, Nikolai, slowly pulled a card from the selection in his hand.

Nikolai was as equally tall, lanky, and pale as Nadia. His eyes, a near-black brown, were framed by deep bags that made him look as if he never slept. It was something Nadia confirmed, having told you many times of her husband's unhealthy habit of staying up well past his bedtime to finish working on a sculpture for some Piltie snob.

You turned your gaze slightly to spot his wife over by the jukebox, their equally as tall, lanky, and pale son, Viktor, on her hip. Viktor looked like a mini copy of Nikolai, with his sharp cheekbones, nose, and mane of brown hair. Nadia’s genres had stood no chance against her husbands, except for one. His eyes, which were that same bright, burnt gold color.

The six-year-old watched the jukebox's arm come to life after the choosing of a new song, those eyes watching closely as if taking down notes on how it worked.

Probably was taking mental notes, the damn smart kid.

You were still waiting on him to build you that mini-fridge to put in the small-ass apartment Sevika and you shared.

“We could have played a non-betting game.” Silco reached for the cigarette still between your lips. You let him grab it, the fleeting feel of his skin against your lips sending your brain buzzing more than any drink or smoke or drug could ever hope to achieve.

“Yeah right.” Silco’s eyes turned onto you then, watching your lips as you blew the remaining smoke from your lungs. You felt your skin burn at the attention. “Like Sevika would let us.” He chuckled.

“Oh I’m sure we could convince her…might have to bet her though.” You chuckled at how true he was. Sevika was very betting originated. If there was a gamble to be had you were sure to find her in the middle of it.

“Hey,” Sevika hissed from her place directly across from you two. “How about you two stop eye fucking and take your turn, weasel.” Your skin burned in something other than Silco’s attention.

“You’re quite the piss poor loser.” Silco smoothly said. He leaned back in his chair, a cocky look on his face.

“The game has ended?” Nikolai asked, his confused voice sporting the same accent as his wife, both having run away from their war-torn homeland years ago.

“No.” Sevika snapped. Nikolai’s lips formed a small ‘O’, eyes turning right back to the cards in his hands, which lay at different skewed angles. “I’m not losing this time, asshole.” She bit once more at Silco who gave her an unbelieving smirk.

“Maybe if you wish on it hard enough.” Silco shrugged. Sevika went to open her mouth again but was cut off by a low groan from the other player at the table.

“I only agreed to take Benzo's spot because you two promised me it would be a friendly game.” Felicia, dark blue-haired and stunningly beautiful, said. You watched her place her cards face down on the table, replacing them with her half-drank cocktail, which she playfully smirked behind.

You had disliked Felicia as soon as you laid eyes on her three years ago.

It was a dislike you knew was irrational. One that truly had no backing to it but one you held regardless.

And it didn’t help that everyone else in your group adored her.

She was fun and beautiful. She knew how to talk to people in a way that left them hanging off her every word. She worked in the mines with Vander, Silco, and Benzo, so she understood the struggle of that life and had instantly been as taken with the idea of Zaun as you all had been.

And, worst of all, she was a flirt.

A huge flirt.

“She’d flirt with the damn wind if it rustled a bit of paper in her direction.” Sevika had chuckled to you once.

Yeah, Felicia would definitely flirt with Janna if the Winds showed her face around her and it was just another thing that pissed you off.

Felicia flirted with Sevika. With Benzo, Vander, and even Nadia and Nikolai, the couple growing all flustered and blushy each time.

She flirted with Silco too.

And Silco flirted back.

It was expected. Silco was just as much a flirt as Felicia. Maybe she liked the game just as much as Silco. Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

Whatever it was you hated it.

“It’s just a bit of friendly banter.” Silco matched her playful smirk. Felicia pulled forward, getting close to Silco but not close enough to peek at his cards. You watched her hold her free hand out and wiggle her fingers in his direction. Silco handed her the cigarette without any hesitation.

You watched their fingers brush.

Watched their fingers linger.

“You promise?” She asked, bringing the cigarette to her lips.

“Pinky promise.” She laughed at Silco, smoke puffing from her lungs.

“Oh yeah?” Silco reached his hand back out, raising his pinky for her to take. You saw her muscles move as she started to reach back for Silco and that’s when you shoved off Silco’s back. Silco grunted as his ribs hit the edge of the table a little harder than you had intended.

“The hel--What was that for?” Silco gruffed at you. Though you had been “cured” of your struggle to understand other’s emotions, you still struggled with understanding and controlling your own.

Mainly, you struggled to not show every little thing you felt on your face.

And right now you were pissed.

“What’s the matter with you?” Silco watched you narrowly, definitely taking notice of your change in mood.

“Nothing.” You practically grit out. “Getting a drink.” Sevika was chuckling at your outburst. Chuckles that grew into a bellow when you snatched Silco’s box of cigarettes, pulled a fresh one out, and stormed off.

You weaved around tables full of laughing patrons of The Last Drop, making it to the bar where a few people lent, waiting for their drink.

Benzo was behind the bar tonight, helping Vander mix drinks up, which he was doing for a trio of men you now stood beside. One of which had decided to lean in closer to you.

“Can I buy ya--”

“No.” You hardly let him finish his sentence, not in the mood to deal with it.

“Oh come on. We can take a shot--” You snapped to bore your smoldering gaze into him.

“I’ll give you to the count of three before I break your nose.” The man narrowed his gaze down on you, not getting the hint that you really would.

Benzo handed the men their drinks, ushering them away before you could release your brewing anger upon him.

“Uh oh. Somethin’ awoke the slumberin’ sea beast.” Benzo spoke, a smirk on his lips.

“Just get me a drink, Benzo.” You huffed, turning your pissed-off gaze onto him.

“Didn’t we jus’ see the beast a week ago?” He asked, still finding your mood all too amusing. “Silco again?” You reached behind the bar to snag the box of matches you knew Vander kept there.

They did see the “beast” as Benzo called your anger. Last week when Silco had been flirting with a girl in this very bar. Flirting with some random person when it had meant to be a night you two hung out together.

You’d just let your anger about that go three days ago.

“Not everything is about Silco, asshole.” You bit, shoving the cigarette between your lips and flicking the match against the ridged side of the box, letting the fire bring the butt of the cigarette to a smolder. You inhaled deeply, willing the heavy smoke to cloud your mind and help you forget about the person Benzo knew you were pissed at.

“Want’d he do this time?” Benzo pushed.

“I’m gonna slap that damn smirk off your face if don’t shut the hell up.” You hissed loud enough it caught Vander’s attention. Benzo had just opened his mouth to continue when he came over, clapping Benzo on the shoulder.

“How ‘bout you go take care of those two down there for me, yeah?” He instructed with a too-kind smile.

“Careful, Vander. This one's got teeth tonight.” He laughed before going to do as Vander asked. Vander watched him go before turning to look at you, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

“Ya got teeth tonight?” You took another deep drag, fixing Vander with your burning gaze.

“Razor sharp.” You spoke on an exhale of smoke.

“Ah, I see.” He mused, beginning to scoop ice into a shaker. You two stood in silence for a long moment as you watched Vander work. You could tell he was making something sweet but held a hidden bite within it. A perfect drink, in your opinion.

The muscles in Vander’s arms flexed the slightest bit as he shook the liquids together before straining it into a cup. He placed a little decorative flower on top before presenting it to you. You gratefully took the glass from him, exhaling yet another drag of smoke before taking a sip.

Just how you liked it. Sweet but strong.

“So what’s got you baring your fangs tonight, sweetheart?” He asked, lending his hands on the bar before him. You swallowed sharply.

“Nothing. I just needed a drink.” Vander gave a known nod, thumb tapping lightly against the wooden bartop. His eyes turned from you to look towards the table full of his friends who had resumed their game.

“Those two are just having a laugh.” You knew you were being foolish. Being unfairly angry at him, but you truly did not need to be reminded.

“I know.” You bit. Vander gave another small nod.

“Why haven’t you talked with him yet?” You snapped your eyes up at Vander. He suggested you talk to Silco many times before about how you feel. Suggested it last week too. And every time you gave him a simple, bullshitted answer as to why you wouldn’t.

“Busy.” Vander leveled you with a look that almost made you squirm.

“Life’s busy. How it goes. Doesn’t mean you can keep using it as an excuse.”

“I don’t want to talk to him.”

“Well, then, don’t” He pushed off the bar top, taking his matches with him. “Can I let you in on a little bit of a secret though?” You watched him carefully as he grabbed for his metal pipe. “Felicia’s set her sights on a new guy we work with. Connol. She’s never quite enjoyed someone as much as I’ve seen her enjoy that one. Silco’s never been that to her in the slightest.”

“Doesn’t mean she hasn’t been that for him.” You murmured before you could stop yourself. Vander gave you a small smile, lighting his pipe and taking a pull from it.

“Like I said, sweetheart. It’s just for a laugh.” You opened your mouth to say something more, but the doors to The Last Drop Swung open and all noise ceased.

You spun around, finding a large group of enforcers marching in, armor gleaming and masks looking devilish in the dim light.

People around the bar stood, readying for a fight if needed. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sevika grab hold of Nikolai, keeping him from rushing across the bar towards Nadia, who holding onto Viktor tightly. They both watched each other, fear and panic clear in their eyes for the other.

Vander had just begun rounding the bar when someone pressed their side against your own. You knew instantly who it was, not needing to look up to find Silco standing there.

“How can I help you?” Vander asked, breaking the silence that had washed over his bar. The leading enforcer grabbed for their mask, pulling it off to reveal Sergent Grayson, who steadied Vander with a near-pitying gaze.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” She began, voice smooth yet carried a rasp to it. “Do you own this establishment?” Vander gave her a nod, bringing his pipe to his lips. Grayson held her hand out, another, still masked, enforcer rushed forward to place a roll of paper in her gloved hand. “The council has made a few changes you should be aware of.” A murmur rose among the crowd as she passed the paper to Vander.

He took it, fire sparking in his eyes. A deep fire he very rarely let show as such.

Vander was the peacekeeper. The one who kept relationships within your group of friends stable. The one you would turn to if you needed advice or someone who would listen. The one who stopped the group and even others outside of it from blindly attacking when there was other ways to solve a problem.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as angry as you all were. Just as bloodthirsty for the rights you all deserved.

He was the true slumbering beast.

A wolf kept chained back until nothing and no one could stop it from bursting to life.

You’d only ever seen the wolf twice. Once when they announced the mines reopening, and the second time when his father had been killed by an enforcer.

And you saw that wolf again, pacing restlessly back and further looking for the right moment to strike.

“They’re still hungry for more, huh?” Vander mused, breaking the seal on the paper and unrolling it.

“I have just come as a messenger. Please read it over. The changes will be enacted within the week.” She gave him one last, pitying smile before pulling her mask back into her face.

As the enforcers left, people hissed and cursed them. Spit on them.

Grayson seemed to feel the tension growing between her enforcers and the people within the bar and hung back, watching her officers and snapping at them if they got too close to an Undercitian as they left.

As soon as the last of her enforcers left, she followed after, letting the door swing shut behind her and washing the bar in deathly silence once more.

Dread.

Hopelessness.

Anger.

Those were the things that hung heavy in the air as everyone watched Vander read over the paper, the edges getting crushed between his fingers the longer he did.

Nikolai was the first to move, all but sprinting over to Nadia who held fearful tears in her eyes and was edger to be wrapped up in her husband's arms.

Silco was the second to move, rushing to his brother’s side to peer at the paper he’d been given. His bared teeth were telling enough of what bullshit was written there.

The next to move was Felicia, who made her way over to the jukebox. She pressed a few buttons before it whirled to life, an upbeat song beginning to play which she let carry her back through the crowd of patrons.

“You heard her. We don’t need to worry about it just this moment.” She smiled brightly their way, trying to further distract them.

“Fuck that. How dare they come in here and--” It was the guy who had tried to hit on you earlier, but Felicia grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him sharply away from his chair.

“Ah, ah, ah. Come on. Vander will let us know what's up later.” She began to sway with the music again, pulling the guy closer and closer. “I wanna dance. And I wanna dance with you, handsome.” She purred up at him. The guy opened and closed his mouth like a fish, glancing back to his friends who had seemed to forget about the events that had just happened and were beginning to grin like goofy kids.

And just like that, the room filled with voices and the clicking of glasses once more as if snapped from a daze.

Vander too, seemed to be snapped back from the unfair reality thrust into his hands. A reality he shoved into his back pocket to be forgotten for now.

And once more you found you couldn’t stand Felicia.

You were grateful for her, yes. Happy she had been able to lift everyone's spirits but you wished you could do that. Wished you had the same playful way with people she so effortlessly showcased and used to her advantage.

When she found you watching, she flashed you a charming smile and a playful wink. A smile that could never possibly hope to fully hide the same angry look in her eyes. The same anger you and everyone else felt every day--felt even more now. You gave her a steady nod back before she twirled away.

Seaform eyes were the next to find your gaze. Eyes that rushed towards you in seconds.

Silco grabbed hold of your hand and led you through The Last Drop. Past Nadia and her family, who Vander had found and was now speaking lively to Viktor, who shyly peeked up at him. Past Benzo who was heading back behind the bar and a few people who followed, edger for a drink.

He dragged you up step after step into the upper levels of the place he called home. You passed a door that led to Vander’s office, a place you once made home within when Silco found out you had been living in a cave, though now that you had moved out, Vander had moved in. You passed by Silco and Benzo’s shared room and past the broom closest before making it to the ladder at the end of the hall.

Silco let go of your hand only so he could climb, throwing the hatch open and disappearing up onto the roof. You quickly followed, finding him standing there waiting for you. As soon as you were securely up, he shut the hatch and rushed towards the roof edge to look over the streets below.

You came up to his side, brushing your shoulder against his as you quickly spotted the horde of enforcers marching through the night.

“They are closing the distillery,” He spoke after watching the enforcers enter a diner that was open 24/7. One of you and Silco’s favorite spots to hit up after a long night of drinking. You pressed closer to him as your dread grew. “And the brew house. Deemed them “not up to code”.”

“Fuck.” You hissed, “Mean’s we’re only gonna be able to get our drink from Piltover.” Silco nodded, eyes finding yours once more.

“And you know how they love their taxes.” He said in utter disgust. “We can’t take this lying down. It may just be alcohol but what is stopping them from deeming our docks “not up to code”? Our water sources? We won’t survive it.”

You thought of Felicia then. Of how she had so quickly swooped in and calmed everyone's rage for the night. Because what could they do then? Nothing.

They needed a plan. Something solid that might possibly stand a chance against Piltover.

“We need to take action and we need to do it--” You cut Silco off with a simple grab of his hands and a soft smile.

“Let's have a smoke, okay?” He started saying your name but you pressed a finger to your lips, shushing him. “I agree…but we’ll discuss it all tomorrow. We won’t take it lying down. We’ll fight,” Silco’s lips thinned as he listened to you, hands holding yours tighter. “But it's a nice night out. I want to smoke with you.” He watched you for a long moment, looking like he might try to keep talking of action but he gave you a nod.

“Please.” He breathed. You guided him to sit down on the ledge, one leg dangling off either side. You watched him pull his box of cigarettes and lighter out from his pocket, a cigarette extended towards you as he placed one between his lips.

His gaze never once left yours as he lit both cigarettes, the light dancing within his eyes in a physical showing of his burning desire for freedom. A desire you felt too--ached more for when you were around him.

You two sat in easy silence for a while, watching each other and only looking away when the enforcers came marching back out of the 24/7 diner. You watched them disappear into the night before Silco’s foot tapping your own caught your attention once more.

“Why were you so pissed early?” He asked on an exhale of smoke. You did the opposite, filling your lungs with the heavy, warm smoke so you could prolong an answer.

“Wasn’t.” Silco gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe you one bit. You shrugged. “Really.”

“Really?” He repeated. You nodded on a popping yep. “Well, I really find that hard to believe. I could see your blood boiling.”

“My blood was very much at a normal boil.” You pulled in more fogging smoke.

“I think that’s something you should have checked out. Your boiling blood.” You kicked his foot only for him to quickly kick it back. “Just tell me. Was it something I did?”

“Just talk to him. Tell him what you're feeling.” Vander’s past words rang through your mind.

Tell him your feelings.

It couldn’t be that hard. You certainly weren’t busy right now. It would be a perfect time to do it.

But the longer you looked over his face, the longer you thought about how he never looked at you how he looked at other girls, had you pushing those thoughts way down.

“Sevkia pissed me off.” You lied. Well, it was partially true. You hated how she always found ways to try to embarrass and upset you when she herself was pissed off during a game.

So you went that route.

Silco watched you for a moment, all-seeing eyes all but digging into the depth of your soul to figure out if that was the true reason.

You willed yourself to believe it. To make him believe you believed it.

“About what she said about us?” You nodded, taking another drag.

“It was stupid. She says stupid shit all the time, need to not get so worked up over it.” Silco took another drag himself, something heaving growing in his eyes. A heaviness you couldn’t quite figure out.

“You’re right. She’s awfully stupid.” He joked. You kicked his foot again and he kicked you right back. “Why do I feel like that’s not really why you were upset? You shoved me remember? Not Sevkia.” You gave an overly loud groan.

“What is this? If I wanted to get interrogated, I’d go find those bucket heads.” Silco shook his head at your dramatics.

“I’m not interrogating you.” He huffed, giving your foot another swift kick which you, just as swiftly, dealt back. “You just…used to talk more freely with me. Told me exactly why and how I had pissed you off.” His voice came out a bit softer then. A softness that pulled at your heart in a way you hadn’t expected it to.

You missed that too…but you couldn’t go around telling him you were--were jealous of the people he flirted with. Whether that be play or real flirting. It would ruin everything between you two.

You two were friends.

Strictly.

And you had to keep it that way. Because not only would it throw a wrench in your friendship, but you would only become another conquest in his game.

You didn’t want to just be another girl as stupid and cliche as you felt thinking it. You wanted him to want you fully, just as you wanted him.

“Didn’t give a shit about my shitty social skills back then. No one was safe.” Silco chuckled at this, a look in his eyes like he was remembering back to the beginning days of your friendship.

“You still have pretty shitty social skills.” You gave a gasp, kicking his foot a little harder at that. He kicked you just as hard back.

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dissapointu · 3 days ago

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“Chaos and Comfort”

The flickering lights of the makeshift hideout cast strange shadows across the walls, dancing and warping in time with the constant hum of the machines around you. It’s a familiar setting—too familiar, in fact. The thrill of a job well done has long faded, and now it’s just the two of you.

Jinx. Or Powder. You never quite know which name to call her these days. There are moments when the spark of her chaotic, unpredictable self bursts out, and then others when she retreats, becoming the girl you once knew—the girl who hid behind her wild blue hair and manic grin.

Tonight, however, she’s somewhere in between.

You sit on the couch, the silence between you punctuated only by the distant sounds of Zaun. The atmosphere is thick, heavy, as Jinx hovers near a table full of half-finished projects—scraps of metal, old guns, and broken gadgets. Her fingers twitch restlessly as she rearranges the pieces, but her mind is elsewhere, caught up in something she can’t quite articulate.

For a moment, you just watch her. The way her wild, electric-blue hair falls in a messy curtain around her face, the way her eyes glint with that ever-present hint of mischief and mania. You’ve come to understand her—at least, in your own way. But even after all this time, there’s still so much you don’t know about the girl behind the explosions and the madness.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice breaking the stillness in the room. “You okay?”

Jinx doesn’t answer at first. She just looks up at you, her lips curling into a smirk. But there’s something different in her eyes. Something that feels more like vulnerability than her usual manic energy.

“Of course I’m okay,” she says with a sharp laugh, though it’s not entirely convincing. “I’m always okay!”

But you can see through the act. You’ve known her long enough to read the signs. The way her hands fidget, the way her breath catches every now and then, the way her eyes flicker between the chaos of her world and the quiet comfort of yours.

You stand up from the couch, crossing the room slowly. Jinx watches you the whole time, her expression unreadable. When you reach her, you gently take her hand, pulling her away from the mess of metal on the table.

She tenses for a second, but then she sighs, her shoulders slumping in a rare moment of tiredness. You guide her back to the couch, your movements slow and steady, as if you’re trying to make her understand she can just relax for once. That there’s no rush. No danger.

“Come on,” you coax, settling next to her and pulling her against your side. “Just… for a minute, let yourself rest.”

Jinx’s breath hitches for a second, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans into you, her head resting on your shoulder, her messy hair brushing against your neck.

“Yeah, I guess I could use a break,” she admits in a quieter voice. For a moment, her usual cocky demeanor falters, replaced by something softer, more fragile. “I’m always so… busy, you know? Trying to keep everything from falling apart.”

You rub small circles on her back, your thumb brushing over the familiar scars from her past, a past that you know is too painful for her to fully face. You know Jinx carries the weight of her actions and the mistakes she’s made. It’s something she doesn’t talk about much—if at all—but you can feel it in the way she holds herself, in the way she hides behind her laughter and chaos.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” you say gently, your words wrapped in tenderness, hoping she hears them. “I’m here.”

Jinx doesn’t respond immediately, but you feel her relax a little more, her body sinking further into your embrace. You’re not sure how long you stay like that, the world outside slowly fading into the background as the two of you simply exist together. It’s a rare moment of peace in a world that is anything but.

Her hand shifts to grip your shirt, just lightly, as if grounding herself in this moment of calm. The hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she tilts her head to meet your gaze, her eyes softer than you’ve seen in a long time.

“I know, I know,” she says, her voice muffled against your shoulder, but you hear the sincerity in it. “I just… forget sometimes. Thanks for reminding me.”

You smile back, your hand brushing through her hair.

“You don’t have to thank me, Jinx,” you reply softly. “I’m always here, alright?”

She looks up at you then, her wild eyes still a little guarded, but there’s a flicker of something in them that makes your heart tighten. Maybe it’s hope. Or trust. Or maybe—just maybe—it’s a moment of genuine connection, buried beneath all the chaos she’s built around herself.

The smile she gives you this time is real. It’s small but warm, and in that moment, the madness of Zaun feels just a little farther away.

And for once, everything feels alright.

#jinx posting #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx league of legends #jinx imagine #jinx lol #jinx #arcane imagine #arcane x reader #arcane headcanon #imagine #headcannons #gn reader #gender neutral reader #comfort #x reader #character x reader

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nuggetpool-hi · 2 days ago

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Guess who watched X-Men origins again

OK SO I got THOUGHTS of this movie but specially Wade's fight style because it's really similar to our current Deadpool's fighting style... so yeah I wanna yap about that hi

WELL FIRST OF wanna talk a lil about Victor, Logan and Wade's different styles... from a mortal's view point I am no expert on this just insane about these movies and I need to write my thoughts or i'll explode

Starting with Victor!! the ultimate kittycat girlypop

I love his kitty self I'm sorry ANYWAY EXAMPLES

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OKAY SO VICTOR. Victor's style is obviously very animalistic but also stylized, he makes the fight a show for himself! He likes to hunt and he tries to always give chase or play around a bit before the kill, just like a cat playing with his food!

AND IF you pay attention to the start of the movie, this game he's got with his target isn't initially how he fought, he kinda developed it as the years went by and the eviler he got the more he played with his food. The first few wars he goes to he's fighting like a human soldier, then you can see him slip up some animal jumps and uses his claws more until at the end he's full on predator chasing his prey (just like when he captures Scott, my god I love that scene he's terryfing)

AND A BIG DIFFERENCE BETWEEN HIM AND LOGAN (that I will also talk about later I guess) is that with this play thing Victor has going on it SHOWS that he THINKS about the stragety when fighting, he's aware of his surroundings and his target's strenghs and weaknesses, he's good at coming up with solutions on the spot (see his fight with John, he can predict where he's going to teleport and catch him) and how to give a good chase without losing WHILE LOGAN WELL, at least in this movie he seems very lost when fighting?? he mostly just launches at his target and attacks, if the target runs away he chases, very animalistic but in a feral-based on instincts way... prolly why he coulnt win agaisnt Victor at first, because he was being blinded by his rage while Victor was quite literally playing with him lmao

ANYWAY LOGAN our favorite traumatized babygirl

and boy does he suffer in this one aughh EXAMPLES

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Now you must be wondering why did I put the bathroom scene, well I feel like it represents Logan's general situation pretty well! (and its silly let me be), hes confused destroying everything and just keeps making it worse every time he tries to fix it.

The thing about Logan in this movie is that he's honestly just- confused and angry from the moment he killed his father, he runs away over and over again from EVERYTHING and he's constantly being manipulated BY EVERYONE!! Poor man has no idea what to do with himself of who he can actually trust but damn he tries, his enviroment is contantly changing and he's trying his best to adapt but he does it in a messy way.

The way he fights and acts in general is animalistic, yes, but more of the "scared dog attacks" kind of way, he's always acting on his instinct that it's mostly led by anger. When he fights he just throws himself and tries to slash whatever he can, he runs he hides and then when he gets the chance to he attacks again.

He constantly has little to no control of the situtation WHICH IS SPECIALLY SEEN pre-adamantium where he keeps losing to Victor because unlike him- he has no plan, he's being manipulated and kept blind of everything ON PURPOUSE which obviouly puts him in a disadvantage so yeah.

AFTER he gets the adamantium you can see his skills strengen with his knowledge, the more he lears about his situation the more focused he is and his fighting it's cleaner, he still moslty just launches himself head first into fights BUT he's not running away, he's able to evaluate his situation and adapt (See his fight with Gambit, he looks at him when running away and then destroys the stair so Gambit can't run away OR with Deadpool where he decides to gain height as a way to create the space needed to evaluate his enemy?? that one might be a lil bit of a stretch tho)

WADE WILSON THE ULTIMATE CUTIE PRINCESS

let's ignore how dirty they did him ok...

OKAY SO SADLY- The bullet scene is pretty much the only scene where we see him fight and it's honestly not enough to tell how his normal style is BUT I WILL SAY his general style is fancy to look at and scarily effective (which is mostly seen with our current Wade but you can see a bit in origins deadpool) he makes a show for everyone to see, which is also his stragedy to make himself even better at combat! He uses a lot of fancy movements and acrobatics that help him AND takes his enemies off-guard, confusing them as where they should attack or what he's going to hit?? anyway-

Comparison time yippieee THIS IS WHAT THIS POST IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT LMAO

I did not get side tracked idk what you mean.... and now seeing it over and over I'm realizing not that noticeable.... so it's just not that much to talk about oops

LOOK AT THIS WADE, LOOK AT THE MOVEMENTS HE DOES WITH HIS LEGS!! HIS HANDS??? THIS MAN IS SHOWING OFF he's using all kinds of acrobatics and fancy movements while fighting, he attacks with his hands and dodges using mostly his legs, he's using all he has!! and it's making Logan lose BECAUSE LOGAN CAN'T FOCUS!! specially since he's so "target locked will attack", Wade makes it SO HARD for him to focus on a pose long enough to actually stab him also Logan ain't too good at dodging, I'm guessing it could be because he heals? dunno

now what inmediately came to my mind upon rewatch was THIS scene (maybe because I saw it recently who knows)

THE SETTING IS SO SIMILAR!! Wade is using a lot of fancy movements to get up, dodge and attack all way too fast for Logan to process, once again Logan is looking everywhere confused about where to aim bc this silly red guy it's dancing on his face and he's struggling to keep up JUST LIKE IN ORIGINS except well he IS able to get a hit bahah

Dodges like crazy, jumps over Logan (he did in origins too) just moves a lot between every attack

Actually now that I think about it Wade feels a bit less effective in the car, like yes sure he's putting up a good fight but Logan still feels like he's leading it BECAUSE WADE IS MORE EFFECTIVE WHEN HE HAS MORE SPACE!! he likes to be able to move around and do gimnastics while Logan it's a lot better the closer he gets to his target so omg yeah... ALSO LIKE WADE STILL TRIES TO MOVE AROUND he shoves Logan away from him, he gets out of the car choking logan with a seatbelt and gets to the back, he tries to create space because that's where his speciality WHILE LOGAN keeps trying to get closer to have him in his power, which he gets to do since the car isn't allowing Wade to move as freely as he would want to...

AND YOU CAN SEE HIS FANCY MOVEMENTS WITH FRANCIS TOO he's constantly circuling him, dodging and spinning while Francis is just trying to get a hit, Wade keeps his enemies chasing him when he fight THAT'S the way he controls it and gets it wherever he wants aughh

ANYWAY YEAH I think that's it, don't really know how much sense any of this does since I've been writing it on-and off the whole day lmao it's so messy but yeah feel free to add onto it I'd love to see opinions on this wahoo

Might keep talking about stuff I find interesting in the movies bahah this has been funn

#deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #deadpool #xmen origins #james logan howlett #origins deadpool #x men origins wolverine #Youtube

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cottonlemonade · 3 days ago

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Long Distance Relationship

word count: 970 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: University AU!Kageyama x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none

request: hi! can i get a 32 and a 33 for lunch and then study with kageyama? thank you i'm so excited! xx || fluffy, 2.16am LDR with boyfriend Kageyama

You stretched and heard a pop that you didn’t know if it came from your neck or the rickety old desk chair. It was late, a quick phone check told you it was 2 in the morning. A wide yawn spread over your face and you squeezed your eyes shut, then blinked a few times to get your vision back into focus. You had stopped comprehending any of the sentences in front of you hours ago but hoped that through sheer willpower and the mere fact that you had the decency to pretend to study, it would all work out in the end. Your eyes fell onto your lock screen, lit up briefly by some spam mail. It showed a picture of you and your boyfriend Tobio with your heads stuck together, each holding a small carton of milk while squinting into the sun. It was one of your favorites because of the way he scrunched his nose. When you were accepted to different universities your heart had broken a little but you promised each other you’d be the high school sweethearts that beat the odds. You had nothing to worry about with him. The only other love he’d ever known was volleyball and besides that, you and breathing, Tobio didn’t pay anything much mind. The first year at university worked out great. You usually met right in the middle between Tokyo and Kyoto every other weekend so neither of you had to do the 3-hour train ride each way and could spend a bit more time together. Plus, those tickets were cheaper, meaning you could see each other more often. Your heart began to ache when you thought of your last get-together and how you didn’t want to let him go at the station, how he almost missed his train because he couldn’t stop kissing you, and how you both held back your tears until the other was out of sight. Because in your second year, the workload became greater and meeting became more difficult, you hadn’t seen him in over three weeks. However, the little countdown of days right next to the time, now in the single digits, gave you a little hope. Your roommate snored softly and turned around in her bed. You checked the lamp again to make sure it wasn’t pointed directly at her.

A rush went through your body when your phone buzzed and you picked up immediately.

“Hey you, why are you still up?”, you said quietly.

“I- Hi.”

“Hi.”, you grinned. Your fatigue was completely wiped away. It was so nice to hear his voice and you were barely able to contain your excitement.

“I was wondering how your day went.”

“At 2 am?”

“… yes.”

“Well, it’s much better now thank you, how about you? You sound out of breath. Were you jogging? At this time of night? That’s dangerous, baby, please get back as soon as possible.”

“I’m still quite a bit away but I’ll let you know when I’m home.”, he muttered and his tone made you smile.

You knew exactly what he looked like right now - hand in his pocket, probably looking at the tip of his shoe drawing random patterns on the ground.

“I miss you.”, you said into the silence that followed.

“I miss you, too.”

“But hey, only”, you briefly lifted your phone away from your ear to check, “9 more days until we see each other again, right?”

“Yeah uhm… about that…”

“You’re not gonna make it?”, you asked, unable to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“No no, it’s not that. Uhm, which was your dorm room again?”

“Second floor, third from the left, why?” Your heart did a tentative little bounce.

Something that sounded very much like a pebble on glass tapped against your window. You stood up and almost tripped trying to see out into the night. There, taking a few steps back so he would be seen in the cone of light from the campus lantern stood your boyfriend, wearing his favorite sweats and the hoodie you had given him for your last anniversary. You clasped a hand over your mouth to not squeak too loudly and Tobio heard scrambling on the other end. Half a minute later the lights in the foyer went on, then the front door opened and you stood there with only one slipper and a sweater that was inside out. He jogged over to you.

“What are you- how are you- oh my god, you’re here!”

He buried his face in your shoulder when you pulled him in for a long, tight hug.

You collected your second shoe on the way back up to your room and settled into your bed. Tears were welling in your eyes at his familiar smell as you drew him close. Too precious to waste with much else, you combed your fingers through his hair, while Tobio tried his best to be as close to you as humanly possible. He wrapped himself securely around your soft, squishy form. There was little talking involved, cuddling and the occasional gentle kiss were all that mattered. It was cozy and familiar being in each other’s arms like this and you wished the moment would never end. You could have fallen asleep but just as you were happily drifting off with the comforting scent of his shampoo brushing your nose a phone buzzed. Tobio made a low grumbling noise against your neck.

“I have to go.”, he whispered. The clock on your roommate’s nightstand showed 4 am.

“No, stay…”

“I want to. But I can’t…”, he didn’t make any attempts to move, just kept mumbling against you, “I have training in a few hours.”

He looked up at you, sleepy but so so happy. “And we’ll meet again in 9 days, right?”

a/n: request for @haikyuusunsalad

This was the softest prompt ever oh my gosh 🥺🥺 thank you so much! I hope you enjoyed it!

#sunnys university #kageyama x chubby reader #kageyama tobio x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama fluff #hq kageyama #kageyama x reader #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio

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takumiraine · 1 day ago

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Once Upon A Time chapter 5

Jason Todd knew it was only a matter of time until his bubble burst and one of his brothers found out what he was getting up to. He was just hoping he could pull it off for a little longer. Even though the pit still reacted at the strangest times, he felt calmer, more normal, than he had in years. He wanted to hold it close and make sure nobody could take it from him.

From Replacement: you went back to college? Does B know?

Fuck.

—

Danny had been wary at first. Rich boy Jason Todd-Wayne in his college classes. The man was older than Jazz, though not by much, and a freshman with him. Either the guy was a bad influence or Danny just had really shitty luck.

He and the universe both knew the answer to than one really. But 60 bucks a week to reteach the guy basic math and Jason always gave him dinner in the deal? Danny wasn’t going to look that particular gift horse in the mouth. If there was one thing Danny had forgotten during the past almost two years it was how hungry his human side got. Not having money and being on the run meant opportunities to eat were few and far between.

What Danny didn’t expect was how sarcastic and assholish the rich guy could be. He loved trading snark. Danny assumed that it came from them both having older siblings. But between that and the half formed core that was slowly shoring up, Danny found himself growing attached. He had missed having friends. Getting to talk to Sam, Tucker and rarely Jazz through a conspiracy message board wasn’t enough. Most of the time it was just a way to make sure that nobody had been captured by the GIW. They had a way to pass longer messages but to do that too often would be suspicious.

“So I don’t get it,” Danny said, gesturing at Jason with some fries almost a month into tutoring, “What do people actually do at Galas? The tabloid pics just show a bunch of people in uncomfortable looking suits standing around with champagne.”

“….thats really it. It’s boring as shit.” Jason kicked his chair back on two legs, leaning against the wall. “If I liked you less I’d invite you.”

“If you liked me less?”

“Oh yeah. Because then you’d have to meet my brothers, the assorted not quite adopteds, my dad and scarier yet, our butler.” Danny choked on his laugh.

“Your butler is the scary one in that situation?”

“Alfred is like a ghost. Always there when you turn around.” Jason put on the accent “Master Jason, you really must come home more. Nobody quite enjoys my cooking like you.” He let the chair legs settle on the floor. “Now imagine that from behind you in a dark kitchen at two am while you’re half drunk and trying to make a sandwich.”

“Okay, yeah, I could see it being that scary. My sister was….” Shit he hadn’t meant to mention Jazz. “She was the only one who cared sometimes.” May as well rip that bandaid off.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, taking a drink from his coffee cup. “Didn’t know you had a sister.”

“My family and I don’t see each other anymore. It’s for the best.” He hoped Jason wouldn’t ask more questions, because ‘my parents sold me out to the government that only knew where I was because of the Justice League which is why I hate them and by association your dad, and now my sister is in hiding in a different state with a new identity’ was way too difficult to explain. “I left before they could kick me out.”

Danny watched Jason’s face twist into a frown. “Bigots suck. Sorry man.”

“Yeah…. Well…” Danny busied himself with finishing his burger. Then, once he chewed and swallowed. “Wait. Is your dad the one that fell into the champagne tower last year?”

Jason groaned, “he’s not always like that I promise.”

“No I get it. A weird ‘Family Friend’ invited us to his fancy party so he could hit on my mom once. I accidentally on purpose took out the entire buffet table including a cheese fountain so we had to go home.”

“Cheese fountain?”

“You know those chocolate fountains?” Danny asked. Jason nodded. “Like that, but with fondue cheese instead. And before you ask why, all I can say is it was in Wisconsin.”

Jason watched him with an unreadable expression for a moment, and Danny assumed he was processing it, because when the expression broke, Jason was laughing.

He looked so much younger when he laughed like that, and Danny remembered that they had both had, in their own ways, a rough life. “Yeah. I know. I was finding cheese in the weirdest places for weeks.”

“Did you get invited back?” Danny’s heart ached with the fact that a month or so later, Everything Fell Apart.

“No… I…” he cut himself off, remembering the horrified looks his parents gave him as their weapons, the ones he fixed, were turned against the ‘beast’ that ‘possessed’ their son. The looks mimicking the ones they gave him when the party screeched to a halt as he did his best impression of a Scooby Doo villain being unmasked. The screams of shock turning into ones of horror. The -

“-anny? Danny?” He blinked and shook his head.

“What? Oh, sorry.” He took another drink from the coffee, emptying the cup. “No. I never was asked back. You done?” He looked at their empty plates and grabbed the tray. “We should get to the library. Though I’m sure someone as good looking as you has plenty, these x-es won’t find themselves.” He was overcompensating for zoning out now, words coming out faster than normal.

“Yeah… are… you okay?” Jason asked, as Danny bussed their tray and grabbed his backpack, a backpack bought by his tutoring money. A tutoring gig he desperately did not want to fuck up with his own bullshit.

“Me? Fine. More than. I just zone out sometimes. Come on.” Danny’s words were still coming out too fast. He took a few breaths during the couple seconds Jason took getting his things, trying to ground himself as much as possible. He was going to be normal. He was going to be normal if it killed him. Again.

The walk to the library was quiet and Danny was thankful for that. He needed to get his head on straight if he was going to be any help to Jason and he still had his own homework to do after. As they walked in, both Danny and Jason instinctively looked towards the desk where Barbara usually worked, but she wasn’t there, some other guy was checking in books with quiet beeps.

Danny had learned over the last month that while Dick, Tim and Damian were Jason’s official siblings, Barbara was an unofficial one and he liked her the most.

It made sense, since she didn’t seem to pry into Jason’s life the way Jazz would have if she was here. Not that he would have minded her prying for how much he missed her, but four years ago he would have hated it.

—

Jason knew the haunted and hunted look that had settled into Danny’s eyes. The way he trailed off into something vacant. How his breathing seemed to get stuck in his chest. Which is why he tried to interrupt the cycle before he could spiral. Something big happened to him, and Jason knew he wouldn’t want to break down in a cafe in front of people.

Thankfully he seemed to snap out of it quickly, instead overcompensating into energetic. The message was clear. ‘Don’t ask about what just happened.’ Carefully, Jason let Danny lead him into the library, aware of his positioning and making sure not to follow too far behind or loom too much. Considering he had at least six inches on Danny, that last part was hard, but he tried.

He could feel the pit spiraling in him, circling and coiling like a dragon deep in his chest. Itching to do…. Something. It wasn’t punch or claw or fight. This was new. He didn’t like it in the slightest.

He looked over to where Babs usually was, then remembered she had a class, criminal justice degree, how apt, as he and Danny went towards what was now their spot. Jason found he had the sudden impulse to pull Danny’s chair out for him, and shoved that particular useless idea back down into the abyss it belonged in.

—

Danny looked over at Jason who stood at the edge of the table looking…. Angry? Confused? and pulled out his own books. “I promise, my zoning out isn’t contagious.” He said, looking up at Jason and kicking the chair across from him out from under the table for Jason to sit. He gave a wry smile, “if it was, I don’t think anyone in my high school would have made it.”

Jason snorted a laugh, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been thinking. Jason pulled the chair out further and sat, sitting more comfortably than he used to. More of the true Jason, Danny was realizing, less of the person he was supposed to be. In another lifetime…. But no. He couldn’t… not while he was being hunted. It wouldn’t be fair to Jason to have to hide such a huge part of himself and his past.

Not to mention he hadn’t ever come out to Jazz and his friends. Well he had…. But more in the ‘hey I’m dead but not really’ way and less in the ‘so I like guys’ way.

But in spite of those barriers, this tentative friendship with Jason was enough to keep him happy.

Which made the next kick in the teeth from the universe completely expected.

All he had wanted was to walk home in peace. Sure it was almost midnight, in Gotham, but still. He made it most of the way, and was slinking through the Bowery when it happened.

Guys with dark clothes and weapons were suddenly in front of him. He turned only to see more at his back. There had to be five in total? Or was it six? Danny didn’t have time to count.

“Hey guys.” He hedged, muscles tensing as he raised his hands to show he wasn’t a threat. “Don’t mind me, I’m just trying to get home. Long walk and all that. If I could just…. Scooch past you?” Danny took a step to do just that and the lead goon swung at him with a baton.

He hopped back slightly, dodging the hit when it came. “Not a chance. Boss needs some…. Help with his latest ideas. You’re coming with us.”

Danny ran through his options in his head. Option 1: get kidnapped. Option 2: get the shit kicked out of him. Option 3: beat the shit out of them and get labeled as a possible bat to be or possible rogue to be. Option 4: go fully ghost and either escape unscathed but wind up more firmly on the GIW’s radar.

Option two or three would wind up happening, because he wasn’t going to put himself at the mercy of the Bat-ass again, and he wasn’t going to offer himself up on a silver platter to the GIW.

The moment one tried to grab him, Danny dodged out of the way, and that seemed to bring the goons on him en masse. They seemed well practiced, but considering it was Gotham, there wasn’t a big surprise there. The next few minutes were a flurry of elbows and knees, punches and kicks, batons and clubs.

Danny would dodge and counter, disarm one and fling their weapon across the street. He would have sore ribs and bruises from his elbows to his knuckles come morning but he was slowly winnowing them down. He had a brief thought about the conservation of ninjutsu, as the fewer goons there were the stronger they seemed to get. The realistic answer was they were less concerned with hurting each other when there were fewer of them, he knew that. But everything was more fun with ninjas.

When there were three left, one threw a punch that connected with his nose. There was a pop and crunch and a hot rush of blood down his face even before the pain set in. He spat out the blood that collected in his mouth from the way his head snapped back when he was punched. Another one came at him, and his own years of training caught the guy’s arm, judo throwing them into another look and sending them both careening into a wall. The move was trickier with gravity, but he made it work.

Danny looked up at the last remaining goon. He grinned, teeth too sharp and stained with his own blood, eyes glowing just the faintest green. “Run.”

They did.

Unfortunately for the goon, they ran smack into the chest of one Batman.

#writing #fanfiction #danny fenton #danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #jason todd #red hood #dead on main #batfam #dp x dc crossover

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puckinghischier · 2 days ago

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okay so…not that anyone asked but i have some…thoughts about this discourse surrounding jack’s signing last night

and honestly….i’m sad. i’m so insanely sad that so many people who claim to love this team are so quick to assume jack is a lost cause asshole. i think so much of it is entitlement. and yeah, as people, everyone deserve kindness and overall base level social behaviors. but where is that for jack right now?

where’s the grace and understanding that he’s tired. they likely had a day full of practice and drills and workouts before this signing. i mean, did he even get to go home before he was expected to sit and sign autographs for hours? why was he alone? why didn’t they put him with someone else? i know the answer is likely because he was the most sought after signature there and they didn’t want to make his line even longer, but still. i feel like jack has been very open and intentional with the fact he doesn’t like to do media. he wants to play hockey and go home.

and yeah, he also knew it came with the territory, but it doesn’t matter. if you sign up to be a teacher, you know there’s going to be early mornings, but that doesn’t mean you have to like getting up early. if you agree to work in healthcare, you know there’s going to aspects of the job that are gross and unfortunate, but it doesn’t mean you have to like cleaning up bodily fluids. the same can be said for these guys. they signed up to be professional hockey players, they knew media and signings and events were going to be expected of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to like it.

but back to entitlement thing. i think it has become so normalized to create personas for real people in our heads that people are quite literally unable to separate the fantasy from reality. and i mean, i’ll even say i contribute to the problem. all fanfic writers do. we create these idealized and fictional versions of these men, but the ability to differentiate between the two cannot be lost in the process. but i think it has been. i think there’s this unrealistic expectation thrust upon all of them, but especially jack.

he’s popular, he’s cutie, and he’s good at hockey. of course he’s going to have a mass following. but…he’s just a guy, y’all. he’s a guy that has bad days, good days, who gets tired, who has a social battery. and last night, i think that social battery had just run out. do you know how long he’s been watched and in the media? do you know how long he’s been the most watched hughes, the expectations he’s carried on him for years?

i just think there needs to be some compassion and grace here. going back to the whole “people pay to watch me play” incident is a little excessive, imo. i mean, are we going to hold every single player to everything they’ve ever said in the box? does it define who they are and their character? i have not once seen anyone berate and question quinn’s character when he told someone they were “fucking nothing”. which, if you really want to get down to it, is worse than what jack said.

but no, jack is expected to be this guy with rainbows coming out of his ass all the time, apparently. i think the concept of social cues and situational awareness has been so lost because of the screen culture right now. people do so much communication through screens and phones that they forget, people aren’t always enthusiastic and bright, even if they add an exclamation point to their text. last night was not something jack chose to do of his own accord. he was told to do it, and he did it. he made sure the kids had a good time and felt cared for. he signed everything that came across his table. could he have been a little more chatty? yeah. could he have maybe smiled a bit more? yeah.

but seriously, he knew he was going to have to sign a million different items and see a million different people. the whole point of a signing is just that. if he was even remotely going to get out of there on time, there’s no way he could have had any meaningful conversation with every single person. and i feel like he’s said before he prioritizes/likes kids? i could be wrong, so don’t hold me to that.

but the point is, this whole situation is so sad and such a good example of how gossip blogs only care about getting likes and reblogs and attention. they don’t care about these players, no matter how much they claim to. and people are so quick to take everything they read for fact. personally, i think jack is just…antisocial.

i think he has a persona on the ice because he’s in his element, he’s comfortable, and he’s excited to be there. when he’s with his family and around his friends, he seems to be an overall happy guy. but around strangers? strangers that want to talk about his stats, how he played in this game or that game, that are shoving their items in his face to sign, people that he’ll likely never see again? he doesn’t give too much away.

and before people mention the being snippy and short with the workers, i wasn’t there so i didn’t see what happened. if he was, i’m not defending that behavior, but i don’t think it’s because he thinks he’s above them or thinks he’s “god’s gift to hockey” like i’ve seen thrown around so much today. we have all been snappy with people we shouldn’t have before. it doesn’t mean someone is this terrible person with a high horse attitude. i think it’s a combination of fatigue, stress, and maybe even some anxious energy that had been built up and made its way out.

anyways, i’ve said enough i think, and this will be the first and only time i talk about this, but i had too many thoughts swirling in my brain to just keep them there. be nice. show grace. you’re allowed to be disappointed if you attended last night and felt like he was maybe dry and dismissive, but please step back and put yourself in his shoes. not every person has a social and yappy personality. some people don’t speak unless they have something to say. and that’s okay!!!

and for the love of god, quit giving gossip blogs what they so desperately crave

#alliyaps #i just had to get this off my chest #this is not an invitation to be shitty on anon #the asks will be deleted #hockey #nhl #new jersey devils #jack hughes

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artdcnaldson · 2 days ago

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PATRICK buying ART TOYS!!!! buying him a VIBRATING COCK RING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKES him let him WATCH!!!!!!!! HE BOUGHT IT AFTER ALL……. ITS ONLY POLITE………….. sigh

-🩰

ok... yeah... sorry for the delay pookie wookie i hope you forgive me <3

But yeah <3 Patrick loves buying Art toys after he buys him the fleshlight <3 Loves thinking about how he contributes to Art's corruption with each little black bag he drops onto his bed.

But it's a joke! Of course it's a joke. It's a joke to watch Art splutter nervously and whine and beg Patrick to quit messing around when he pulls out whatever it is this week. It doesn't feel like a joke when Art pulls out a stroker toy or a bullet vibe and holds it in his big, lithe hands and Patrick feels his cock twitch just at the sight. Sometimes it really is a joke. A blow up doll, a ball gag (okay, that one was half a joke).

He gets back to their dorm first, almost twitching with anticipation as he waits for Art to get back and open up the bag Patrick left on his bed. It's after a late night at the gym (in which Patrick did not partake), so when Art gets back he's a little damp from his shower, flushed with exhaustion. And that blush only deepens when he sees the bag.

"How do you have the money to buy all this shit?" Art grumbles as he approaches the bed. "I could call your mom and get your card cancelled if she even knew the half of w—"

He goes quiet when he pulls out the package— thick plastic encasing a device he doesn't even know where to start with. He swallows, squints at it, tries to ignore the way his cock kicks with interest. "What is it?"

Patrick's mouth feels dry. "It's a, uh, it's a cock ring," he stammers, uncharacteristically affected by Art's obvious innocence.

"I thought they'd be different," Art says. But he's still holding it, Patrick notes. He hasn't dropped it and tried to pretend he wasn't interested. That was Art's way of doing things— pretend he wasn't into it until he was alone and could be a little degenerate in private. "Looks confusing."

"It's not," Patrick says. "I could show you."

He expects Art to scoff, to call him some name, to flip him off and change the subject. But he watches the bob of Art's adam's apple, meets his gaze. "Only if it isn't weird."

It's weird. They both know it's weird. Art's cock is nearly at half-mast, but Patrick still manages to fit the silicon ring around him, all the way down to his base.

Art whines, chest heaving, eyes lust-blown. "That's— ngh— tight. It's tight."

"It's s'posed to be," Patrick says, peering up at him from between his thighs. He adjusts it, so the attached vibrator rests at his perinium, a place Art hardly even thinks about, and now there's a firm pressure that makes heat build in his tummy, and Patrick presses a button and--

"Agh!—" He nearly doubles over when it starts vibrating, the muscles in his thighs trembling as the sensations overwhelm him. "Oh, oh fuck, Pat— ngh— Oh my god, that's— fuckfuckfuck— I can't— can't—"

Any other time, he would've blown his load early— cum buckets all over his lap and tummy. Instead, the snug ring at his base keeps him hard, and aching, and wanting. Right on the edge of release. His hips buck and his cock bobs, flushed an angry, needy red.

Patrick grins as Art clumsily pumps lotion into his hand and begins stroking his cock with fast, desperate movements. He's never seen Art this turned on... for this long. He's so used to seeing Art needy and cumming hard and fast.

This is new, it's delicious. "You're lasting pretty long, Art," Patrick teases, like he isn't rock hard in his sweats. "You should wear this more often."

"Shut— ngh— up—" Art whines, bucking into his fist. "Feels so— god— so good, it's— god, you've gotta try it—"

And Patrick will. God, he will. But he wants to watch Art use it a dozen more times before that happens.

It isn't long before Art can't hold back anymore. When he cries out with the most guttural, desperate moan Patrick's ever heard from him as he shoots ropes onto his shirt. He squirms and nearly cries with overstimulation until Patrick turns off the vibrator.

He's panting, breathing hard like he's just run a marathon. Red faced and laughing wryly. "You're evil. Stop buying me shit."

Patrick just grins back. He's not going to stop. He's going to ruin Art Donaldson for everyone else.

#🩰 anon #artrick

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gotta-winwin · 3 hours ago

Text

(🎞️) ... hit the road docu.<> for you to walk comfortably

word count: 1k TW: fluff? nothing too crazy - woozi's segments pretty mild compared to what's about to go down („• ֊ •„) italics are interview moments cut between other scenes a/n: welcome to the first instalment of htr!

Cyana couldn't help but glance at Woozi when they won the Album of the Year at Asia Artist Awards. She wanted to see that glow of a smile flood across their producer member's face, a smile she so rarely got to see. He was usually so stoic around her.

"We won." Jeonghan breathed into her ear, pulling her and Dino in for a hug. "We won."

She looked at Woozi, who had been tugged into a group hug with Seungcheol and the others. "We won." She mumbled, mostly to herself. She couldn't quite believe it.

"It was hard to imagine we had won." Woozi said to the camera. "I was looking for Cyana the whole time, trying to see her reaction. I never thought we'd succeed with her next to us." He shrugged, a little sheepish. "Guess I was wrong."

"Hi!" Cyana waved to the camera. "We're practicing for our Osaka concert right now." She moved to show the members with the staff in the background. "Apparently they did this all last tour as well, to keep in line with the local staff."

Woozi could be seen directing the bulk of it, naturally taking over as he knew most about their sound design.

"It sounds a bit lower," Woozi said into his mic. "can we adjust that?"

"It was amazing, to see Woozi oppa controlling the stage, even when we weren't performing." Cyana smiled as she recalled. "It made it even harder to hold a grudge."

Woozi approached Cyana as they sat in the green room, two hours before the concert. She was busy eating, her phone propped up as she watched Criminal Minds on low volume.

"Your mic pack's acting up." He informed her, sitting down opposite her. "They're fixing it but we don't know how long it'll take."

Cyana paused her show, looking up worried. "Is there a spare?"

"The staff are finding one now." Woozi let out a loud sigh. "It's a bit hectic today."

"I was kind of checking everything that day. It wasn't that I was a perfectionist. There was just a lot of changes. It was a different size stage, we had changed formations and cue sheets." Woozi recalled the day.

Cyana nodded after hearing the interviewer's comment. "I don't think our performance in Osaka would've gone as well if it hadn't been for his attention to detail."

LOCATION: UNIVERSE FACTORY

"I spend most of my time at the studio. It's like my second home." Woozi explained. "It's also where I see Cyana the most."

Cyana's sprawled on the studio couch, face facing the ceiling as she listened to the track Woozi was playing. "Pause it." Cyana sat upright, her face in thought. "Wait, go back a few bars."

"I liked working with Woozi oppa. We didn't really have much to say to each other outside of work, but working on music was something that could bring us together." Cyana let out a tiny laugh. "I guess being sleep deprived does bring people together."

Woozi rewinds the track, bringing it back to the chorus. "Here?" He asked, looking at Cyana for confirmation.

The girl nodded. "Yeah, play it again?"

The two grew silent as they concentrated on the beats. Cyana stood up suddenly frowning. "What is that sound in the very back? The dat-dat-dat-dun." She mimed drumbeats as she tried explaining what she was hearing.

"Cyana didn't know how to work the sound mixing board yet, she was learning as we worked but I could tell it frustrated her, having to explain her thoughts to me." Woozi couldn't help but smile. "It was endearing, I have to say."

"I know what you mean." Woozi nodded, following her train of thought. "I hear it too. Must've altered when we mixed those two beats together yesterday." He clicked a few keys on the board. "I'll find it."

"Bumzu sunbaenim told me Woozi oppa's always been like this, even as a trainee. A pure musical genius." Cyana shook her head in mild disbelief. "I came to learn that producing is literally his entire life. He doesn't even think of it as anything special."

Cyana let out a yawn, sitting back down on her spot at the corner of the couch, curling her legs up. "You should take a break, oppa. You've been staring at that screen for hours."

"I felt bad, that I couldn't hold my fair share of the work. Sometimes it felt like I was just directing him." Cyana admitted. "I thought: he must feel annoyed, having the maknae throw ideas into his area of expertise."

Woozi stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders back. "I'm fine, Cyana. We can keep going." Rolling his chair across the room, he opened the mini fridge and threw her a bottle of water before taking one for himself. "We'll forget tomorrow."

Cyana could only smile ruefully at his persistence, taking a small sip of water. "Only if you're sure."

"What else can I say?" Woozi shrugged. "The members all say I work too hard. That I should be sleeping more, going out more, living more. But I am living- when I'm making music."

Woozi cued up the track once again, sifting through it to find the error both he and Cyana could hear. Cyana watched from behind, feet tapping absentmindedly to the rhythm.

The concert venue held an insane amount of people. Cyana could only stare out into the vast sea, smiling from the sidelines as Woozi started his Opening Ment.

"I'm a stickler for routine." Woozi said, elbows on his knees as he explained to the interviewer. "Cyana proved to me new things can be better than the old- and I'm grateful to her for that." He side eyes the staff. "She won't see this, right?" Looking back at the camera, he continued. "Anyways, I'm thankful for my members because they are the ones who love my music the most. Because of that, I feel no pressure in creating, only joy."

The cheers from the crowd washed over Woozi as he performed with his members.

'There is something so special about seeing people enjoy your group's music. And it is even more special knowing you created it."

a/n: wahhh first hit the road ep done! it was def a journey, trying to combine cyana into the episode and also keeping it woozi-centered. I tried following the format of the og youtube docu- lmk how it was! these instalments might be on the shorter side just cause the docus are pretty short themselves (｡•́︿•̀｡)

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elifinchsart · 1 day ago

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Uhhh post game cap in regular clothes?

(Prolly reluctantly trying to separate himself from the uniform a bit since….. *gestures at game* all of that happend, but also not quite knowing where to go from here since *gestures at game* all of this makes me feel like trying to move on from the BBs is probably gonna be hard for him and I feel like the uniform may or may not be a comfort to him in some weird sense… Wish I could explain my reasoning better but then again I don’t even think he could .)

Oh Yeah I absolutely understand what you're getting at here. The uniform IS him in many ways- it represented his place in things both as a follower and a leader. As long as he was wearing it he knew who he was (or what his role was) and so did others. That uniform also represented all his hard work to become Inspekta’s right hand man, so it absolutely was a source of pride as well as comfort. Having the BB's disbanded and losing that position and uniform is going to be very, very hard. For the first time in a very long time he's going to have to think about who he is a person removed from a power structure that gave him purpose. He's been completely unmoored in a way. And that's going be incredibly rough- things are going to feel worse and perhaps get worse for him before he can get better. Even though he's out of a toxic situation and in a far healthier place I think it's going to be something he misses for a while. We know from Yugo's drawings that what he wore before joining the Bizzyboys and wears off the clock are more for function and comfort and that he doesn't take great care of himself or them. And why should he? He only needs to be presentable so that he's representing Inspekta well. If he’s not on the job there’s no point in dressing up. In my opinion, the contrast between how he treats his own clothes vs his uniform is really interesting and important. He wants respect but doesn't respect himself and that reflects in his clothing choices. It's also why he panics so much when his uniform gets colored in paint- suddenly he doesn't fit in and his image doesn't command power. I've drawn him in his tank top/shorts and flannel but let’s talk about what else could be in his wardrobe. After rotting for a bit I think Vibiano and the others will help/push him to get a new wardrobe. I have designed some clothes I can see him picking out. Similar shapes to his uniform, nothing too out there pattern or color-wise that would made him stand out (maybe one day he'll feel bolder)- stuff that looks nice and snappy and classy. Stuff that makes him look like a guy you'd respect- yknow? Something he can wear with pride again.

Anyway those are my thoughts/interpretations! They may be different from yours (general not just you anon) but I definitely think his clothing is important to his character! I have a stupid joke follow up to this too but I'm going to post it separately.

#great god grove #great god grove spoilers #capochin #id in alt text #asks

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fandomfluffandfuck · 2 days ago

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I don't have the energy to actually write much about Sebastian knowing proper choking techniques, so just a quick thought:

Ignoring an obvious kinky undertone that I strongly get the vibe from for Seb, I judt know he's been choked a time or two and has picked up techniques through bascially osmosis, lmao, what if Seb knows how to choke someone properly because of his role for Bucky? The winter soldier does it a shit ton. He had to have been trained for that. Stunts don't fuck around and choreography takes time to learn. Time that, Chris, we know, takes less of. He picks up stunts wildly fast, being shown beats back to back and parroting them perfectly. Seb, like a normal human, takes more time.

So, Sebastian probably worked a lot more with the stunt doubles and stunt performers before finally having Chris show up for a few practice runs before the final shot.

They practice a lot.

They test a few different camera angles, trying to figure out exactly how to solve this artistic problem. The tension pulls Chris' muscles into a tangled knot of anticipation. He could vibrate out of his fucking skin.

The intensity of that repeat repeat repeat, hand-around-your-neck problem solving is hell. Sisyphean if the boulder were pressing on your throat and you liked it. It's the closest Chris has been to Seb. Maybe. They've shot lots of scenes. Lots of stunts. None quite like this, though. Even when they were wrestling, all but fucking grinding, for Captain America: Winter Soldier, Chris at least knew how terribly torturous that would be, how much he would struggle through gritted teeth not to get hard. Here, now, he didn't expect this. It hits.

It's good.

It shouldn't be. But it is.

Chris has been fucking lusting after Seb hard since that first film--who could stare up at Sebastian (standing on an apple box to give the illusion hieght difference for skinny Steve) and not fall madly in love lust with such a pretty man--and needing to have his fist, cold and hard yet so gentle and caring every time they call cut, wrapped around his throat for his fuckin' job only makes it worse.

It was worse already when Seb showed up to set jacked outta fucking control, looking thick as fuck, prowling around, heavy and taking up space but still being so fucking sweet.

It's worse than worse the next morning when Chris rolls over in bed, sleeping naked, to feel a low, thrumming ache deep in the tendons and muscles of his throat to go with the gentle, expected pulse of morning wood between his legs--he knows how he gets on set with Sebastian, so close to him, breathing in his cologne, watching his face evolve, choking back the constant urge to praise his skill, his beauty, his everything.

Chris knows, immediately, with such a sensation around his neck even without the assistance of a mirror that he's got bruising, probably faint. He's just pale enough for it to show, he's sure, but, yes, bruising.

Huh.

Chris swallows on reflex, his mouth suddenly dry, then again on purpose, reveling in the ghostly, intimate sensation of squeezing touch. Tight. Touch. Just enough constriction to make him start to feel the edge of dizzy, like being tipsy.

Yeah.

The memories of yesterday lazily replay in Chris' tired mind.

A shiver rolls through him, leaving behind an army of goosebumps raised over his bare skin despite the heat of his body trapped in his bedsheets. The idea of Sebastian touching him--touching him--his mark left on his body, pressed into his skin, reminding him of exactly what he did, grabbed him and pulled him close, biceps fucking bulging, shoulders shifting, eyes so intense, mouth pink, face, just, like that.

God.

Chris remains in his bed, swallowing, sweating, and... thinking... for a little longer than he should.

He's late for his call time.

And he absolutely does not blush when the makeup artist clicks their tongue, carefully brushing their fingers across his jaw this way and that to get a sense of the bruising, and tells him he should ask the director for a raise. The stunt performers get adjustments, you know, when they take a really hard fall, so should you. That, or, see if you can bruise Seb up in return--they don't mean it, everyone loves Seb on set. It's impossible not to, look at the guy!

Chris doesn't want a raise. He doesn't want... he wants... he kinda wants Seb to do it again. He might really want to ask Seb to show him how so he can use it against him 🥴🥴 He wants red-faced and gasping and hitching breaths that are more moans than anything else, he wants eyes rolling back, he wants trembling, he wants lips loosely whimpering tighter, harder, more, please 😮‍💨

#you KNOW at least once during those takes Chris' breath hitched and then came out rough... almost like a moan... almost like he really liked #feeling seb's hand around his throat more than he should #fandomfluffandfuck #chris evans #sebastian stan #evanstan #rpf #real person fanfiction

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the-bad-guys-2-reportage · 13 hours ago

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🟢The Bad Guys 2 director & producer confirms Diane Foxington won't have a smaller role in the sequel!

They know of her popularity

Pierre Perifel: "Yeah, she has her own kind of storyline here. And we love her so much. She’s a badass. But, to answer your question, I think we saw the reaction of people to this character, and we knew we needed her. She’s definitely a big part of the franchise."

Damon Ross: "I mean, I’d say the character of Diane Foxington really popped in the first movie. You get a little taste of her in the trailer, but she’s definitely in the second one, and she’s kind of a scene stealer. She’s really fantastic. The chemistry between Wolf & Diane is incredible"

Bonus: about the new message of the movie:

Pierre Perifel: "I think that message is still relevant. It will always be somewhat relevant, because it’s really the story of these villains that are becoming heroes through their journey of life, really, and therefore looking for belonging from a society that hates them. In this story, I think we naturally were led to a different path. In this first movie, our bad guys are changing. They embrace a new life, Wolf, in particular, embraces a new life and drags the whole gang down with him. Like, alright, we’re bad now, but we’re going to go good. And he feels responsible for the rest of the gang, just dragging them into this new life. And it turns out, this new life after prison, where he thought it would be easy to be accepted by society and embraced, it turns out it doesn’t work like that. You come out of prison, you’re still an ex-con, you’re still scary, because he’s Wolf and people don’t trust him. So we start the movie there where Wolf is quite scary, and realising that it’s not easy to live a normal life."

Damon Ross:"I think he feels slightly, I mean, we’re not on the nose with this, but he’s slightly guilty. He’s pitched this good life to the crew, and he’s dragged them away. What seemed like a great thing for “the bad guys” with this new life is not all it’s cracked up to be. He’s like, “Well, what was the right choice? Did I do the right thing?” Wolf ultimately is tested with his decision to go good with this new female crime team,The Bad Girls, who are going to lure them back into the bad life. It’s bringing (the crew) out of retirement and asking them to do one last job."

Interview from theaureview & GamesRadar

Based on the books by Aaron Blabey

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bringthekaos · 7 hours ago

Note

are you gonna keep writing jayvik now that viktor is confirmed straight?

Gunna answer this one diplomatically, even though this ask was clearly sent with malice. Warning for Act 2 spoilers (and possible Act 3 spoilers, since the footage used in the "The Line" music video is most likely from Act 3).

First, when I continue to write Jayvik, it will probably have to be an AU anyway, because I have about 2% confidence that both of them make it out of this show alive.

Second: he is still not confirmed straight. He was depicted taking Sky's hands as she fades away for a second time. This means nothing, romantically. It means he regrets this is happening, he knows it's his fault, and he wishes to bring comfort to her in her last moments.

And that's if it even is her, and not a manifestation of his guilt, given that she doesn't look like herself at all in his hallucinations, or whatever it is. Her eyebrows are thinner in the hallucination, and her hair is wholly different: not as high on her head nor as tightly bundled or curly. This points to a suggestion that this manifestation is his best effort of representing her in his mind, and it is wrong because he didn't know her well at all.

Not to mention, in the very few interactions that they had (before Jayce's Progress Day Speech and when she asked him to walk home together), he was shown just... not receptive. It could have been read as disinterest because he is gay (which obviously many people did), or just that he has a very one-track mind on his research at the time, and isn't even cognizant of the missed social interaction. But either way, there was no foundation for connection, intimate or otherwise, between them. Certainly not enough for the heavy-handed and forced connection depicted in season 2.

THAT SAID, I am a very ship and let ship person. I have certainly fabricated ships from less. Hell, I've shipped characters that never even interacted in canon. And I have no problem with the SkyVik ship, given that his sexuality was never confirmed one way or the other. Honestly, if it had been built up better in the writing, there is potential there! Both of them being from Zaun, and clawing their way into the Academy, which as Jayce said has a success rate of 3%. But it is not groundbreaking or even remotely incorrect to say that this ship is fabricated (and not in a negative sense. It's just fact). There wasn't enough to support it. He brushed her off multiple times. And he only seems to give her the attention after she is dead, which again points to a motivation of guilt: he wishes he'd gotten to know her and her aspirations and dreams before her life was cut short by him. But it's too late.

And lastly, the thing everyone needs to understand is this: Jayce and Viktor were released in League in 2012, and Jayce was specifically built as the mirror to Viktor. It was honestly quite a poetic "formed from the rib" kind of release for Jayce, who came 7 months after Viktor. These two had no canon romantic involvements in that time beyond mere speculation, so naturally they had very queer undertones for almost ten years before Arcane came out. And I don't think it's much of a leap to be disappointed when the producers and distributors of the show decided that they couldn't make their show "too gay" for mainstream audiences. Especially when the pre-established League fanbase consisted of 87% men (source), and a lot of cishet men are threatened/disgusted by/afraid of gay men, yet fetishize lesbian sex. So yeah. The Jayvik shippers get understandably disappointed when their 10-year old ship gets no-homo'd at the finish line.

So to answer your original question. Yeah. I am probably gunna continue to write Jayvik. Yes, even if they're both "confirmed" straight. I will hit them both with the bi hammer. And I will tag my stuff accordingly, and "stay in my lane" so to speak, and everyone is welcome to block me if they don't wanna see it. I'm not gunna go around harassing SkyVik shippers, just as I have never harassed MelJayce shippers. And I'm sure this will be called "misogyny" by many who'd like to assign a moral high ground to their attempts at eradicating the JayVik ship. Trust me, if I could have my ship without disregarding two amazing women, I would do it. But I can't, because someone at the decision making table decided to give two characters who never had any romantic involvements in League the no homo treatment.

And of course, as always, the season is not over. Some of this could change. But my love of the JayVik ship won't. Block me if you don't like it.

For obvious reasons, anon is now off ✌️

#not tagging Arcane #cuz I don't need the army of haters reblogging with their “um ACKtually” vitriol #I just want my gay little ship #please let me do that in peace since Riot can't #jayvik

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jaeyunluvbot · 9 hours ago

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ceilings

genre/tags 𝟅𝟈 childhood friends to lovers, best friends to lovers, college au, mark lee x fem!reader,

word count 𝟅𝟈 4.1k

NOT PROOFREAD

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

You sit cross-legged on the couch in your dorm, a half-empty mug of coffee going cold on the table in front of you. Your laptop is open, the beginnings of a lesson plan appearing on the screen. Across the room, Mark is sprawled in your beanbag chair, a stack of notebooks and his own laptop scattered haphazardly around him.

“Remind me why you picked education again?” he teases, spinning a pen between his fingers.

“Because I like helping people,” you say without looking up. “Unlike you, who’s clearly just here to take up space.”

Mark laughs, the sound comforting and familiar. “Yikes. I’m just saying, you’ve been staring at that screen for, like, two hours. Are you actually working, or just writing your name in different fonts?”

You roll your eyes, finally glancing over at him. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of slacking off, Mr. Communications Major.”

“Hey, excuse you,” Mark says, sitting up a little. “I’m a communications major with a business minor. Very serious stuff.”

“Right,” you deadpan. “I’m sure the world is just desperate for your next paper on influencer marketing.”

He grins, leaning back again. “You know it.”

The conversation feels like a warm blanket, familiar and comforting. You’ve been best friends with Mark since third grade, and moments like this remind you why. No matter what life throws your way, he’s always been there—ready with a joke, a smile, or a friday-night movie marathon.

Still, lately, things have felt off… different. You hesitate, tapping your fingers on the edge of your laptop.

“Mark?”

“Hmm?” he says, not looking up from the YouTube video he’s somehow roped into his “studying.”

“You know Jaemin, right? From my educational psych class?”

Mark pauses the video, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, I know him. Why?”

“Well…” you trail off, suddenly not sure if you should tell him. “He asked me out yesterday.”

Mark doesn’t react immediately, his face carefully neutral. “Oh. What’d you say?”

“I said yes.”

Mark’s jaw tightens imperceptibly before he nods, forcing a smile. “That’s cool. Jaemin’s… cool.”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, a little too quickly. “He’s nice. And, you know, he’s on the soccer team. Everyone loves a soccer guy.”

You tilt your head, watching him cautiously. “You’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird,” Mark argues, shifting his position to cover his fidgeting. “I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really, I am.”

You squint at him, unconvinced, but let it go. “Cool.”

The rest of the evening passes in a strange kind of silence. Mark cracks a few jokes here and there, but the usual ease between you feels just a little strained.

Later that night, as you lie in bed staring at the ceiling, the soft whirring of your fan lulling you into a tired state, you can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted. But what—and why—you can’t quite figure out.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A month later, you and Mark find yourselves in your favorite spot off-campus, a cozy little café that’s been your special place since freshman year. You’re sitting by the window, sipping a caramel latte and doodling on a napkin while Mark devours a bagel like it’s his last meal.

“I’m just saying,” he says between bites, crumbs and seeds scattering all over the table, “professors shouldn’t assign group projects if they know people like Yuta exist.”

“Not this again,” you groan, half-laughing. “What did he do this time?”

“What didn’t he do?” Mark gestures dramatically. “He wrote a single sentence and called it his ‘contribution.’ I’m carrying this guy through college, Y/N.”

“Maybe he’s just shy,” you suggest, smiling at your best friend’s complaints.

Mark shakes his head, pointing at you with a crumb-covered finger. “No, no. Shy people at least pretend to help. Yuta just disappears.”

You laugh, the sound bright against the low hum of the café. Moments like this remind you why Mark is your favorite person.

Which makes your next suggestion seem obvious—at least to you.

“You know,” you say, swirling your spoon in your cup, “you should hang out with Jaemin.”

Mark freezes mid-chew, his eyes widening slightly. “What?”

“You and Jaemin,” you repeat. “I feel like you’d get along. You’re both funny and laid-back, and you like soccer.”

“I don’t like soccer,” Mark says flatly.

“You played soccer in high school,” you counter.

“Because my mom made me,” he argues, setting his muffin down. “And no offense, but I don’t think me and Jaemin would get along.”

“How do you know?” you challenge, leaning forward. “You’ve never hung out with him. He’s really nice, Mark.”

Mark’s expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m sure he is,” he says carefully. “But… why are you so set on this?”

“Because you’re my best friend,” you say simply. “And he’s… my boyfriend. It would just be nice if you guys were friends, too.”

Mark looks at you for a long moment, his jaw tightening slightly before he nods. “Okay,” he says finally. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll hang out with him.”

You beam, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “Thanks, Mark. It means a lot.”

He forces a smile, but as he takes another bite of his muffin, you notice the way his shoulders tense.

And for the second time that week, you can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Mark adjusts his hoodie for the third time as he steps into the campus rec center, wondering how mad you’d be if he flaked on Jaemin. He spots him right away, standing by the basketball court with a bright smile on his face, spinning a ball on his finger effortlessly.

“Mark!” Jaemin calls, waving enthusiastically.

Mark forces a grin and waves back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approaches.

“Hey,” he says.

“Glad you made it,” Jaemin says, tossing the ball to him. “You play, right?”

“Uh, not really,” Mark admits, catching the ball awkwardly.

Jaemin chuckles, his tone warm and friendly. “No worries. We’ll just shoot around. Nothing serious.”

They step onto the court, and Jaemin immediately starts talking, filling the space with his easy energy. He’s exactly how Y/N described—friendly, funny, and genuinely likable.

“So, Y/N told me you guys have been friends forever,” Jaemin says, making a shot effortlessly.

“Yeah,” Mark replies, dribbling the ball and taking a shot. It bounces off the backboard, and he winces. “We grew up together.”

“That’s awesome,” Jaemin says, running after the ball. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a friendship like that. She talks about you all the time, you know.”

Mark swallows hard, his throat tightening at the thought. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin continues, passing the ball back to him. “She says you’re, like, the best person she knows. Always there for her.”

Mark forces a smile, the comment accentuating the already heavy weight on his chest. “She’s pretty great herself,” he says, taking another shot. This one goes in, and Jaemin claps excitedly.

“She really is.” Jaemin says, smiling softly.

As they continue playing, Mark starts to feel a strange mix of guilt and admiration. Jaemin is genuinely a good guy—there’s no doubt about it, and he obviously cares about Y/N. But every time Jaemin mentions her, Mark feels like he’s been punched in the gut.

“So,” Jaemin says after a while of playing, leaning against the wall to catch his breath. “What do you think of me?”

Mark nearly chokes on his water. “What?”

“Come on,” Jaemin says, laughing. “I know you probably weren’t super excited about this. Y/N might’ve had to twist your arm a bit. So, what’s the verdict?”

Mark hesitates, running a hand through his hair. “You’re… a good guy,” he says finally.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, grinning. “That’s it?”

Mark shrugs, forcing his hands to stay placed firmly on the ball, needing something to ground himself before he shouts his feelings to the world. “Y/N thinks so, and she’s usually right about people.”

Jaemin chuckles, his expression softening. “She’s something else, huh?”

Mark nods, his throat tightening again. “Yeah. She is.”

Jaemin leans back against the wall, tossing the ball between his hands. “I don’t know what I did to deserve her, honestly. She’s just… amazing.”

Mark doesn’t respond, forcing a smile, his chest aching at how easily Jaemin says the words Mark’s been too afraid to even think about out loud.

“Anyway,” Jaemin says, breaking the silence. “Thanks for hanging out. I know you probably had better things to do.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Mark replies, his voice quieter now.

As they step back onto the court to finish their game, Mark tries to focus on the sound of the ball hitting the floor, anything to distract himself from the guilt gnawing at him. Jaemin is exactly as Y/N said—perfect. And yet, Mark can’t shake the heavy, unspoken truth weighing on his chest.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The Friday after Mark and Jaemin’s basketball game, Mark sat on your couch, scrolling aimlessly through his phone while you organized your notes at the dining table. It was a typical evening—quiet and uneventful—but something felt off. Mark had been acting strange ever since his hangout with Jaemin, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to you about something.

“Hey,” you called, your voice cutting through the silence. “You’ve been weird lately. Is something wrong?”

Mark didn’t even glance up. “I’m fine,” he said curtly.

You frowned but decided not to push. Instead, you tried to lighten the mood. “So, Jaemin was telling me about this soccer game next weekend, maybe all three of us could —”

“Do you talk about anything but Jaemin?” Mark snapped, his voice slicing through you sentence like a blade.

You froze, staring at him in confusion. “What?”

“You’re always talking about him,” Mark continued, setting his phone down with more force than necessary. “Jaemin this, Jaemin that. Do you even realize how much you talk about him?”

Your confusion quickly turned to anger. “Mark, what’s your problem? You’re the one who’s been acting all weird, and now you’re getting mad at me for talking about my boyfriend?”

Mark stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Forget it. Just forget I said anything.”

“No,” you shot back, standing too. “You don’t get to yell at me and then walk away. What’s going on with you?”

“I said forget it, Y/N!” Mark shouted, his voice louder than you'd ever heard it before.

You took a step back, a pang hurt flashing across your face. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk to me, then don’t.”

For a moment, Mark’s expression softened, guilt and regret flickering in his eyes. But he quickly hardened again, grabbing his jacket. “You know what? I won’t.” Without another word, he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

You stood frozen in place, your chest tight and tears pricking your eyes. You'd argued before, sure, but this time felt different—more real. You sank onto the couch, mind racing with questions you didn’t have answers to.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

During the days following the argument, you tried to go about life as normal, but Mark’s absence hung over you like a dark cloud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. Jaemin was the first to notice.

The two of you were sitting on a park bench after grabbing coffee, the late afternoon sun casting warm light over the pond in front of them. Your barely touched your drink, gaze distant as you stared at the ducks paddling by.

“You’ve been quiet lately,” Jaemin said gently, voice soft, as if he was afraid of what he was about to say.

“I’m fine,” you replied automatically, though your voice lacked any sense of genuineness.

Jaemin tilted his head, studying you with a soft, understanding look. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “Mark and I had a fight. He’s been acting so weird, and I don’t know why. It’s like he’s mad at me for something, but he won’t tell me what.”

Jaemin hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure you don’t have feelings for Mark?”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide in surprise, looking at her boyfriend, shocked. “What? No. Of course I don’t. He’s my best friend.”

Jaemin didn’t say anything right away, his gaze steady but kind. “Listen,” he began carefully, “you’re a great girl. Really. But... I think you might care about him more than you realize.”

You shook your head, a pit of dread bubbling in your stomach. “Jaemin, I—I like you. I do.”

“I know,” he said softly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But not the way you like him. And that’s okay.”

Tears stung your eyes as guilt washed over you. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do this to you,” you whispered.

“Don’t be,” Jaemin said, placing a reassuring hand over yours. “You can’t help how you feel. And honestly? I think you should talk to him. Figure it out.”

You sniffled, giving him a small, watery smile. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

Jaemin laughed, leaning back against the bench. “I know.”

Despite the weight of their conversation, you felt a strange sense of clarity. You didn’t know what you were going to say to Mark, but for the first time, you knew you had to try.

You left the park bench with a renewed sense of purpose and a goal, to talk to Mark.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Jaemin was lying on your bed, legs stretched out as you paced back and forth. You had been trying to contact Mark for days—texts, calls, voicemails—but every attempt was met with silence. And it was driving you crazy.

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled, frustration and sadness evident in your voice. “He’s never acted like this before. We’ve argued before and we always made up, but now... now he’s avoiding me like I’m some kind of plague.”

Jaemin watched you, a quiet understanding in his gaze. He could tell how much it was bothering you, even though you were trying your very best to hide it.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” Jaemin asked, leaning forward slightly.

You stopped mid-pace, looking at him with a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance. “I don’t have a choice, Jaemin. He clearly doesn’t want to talk to me. Maybe I messed up, maybe I pushed him too far, but he’s not responding.”

Jaemin shook his head, his smile soft but firm. “Don’t give up on him, Y/N. You love him, and he clearly feels something similar for you. Maybe he just needs a little push.”

You sigh, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I just don’t know what else to do. It’s not like I haven’t tried.”

Jaemin paused for a second, a glint of mischief creeping into his eyes. “Well, what if I told you I had a plan to make him face you?”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical but curious. “What?”

He grinned, clearly proud of himself. “I do. But you’re gonna have to trust me on this one.”

You frowned but nodded, trusting Jaemin more than anyone else. “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Jaemin leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper as he began to lay out the details of his plan. He knew it was a little underhanded, but if it meant fixing things with Mark and you, he was willing to take the risk.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

A few days later, Mark was hanging out with his friends Haechan and Chenle at their usual café. He had been avoiding you, and it wasn’t because he wanted to. The guilt gnawed at him every time he saw your name pop up on his phone, but he didn’t know how to fix things. Every time he thought about talking to you, he freaked out, not knowing if he could handle being rejected by you.

“Man, you’ve been really quiet lately,” Haechan said, nudging Mark’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

Mark shrugged, not meeting either of their gazes. “Just… tired, I guess.”

Chenle raised an eyebrow. “Tired? Dude, you’re literally doing nothing. Just hiding out at home all day.”

“Yeah,” Haechan added, “and avoiding Y/N. Come on, what’s going on between you two?”

Mark stiffened, his heart skipping a beat at the mention of your name. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, his phone buzzed. A new message from Jaemin.

Hey, man. I need you to do me a favor.

Mark hesitated for a moment before replying, his fingers hovering over the keys. What’s up?

I need you to meet me at the park in 30 minutes. Trust me, it’s important.

Mark frowned, sensing something was off, but he couldn’t figure out what. Okay, fine. I’ll be there.

He shoved his phone back into his pocket, barely noticing Haechan and Chenle’s knowing smiles.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

When Mark arrived at the park, he found Jaemin leaning against a bench, looking unusually serious.

“Why’d you need me to meet you?” Mark asked, crossing his arms and trying to hide his nervousness.

Jaemin smiled mischievously for a split second, but then he stood up straighter, his tone firm. “I’m going to help you fix things with Y/N.”

Mark blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Jaemin exhaled deeply, looking Mark in the eye. “Y/N’s been acting weird. Because you’re avoiding her. And I get it, man. I really do. But you’re hurting her by not talking to her. And she doesn’t deserve that.”

Mark felt a pang in his chest, guilt flooding his mind. “I know, but it’s complicated…”

“Complicated or not,” Jaemin interrupted, “you can’t just leave things like this. You’re her best friend, Mark. You mean everything to her.”

Mark’s throat tightened, his hands trembling slightly. “Why do you care? She’s your girlfriend.”

Jaemin’s expression hardened slightly. “Actually, she’s not. You’d know that if you answered her calls.”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief. “What?”

Jaemin sighed, “Listen man, I like her, I do, but she doesn’t feel the same. We broke up. And now I’ve been trying to help her contact you. You’re hurting her a lot by ignoring her like this.”

Mark groaned, feeling a sense of disbelief that your ex-boyfriend was currently trying to convince him to confess his feelings to you.

Jaemin ignores the clear shock on Mark’s face, pulling out his phone and smirking. “I’ve been talking to Haechan and Chenle. They’re on board with this. We’ve already arranged it. You two are meeting up, whether you like it or not.”

Mark’s eyes widened as he realized Jaemin had masterminded the whole thing. “You… you told them?”

Jaemin gave him a pointed look. “I did. And you’re gonna thank me later.”

Before Mark could protest any further, he heard your voice from behind him. “I’m here.”

Mark turned around, his heart pounding in his chest as he saw you standing there, looking as nervous as he felt.

Jaemin stepped back, a sly grin on his face. “You two figure it out. I’ll leave you to it.”

As Jaemin walked away, Mark stood there, unsure of how to approach the situation. He wanted to run, but Jaemin’s words echoed in his head: You can’t just leave things like this.

You looked at him, eyes filled with uncertainty, and Mark’s heart sank seeing your disheveled state. He had to fix this. And he was going to try, no matter how scared he was.

Mark stood frozen for a moment, staring at you as you approached. His heart hammered in his chest, and all he could think was how easy it would be to turn around and walk away. To just disappear before this moment could get any more uncomfortable. But as much as he wanted to run, he couldn’t. Not when you had been so patient, so understanding—he owed you this conversation.

“Mark,” You called out softly, your voice hesitant but steady.

He exhaled, pushing the thought of escape aside, and turned to face you. You looked just as uncertain as he felt, and it made the guilt rise within him all over again.

You silently walked to a nearby bench, and Mark sat down first, his hands gripping the edge of the seat as if it could anchor him to reality. You sat beside him, her posture stiff, like you were preparing for some awful outcome.

After a long pause, you broke the silence. “Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, voice a little softer than he expected, clearly you were nervous.

Mark felt his stomach drop, a wave of regret crashing over him. “Y/N, I…” He ran a hand through his hair, avoiding her gaze. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I said that. I just… I was confused. I’ve been confused for a while.”

You frowned, clearly still unsure of where this was going. “Confused about what?”

“I—” He cut himself off, trying to find the right words. He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to risk ruining their friendship, but there was no other way around it. “I’ve been in love with you, Y/N. For a long time now. And I didn’t know how to deal with it. So, I tried to ignore it.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned your head to look at him, your wide eyes betraying her mask of calmness. “What?”

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” he continued, voice thick with anxiety. “I was afraid that if I told you, you’d never want to talk to me again. And I’ve… I’ve been avoiding you ever since, because I thought if I just stayed away, it would be easier.”

You shook your head slowly, eyes glistening as you processed his words. “Mark… you’re my best friend. You should have told me.”

“I know. I should have,” he muttered, feeling even more ashamed. “I messed up. And then I lashed out at you, and that was stupid.”

You sigh deeply, and then, surprisingly, smile softly at him. “It’s okay, Mark. I get it now. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize it, but I was just too scared to admit how I felt.”

Mark’s eyes widened. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you continued, your voice trembling a little, “I’m in love with you, too. I just didn’t want to mess things up, either. I didn’t want to lose our friendship.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He blinked at you, his mind racing to process your confession. “You… you love me?”

You nodded slowly. “Yeah. And I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m sorry I acted the way I did and I’m sorry for always bringing up Jaemin around you, I just—”

Mark could feel the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest tightened, and the guilt that had been gnawing at him for weeks was replaced by a rush of clarity. He couldn’t let this moment slip away, not after everything the two of you had been through.

Before you could say another word, Mark reached out, cupping your face gently with his hand. He leaned in and kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with a softness that made your heart race.

Your eyes widened in surprise, and you pulled back slightly, voice shaky. “Oh my god.”

Mark chuckled softly, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t wait any longer.”

You blinked, still processing everything. “I… I didn’t expect that.”

Mark smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I wasn’t planning on it either. But I guess it was time for me to stop being an idiot.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re not an idiot, Mark. You’re just… well, maybe a little bit. But I’m glad we’re talking about this now.”

He nodded, his smile growing wider. “Me too. And, uh, I guess we can’t just go back to how things were, right?”

You grinned, your eyes twinkling. “Yeah, I don’t think we can. But I’m okay with that.”

Mark took a deep breath, feeling like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “So, what now?”

You thought for a moment before shrugging. “I think we should just… figure it out. We already know each other so well, so maybe it’ll be easy.”

Mark grinned, feeling a warmth spread through him. “Yeah, I think we can make it work.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

AUTHOR'S NOTE 𝟅𝟈 omg another fic we cheered. thank u to the like 20 people who like my writing i really appreciate it. lmk if you have any requests pls

masterlist.

#jaeyunluvbot #kpop #nct dream #nct 127 #y/n #college au #mark lee #lee minhyung #mark #neo culture technology #friends to lovers #maybe angst #happy ending #jaemin #chenle #lee haechan

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