#and there's like. no real difference between something that is a real idea and i want to do it and Random Idea Notes

[angelltheninth]

Do you think the Arcane lesbians tie their hair back when eating out?

Ya'll really trying to make me go feral with these eh?

Pairing: Vi, Caitlyn, Maddie, Sevika, Ambessa x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cunnilingus, hair-pulling, teasing, biting, being pinned down, praise, clit slapping

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: As far as I know Ambessa is a bisexual queen so I'm putting her in here.

Vi ran her hand through her buzzcut and sighed. "I mean, I can tie my hair back but I don't really see the point. It's just on the one side of my face, and my back." She shrugged as she leaned further down between your legs. "It doesn't bother me. What about you?"

"Not really. I thought you might wanna do it so I can see your eyes more clearly. Your hair has been getting a bit longer lately. Might need a haircut some time soon." You hooked your legs around Vi's shoulders and sighed heavily as her tongue prodded against your entrance.

As she licked into you your hands ran through her hair, seeing her point as your hands were enough to hold her hair back. She didn't need a hair tie. She looked perfect just like this, between your legs, about to eat you out like you were her last meal.

"If you wanna keep looking at me better keep those hands in place, sweet stuff." Her teasing words made you moan and tighten your grip. You didn't want her to stop, so you would do as you were told.

With your hands and your legs keeping her in pace Vi moved her tongue through your wet folds, savoring your sweet taste and the ever present tug you gave against her scalp every time her tongue played with your clit. The real reason why she enjoyed it is because she didn't mind the pain, when it mixed with pleasure.

If Caitlyn ties her hair back when you two have sex then you know she feels like giving rather than receiving that night. As soon as you saw her do it you knew you were for a really long night. "What are you smiling like that for darling?" Caitlyn asked as she leaned in for a kiss.

With a smirk and not breaking the kiss you pulled her on top of you and cupper her cheeks. "You know why. You tied your hair back. Just seeing you do that gets me wet." Caitlyn's eyebrows furrowed and she tilted her head. Her hands cupped over yours before she pushed them to your sides and kissed down your body. It seemed to make her conflicted that you knew what she was gonna do.

"Am I that predictable? Should I do something to spice things up?" There was something dangerous in her eyes as she asked. "Since you can see what I do, perhaps a nice blindfold, to keep you guessing."

"I-I wouldn't be opposed to that." You spread your legs open further and moved your panties to the side. "What else do you wanna do to me?"

Caitlyn looked up at you right as her tongue pressed against your clit and stayed there. She pulled away after a few seconds. "I'm sure I can think of a few things. After I make you come." You couldn't think of anything either as Caitlyn started mercilessly licking at your clit.

Maddie always wore her hair tied back except for when she was sleeping or taking a shower. It was no different when she was between your legs. Other might argue she's silly when she ties her hair back like that but they don't know how much easier it makes it to please her favorite girl.

"Do you not like it? You always said my ponytail was pretty cute. What changed?" The look on her face was an almost rejected pout.

"Nothing." You laughed at the idea that she thought you were rejecting her sense of style. "I love how you look with your hair tied up. Makes you look so damn cute. when you're under me like this."

In retaliation of you calling her cute Maddie bit your inner thigh, pretty hard too, which made you exhale sharply and brace yourself against the headboard of the bed. "Don't go calling me cute while I'm making you come all over my face." The fact that you were above her, pussy dripping on her wasn't enough to make her blush, but your praise sure did.

"Aww, but you are cute. My cute, sweet girl. Being so good for me right now yeah?" As if it could help her Maddie pressed her face between your legs again, her tongue licking at double speed. "See, you're going so good. Of course you are, using your tongue just the way I want you to."

"Sweetheart, fuck, hold on, stop for a moment." Sevika moved away from you, her chin dripping with your pussy juices. You groaned, tried to pull her back but she pushed you back. "I said hold on. I'm just getting something real quick. I'll be right back."

You licked your lips as you watched her make her way to one of the drawers. To your disappointment it wasn't the one where she kept her strap, but she did pull out a hair tie. The disappointment may have been on your face for a split second but Sevika saw it and it made her grin even wider.

"Don't look so let down. I'm about to eat your sweet cunt until you pass out. Now lay back and wait until I get this thing on." It was a bit of a challenge to do with one hand. You saw her struggle with it before.

You sighed and gave her a bit of encouragement. "I can do that for you. I'm really good with my fingers." You waived at her with one hand while cupping your pussy with the other. "So I've been told anyway."

Sevika's eyes widened when she saw your slick dripping onto the sheets. "Hey, hands off what's mine. You're being a real brat right now." She fumbled with the hair tie a few more times before she managed to get it on. Her hand grabbed your wrist. "Mine." She growled possessively as she pushed her tongue into your pussyhole.

Ambessa never ties her hair back unless she's on the battlefield. She has no reason to tie her hair when she's in bed with you, pinning you down by the hips and absolutely feasting, licking and sucking on your clit and keeping your pussy lips parted so she can see your hole clench around nothing.

"More, please, please, I want you inside." You begged, your voice strained as you tried to push her face further down.

"Hm, brave tonight. Aren't you, pet? Thinking you can order me around, grabbing my hair like that. Was I away for too long that you forgot yourself?" She pulled away, her rough palm delivering a hard slap on your clit. Then another, and another until you were a crying, drooling mess. "Behave yourself."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, you couldn't do that. Your nails dug into her hair further and you saw her roll her eyes. "I'm sorry. I missed you so much, I promise I'll behave next time. Just... please..."

"Fine, fine." Ambessa reached over to the nightstand and pulled her hair back into a bun. It wasn't nearly as neat as she usually wore it but she was in a hurry. "I'll spend all night reminding your body of who it belongs to." The look she gave you then was similar to how you saw her look at her targets across the battlefield, dark, cocky, a little amused, and very determined.

[cressidagrey]

I would marry you with paper rings

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary: 

May 2016

How Max Verstappen wins his first f1 race and goes home to show his girlfriend his trophy…and maybe something else too...

December 2024: 

Max brings his family home from the hospital and finally gets to give his fiancée a proper ring. 

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this!

May 2016: 

The roar of the crowd was deafening, but Max Verstappen barely noticed. His ears were ringing, his chest felt tight, and his grip on the steering wheel had turned his knuckles white. He barely registered the voice of his race engineer crackling through his headset.

“Unbelievable. Unbelievable, Max.” 

The words didn’t feel real. 

“You are a race winner!”

It felt like they belonged to someone else’s story, someone older, more experienced—someone who wasn’t an 18-year-old kid still trying to figure out the enormity of it all. He blinked hard, trying to process the magnitude of what just happened.

The pit wall erupted in cheers as he drove toward the podium, his hands trembling on the wheel. It wasn’t just any win—it was the win. At 18 years and 227 days old, Max Verstappen had become the youngest race winner in Formula 1 history.

He had done it. 

As the team crowded around him in parc fermé, he couldn’t stop the grin spreading across his face. Christian Horner was there to hug him, Helmut Marko clapped him on the back, and Daniel Ricciardo tousled his sweat-soaked hair. The cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing every angle of his historic moment.

And still…the most important person was not there. 

Colette was back in Monaco. 

Hours later, once he finally got to his phone…after he was back in his hotel room, there was a message from her waiting for him. Of course, there was. 

I am so proud of you, Maxie. Soak up every moment, enjoy it. You deserve this, so, so much. We’ll celebrate when you are back home, mon coeur. You were amazing out there today and I love you so much. 

Somehow these 5 sentences meant more to him than any other accolade ever could. 

He stared at the trophy perched on his nightstand. The weight of it—both physical and symbolic—was overwhelming.

He’d spent years working for this moment. His entire life had been shaped around the pursuit of success, of proving he belonged on the top step of the podium. But now that he’d done it? He would give anything to share this moment with the girl he loved. 

Colette had been his constant long before Formula 1 entered the picture. She’d seen him at his worst, supported him when no one else believed in him, and always reminded him of who he was outside the car. 

She was his staunchest supporter and the first person that woul dcall hi out for being an idiot. 

She grounded him, cosetted him, cared for him, cheered for every win and held him after every failure. 

She was the one thing in his life that he could trust unconditionally…that loved him for who he was and not what he could do. 

Of course he had driven this car to victory. And Colettte would never take credit for any of his wins…but Max knew the truth. 

This win wasn’t just his—it was theirs.

The idea hit him in the early hours of the morning, somewhere between the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the exhaustion pulling at his eyelids.

He needed to show her how much she meant to him, how much he wanted her to be part of this journey—not just as a girlfriend, but as his partner in everything that came next.

But how do you capture something so big?

By 7 a.m., Max was wandering the quiet streets of Barcelona. The city felt different in the early morning light—calm, peaceful. He had no real plan, just an address for a small jewellery store he’d googled hours before.

His Spanish wasn’t great, but he figured he could manage. He needed something. Something to show her just how much she meant to him.

He had bought his sister a handbag the first time he had scored points in F1…but handbag didn’t even come close to being enough for Colette. 

So there he was…in that jewelery store. 

The bell above the door jingled as he stepped inside, and a man behind the counter greeted him warmly, raising an eyebrow at the young man who looked like he hadn’t slept.

“You’re here for something important, aren’t you?” the man asked knowingly, his accent thick but his tone kind.

Max hesitated, glancing down at the glass cases filled with glittering jewellery. He’d never done anything like this before. He had never even bought Colette a pair of earrings on his own. He had bought her other stuff, of course he had. Birthday gifts and stuff for christmas but… “Yeah, uh... I need something… special. For my girlfriend.”

The man smiled knowingly and pulled out a tray of rings. “Something like this?” he asked, gesturing to a selection of delicate designs.

Max’s eyes landed on a gold band with a small, heart-shaped diamond. It wasn’t flashy or oversized—it was understated, elegant, and perfect.

Just like Colette. 

***

Hours later… Max was back in Monaco. 

The trophy tucked under his arm, bag thrown over his shoulder as he unlocked the door to their apartment. 

He wasn’t sure if Colette was already home from work…he hadn’t called ahead telling her either. 

“Max?” and there she was, already dressed in her pyjamas as she stared at him wide-eyed, coming out of the kitchen. 

“I won,” he blurted, grinning like a kid showing off a school project. 

THat was all he needed to say, before she was throwing herself in his arms. His bag hit the floor, as he hugged her and she kissed him, cupping his cheek, rapid fire french that he would never learn to understand as quickly as she spoke it, intermixed with english and her horribly accented dutch. 

And for just a moment Max got to hold his girlfriend…the best trophy he had ever won. 

“I am so proud of you, mon coeur,” Colette whispered and he leaned his forehead against hers, her words a balm to something that he didn’t even know. 

“I brought you something.”

Before she could say anything, he plopped the Pirelli cap on her head, by now dry, though it had been drenched in champagne by Kimi and Seb and he adjusted it until it sat crookedly over her brown curls. “There. Perfect,” he said, his voice raw. 

Perfect. 

Colette laughed, patting it down, and then pulled him into another kiss. “I am so proud. You were incredible this weekend,” she told him fiercely. “Shouldn’t you still be celebrating?” she teased him. 

“I am,” he said, his voice softening. “With you.”

Any celebration with her was better than any other. 

“You want to see the trophy?” he asked her, feeling like a little boy that dragged his karting trophy to Colette for her approval again. 

And just like she had suffered through every time of 12 year old Max showing his trophy off to her…18 year old Max did the same, handing it to her. 

She took it, a metal on metal clink rattling around the inside. 

“What’s...?” she started, tilting the trophy to look inside. Her breath caught, as she fished out the ring from the bottom of it. “Max...”

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he rushed to explain, his cheeks turning pink. “I mean, our fathers would probably kill us both if we got married right now. But it’s... it’s a promise.”

Colette carefully set the trophy down, her hands trembling as stared at the delicate gold ring in the palm of her hand. 

“I wanted you to know that it’s always going to be us,” Max said, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest. “Through everything. You and me. This is my promise to you.”

It was always going to be them. Always. 

“I don’t need a fancy piece of paper to tell me what I already know,” Max said softly. “I love you. And I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. In Sickness and In Health and however that whole thing goes.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she looked up at him, her lips trembling with a smile. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

He grinned. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.” 

Colette just looked at him, brown eyes warm and loving…and filled with tears. 

“I do. God, I do,” she promised him fiercely. “Go on then. Put it on me,” she teased him. 

His fingers were trembling when he picked up the ring and slid it on her finger. A perfect fit. Like he had somehow known. 

“This is going to be hard to top one day, you know,” Colette told him, wiggling her fingers, the diamond sparkling on her hand. “You do have exceptional taste in rings.”

Max chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “Challenge accepted.”

December 2024: 

The late December air was crisp as Max carefully carried the baby carrier through the front door of their apartment, his movements uncharacteristically slow. He was used to the precision of controlling a 200-mile-per-hour machine, but carrying his newborn daughter… was an entirely different level of responsibility.

Colette watched the whole thing with some amusement and a whole lot of love. Max had already driven so slowly home from the hospital that there had been multiple blaring car horns behind them, but Max hadn’t cared one bit about that. 

She was tired, her body aching from the delivery, but her heart was so full it threatened to burst.

“Welcome home, ma lutine,” she murmured softly, brushing her fingers over the baby’s tiny hand, as Max set the carrier down on the living room floor. 

Max crouched to unbuckle their daughter, who was snoozing peacefully despite the excitement of the day. “I think she’s already a Verstappen,” he said with a chuckle, glancing up at Colette. “Sleeps through the chaos, just like her dad.”

Colette laughed lightly, shaking her head. “We’ll see how long that lasts,” she teased him. “You gonna get the cats?” she asked.

Max nodded, moving towards the bedroom where he had put them just minutes before. 

Colette heard the door open and seconds later, she could feel two sets of feline eyes were already watching from the bedroom doorway —Jimmy, usually, the more laid back boy…and Sassy, the fierce girl with a name that fit her personality far too well.

“Okay, guys,” Colette murmured. “Be nice. She’s your baby sister now.”

Max crossed back over to them, crouching down beside the seat, unbuckling Charlie with ease, his movements careful and deliberate. “You think they’ll be jealous?” he asked, casting a quick glance at Jimmy and Sassy, who hadn’t moved but were clearly observing every detail.

“They’ll get over it,” Colette said with a soft laugh. “I think Sassy’s already plotting her strategy.”

Sure enough, as soon as Colette lifted Charlie into her arms, Sassy bounded down the stairs, tail high and ears forward. She paused a few feet away, her nose twitching as she sniffed the air. 

“Hi, Sassy,” Colette cooed, kneeling down to let the curious cat get a closer look. Sassy tiptoed forward, her tiny paws making no sound on the marble floor. She stopped just short of Colette’s knees and craned her neck, sniffing cautiously at the bundle in her arms.

Charlie let out a soft coo, her tiny fist waving in the air, and Sassy’s ears twitched forward in fascination. Then, in a move that made Colette’s heart melt, Sassy stretched up on her hind legs and gently tapped at the edge of the baby blanket, as if to say, What’s this?

“See? She’s already making friends,” Colette said, grinning as she stroked Sassy’s head.

Max, meanwhile, was coaxing Jimmy towards them. The cat was watching the scene with a skeptical look, his yellow eyes narrowed. “Come on, mate,” Max said, holding out his hand. “She’s not going to steal your spot. I promise.”

Jimmy hesitated for a moment before coming the last few steps. Unlike Sassy, who had no sense of personal space, Jimmy kept his distance at first, circling wide around Colette and Charlie as if evaluating whether this tiny human posed a threat to his kingdom.

“Jimmy, it’s okay,” Colette encouraged, holding out her hand toward him. “Come say hi.”

Eventually, Jimmy padded closer, his movements slow and deliberate. When he finally reached Colette, he sat down primly and stared up at Charlie, his expression one of cautious curiosity.

“She’s not so bad, right?” Max said, crouching down beside Jimmy and scratching behind his ears.

Charlie let out another soft noise, and Jimmy’s head tilted slightly, his ears swiveling to catch the sound. Then, to everyone’s surprise, he leaned forward and gave the edge of the baby blanket a tentative sniff, followed by a single, gentle nudge of his nose.

“Oh, Jimmy,” Colette said, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re such a good boy.”

Max laughed, the sound warm and full of love. “I think they’ve decided she can stay,” he said, wrapping an arm around Colette’s shoulders.

Later that evening, after Charlie had been fed and settled into the bassinet they’d placed in the living room, Colette found herself staring at the collection of trophies they kept on the shelves over the TV. Max’s career was neatly cataloged there— All the important wins, each moment of triumph immortalized in gleaming metal and glass.

Charlie stirred softly in her arms, and Colette pressed a kiss to the baby’s forehead before stepping closer to the shelves. “Do you see all these trophies, Charlie?” she whispered, swaying gently. “See? these are all Papa‘s,“ Colette cooed. “He has more. These are just the ones that are the most important to him. Your tonton Cha has some too…”

Her eyes slid over the championship trophy from last year…over to the very first one. It was a little scuffed from being handled so many times, but it still gleamed in the soft light of the room. “And this one…this one is extra special. This is from when Papa won his very first race. And do you know what else?” She smiled, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “This is where he hid a ring for me eight years ago.”

She glanced back at her daughter, but Charlie had already drifted back into her newborn sleep, oblivious to her mother’s musings. 

“You didn’t check, did you?” Max’s voice broke the quiet, startling her.

She turned to find him leaning casually in the doorway, his arms crossed and a knowing smirk on his face. He was still wearing the same hoodie and sweats he’d changed into after coming home from the hospital, but somehow, he looked effortlessly handsome.

“Check what?” she asked, feigning innocence.

“The trophy,” he said, nodding toward the one in her hand. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing it ever since we came home.”

Colette raised an eyebrow. “You tell a girl you hid her engagement ring in there, what did you expect, Verstappen,” she teased him. 

“You are right,” Max agreed seriously, with a nod, plucking Charlie from her arms to put her in the Moses Basket they had put next to the couch.

And then he plucked that trophy from the shelve, only to upend it until a velvet box came tumbling down. 

Colette’s breath caught as he flipped it open to reveal a stunning ring—a delicate gold band, not unlike the one he’d given her all those years ago, but this time, the diamond was much larger, more brilliant. It sparkled in the light, catching every angle perfectly.

Her free hand flew to her mouth as her eyes welled up with tears. “Max…”

“Shush. Let me do this right,” he teased her, as he got down on one knee. “I had this for months,” he told her. “I thought about giving it to you after the Monaco Grand Prix, then after the championship celebration, but none of those moments felt right. This—bringing Charlie home—this feels right.”

Colette could only nod, too overcome with emotion to speak.

“I know we’ve been doing things our own way,” he said with a small smile. “And I wouldn’t change a single thing. But this... this is my way of saying I’m all in, for the rest of my life. With you. With Charlie. With everything that comes next.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she finally found her voice. “You didn’t have to do this. You already gave me everything I ever wanted.”

“And now I’m giving you a little bit more,” he said seriously. “So. Colette Marie Eugénie Veronique Leclerc, will you do me the incredible honour of becoming my wife?”

“Yes,” she whispered. Max reached for her left hand, his fingers brushing over hers as he carefully slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly, just as she knew it would.

“You even got the order of my names right,” she teased him, as he stood up and he snorted as he pulled her into a hug. 

“Hush,” he gave back, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

They stood there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, the trophy forgotten on the shelf and the ring gleaming on her finger.

In the bassinet, Charlie let out a tiny squeak, and they both turned to look at her, their smiles growing.

“She approves,” Colette said with a laugh.

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Of course she does. She’s a Verstappen.”

As they sat down together, Colette resting her head against Max’s shoulder, they couldn’t help but marvel at the life they’d built. 

It had been a long journey to get here, but every step had been worth it.

[captain-huggy-bear]

A Little Misunderstanding

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' angsty at points, but ends sweet, lots of mutual pining and two idiots not realising the other is also in love with the other, meddling mothers (for the best this time)

Summary: Your parents assume that Quinn, the man you mention over the phone all the time, is in fact your boyfriend. He's very much not, but Quinn thinks its funny to pretend he is...until it gets a little too real and maybe some truths are told and feelings are aired.

Notes: Thank you to the anon who requested fake dating to lovers with Quinn, I had this idea which is a little different from the usual fake dating so I hope its okay and you still like it 😊

Tried to keep it ambiguous as to where the reader originated from so that us UK girlies can relate as well as anyone else not from Vancouver and/or Canada.

Reminder I typically use UK spellings because I'm English so...don't come at me if you wish I spelt it the US away. If I have to read US spellings all the time, you can handle the odd UK spelling

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

"When does your flight get in?" You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, picking up a stray sock that had fallen out of your laundry basket as you attempt to tidy your apartment.

"7am your time, sweetheart, remember?" Your mother's voice rings clear down the line, familiar and warm. It's been a while since you saw either of your parents. You having moved all the way to Vancouver, more miles than you could count from your birthplace and hometown around two years ago. You were excited to have them finally able to come out and stay with you for a week, they'd never been to see you, and it had been a while since you'd been able to see your parents, not having time to fly to see them. While you were glad for the move to Vancouver, living in a completely different place away from your family wasn't always the easiest thing in the world. You so often felt like you were having to fend for yourself without much of a support network. Luckily you'd made some good friends in the time you'd been in Van.

"Quinn offered to come with me to pick you and dad up, we'll be there waiting for you so don't worry about getting an Uber." You dropped Quinn's name casually because that's what it was, he was just another part of your existence. Your friend, who admittedly you had a small crush on, but just your friend nonetheless. Just because you thought he was beautiful and wanted to kiss him didn't mean you were allowed to kiss him or that he'd even want to kiss you. He was a friend who happened to be a man and you both happened to be single. This had not changed for two years and wasn't likely to any time soon.

"Oh, Quinn'll be there?" Your mother's voice was suddenly more upbeat, excited. She'd been eager to meet Quinn for months now, you're not sure why she finally took an interest in one of your friends but you can't help but be glad. Quinn had become a massive part of your life, a support network you very much needed when you'd first come to a strange new place all by yourself. He was part of the fabric of your life now, and you knew he'd charm your parents without even thinking about it. It shouldn't matter to you that your parents like your friend, its not like Quinn was your boyfriend, but it did matter to you. You wanted them to like him as much as you did because you wanted him around for the foreseeable future.

"Yeah, I mentioned you were coming to visit the other day and his car is bigger than mine, so he offered to come along, he has to get up early most days anyway so he's not too bothered by it." It helped that Quinn had a couple of days off, but still you were thankful. He could have spent his rare enough free time doing something much more enjoyable than helping you pick your parents up from the airport.

"Your father and I look forward to meeting him, we've heard so much about him, darling!"

There's something about your mother's tone that makes you stop for a second suddenly feeling a little awkward about the whole thing. Maybe it's just how eager she is or maybe it's something else, but there's a little red flag waving in the back of your mind with some small print on that you just can't quite read yet.

"Right...um, look I'll see you tomorrow morning then? I gotta get everything ready for you guys."

"Of course, of course! We love you!"

"Love you too, mum."

"You're sure you don't mind?" You look over at Quinn from the passenger seat, the two of you look exhausted, big bags under your eyes and even bigger hoodies to hide in because a 5am wake up to get to the airport in time was just a little much for both of you. This early in the morning it's still dark and the streetlights do something to Quinn's face that makes him even more handsome than usual, even as he looks like he might fall back asleep at any minute. It doesn't help that his scruff has grown out or that his hair is in those perfect waves he always seems to get even when he's just taken his bucket off.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did, besides the amount of time we spend together isn't it about time I met your parents? You've met mine." He smiles over at you, cheeky, the sort of Quinn most people didn't see. It's silly that it makes your cheeks feel warm, he's just your friend. You shouldn't be flustered by him.

"Your parents are at as many of your games as possible, of course I've met them."

"So are you. Sue me for wanting to meet the parents of one of my best friends."

"I'm your best friend?" You lean your head back on the headrest, tilting slightly to grin at him all silly. Quinn can see it from the corner of his eye and as much as it's ridiculous, that little grin makes you even more beautiful than normal.

"One of." He rolls his eyes at you, partly because of your silliness and partly rolling his eyes at himself. You're his friend. He shouldn't feel this way about you, men can have female friends...he just can't seem to have you as a female friend without wanting to kiss you at any given opportunity. It's becoming difficult, even more so in the early morning when the low light level puts your face in stark contrast and your hoodie, one of his, makes you look so cozy and sweet.

"That's just your way of avoiding admitting how much you love me and need me in your life."

Quinn's cheeks flush bright red, so bright that even the low light can't hide it nor hide the way he bites back a smile at you, eyes fixed on the road and the last few miles to the airport.

"...Shut up."

The silence that fills the car is comfortable, the sort that comes about from spending so much time together. You have friends that aren't Quinn, of course you do, but Quinn had been your first friend in Vancouver. He'd shown you around and made time for you in his incredibly busy schedule. You were often the first person he saw when he came off a roadie and the last person to see him before he left for one. There were nights when you stayed round Quinn's after a game or vice versa. You spent so much time together that you simply coexisted, being around Quinn was as easy as breathing. You rarely argued or disagreed and when you did it was always resolved properly. You simply worked. There wasn't ever much to think about with Quinn. You could just...shut off.

"Thank you, though...seriously." You take a moment, thinking how to word your next few thoughts, your warning as the signs for the airport come into full view, "Just, my mum seems really eager to meet you so...just brace yourself."

"Eager?"

"You know when your parents are excited to meet a new partner?" You think back to the few times you'd introduced a boyfriend to your mum, the excitement that she exuded...it was starting to concern you that she was that excited to just meet your friend. Because that's all Quinn was. Your friend. Not your boyfriend. Your friend, you remind yourself, even as he looks so good smiling over at you with his beard. He'd let it grow out just enough that he looked rugged and mature.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, she's that sort of excited which is really weird...she normally doesn't' care that much about my friends. Just, sorry, if she's really weird about it?" It's awkward enough talking about, you and Quinn have always stayed firmly platonic, you didn't talk about the fact that people assumed you were dating or even the concept of it. Talking about it felt...it felt like you were opening the curtains up, letting him see in a little too far.

"You didn't tell her we were married or something, did you?"

"Quinn! Shut up!" He laughs so loud that you can't actually be that mad at him, not when he's grinning at you like that, not when he's been so stressed as of late about the performance of his team. Even if it's at your expense.

"What? Just checking! For all I know you could have told her we got married in Vegas during one of my games or something?"

"If I'm telling my mum I'm married to you, it'll be because I'm actually married to you, you idiot." You roll your eyes at him, arms crossing over your chest as you turn to look out the window.

"Oh, so you do want to marry me?" He's joking, but he's not...he's thought about it. There's not a day that Quinn hasn't thought about what it would be like to be yours and you be his, not since he met you...and then promptly managed to land himself so far into the friendzone that he was scared to crawl his way out lest he leave you behind in the process.

"...I hate you."

"No you don't." His voice is singsong in intonation and sweet and he's right because you love him and it hurts...god, it hurts how much you love someone you can't have. Someone you see every day, someone who is so deeply ingrained in your life that removing him would be like carving a hole into your own chest.

You just sit and glare at him, even as a heavy sort of sadness hits, as he pulls up into one of the parking bays for collecting passengers.

It's okay that he's just your friend, you remind yourself as you get out of the car. It's okay because he's the best friend you could ask for, he's here at 6.45 am in the morning to collect your parents from the airport, not because he was asked or because he had to, but because he wanted to. You can live with loving him in silence, so long as you always have him around.

"I think they're over this way, probably, near gate 1?" You're just getting your bearings, trying to figure out roughly where your parents will come out at after they find their things from baggage claim when you hear it.

"My baby!" The squeal of a middle aged woman who hasn't seen her daughter in far too long pierces the air. You barely have time to brace yourself for impact before your mother is wrapping you up in a gigantic hug and pressing as many kisses to your face as possible, you know without a doubt her signature mauve lipstick is smudged all across your skin.

Your father stands behind her, rolling his eyes in amusement but the smile he gives you is no less warm, "Hey there, princess."

"Hi, mum, hi, dad," You pull yourself free from your mother just long enough to get a long awaited hug from your father, big and warm and so familiar that you almost feel like crying. How long has it been since you last hugged your dad? Half a year? Nine months? Longer? You sometimes don't realise how much you miss something until you get it back.

When you turn back around your mother is already pulling Quinn into a hug that he accepts, if a tad awkwardly, his hands patting her on the back like he's not quite sure how hugs work.

She has his face in her hands before you can intervene, overly familiar and friendly as she grins up at him like he's made her day just by existing. "You must be Quinn, Y/N's boyfriend..."

"Oh, he's n-" You're pretty sure your eyes bug out of your head, startled by the suggestion because at no point in the last few years of living in Vancouver had you ever called Quinn your boyfriend. Ever.

You're cut off by Quinn who's grinning at you wickedly over the top of your mother's head like he's just been giving the greatest Christmas present he could ever ask for and in that moment you know...you know that he is going to make your life very difficult with this tiny piece of information.

"Yeah, hi, nice to meet, the boyfriend, that's me." God, he wishes it was true. There's nothing more he wants in that moment than to be able to say to your mom that you are 100% his girlfriend, but he can't...he can, however, enjoy the roleplaying while it lasts. He can't really stop himself, not when you look so aghast at your mother calling him your boyfriend, not when he can use this to tease you for at least the next 30 years. He grew up with 2 brothers, sue him for taking advantage of the situation.

"Quinn!"

"What? Am I not allowed to call myself your boyfriend anymore?" He sidles up to you, slipping out from your mother's grip to pull you into his side. His arm rests naturally over your shoulder, yours finding his waist, and it is natural...because you've done this a million times before. The kiss he presses to your hair is new though, different and as much as your mum clearly believes the ruse, you can see your father just looks amused. Something tells you he knows this is all an act, but he finds it enjoyable to watch. Typical. No support from him when you need it most. Dads.

"Oh, she's just grouchy in the mornings, has been ever since she was a baby!" Your mother looks at the two of you with such pride that you're certain her heart actually might break when she finds out Quinn isn't actually your boyfriend. You've never seen her look so happy with your choice in a man before and you're certain she won't be able to cope when you have to inevitably tell her that it was either a) a lie or b) that Quinn just wasn't the guy for you (another lie just to make your life more complicated).

"Mum!"

"Oh don't worry, I know just how grouchy my baby can be in the mornings." This time he presses a kiss to your cheek and when he does, you hiss lowly in his ear, 'I'm going to kill you.' and Quinn can't help but laugh at you, biting his lip at how much fun he's having riling you up.

"Here let me take your bags, Mrs Y/L/N," Quinn's bending down before your mother can even begin to protest, her carry on backpack being slung over his shoulder and pulling up the handle of her suitcase to wheel it behind him.

"Oh, you don't have to, Quinn!"

"I insist." He knows he's making it harder on you, can see the look you give him because he's just going to make your mother fall in love with him. But, even as he enjoys riling you up, he was also raised right and he's not letting your mother carry her own bags.

Your mother hangs back with you while your father and Quinn start walking ahead with the suitcases. She slips her arm through yours walking with you to keep up, as she does so she does a very bad attempt at whispering. The sort of whispering that means you know Quinn can hear every word and is probably enjoying it immensely.

"He's such a gentleman..."

"Yeah, a real gentleman." You mutter sarcastically, watching the way his shoulders rise and fall in a silent laugh that he's no doubt doing his best to swallow down.

"Don't be grumpy, he's just being sweet on you. You should be glad for such a loving boyfriend..." Your mother scolds you before raising her voice back to normal, Quinn and your father slowing down slightly to help keep the four of you together, "So, Quinn, my daughter tells me you're a hockey player?"

"Yeah, you talk about me, baby?" Quinn's grin is wide, and you can't help the warmth that fills your entire face because you can't actually deny it. You talk about Quinn all the time, he's your best friend and whenever your mother phones, you inevitably talk about him. Whether it was a game of his you went to or a coffee place you'd visited together or gala he'd invited you to. Maybe, you talked about him too much? Maybe, it was obvious in the way you talked about him that you loved him? Maybe that's why your mother had made such a large assumption about your relationship status. Maybe this was your fault, why wouldn't she assume you were dating?

"She talks about you all the time. Quinn this, Quinn that...did you know that Quinn did this today and broke this record?"

"Mum..." You groan out, looking to your dad for help but all he does is shrug his shoulders at you, amusement bright in his eyes. Even if he could do something you know he wouldn't because he's clearly enjoying your torture.

Quinn can't help it, the tables seem to reverse. You're embarrassed still, but now he is too, bright red in the face, ears flushed the colour of a fire engine and a hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. All because you talk about him to your parents...you talk about him when he's not around...he feels like a twelve year old, giddy because his crush smiled at him for the first time.

"I play for the NHL."

"Vancouver Canucks, wasn't it?" Your mother asks as the four of you step out into the cold Canadian air, her attention making Quinn squirm and you smile, enjoying the discomfort being swapped around for a moment.

"Yeah, I'm the captain of the team." He smiles at your mother awkwardly as he opens the boot of the car and starts to pile in the suitcases, organising them in just the right way that they fit without hassle.

Your father chimes in as he lifts his own suitcase into the back, Quinn helping him shove it back further, "That's impressive, I used to play field hockey myself, never got out of the amateur league but got a few bruises in my time. You had an injury recently right?"

You still remember phoning your mum to talk about it, at first worried and then over time growing more and more frustrated with how sullen Quinn was being. He'd grown restless from not being able to play hockey and you'd been his distraction, a distraction that had grown fed up with his moping no matter how much you loved him.

"I've had a few this year, most recently my hand." He raises his braced hand, the brace a point of annoyance to him at this point in time. He was itching to be done with it, but put up with it because it meant he could still play hockey at the moment.

"Oh, you shouldn't have been carrying my bag then, Quinn!" Your mother fusses over him, flapping about as if she might have a miracle cure for his hand injury.

"Honestly, it's fine! It looks worse than it is, I promise. I wouldn't get away with it otherwise, this one would kill me." He nods his head at you as he closes the boot, opening one of the backdoors for your mother to slide inside.

"Damn right I'd kill you, I cannot take more days of you moping that you can't play hockey and that you're bored despite my amazing company."

"You know I enjoyed spending time with you, sweetheart...but..."

"But, you can't live without hockey, yeah, I know..."

He follows you round to the passenger side door, opening it for you like a gentleman and letting you slide inside. You find yourself enjoying the attention even as you catch your mother's eye in the rear view mirror, a little smirk reaching her lips as she watches Quinn buckle you in. Something he does from time to time when he's feeling particularly sweet...because he was a good friend.

"So, Quinn, how did you meet our daughter? I'm not sure she ever mentioned it?"

The entire ride home is filled with your mother peppering Quinn with questions, encouraging him to talk more and more about your 'relationship'. Everything from when you first met to the first date you went on (which Quinn told her was the first time he took you ice skating, you were under the impression that that was a friendly family skate event and most certainly not a date).

The conversation lulls while you set your parents up in your spare bedroom, helping them settle themselves and showing them around your apartment. They hadn't ever seen it in person and they spent half the time cooing over your choices, the photos of family and friends on the wall, the ones of you and Quinn, as well as your mother checking your fridge and telling you to buy more vegetables.

It's as you're sitting down to a breakfast of pre-bought croissants and pain au chocolat that your mother restarts her question. This time even more invasive than the first.

"So Quinn, when did you know?"

"Mm? Know what?" Your best friend looks at your mother with furrowed brows, taking a sip of his orange juice and almost choking on it when she proceeds to clarify her question.

"When you loved my daughter."

There's a long beat of silence where your eyes stay fixated on your plate, watching your own hands intently as you spread Nutella inside your croissant, far too focused on that to be anything casual or calm. You're certain you're going to be sick because he doesn't love you but you love him and your poor mother is so oblivious and this...this is going too far, it feels like it's gone too far.

"Expected answer or honest answer?"

"Honest answer."

"The second week I knew her." Your head snaps up with a start only to find Quinn looking directly at you, green eyes crinkling softly at the corners. "She heard that I had been hurt on the ice the night before and she stormed round my apartment with a bunch of food, medicine and a blanket. Spent the whole day looking after me and making me watch 90s movies I hadn't watched growing up. No one outside my family had ever done that for me before...it made me realise that if I wasn't already in love, I would be pretty quick." You almost believe him, the way he looks at you, the way he speaks so softly. Almost.

You look down at your plate, tears welling in your eyes because you know he doesn't mean it. He's spinning a yarn for your mother and it hurts that he would go that far when you both know this is all some ruse he's decided to pull. You swallow hard and take a bite of your croissant, refusing to look at him for the rest of breakfast.

You won't meet his eyes until he goes to leave after breakfast, your parents hanging back so you can say goodbye to your 'boyfriend'.

"Mind if I come over after dinner? We could watch a movie with your parents?"

"Quinn..." You go to challenge him on his behaviour today, but the words won't come out.

"What?"

"Nothing...uh, sure, after dinner?"

"After dinner, baby."

You want to tell him off as he says it, as he presses a kiss to your cheek so your parents can see because you aren't his baby and he's hurting you. He's hurting you without realising it because you so desperately want to be his baby. But, you don't. You just watch him walk away down the corridor of your apartment building and out of sight before getting ready to show your parents around Vancouver for the day.

You try to put the whole thing out of your mind throughout the day, showing your parents the sights of Vancouver, including the arena...but it's hard when they keep bringing Quinn back up and asking about your feelings. They probe you for half the day and it's emotionally exhausting balancing the truth with the half-truth, even more so knowing that they're going to be just as disappointed as you are when they realise your relationship with Quinn is just a sham, a charade, a fake.

Eventually they seem to grow bored of talking about the topic, however, and dinner goes relatively smoothly, you taking them to a nice restaurant Quinn had shown you back in your first couple of months in Vancouver. Even that feels bittersweet though, filled with memories of the two of you dining together. You can't help but feel like the whole issue needs addressing as you get them back home and pop a film on ready for Quinn's arrival.

When he arrives he continues the act as if it isn't one, greeting you at the door with a kiss to the cheek and pulling you down onto the loveseat opposite your parents, curling one arm around your shoulders and urging you to lay against him, your cheek pressed into his chest. In some ways it's familiar, not an act, because you cuddle for movies all time, completely platonically of course, but both of you are touchy feely and it's always been part of your dynamic. In others though? The way he talks to you, the pet names, kisses to your hair, that is all new, all a way to show your parents he's the 'doting boyfriend', even though he's not your boyfriend at all.

Your parents lap it up, every now and then you catch them smiling at each other and then over to the two of you and you can't help but feel heavy with it. With this feeling of unrequited affection. You love Quinn, you've known that for a while now, but it was easy to be around him because you didn't need to address it. You could love him in silence and from afar...you had never considered how hard it would become when what you wanted most was being dangled in front of you like a carrot on a string.

Quinn has a similar dilemma going on in his own head. He's always known he loved you more than a friend, even when you barely knew each other...had he been braver he would have asked for your number for a date that first day, not so that he could show you around a new city as a 'friend'. But, he'd been a coward and since then he'd continued to be. He enjoyed every ounce of affection he got from you, every hug, every cuddle, ever time you held his arm at an event, all while feeling like that had to be enough...now he's had more? He's not sure it'll ever be enough, he's greedy for you. Greedy for your affection, your attention, greedy in the way he wants to keep kissing you, keeping calling you sweet names and greedy for the way you grow bashful. Greedy for more than just being your friend...he's given himself a taste of what life could be like and now he can't forget it.

It's halfway through the movie, your legs slung over Quinn's lap and his fingers carding through the ends of your hair when your parents stand with a groan from the other couch.

"Princess?" You lift your head to look at your father, who's stretching out his back after sitting for so long.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Your mother and I are getting a little tired...we're going to go to bed, if that's alright with you two?"

"Of course, don't let us keep you up." Quinn confirms your own thoughts as well, telling your parents it's not problem at all. It's all so...so domestic.

Your dad presses a kiss to the top of your head, as does your mother, before yourself and Quinn wish them goodnight. You wait until you see the door to the spare room start to close, not waiting for it to do so fully, before turning to Quinn. You pull out of his arms, the missing warmth of you an immediate loss to him, but it has him sitting up straight and taking you seriously.

Your face is sullen, sad, eyebrows pinched, mouth turned down into a frown and he's alarmed to see that your eyes are glassy like you might cry.

"Why on earth would you let my parents think we're dating? Why would you tell my mother you're in love with me?" You're certain you're going to cry, angry, frustrated and sad all in one. Lovesick because it hurts to hear him tell your mother he was in love with you when you know he's not.

"Why not?" He frowns at you, hands reaching out but you keep just out of reach as if touching him is the last thing you want. You've never shied away from Quinn's touch and he recoils, breathing a little heavier out of anxious worry that he's upset you, that he's fucked this up. Maybe you've been uncomfortable with his touch all day? Has he been making you uncomfortable all day? Is he one of those guys?

"Because we're not dating and you're not in love with me, Quinn. My mother is certain we're going to get married and I'll stop being an old spinster! You're getting her hopes up." The unspoken words lay heavy on your tongue, 'you're getting my hopes up', you want to say.

"Who said I didn't love you? Who said I didn't want to marry you?" The look he gives you isn't the cheeky one he's had all day, it's not joking or silly, it's dead serious. He scoots closer to you, but doesn't reach out for you this time. But, Quinn can't help but want to be close to you, to be drawn into your orbit, into your gravity.

"Quinn..."

"What?"

"You're being mean..." Your voice is filled with tears, wet, pathetic sounding and you choke back a sob as a tear falls down your cheek because he's being so mean...he can't dangle that in front of you, everything you've ever wanted, not when he doesn't actually mean it.

He realises in that moment that you don't believe him. You believe he's spent the entire morning and evening telling lies, saying that he loves you when he doesn't, that you're that important to him when you aren't. You believe he's being mean because you don't believe him, that the tears are because you think he's holding this thing, this idea out in front of you, only to snatch it away.

"Look, I said a lot today...but none of it was a lie." He can't help himself this time, hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb wiping away that pesky tear that shouldn't have been there in the first place. It's the way you lean into his touch that brings him a sense of confidence, of relief, you wouldn't do that if you didn't want him touching you.

"I know our first date wasn't a date, just a stupid family skate I was too scared to ask you out to as more than just a friend. I wish it had been a date and I wish I had been brave enough from the start to tell you I didn't just want to be your friend."

"Quinn..."

"And I was telling the truth...when your mother asked me when I fell in love with you." He tugs you closer, until your legs are back over his lap and your practically sitting on top of him, arms wrapping around your lower back and pulling you closer. The way he stares up at you is nothing short of reverent.

"Q..."

"The second week we knew each other you came to look after me when no one else did...and I knew...I knew that I was going to love you and that I was stupid for not asking you out in the first place...but I was...I was too scared to say anything. I didn't want to lose my new friend...I thought..." He hesitates, tongue coming out to nervously brush against his bottom lip, capturing your attention like a magpie with a shiny button.

"You thought?" You're whispering, quiet as if to speak any louder might scare him, might disrupt this little bubble you've found yourself in.

"I thought having a tiny bit of you...any bit, was better than having none of you at all." Quinn confesses, shifting you on his lap as your legs fall either side of his hips until you're so close your noses brush.

"Is it?"

"It was...for a bit..." It's self-deprecating, sardonic, like he finds himself ridiculous, foolish.

"And now?"

"And now I've had a taste of what it's like to love you, to be able to kiss you and hold you...call you mine...and now I'm greedy and it's not enough...Baby, it'll never be enough."

"You...you love me?" It's like even after all of this, everything he's said, every tender touch, you still don't quite believe him. It's hard to believe that everything you've ever wanted is sat in the palm of your hand just waiting for you to capture it, to take it. That your feelings, the ones you believed were unrequited for two years, were actually returned all along.

"I love you...and...um, if...if you'll have me, maybe I could be your real boyfriend this time?" His face is bright red, so warm to the touch when you're fingers reach out to trace his cheeks that you're surprised he doesn't combust.

"I'd like that...I...I love you too,"

"So...I'm your boyfriend?" He says it like he doesn't quite believe it, the beauty mark on his cheek moving as he grins up at you giddy like a little kid getting his first bag of sweets.

"You're my boyfriend." You press a kiss to that beauty mark without overthinking it...because you can now, because now it's not a lie when you tell your parents he's your boyfriend, because now you're allowed to kiss him and hold him and tell him how much you love him.

"Fuck...that sounds good."

He can't help but just stare up at you from where you're straddling his lap. The healthy glow to your skin, the soft smile directed down at him, the way you seem to curl into him like you're not close enough even now. God, you're beautiful and you're his...you're finally his and he's yours and...and he can't comprehend that the thing he wanted to happen for so long has finally happened. What had he been scared of all this time? He could have been with you for two years, instead he'd squandered it out of fear...

"Quinn?" Your voice is soft, melodic, so so sweet that almost closes his eyes at the sound.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Kiss me?" You whisper as if it's shameful to ask, as if you've asked for something more sordid than a simple kiss...your first kiss together at that.

"Anything for my girl."

He's gentle in the way he cups your neck and jaw with one large hand, thumb pressing just below your jaw bone as he pulls you in. There's nothing rushed about the way Quinn presses your lips together, the smooth glide of his bottom lip against your top. Even the way his tongue brushes against your lip until you open up for him is slow, steady, adoring. You can't help the way you sigh into him, fingers gliding through dark chocolate strands, eyes closing shut with the sense of home, sense of relief that you find in him.

The two of you lose yourselves in each other, slow kisses, wandering hands, nothing too extreme, but a new found intimacy that you're finally allowed to indulge in before you curl back up together to watch the remainder of the movie. Watch being a loose term for what you're really doing.

"Did you know?" Your father turns his eyes away from the scene outside the spare bedroom, the way you're curled up in Quinn's arms like you were always supposed to be there. Neither of you realising that the spare bedroom door had never fully closed, both your parents eavesdropping like Samwise Gamgee.

"That they weren't actually together, dear?" Your mother looks sly and devious as she looks over at her husband. The face of the woman he loves, but also fears in equal measure.

"Yes."

"Of course I knew...but I figured they could both use a shove in the right direction, I mean, look at them?" Your parents both turn to watch the two of you, the way you curl up together on the couch is the epitome of young love. There's no real watching of a movie happening, instead Quinn's fingers are rubbing circles into your shoulder, while you look up at him lovingly from where you're curled against his chest. Every now and then he dips his head down to press a kiss against your forehead, and each time you giggle, face pressing briefly into his neck. The giddy feeling of a new, fresh love, making film watching the least of your interests.

"They just needed a little push." Both your parents smile at each other even as your father playfully scolds his wife, "You're a meddlesome woman."

"And you love me for it."

"Yes, yes I do."

Perhaps it took a bit of meddling, a fake misunderstanding, but that would be their little secret...at least for now. Your mother was rather looking forward to seeing you squirm in the future as you reveal the truth, that you hadn't actually been dating Quinn as long as you said. Yes, she certainly was happy to help, but she also was still your mother and lying to your mother was certainly not the done thing. A little squirming was good for you sometimes, but first, she'd let you enjoy the fresh bloom of love...and she'd go easy on you.

[thesquidgame]

The Moments After

Hwang In-ho x wife!reader

Part One Part Two

Summary: In-ho deals with your sudden collapse while you receive treatment.

Warnings: angst, medical emergency, hospital, stitches, blood, viral infection, understaffed hospitals, trauma, violence

Word Count: 2.5k~

In-ho didn’t know how slowly time could pass before today. Sitting in the sterile white hallway of the hospital, bouncing his knee, staring down at his blood-soaked hands, every minute felt like hours. He always thought that was an exaggeration, but here, in this moment, he knew it to be true. Every now and then he would look up when he thought that at least half an hour had passed, only to find that it had been less than a minute.

After he had run you into the ER, chaos erupted. An entire medical staff instantly swarmed you, asking countless questions, all that he was almost too frazzled to answer. He told them only what he knew; that you had been acting strange lately, what strange behaviors you had, and that he woke up earlier that night to find you throwing up blood. And that you hadn’t stopped since you had started.

After that he could only focus on you, screaming your name over and over again as you blinked your eyes slowly, in a daze of blood loss and whatever had happened to you to make you throw up so much.

And then, the hand he didn’t even realize was gripping yours slipped away from his. A nurse held him back as they wheeled you into a deeper part of the hospital that he couldn’t enter. It was suddenly very quiet. Unlike the insanity that had just happened around him, there was complete and total stillness around him. He was far enough into the hospital that the noises of the ER were inaudible. In-ho never knew how quiet a hospital could be, but between the silence, the white walls, and the glacial pace of time, it felt like he was being tortured.

It had been an hour since he had arrived in the hospital, he only knew because of how often he glanced at the clock before any staff talked to him. 

“Sir? Are your feet alright?” 5 AM, the time he knew the doctors changed shifts in your hospital. The man speaking was young and looked terrified by seeing a 40-year-old man covered in blood sitting in an empty hallway. “Are- are you okay?”

In-ho glanced down to see that tracks of blood were running from his feet. He just noticed the pain. He still didn’t care. “No, I need to know what’s happening to my wife?” He demanded as he stood up.

Shame washed over him. Why hadn’t he asked before? He knew the answer, he didn’t want to talk to anybody, that would make this real.

“Sir, I- I think you need to get some stitches first, your feet look-” 

In-ho made the difference between him and the young doctor. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him against the wall. In-ho didn’t consider himself a violent man, but right now he had no idea what he was capable of. 

“What happened to my wife.” He wasn’t asking, he was demanding.

“I- I think I need to treat your feet fi-” In-ho pushed him further into the wall.

The doctor gulped, “What- what’s her name?”

In-ho let go. “(Y/n) Hwang.”

“Nurse Hwang is your wife?” The doctor looked away.

“Yes.” In-ho had done countless trainings and interrogated countless criminals. He knew when someone was afraid of something. “Why are you looking away from me.”

The doctor started walking away, stammering, “If you come with me, I can help you find out what ha-”

“Don’t walk away from me. What aren’t you telling me.” The doctor stopped in his tracks.

When he turned around, In-ho saw tears on his cheeks. “I’m sorry. We- we didn’t know.”

In-ho stalked towards him, leaving almost no space between him and the younger man. “Didn’t know what.”

“We noticed she was acting strange. We thought- we thought it must just be stress.” He gulped, “and if it wasn’t,” he got quiet, “we didn’t know how to deal with it. We were all so stressed out all the time. We- we didn’t have any time or resources to step in or talk to her about it.”

They knew something was wrong with his wife, but they hadn’t done anything about it. In-ho wanted to grab the doctor and slam him against the wall. But he couldn’t. Hadn’t he done the same exact thing? Hadn’t he been too stressed to prod further about what was happening? In-ho thought that because you were a nurse, you would do something if you thought something was wrong, or talk to him about it. He was just as bad as them. No, he was worse. He was your husband. He was supposed to take care of you, that was what he had sworn to do on the best day of his life, your wedding day.

In-ho wanted to break down. He wanted to collapse and roll into a ball on the ground and cry. But he couldn’t. He didn’t know anything about your condition, he had to figure out what was happening, he had to do something.

In-ho croaked, “What happened to her?”

The doctor silently walked away, sensing what had just happened, and In-ho followed behind. “I’m going to see if anyone can come tell us what happened.” He pressed dials on a phone and called someone. “A doctor will be here soon. The surgery is almost over.”

Surgery? In-ho knew there was a reason that all of the doctors and nurses had rushed away and not come back, but hearing it was different than just simply knowing it.

“Can I look at the cuts on your feet?”

In-ho didn’t respond, just sat down in a chair and put his head in his hands. 

It was another long wait before anyone came out to talk to In-ho, and eventually, a woman and a man came out wearing scrubs, “Mr. Hwang?”

In-ho stood up immediately, staring at the doctor who looked to be the same age as him. In-ho didn’t have to ask the question, the doctor already knew what he was waiting to hear. The other doctor sighed, “She’s alive.”

In-ho let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “My name is Dr. Park, would you like to take a seat?”

He didn’t like that. In-ho knew that tone of voice. He had used the same one at his job when he was giving bad news. “No, tell me now.”

The doctor reached up and took off his surgical cap. “Your wife had a large blood vessel in her esophagus explode, causing internal bleeding. We were able to help correct it using bands in surgery.” The doctor sighed again, as In-ho held his breath. “However, that isn’t the concerning part. There is almost always an underlying condition causing this. We sent a rush blood panel down and found that your wife’s liver results came back abnormal. We believe she has cirrhosis.”

Cirrhosis. He had only heard about this in passing when you were studying for your nursing exams. You had made a stack of notecards at least three feet tall, and he spent weeks quizzing you. In-ho had always had a good memory and was usually able to pick out pieces relating to the disease, but for some reason, he couldn’t remember anything relating to cirrhosis.

“What, what does this mean?” In-ho said, panic exuding through his voice.

“I’d like to talk further when your wife wakes up, it’s best if we discuss with the patient and the patient’s family there.”

In-ho wanted to was rush over and hit this doctor until he told him everything he wanted to know, but his priorities were still on you. He had to conserve his energy, and arguing with the doctor would only take more energy than he had to waste. “Can I see her?”

“Yes, she’s right this way.” This doctor said nothing about the blood In-ho was leaving on the floor. He had been doing this a lot longer than the other one and knew that stitches were the least important thing in In-ho’s mind at this point.

You were lying in the bed, still unconscious from surgery. “We were able to go in laparoscopically, meaning that we put a tube down her throat and operated from there.”

In-ho didn’t care about what that meant, he just rushed to your side and grabbed one of your hands in both of his. Your hands felt cold and clammy, and he looked to your side to see that there was a blood bag attached to your arm next to another one giving you other fluids.

“Is there anyone we can call for you? You were listed as her emergency contact, so we weren’t sure if you had any family you’d like us to call.” The nurse waiting next to Dr. Park asked. 

In-ho didn’t pause, “Yes, my brother.” He realized that he had left his phone in your apartment in his rush to get you to the hospital. He quickly gave Jun-ho’s number and went back to directing his complete and full attention at you.

In a couple of minutes, the young doctor from before came into the room pushing a small metal cart. “Mr. Hwang, can I quickly treat your foot wounds? You won’t have to leave her side. It’s best to do it now so you won’t have to leave her side later if it gets worse.”

In-ho didn’t move, and the doctor took it as a sign to continue. The younger doctor had clearly been lectured on what best to say to the loved one of an injured person. He painstakingly pulled glass piece after glass piece out of In-ho’s foot, washed each cut carefully, and then stitched up each one. He was in miserable pain, but In-ho didn’t move. It was a small dosage of the punishment he deserved for ignoring your illness.

The doctor silently left after he was finished wrapping the wounds, and In-ho continued the self-inflicted torture he put himself through inside his head.

The door burst open, and Jun-ho rushed inside, a nurse hot on his heels. “Sir, you can’t be in here! It’s not visiting hours.”

“It’s 6:45, visiting hours start in 15 minutes,” Jun-ho said, ignoring her further protests to run forward and kneel next to his brother. “In-ho, are you alright? What happened? They wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone.” 

“She’s sick. She’s really sick.” In-ho said. 

Jun-ho’s face was shocked. “What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?”

“I don’t know. I- I knew something was wrong, but I didn’t think it could be this.” He paused, taking a deep breath, “she had to have surgery. She started…” In-ho shuddered, “she started throwing up blood earlier this morning, and I had to drive her to the hospital.”

Jun-ho didn’t know what to do, or say. His brother was glued to your side, so he couldn’t hug him. They had been through something slightly similar when Jun-ho was 8 and their father had died, but past it both being sick family members, everything else was different. In-ho was 20 when their dad died, and he was the one comforting Jun-ho. Now it was Jun-ho’s turn, and he had no idea how to do it. 

This was his wife. The reason In-ho got out of bed in the morning; you were his entire life. Your wedding date was his passcode, and his lock screen was you on the day you graduated nursing school.

“In-ho, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. Do they know what it is?”

In-ho squeezed your hand tighter, “I don’t know the details, but it’s something with her liver. It’s… It’s bad Jun-ho.”

There was nothing else for Jun-ho to say. No band-aid that could fix it, not call to anyone to change it. He sat down next to his brother, and like In-ho, waited.

It was only a couple of hours before you woke up, dazed and blinking slowly. Your eyes immediately moved towards the man holding your hand, “In-ho?”

Your voice hurt to speak, it felt like there were rusty nails in your windpipe.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” In-ho surged toward you, beginning to stroke your hair with his hand.

“What- what happened?” You saw In-ho’s brother push a button next to your bed.

“What do you remember?” He said, slowly and soothingly.

“I remember feeling sick, and getting up to throw up, and- and that’s it.” You said, blinking in confusion.

In-ho looked like he started to say something before a doctor and a nurse walked into the room, both of them being people you had worked with before. Dr. Park was the nicest doctor in the hospital you thought. He was a man of few words and never sugarcoated anything, but he always took care of his patients' needs. The nurse was a new hire, she was one that you always covered for, and there was a strange expression on her face.

“Ms. Hwang, I’m glad you're awake.” He said, pulling a stool forward that had been in the corner of the room. 

“My husband was just about to tell me what happened.” You said, still confused at what was happening.  You looked up at In-ho, and there was a look of sheer terror on his face, confusing you even further. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

He did his best to wipe that look off his face, but it didn’t really work, “nothing, I just want to hear what the doctor has to say.”

Dr. Park took a deep breath, before explaining something that would change your life forever. “Ms. Hwang, your husband brought you in early this morning after you threw up blood. He told us that you had been having some odd symptoms, and frankly, some of the staff were able to recount some for me as well. We did some blood work, and noticed some unusual things.” You held your breath. “The first thing we noticed, was that you tested positive for Hepatitis C, do you have any knowledge of this?”

You and In-ho were both shocked, “no, I- I had no idea.” 

Dr. Park sighed again, a sound that was quickly becoming foreboding, “Do you have any past use of drugs, any knowledge of any family members carrying the virus, or any contact with used needles.”

And then it hit you, “Yes. When I was in my first month as a nurse I got stuck with a used needle. My boss- my boss told me that it happened to everyone at some time or another and that we were busy and had to move on.” 

In-ho looked at you horrified, “Honey, what does the disease do?” He whispered, addressing you and not the doctor.

But Dr. Park cut in, “It’s a virus that can go away on its own, but other times it can stay in the body symptom-free for decades before showing harmful symptoms. It’s unlikely to be transmitted through sex, but you should get tested as well.”

While the doctor was speaking, the pieces connected in your head. Hepatitis C, vomiting up blood, the symptoms you thought were nothing. “My liver is failing, isn’t it.”

The four other people in the room turned to you. The look on In-ho’s face killed you, so you had to look away and move your glance to Dr. Park.

He stared you in the eyes, and said, “Yes, it is.”

I'm taking a break from the series, I'll probably write part three after my next fic!

Tags: @bigdaddddyyyyy @kimeungun114 @eviesmoon @jspidey5 @kyl13sm1l3y @watasinekoru @starkeyszn @multifandomgirllol @annasnape7 @sylviavf @foulbreadpaenut @unaaasz @vrystalius @ultimate-simp-10

[thewertsearch]

He's just so infuriating sometimes! Or at least his responder is. Ok, the real Strider is too. There's barely any difference between them anyway. The responder just uses a few more generic response templates. And even those you suspect the AI is savvy enough to use on purpose for the sake of irony, or to get a rise out of you or whatever. That silicon bastard knows damn well what it's doing.

Jake's clearly aware that the AI is sentient, which makes it even more of a dick move that he referred to him as a 'pretend person'.

Like, come on, English. You're fully aware that he's capable of being hurt by your remarks - and furthermore, the idea that he's 'not real' is obviously something he's going to be sensitive about. Have a heart!

Empty. The thing is out there somewhere. Waiting for you. Oh god.

So he does have a Dreambot, then - it just hasn't been linked to his bed, so he can't actually use it.

I think the AR might have hacked the thing to fuck with Jake - and if he did, I'm kind of on his side. Jake just called him fake, so let's see if he can handle something a little more 'real'.

TT: I'm just wondering, TT: If you still have your stupid old-fangled knickers in a twist. […] GT: In regard to what exactly? TT: To my proposal. Well, our proposal. […] GT: You mean making the rabbit for me? TT: No, I know you don't want that. TT: I meant my recommendation for how to go about procuring a new supply of uranium. TT: Operation U-235 Brocurement. Codename: Big Man Hass the Rock.

Someone's a fan of his big bro - or at least, his creator's big bro.

No, I think this still counts as his big bro. If Bro's really uploaded his own personality into the AR, then he arguably qualifies as a third Strider brother.

[ssa-danhotchner]

Happier | Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Years after their breakup, y/n struggles with seeing Hotch move on with his new partner, Beth, while still working alongside him every day.

cw: use of y/n, past relationship, heartbreak, angst?, themes of moving on, Haley mentioned. let me know if I missed anything

wc: 1k

note: English isn't my first language so please be kind. I had the entire sour album stuck in my head. Please give me some ideas to write

The sound of laughter echoed faintly through the bullpen as the last of the team packed up for the night. You sat at your desk, staring blankly at the screen of your computer. The words of your report blurred together, the glowing monitor casting pale light over your exhausted face. You didn’t even know why you were still there; everyone else had gone home.

Everyone, except for him.

Aaron Hotchner.

It had been years since the two of you had ended things, but the wound never seemed to fully heal. Time had dulled the ache, sure, but it hadn’t erased the memories.

You could still see the way he’d smile when it was just the two of you, the way his hand would linger on yours longer than necessary, the way he whispered your name like it was the only word that mattered. Back then, it felt like you had something unshakable, something real. But life had a way of pulling people apart, and for you and Aaron, it had been no different.

It wasn’t a dramatic breakup. There were no screaming matches, no accusations hurled in the heat of the moment. It had been quiet, almost agonizingly so. You’d both known it was over before either of you said the words. The demands of his job, his grief over Haley, and the ever-present weight of being a single father—it was too much for him to bear. And you, despite loving him more than anything, hadn’t been enough to bridge the growing gap between you.

“I can’t give you what you deserve,” he’d said that night, his voice heavy with regret. “You deserve more than stolen moments and half-hearted promises.”

And that had been it.

You had cried, of course. For weeks, maybe months. But you told yourself you’d be fine, that you’d move on. You tried to convince yourself that his words weren’t true, that you could have made it work. But deep down, you knew he was right.

Still, knowing it was the right thing didn’t make it any easier.

Now, years later, you had settled into a new normal. Working alongside him every day was a constant reminder of what you’d lost, but you’d learned to compartmentalize. You had to. There was no room for personal feelings when lives were on the line.

Or at least, that was what you told yourself.

Your eyes drifted to his office, where the light was still on. Through the glass, you could see him sitting at his desk, his phone pressed to his ear. His face softened as he spoke, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You knew who he was talking to.

Beth.

The name tasted bitter on your tongue, though you hated yourself for it. She was kind, warm, and good for him. You’d never met her formally, but you’d heard enough to know she made him happy. And wasn’t that what you wanted? For him to be happy?

But it wasn’t that simple.

Because every time you saw him with her—every time you heard him mention her in passing—it felt like someone was twisting a knife in your chest. You wanted him to be happy, but not like this. Not with her.

I hope you’re happy, but not like how you were with me.

The lyrics played on a loop in your mind, echoing your most selfish thoughts. You wanted to believe he still thought of you, that some small part of him missed what you’d shared. But the rational part of you knew better. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t the type to dwell on the past. He had moved on.

“Hey.”

His voice startled you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see him standing in front of your desk, his expression tinged with concern.

“You’re still here?” he asked, his brow furrowed.

“I could say the same to you” you replied, forcing a small smile.

He didn’t return it. “You should go home. It’s late.”

“I will” you said, though you had no intention of leaving just yet.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, weighed down by all the things left unsaid.

“Are you okay?” he asked finally, his dark eyes searching yours.

You hesitated. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess.”

He nodded, but you could tell he didn’t quite believe you.

“Goodnight, y/n” he said softly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Goodnight, Hotch”

You watched him walk away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the quiet of the bullpen.

Once he was gone, you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest threatening to crush you. You hated how much power he still had over you, how his presence could unravel you so completely.

Leaning back in your chair, you closed your eyes, letting the memories flood in despite the pain they brought. You thought of the nights you’d spent tangled together, whispering secrets in the dark. You thought of the way he’d kiss your forehead before leaving for work, murmuring promises to come back to you.

And you thought of the way it all ended, the way he walked out of your life without looking back.

It wasn’t fair.

You wanted to move on, to let go of the love that still clung to you like a ghost. But every time you tried, you found yourself pulled back to him, to the man who had once been your everything.

You sighed, grabbing your bag and shutting off your computer. As you walked to your car, the night air was cool against your skin, but it did little to soothe the ache in your heart.

Sitting behind the wheel, you gripped the steering wheel tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“I hope you’re happy,” you whispered to the empty car, your voice cracking. “But don’t be happier.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession to a love you could never fully let go of.

And as you drove away, the memories of him lingered, a bittersweet reminder of the love you once had—and the happiness you’d never find again.

[woozinhos]

Mollie Congrats on 1k!!! You deserve it! Can I please request a Joshua smut with arranged marriage trope? I Love your Josh works sm!

Notes: I’m back gang had a lil break but I’m continuing writing :D

╭────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╮

Smut below the cut

╰────── · · ୨୧ · · ──────╯

You had always known that your life was going to be a product of an arranged marriage, but you never expected to feel this way about your arranged husband. Joshua Hong, the man you were destined to marry, was nothing like you had imagined. He was kind, gentle, and surprisingly understanding of your situation.

As the two of you sat across from each other at the dinner table, discussing the terms of your marriage, you couldn't help but feel a strange flutter in your chest whenever his eyes met yours. He was different from any other man you had met before, and you found yourself drawn to him in a way that you couldn't explain. As the weeks passed, you and Joshua grew closer, finding solace in each other's company despite the circumstances of your marriage.

You found yourself seeking out his touch more and more, craving the feeling of his hand on yours or his arm around your waist. One night, after a particularly stressful day, Joshua came to your room and found you sitting on the edge of your bed, tears streaming down your face. He knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his.

"Hey," he said softly, his thumbs gently rubbing circles on the back of your hands. "What's wrong?" You looked at him, your heart heavy with the weight of your emotions.

"I don't know," you said, your voice trembling. "I just feel so trapped, like I'm stuck in this life I never wanted." Joshua's expression softened as he listened to you, his eyes filled with understanding.

"I know this isn't ideal," he said quietly. "But I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to make sure you're happy. You don't have to go through this alone." His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you found yourself leaning into him, seeking comfort in his presence.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. You buried your face in his chest, feeling safe and protected in his arms. As you held each other, the air between you grew thick with tension, a mixture of unspoken desires and unresolved emotions. You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a mix of vulnerability and need.

"Joshua," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need you." His eyes darkened at your words, and he cupped your face in his hands, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

"I'm here," he said, his voice low and husky. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." He leaned in, his lips hovering just inches away from yours.

"Tell me what you need," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. "I'll give you anything you want." Your heart raced as you looked into his eyes, feeling a mixture of desire and desperation.

"I need you to make me forget," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Forget about the arranged marriage, forget about the expectations and the pressure. I just need to feel something real, something true." Joshua's eyes darkened with a mixture of desire and possessiveness as he heard your words. He pulled you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he looked up at you.

"You have no idea how much I want to make you forget," he said, his voice low and husky. "To make you feel good, to make you mine." He captured your lips in a searing kiss, his hands roaming over your body as he pulled you closer to him. You melted into his embrace, surrendering to the heat and passion that was building between you. As the kiss deepened, Joshua's hands began to wander, exploring every inch of your body with a possessive touch. You moaned softly as his lips moved down your neck, his tongue tracing a path of fire along your skin. His hands found the hem of your shirt, and he tugged it off, revealing your bare skin to his hungry gaze.

"Beautiful," he whispered, his eyes raking over your body with a mixture of desire and appreciation. He trailed his fingers down your chest, his touch sending shivers through your body.

"So perfect," he murmured, his lips finding your collarbone and nipping at the sensitive skin there. He began to unbutton your pants, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring every moment of this. As he slipped your pants off, leaving you in only your underwear, he looked up at you with a possessive glint in his eyes.

"You're mine," he said, his voice low and firm. "No one else can have you like this." You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt his claim over you. He pulled you closer, his body pressed against yours as he continued to kiss and touch you. "Say it," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you breathed out, the words feeling both like a surrender and a release. Joshua's eyes darkened with satisfaction at your words, and he kissed you again, his tongue tangling with yours as he pushed you back onto the bed. As he stripped off his clothes, revealing his toned body to you, he couldn't help but let out a low chuckle.

"I can't believe we're doing this," he said, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily. "But I don't care. I want you, and I want you now." Joshua's kiss was hungry and demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth as he pressed his body against yours. He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours as he spoke.

"I know we should wait," he said, his voice strained with desire. "But I can't help myself. You're too irresistible." You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer as you whispered back.

"I don't want to wait," you said, your voice low and seductive. "I want you now, here, and there's nothing wrong with that." Joshua reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a condom from the drawer. He tore open the package with his teeth, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolled it on.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice rough with desire as he positioned himself between your legs. You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whispered, looking up at him with a mixture of desire and trust. He smiled at your response, his eyes filled with a mix of tenderness and passion.

"Good," he said, his voice low and seductive. "Because I'm going to make you feel so good." He leaned down and captured your lips in a searing kiss as he entered you, filling you completely. You gasped against his lips as he began to move, his body rocking against yours with a steady rhythm. The feeling of him inside you was overwhelming, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

"You feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight, so perfect."

"I can't believe I get to fuck this pussy all the time," he growled, his voice rough with desire. He nipped at your earlobe, his hips moving faster and harder as he continued to thrust into you. You moaned at his words, the sound sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

He continued to whisper filthy things in your ear as he moved, his hands roaming over your body and his lips trailing hot kisses along your neck and collarbone. As he hit a particularly sensitive spot, you arched your back, your body trembling with pleasure. "You like that, don't you?" he said, his voice a low growl. "You like hearing how much I want you, how much I need you." He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent and demanding.

"You're mine, all mine," he repeated, his words punctuated by each powerful thrust. "No one else can have you like this, only me." You were losing yourself in the pleasure, your body writhing beneath him as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. He could feel you starting to tighten around him, and he knew you were close.

"Come for me," he commanded, his voice firm and authoritative. "Let me feel you come apart around me." You obeyed, your body arching off the bed as you reached your climax, waves of pleasure crashing over you. Joshua continued to move, riding out your orgasm and pushing himself closer to his own release. He gritted his teeth, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt himself nearing his own peak.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drove himself deeper inside you. "I'm not going to last much longer." With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and came with a loud groan, his body shaking with the force of his release. He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily as he tried to catch his breath. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both lay there, still entwined and breathing heavily. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're incredible," he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection. He lifted his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips.

"I think marriage will be good," he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Marriage definitely has its perks."

[xjulixred45x]

Jjk yanderes (gojo, choso, Nanami.. etc) with darling who just doesn’t give a damn about them being a yan. Like the yandere can kill someone or be extremely clingy, and the darling is just like 🤷‍♀️ cool who cares. Like they just accept it and continue, not rlly caring about how bad of a person their yandere is to other people, as long as they’re good to darling. If yan is extremely clingy, or “nicely” pressure darling to move in with them, darling is just like “ah okay 🤷‍♀️ free rent ig”

I live for willing darling supremacy

Yandere Satoru Gojo/Kento Nanami/Choso Kamo x Darling who dosen't care that they are Yandere

Genre: Headcanons

Reader: neutral

Warnings: Yandere behaviors, unhealty mindset, overbearing behavior, overprotection, darling is willing and is totally okay with Yandere being Yandere

Choso Kamo

• AWWWW CHOSO IS DEFINITELY THE BEST YADERE ON THE LIST.

• Not only is he a respectful Yandere who won't do anything Darling isn't comfortable with, but he's so damn sweet it's almost diabetic.

• In general, Choso is the most likely to have a willing Darling, because Choso probably doesn't even fall in love with a “normal person” in the first place.

• Most likely a curse user, for example, or with a strange ability that makes them socially rejected. Precisely generating a mutual empathy that evolves into something more.

• In Choso's case, he has never seen REAL romantic relationships before, he has no idea how to approach his romantic interest, so he ends up showing his affection in unorthodox ways.

• Like, for example: watching them in the middle of the night as they arrive home safely and without problems (if so, he will happily get rid of the problem).

• Give very personal gifts or bizarre gifts (that may or may not be stained with something red).

• Even going so far as to kidnap the reader if things get bad with the Curse users and he needs to “protect” them more closely.

• Choso genuinely doesn't realize how creepy and unhealthy all of this is, he rationalizes and justifies it with his own young mentality. He does not do it out of malice, it is genuine love, but tainted with misdirected actions.

• For the same reason, he doesn't even see anything strange in the fact that the reader is chill with the whole kidnapping. Just because it's the first time he's done this, was they supposed to react differently?

• Choso is so hungry for acceptance and affection that when the reader gives it to him without reservation, he simply melts and can't handle himself anymore. He had wanted this for so long and he didn't even know it.

• Choso is loving, he respects his Darling's wishes and tries to get them to act like his version of a “normal” couple.

• Probably the only Yandere on this list who would listen to the reader's recommendations and ideas, precisely because he knows that they have no malice. And like I said before, Choso prioritizes his partner's comfort above everything else, so he takes their opinion very seriously (LEARN SOMETHING GOJO)

• The most emotionally intelligent of the three, ironically. He is the oldest of ten children and is definitely good at comforting Darling. Always with open arms and dry shoulders.

• Protective at lethal levels, he will not blink to kill large numbers of people if they come between him and Darling.

• In general, he doesn't realize it at first, but it doesn't like it affects him in the long term. He knows reader is his and he is of reader. Forever.

Kento Nanami

• He is suspicious, A LOT.

• Nanami is one of the few self-conscientious Yandere in JJK, who at the same time takes a RIDICULOUS amount of time to finally take the next step in approaching his Darling and hitting it off.

• And when he does, it takes a STUPID amount of willpower and conviction for him not to simply push reader out of their life, even though reader is clearly miserable, Kento knows they would be even more so if they lived with a monster like him.

• But to his surprise, it is READER who keeps looking for him, it is READER who wants to talk to him and stay in touch. It's like they completely ignore all the red flags that Nanami shows every time they are together (overprotection, jealousy, even violence)

• By the same token, he finds it difficult to believe that anyone GENUINELY is okay with the kind of attitudes he has proven to have OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

• When Nanami demands (politely) that the reader move in with him, he expected to have to resort to some manipulation tactic, to have to make the reader feel OBLIGED to do it, but the only thing he encountered was a “Okay, free rent”

• I MEAN???

• You can't blame the man for feeling confused.

• Nanami tries to give his Darling more space than Gojo, but at the same time he is so overprotective that it almost seems the opposite. He is able to put cameras in the house, have the reader wear an ankle bracelet when he is traveling, do regular medical checkups to ensure they are not sick, etc.

• Also Kento will not allow any item that could be useful for the reader to harm themself, putting a lock on the knife cabinet, putting razors out of service, even not allowing shoes with strings (in more extreme cases)

• HE DOES ALL THAT AND THEY HOPE HE'S NOT SUSPICIUOS???

• However, when Darling tells him why, it puts it a little more into perspective.

• Reader is not with Nanami because he is harsh and demanding with everyone, reader is with him because of how delicate and sweet Kento is with them, how he is patient with them, how he tries to improve their day, whether by bringing them food or trying to be emotional, how he cares for them.

• The reader doesn't care about others, they only cares about KENTO. And Kento doesn't care about others, he only cares about Darling.

• From here on, things improve, Nanami is no longer so paranoid, the reader gains certain freedoms by showing that they is genuinely voluntary (like being able to go out with Nanami, go shopping together, etc.)

• It is a new domestic environment, much calmer and happier.

• Nanami's Yandere tendencies are even taken down a notch. After all, why be jealous of someone who is already yours? Obviously he will take good care of them, but he knows he can trust them and they can trust him.

• They are a mutually twisted couple. But they love each other, at the end of the day. That's what's important.

Satoru Gojo

• Oh, he's ENJOYING this like you have no idea.

• I think the ideal Darling for this scenario would be someone who has had a bad time in life, someone who has hardly experienced love. Quite the opposite, Satoru, for the same reason he felt as attracted to the reader as he did.

• Some of them did it out of obligation, saving the weak, no matter how exhausting it may be, however, the reader ended up finding it more and more… more interesting. More intoxicating.

• He expected fighting, screaming and crying. But instead he was simply met with acceptance, resignation, indifference to his advances. Like they didn't care how obviously HARMFUL he was.

•Although, Gojo is self-centered enough to believe that his Darling loves him even if they doesn't, so by acting on his expectations they is only inflating his massive ego.

• I think he would be the only Yandere that no matter if the reader is voluntary or not, he is still one of the worst to have.

• Although of course, it's not so bad for a reader who is okay with it.

• Gojo is a very affectionate Yandere who is very erratic and definitely likes to have his “partner” around to ensure that they are within reach. Under His protection and control.

• With a willing reader, Satoru would be slightly softer, as he doesn't even think that this could be a trick, he can see through them after all.

• That means, more gifts, more pampering, and after a certain time, more freedoms. It's not a big deal, it's just walks to the park or in the car. But this reader has many more privileges, such as internet access, more space, etc.

• even Satoru tends to listen to them more because he knows that they do not “play”, because he respects them more than if they were involuntary (in that case he would probably look down on them to determine dominance, but here it is not even necessary!)

• As time goes by, Gojo would even start bringing Reader to his workplaces, simply because he can't keep his hands to himself, he is just confident enough that Reader isn't going to run away, and what do you think? They don't!

• If Satoru ever hears the reasoning behind why the reader stays with him, he would partly laugh, he honestly thinks it's funny that they only does it for the rent and being alone.

• However, this can quickly evolve into anger at whoever has hurt the reader in the past. With Gojo, no one gets away with it.

• He's a jealous Yandere, even if he's sweet and cuddly, he's always VERY close to just killing the entire mall every time they go shopping for new clothes. It's the custom.

• Fortunately, it seems that the reader knows what they've gotten themselves into, so I wouldn't worry about them, I'd worry about anyone who has done something to them in the past, because now they have some kind of nuclear bomb for a boyfriend.

• Good luck!

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

I'll update a little later bc i'm with a new medication for the Anemia thingy, but not worry! I'll still take Requests until about 10 of febraury.

I'm kind of missing taking Request of forgoten fandoms in the blog(like Voltron, Slugterra, Dororo(Tahomaru My Child), ahhhhh, the good Old days)

[blackknight-kai]

Black Myth Wukong Monkeys: LORE/HC stuff

I’ve had some recent thoughts about BMW and Wukong/Destined One.

So everyone has their own “Wukong looks like this” idea based on different chapter animations, in game armor, some back end files, etc. *I will not be proving or disproving anyone fyi*

I decided to take a little bit of a deeper look.

A lot of people have different head canons about “how much fur” WK/DO actually has under his armor (Valid question 😏). This is based on ‘monkey types in real life’ or some hints / glimpses we see in game or even other media for Wukong. So I wanted to set out to look at the other monkeys we see in game. The issue? Blurry background monkeys LOL. (Some images will be…blurry ish…)

I was watching some TikTok’s with some Spider Monkeys - if you know the family youre awesome - and while looking on a first glance they look nearly identical. But looking closer you’ll start seeing the differences in fur, face color patterns - down to freckles, mannerisms etc etc etc. I already like anyone else was expecting Monkey demons to have some diversity to them but just like any ‘real life’ animal sometimes it’s not a lot of diversity between a same species. (I’m not thinking about house pets or birds, I’m thinking on the generic “lion” or “tiger” look if that makes sense).

Pulling up the game the first other monkey we see besides Wukong is the old Monkey - he has white hair and very thin fur (even a fur less tail). He almost looks like Destined One too in structure but not quite, he holds some less human mannerisms than even DO. (Will come back to that)

Shen Monkey was also the next monkey to look at - brightened up images show him to be dark in skin & fur color. He also has patches of fur and places like his under arms missing fur. He has a thin thatch of hair on the center of his chest with a bushy head of hair/fur and his face is a bit more ‘monkey’ than WK/DO’s. His feet are shorter than WK/DO’s too (toes also just a bit). Also, he has POINTY ears.

Link to the post I got these from @/aulostheremin https://www.tumblr.com/aulostheremin/773263251799687168/i-might-be-asking-too-much-but-can-we-have-fanart (wasn’t sure if you’d be okay tagging youuuuuuu)

After looking at him I took a look at the blurry background monkeys in that opening scene and started to notice something….interesting.

The background monkeys looked almost generic right? But on closer look I started to realize they had many differences.

You can see their fur colors vary for starters, some being tan, to brown, to that onyx greyish blue color. Same with skin color - some have peach/pail skin and others have that grey blue skin that Shen Monkey has.

*See above different color furs / skins.*

Most of them also have fur less chests, but this varies too - some having more fur less skin and others having a little less on their chests. For instance - these two monkeys *SEE BELOW*. Both are ‘wide’ bodied but one has a more square fur less pattern while the other has a more upside down triangle pattern. ALSO - the triangle pattern monkey seems to have thinner/furless skin on the underside of his arms where as the square pattern monkey seems to have full fur other than on his chest. (Also, is that war paint on the triangle monkey?? The two lines - one shown running down his pec? If so, that is a neat idea I am absolutely head canoning that they used tribal war paint for warriors for certain meanings be it rank or things like courage/bravery - maybe they have trials and such etc)- mini note yes I am incorporating stuff like this in future fics.

The next thing I noticed was their clothes. Some apparently wear loin clothes, pants only, shirt and pants, or nothing at all. Most seem to wear clothes though in some fashion. (You can see in above images some of those clothes.

Below - also as a note I think the tail placement here wasn’t supposed to be noticed because honestly its a little uh off - but there is a Monkey that runs in front of the camera at the beginning of the game. Fully nude. This monkey appears while blurry, to have THICK FULL body hair. Even on that booty and it’s hard to tell, but honestly it looks like he has fur on his chest.

As another note, we cannot tell, but based on look alone they have ROUND ears mostly vs pointy like Shen Monkey. So, we have different fur patterns, colors, states of dress/status where next? (Maybe pointy ears are something less common? Interesting thought)

Their mannerisms.

Watching the scene its clear these background monkeys really lean into ‘monkey’ walk and actions/behaviors. They are VERY bow legged and have that sway you see in Planet of The Apes. Their chests are a bit wider/barreled and their limbs a little thicker too than WK/DO. Some of them have their arms curled up to their bodies as well. They squat too (mostly) instead of sitting and remain closer to the ground, but looking around you’ll see another interesting thing - outside of WK/DO, the old Monkey, there is one other monkey deep into the background that ISNT squatting like the rest. Instead they are sitting like a person, like WK/DO was in that scene before he stands up.

Shen Monkey ALSO sits like a human (see above pics of him).

Even the way WK/DO & the old monkey walk is more ‘human leaning’ with WK/DO being even more so than the old monkey. It shows me that WK/DO is still an anomaly even in those that are ‘human leaning’ because he is a true blend of the two but also something all his own, the old monkey being the only one closest to him in this.

Why does this all of this matter? It shows me the difference and diversity between the monkeys. Some are very heavy in their ‘monkey’ appearance and body movements (maybe slightly even brain function on a more primal level?) and others lean into more human aspects. BUT the more human leaning monkeys are not as common it seems. Essentially this makes my brain run. It shows a level of difference that is somewhat on par with how humans are diverse as well which again was what caught my eye and made me wonder about these Monkey Demons. Such as are there preferences of appearance, or do certain features make them more warriors/gatherers or what about intelligence of some? What differentiates leaders & followers or what genes get passed on? (Yes I’m adding this shit to my head canons LOL)

As another side note, I think WK/DO is just taller than his monkey kind. Mainly because he stands so far upright. Also also also, paying close attention in that opening scene the background monkeys tails are so cute LOL we get to see a little tail movement.

Okay so what conclusion does this bring us to? They are suuuuuper diverse. Meaning, if you see WK/DO with specific fur patterns vs another person? It works either way you see it because genuinely there are so many different variations, be it mostly furry with a small patch on his chest furless or the fur running down most of his torso…or even missing fur on the underside of his arms or having fur on the underside of his arms. Also the booty discourse of does he have furry cheeks or not honestly….up to you. Also I think it shows WK/DO is truly a 1 of a kind (which we knew duh) but ‘human leaning’ is such a rare feature (I’m assuming) and WK/DO doesnt even quite fit there either.

So at the end of the day……theres no wrong answer here. Just was doing some digging 🧐☺️ this was to help ME because I have ideas 😉 and I can’t wait to start digging into them in fics.

@szynkaaa has another in depth look at this too sharing the same thoughts 😉 https://szynkaaa.tumblr.com/post/769217021192945664/the-shape-of-monkey

[nickgurl4life]

ᢉ𐭩Shattered Chainsᢉ𐭩

Pairings: Ex Boyfriend! + Ex Girlfriend!Reader

Warnings: abuse, child endangerment, manipulation (none of this is Chris), and other angst things, If I missed any let me know!

Summary: reader is in a toxic relationship and Chris is trying to save her and her baby.

w/c: 4,931

a/n: I thought of this idea, if you do NOT like reading about domestic violence or any type of threatening with women/children, do not read! If you read and end up being uncomfortable do not blame me! This is your warning.

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Chris stood in front of the familiar house, his heart pounding in his chest. He had played this moment over and over in his head, imagining how it might go. Would she smile when she saw him? Would they talk about the good times, maybe even laugh about how foolish they’d been to let each other go? After three years apart and a fresh breakup of his own, he couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, they were meant to find their way back to each other. Taking a deep breath, he rang the doorbell. The door swung open, but instead of her, a man stood in the doorway. Tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a smug expression, the stranger looked Chris up and down like he was sizing him up. "Can I help you?" the man asked, his tone sharp. Chris cleared his throat. "Uh, hi. I’m Chris. I was hoping to see her—" he started, but the man cut him off. "Yeah, I know who you are," the man said, leaning against the doorframe. "She’s mentioned you." His tone made it clear that whatever she’d said wasn’t flattering. "What do you want?" Chris faltered, already regretting his decision to come. "I just... I wanted to talk to her. Is she home?" "She’s busy," the man said, crossing his arms. "Look, I get it. You’re the ex, right? Thought you’d swoop in here after three years and win her back or something? Hate to break it to you, man, but she’s moved on." He glanced back into the house and smirked. "We’ve got a good thing going here."

Just as Chris opened his mouth to respond, she appeared behind the man, holding a small baby in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw Chris. "Chris?" she said, her voice soft with surprise. She shifted the baby in her arms, her expression unreadable. "Hey," Chris said, his voice cracking. "I... I didn’t know you had a baby." he man turned, glancing at her and the baby, then back at Chris with a mocking grin. "Yeah, this is Ellie. She’s ours." He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer. "You’re a little late, buddy." "Adam," she said sharply, stepping away from him. She looked at Chris, her expression now tinged with guilt. "Can we talk? Just us?" Adam raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sure, go ahead. But don’t take too long. Some of us actually have responsibilities." He gave Chris one last condescending look before disappearing into the house. She sighed, stepping out onto the porch with Ellie still in her arms. "I’m sorry about that," she said quietly. "Adam... he can be protective." "Protective?" Chris echoed, his voice laced with bitterness. "He’s a jerk." She winced but didn’t argue. "Chris, why are you here?" Chris looked at her, his chest tightening. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I guess... I thought maybe there was still something between us. After my breakup, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. About us." His voice broke, and he ran a hand through his hair. "But I see now that you’ve got a life—a family."

Her eyes softened, but she shook her head. "Chris, what we had was real, and I’ll always care about you. But things are different now. I’m with Adam, and Ellie... she’s my whole world." She looked down at the baby, her expression tender. Chris swallowed hard, nodding even though his heart was breaking. "I just... I needed to see for myself. To know for sure." She reached out, touching his arm gently. "I hope you find someone who makes you happy, Chris. You deserve that." Before he could respond, the door opened, and Adam leaned out, his smirk firmly back in place. "Everything good out here?" he asked, his tone dripping with false concern. Chris forced a tight smile, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Yeah. Everything’s fine." He turned to her one last time, his voice soft. "Take care of yourself." As he walked away, Adam’s smug laughter echoed behind him, but Chris didn’t look back. He knew he couldn’t change the past, and now, it was clear there was no going back. Two weeks later, Chris found himself driving past her house again, unable to resist the pull that had taken hold of him since that fateful day. He told himself he was being stupid, that he should leave well enough alone, but the sight of the driveway—empty of Adam’s car—ignited a reckless kind of hope. Maybe they could talk without Adam looming over them, making everything tense. Maybe he could finally say what he hadn’t had the courage to before.

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Two weeks later, Chris found himself driving past her house again, unable to resist the pull that had taken hold of him since that fateful day. He told himself he was being stupid, that he should leave well enough alone, but the sight of the driveway—empty of Adam’s car—ignited a reckless kind of hope. Maybe they could talk without Adam looming over them, making everything tense. Maybe he could finally say what he hadn’t had the courage to before. He parked a block away, his palms slick with nervous sweat as he approached the front door. The memory of Adam’s smug smirk and sharp words haunted him, but this time, it didn’t matter. He rang the bell, and when she answered, the baby perched on her hip, she looked surprised but not angry. “Chris,” she said, her tone cautious. “What are you doing here?” “I saw Adam wasn’t home,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I swear, I’m not here to cause trouble. I just… I wanted to talk. Please.” She hesitated, glancing down at Ellie, who cooed softly, then back at him. “Alright. Just for a few minutes.” She stepped aside, letting him in, and they sat in the living room, the baby in her lap. Chris couldn’t help but smile at the way Ellie’s tiny hands reached for her mother’s face, the love between them so evident it almost hurt to see. “I wanted to apologize,” Chris began, his voice low. “For showing up out of nowhere last time. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I didn’t mean to make things awkward for you.” She softened slightly, giving him a small nod. “I appreciate that. It was… unexpected, but I understand.

Breakups mess with your head.” Chris swallowed hard, his hands gripping his knees. “I just can’t stop thinking about you. About what we had. I know it’s been years, and I know things are different now, but I can’t shake the feeling that I messed up the best thing I ever had.” She looked down at Ellie, her expression conflicted. “Chris… I won’t lie and say I don’t think about us sometimes. You were important to me. But my life now… it’s complicated. Adam—” Before she could finish, the front door swung open with a loud bang, and Adam’s voice boomed through the house. “I’m home!” Chris froze as Adam appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw him. “What the hell is this?” Adam snapped, his face darkening. “It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, standing and bouncing Ellie on her hip in an effort to diffuse the tension. “Chris just came to talk. That’s all.” “To talk?” Adam spat, glaring at Chris. “You don’t belong here. I told you to stay away.” “Adam, stop,” she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to make him hesitate. “I let him in. He’s not causing any trouble.” Adam’s jaw tightened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “This guy thinks he can just waltz in here and play the hero? What, you think you’re gonna swoop in and take her away from me? From us?” Chris stood, his own frustration bubbling to the surface. “That’s not what this is about,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing in his chest.

“I just needed to say my piece. I’m not trying to ruin anything.” "Yeah, well, you being here is enough to ruin things,” Adam snapped. “You don’t get to come in here and act like you still have a claim on her. She’s with me now. We’re a family.” “Adam, that’s enough!” she shouted, her voice trembling but firm. Ellie began to cry, the tension in the room too much for the baby. She turned her back on both of them, trying to soothe her daughter. “This isn’t about you or him. It’s about what’s best for me and Ellie. And right now, what I need is for both of you to stop acting like children.” Adam’s face softened slightly at her words, though his glare at Chris remained. Chris took a step back, his heart heavy but his mind clear. “She’s right,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.” Without another word, he turned and walked out the door, the sound of Ellie’s cries echoing in his ears. This time, he knew it was really over. No matter how much he wished things could be different, her life was no longer his to be part of.

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The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the baby monitor on the kitchen counter. Ellie had finally fallen asleep after the tension-filled evening, her tiny breaths audible through the monitor. She leaned against the sink, her hands gripping the edge tightly as she tried to calm the storm brewing inside her. Adam stood across the room, pacing, his footsteps heavy against the floor. His jaw was tight, and his eyes burned with barely contained anger. “I can’t believe you let him in here,” Adam finally snapped, his voice low but cutting. “What were you thinking? After everything I’ve done for you—for us—you let him walk back into your life like it’s nothing?” She turned to face him, her own patience wearing thin. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you, Adam. He showed up, and I didn’t want to make a scene. He just wanted to talk, and I thought it would be better to let him say whatever he needed to say so he’d leave for good.” Adam scoffed, throwing his hands in the air. “So what, you’re just inviting your exes over now? Letting them sit in my house, around my family? What’s next, you’re going to let him hold Ellie?” “Stop it!” she hissed, her voice sharp but quiet to avoid waking Ellie. “This isn’t about you or Chris. It’s about me trying to handle something from my past so it doesn’t keep coming back. He’s gone now, Adam. You don’t need to keep blowing this out of proportion.”

“Blowing it out of proportion?” he repeated, his voice rising despite her warning. “How do you think this looks? He’s still in love with you—it’s obvious! And you just let him walk in here like nothing’s changed. Do you even respect me? Us?” Her hands clenched into fists at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. “Don’t you dare question my respect for you, Adam. I’ve been nothing but honest and committed to you since the beginning. But that doesn’t mean I owe you control over how I handle my past. Chris is not a threat to us, and the fact that you’re turning this into something it isn’t says more about your insecurities than it does about me.” His face darkened at her words, but he didn’t respond immediately. The silence between them stretched, heavy and tense. Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter but still laced with bitterness. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not just mad because he showed up—I’m mad because you let him make me feel like I’m not enough. Like he still has a place in your life.” She shook her head, exhaustion settling over her. “He doesn’t have a place in my life, Adam. I told him that tonight. You’re the one I chose. You’re the one I’m building a life with. But if you keep letting your jealousy and pride get in the way, you’re going to ruin this yourself.” Adam stared at her for a moment, his expression unreadable.

Then, without another word, he turned and stormed off toward the bedroom, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen. The baby monitor hummed softly, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside her. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. It wasn’t Chris who was threatening her future—it was Adam. And as she stood there in the quiet of the night, she couldn’t help but wonder how much more of this she could take.

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A week later, she sat on the edge of the bed, the baby monitor humming beside her. Ellie was asleep, and the house was quiet, but her mind was anything but. For days, Adam had been acting colder, more controlling, monitoring her every move. She felt trapped, suffocated by his paranoia and manipulations. She needed help, someone to remind her of the person she used to be before all of this. Against her better judgment, she dialed Chris’s number, her hands trembling as she held the phone to her ear. “Hello?” Chris’s voice came through the line, warm but cautious. “Is everything okay?” She let out a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Chris, I—I don’t know what to do. Things with Adam… they’re worse than ever. I think—” “What the hell are you doing?” Adam’s voice boomed from the doorway, making her jump. Before she could react, he stormed over and snatched the phone from her hand, glaring at the screen before pressing it to his ear.

“Listen here, you piece of crap,” Adam growled, his voice venomous. “Stay out of my family’s life. You’ve got no business talking to her, and if I ever catch you calling her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.” "Put her back on the phone, Adam,” Chris demanded, his tone steady but firm. “I’m not going to let you treat her like this.” Adam laughed bitterly, pacing the room with the phone in his grip. “You’re not going to let me? Last I checked, I’m the one here, not you. She doesn’t need your help. She doesn’t need you. Stay out of it before you make things worse for her.” She stood frozen, her heart pounding as she watched the scene unfold, tears welling in her eyes. Adam ended the call abruptly, throwing the phone onto the bed before turning to her, his face twisted with fury. “You think running to him is going to fix anything? You think he’s going to save you?” She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. The room felt smaller now, the walls closing in as Adam loomed over her. She knew she couldn’t stay silent much longer—something had to change before it was too late.

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Chris hadn’t been able to get her call out of his mind. Her voice had been shaky, scared—nothing like the woman he’d known years ago. Something was wrong, and no matter what Adam had threatened, he couldn’t ignore it. He drove to the house late that evening, his hands gripping the wheel tightly, determination coursing through him. The driveway was empty, and the lights inside were dim, but he didn’t let that deter him. When he reached the door and knocked, there was no response. He hesitated for a moment, debating whether to leave, but a gut feeling told him not to. The thought of her and the baby in danger gnawed at him. He tested the doorknob, and to his surprise, it turned. Quietly, he let himself in, his footsteps cautious as he moved toward the muffled voices coming from the living room. As he got closer, the voices became clearer—her voice, trembling and pleading, and Adam’s, sharp and venomous. Chris froze when he stepped into the doorway and saw the scene before him. Adam was standing over her, holding Ellie in one arm while his free hand was raised, hovering over her as though he were about to strike. “You’re so ungrateful!” Adam barked, his face twisted with rage. “I’ve done everything for you, and this is how you repay me? Sneaking around and calling him?”

She cowered slightly, her hands raised in a futile attempt to protect herself. “Adam, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “I didn’t mean—just calm down. You’re scaring Ellie.” Chris couldn’t stay silent any longer. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded, stepping into the room. Adam spun around, his eyes narrowing dangerously at the sight of Chris. “What are you doing in my house?” he growled, clutching Ellie tighter. The baby whimpered, sensing the tension, and Adam barely seemed to notice. “I came to check on her,” Chris said, his voice steady despite the anger bubbling beneath the surface. “And it looks like I got here just in time. Put the baby down, Adam. Now.” Adam smirked, shifting Ellie slightly in his arms. “Oh, you think you’re going to play the hero? Walk in here and save her? You’ve got no idea what you’re messing with.” Chris took a step closer, his eyes locked on Adam. “I said put her down. You’re scaring her, and you’re scaring her mother. This ends now.”

Adam’s smirk faltered, his grip on Ellie tightening for a moment before he finally relented, setting the baby down in her playpen with a roughness that made Chris’s stomach turn. As soon as Ellie was safe, Chris stepped between Adam and her, positioning himself as a barrier. “She’s done with this,” Chris said firmly, his voice low but filled with conviction. “You don’t get to treat her like this. You don’t get to threaten her and the baby.” Adam glared at him, his fists clenching at his sides. “You don’t get to decide what happens in my house,” he spat. “She’s mine. Not yours. She doesn’t need you.” “She’s not yours,” Chris shot back, his voice rising. “She’s her own person, and she doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. You can’t keep her trapped here.” He turned to her, his expression softening. “You don’t have to stay, you know. You and Ellie can come with me. You don’t have to do this alone.” Tears filled her eyes as she looked at Chris, her body trembling. For the first time in weeks, she felt a flicker of hope—an escape from the nightmare she’d been living. But before she could respond, Adam lunged forward, shoving Chris hard.

“Get out of my house!” Adam roared. “You don’t belong here!” Chris steadied himself, standing his ground. “I’m not leaving without her,” he said firmly. “You’ve lost the right to call this your family.” Adam looked like he was ready to explode, but the sound of Ellie crying from the playpen cut through the tension. The baby’s wails filled the room, and for a moment, no one moved. Then she stepped forward, her voice trembling but strong. “I’m going with Chris,” she said, her eyes locked on Adam. “And if you try to stop me, I’ll call the police.” Adam’s face twisted in fury, but he didn’t say a word. Chris placed a protective hand on her back, guiding her toward Ellie. Chris gently picked up Ellie from the playpen, her cries beginning to subside as he held her close. His touch was calm and steady, his voice a soft murmur of reassurance as he cradled her. “It’s okay, little one. You’re safe now.” He turned to her, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get her to the car.” She followed him, her legs shaky but determined. As they neared the door, Adam’s voice cut through the tense silence. “You think this is over?” he spat, his tone dripping with venom. “You think you can just leave and everything will be fine? You’re making the biggest mistake of your life.”

She stopped in the doorway, turning to face him, her body trembling but her resolve firm. “No, Adam. The biggest mistake of my life was staying with you as long as I did,” she said, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I’m done. You don’t get to control me, manipulate me, or scare me anymore. It’s over.” Adam’s face twisted with rage, but she held her ground, her voice unwavering. “You can say whatever you want, but I’m leaving with my daughter, and I’m not coming back. You don’t love me, Adam. You just love having power over me, and I’m done giving you that.” Chris, who had stepped outside with Ellie, reappeared in the doorway, his presence a silent reassurance. “She said it’s over, Adam,” he said firmly. “You need to accept that and let her go.” Adam glared at him, but there was something different in his eyes now—frustration, defeat, maybe even fear. For the first time, it seemed like he realized he wasn’t in control anymore. She didn’t wait for him to respond. Without another word, she turned and walked out the door, her steps growing stronger with each one. When she reached the car, Chris was already securing Ellie into the car seat, his movements careful and practiced. He looked up as she approached, his expression soft but filled with determination.

“You’re doing the right thing,” he said gently. “You’re stronger than you think.” She nodded, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I just want to keep her safe. I want her to have the life she deserves.” Chris placed a hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re giving her that now. And you’re not alone in this anymore.” She looked back at the house one last time, then climbed into the car, leaving Adam—and the life she thought she had to endure—behind. For the first time in years, she felt the promise of a new beginning.

✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦-✦--✦-✦-✦-✦

Authors Note: here's something that's not super angsty but it's sad, writing about abuse/domestic violence is a bit out of comfort but I had an anon ask for it (I think I accidentally deleted their ask whoops) but ENJOY BABES~

who wants a part two!?

Taglist: @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pvssychicken @mattsslutt @chrislilcumslvt @cupiidk1lls @loud-sturniolos @p14th0mps0n @3xclus1vel0v3r @bilssturns @nateismybf @chrissweetheart @jassturn @kaybug88 @kennastromboli @goingtojohnkramershouseee @matthewsroses @whore4chris @trevorsgodmother @sweetshuga @chrissdiorstar

[bimboficationblues]

one thing that I think typifies bad or ill-conceived comic book opinions: the idea of a character being "out of character." this is not a purely audience problem; by emphasizing historical continuity and the relationship between the texts, Big 2 Comics invite you to think about their characters as though they possess a contiguous identity through all or most of their appearances. this is most evident in Spider-Man where the 2007 decision to keep Peter Parker locked in perpetual stasis infuriated fans so bad that you can't talk about contemporary Spider-Man anywhere without people malding. (that was not the only factor behind said malding.)

but, my point is comic characters only really have the appearance of unity or identity; all the different incarnations of Batman over the years from different writers and artists are really just different characters wearing the same collection of symbols as skin, with different emphases and additions or subtractions, and it's how those symbols get combined and new elements are introduced - and how those speak to the reader - that makes or breaks a good Batman story. the paranoiac thug, the man with a plan for everything, the urban myth, the jetsetting detective, the incarnation of everlasting grief, the one that is George W. Bush, the one who takes a bunch of Joker juice and becomes The Debil, they're all real and what lands or doesn't will probably depend on other, higher aesthetic priorities, what the representation *says*.

another comic opinion: the idea of a "love letter to a character" or whatever is not an inherently virtuous trait of a comic. superhero characters are not like inherently interesting, they are interesting for like, their ability to mix genres in a dynamic way, and for what they say and represent about us, for the philosophies and irrationalities that they conjure in us. something like Waid and Samnee's Daredevil or Ewing and Bennett's Immortal Hulk or Morrison/Quitely on All-Star Superman, I think go beyond just expanding or exploring a mythos and touch on bigger and resonant emotional ideas (depression and optimism, the social meaning of rage, mortality and legacy and symbolic aspiration). I don't think every comic can or should be on that level, and there is respect to be found in stuff that isn't that, but just fixating on the character's in-universe features at the expense of their symbolic, resonant qualities, what they communicate to and about us, is a missed chance.

another comic opinion: over-fixation on writers. comics are a visual medium with a relatively low barrier to entry as reader or creator and this is what distinguishes them from other narrative mediums. one thing that the best of shonen manga excel at while Anglo-American comics flounder is their visuals. there are artists who are willing to play with the Anglo-American form but there's a lot who are just doing swagless versions of Jim Lee and Bryan Hitch.

it's very noticeable to me that the Absolute and Ultimate books that have been the most successful have been those that have really distinct visual styles, a lot of dynamism or expression, and really talented colorists working with top-notch artists (Marco Checchetto, Peach Momoko, Nick Dragotta, Hayden Sherman, and although he's very much in house style I really love the character expressions and vibrancy of Juan Frigeri's Ultimates - despite being understated it has a real energy to it).

[novascharms]

MY STRANGE ADDICTION - RAFE CAMERON

dealer! rafe cameron x maddy perez

Maddy Perez has never been addicted to drugs—nor will she ever be. Her only addiction is the campus dealer she just can't seem to shake off and no matter how hard she tries to break free, she keeps getting pulled back into his orbit.

masterlist w.c — 4.0 c.w — smut, p in v a.n — choosing to continue this cause i got two free weeks and like lots of ideas abt these two for someee reason. lets ignore that rafe would actually off himself if he had to deal with maddy hihi :)

maddy goes to a party with nate and guess who's there? our very own campus dealer

Maddy’s gaze was fixed on Nate, though her attention was split in too many directions to keep track of. SZA’s smooth voice floated through the speakers, the music blending with the background chatter of the party. Nate was talking—something about football or his job—but his words felt like static. Her mind wandered, her eyes constantly flicking around, scanning the crowd. She hated how automatic it was, this ridiculous, involuntary search her brain always seemed to conduct.

She forced herself to focus, blinking hard as if to clear the fog clouding her thoughts. Nate’s voice filtered back in. “—think I’ll be moving up in ranks pretty soon,” he finished, his tone proud.

Maddy nodded, plastering on a polite smile, though she had no idea what “ranks” he was even referring to. “That’s great. I’m happy for you. Sounds like things are going well.”

Her tone was effortless, practiced, and Nate seemed satisfied with her response. He leaned in, adjusting the strap of her slightly crumpled bikini top with the kind of familiarity she used to find endearing. Once, his boldness might have been attractive, thrilling even. Now, it was just…irritating. Her instincts told her to pull back, but she stopped herself. She’d come here with him, after all. His “date.”

“Are the others here yet?” Nate asked, scanning the crowd.

The answer hovered on her tongue, ready to be spoken, but she faltered. That chill along her spine was unmistakable, a sensation that set her on edge in an entirely different way. She didn’t have to look to know. It was him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the blurred outlines of people entering the party. She couldn’t make out faces, only the edges of dark clothing and purposeful movements. Her body recognized him before her brain did.

Her gaze darted briefly to her outfit—a black bikini paired with an oversized white button-up for a pretense of modesty. She let out a shaky breath, willing herself to refocus. “They’re on their way,” she said lightly. “They wanted to pregame.”

Nate raised a brow, his expression curious. “Since when do you skip out on pregaming?”

Her pulse quickened, not from Nate’s question but from the pull she felt across the space between her and him. The boy who made her feel utterly insane. The one she wanted to shove down a flight of stairs whenever caught him with someone else.

“I don’t like drinking when I don’t know the host,” she said, her tone even. It wasn’t entirely untrue, though it wasn’t the real reason either.

Nate gave her a reassuring smile, leaning closer. “I’m here. You know I’d never let anything happen to you.”

She forced another smile. “I know. But still…better safe than sorry.” She tilted her cup slightly, letting the drink spill silently into the grass behind her before handing it to him. “Could you get me a refill?”

He nodded, his smile warm and easy, before disappearing toward the drink table.

The moment he was gone, Maddy turned on her pool chair, angling herself to face the water. A few people were swimming, but most lingered on the edges, laughing and chatting in tight groups.

Her phone buzzed against her leg, the vibration pulling her attention. Leaning back, she reached for it and opened the message.

Her eyes scanned the words briefly before instinctively looking up, searching for him. He had to be watching. He always was.

It didn’t take long to find him. He sat directly across from her on the far side of the pool, surrounded by his friends. And, as if drawn by some invisible force, his eyes were already on her.

That electric jolt hit her again, the same one it always did when their gazes locked. It was sharp, unmistakable, and it made her feel more alive than she cared to admit.

Not wanting to stare like an idiot, Maddy dropped her gaze back to her phone and began typing her reply.

Across the pool, he watched her with a faint smile tugging at his lips. He found this amusing, he'd always liked it when she was being bitchy. At least she was responding now—it was better than the stony silence she’d given him for weeks.

And that was true. She probably wouldn't fuck Nate. That was kinda gross.

“Here’s your refill. Sorry that took a minute,” Nate said as he sat down near her feet, holding out a plastic cup filled with something bright red.

Maddy clicked off her phone, tucking it between her thighs before reaching for the drink. “That’s okay, thank you.” She took a small sip, letting the artificial sweetness settle on her tongue.

For the first time all evening, Nate was quiet. Too quiet. Maddy glanced over, her brows knitting together when she noticed he wasn’t even looking at her. His gaze was fixed somewhere else.

“What?” she asked, her tone laced with impatience.

Nate didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a subtle nod toward something—or someone—in the distance. “He’s coming over here.”

Maddy didn’t need clarification. She already knew.

“He looks pissed,” Nate added, shifting uncomfortably.

Maddy narrowed her eyes, leaning back in her chair like she had all the time in the world. “He is,” she said casually, taking another sip of her drink. “I told him you called him a dog.”

Nate’s eyes went wide with panic. “What? Why would you do that?”

She smirked, savoring his reaction for just a moment too long. “I’m joking. Jesus, relax. He’s not a murderer.” She wasn’t entirely sure about that last part.

Before Nate could say anything else, Rafe’s looming presence was suddenly upon them. His large hands landed on Nate’s shoulders with enough force to make Nate flinch.

“Jacobs,” Rafe said, his voice low and heavy with unspoken authority.

Maddy rolled her eyes, leaning back further into the pool chair, feigning indifference as though she could actually ignore the scene unfolding in front of her.

Rafe didn’t say another word. He simply nodded his head to the side, a silent command for Nate to leave.

Nate didn’t even hesitate. He was gone in seconds, a move so predictable it almost made her laugh.

“You could’ve picked someone who made it feel a little like a competition,” Rafe said, lowering himself into the spot Nate had vacated.

Maddy let out a mock-hurt hum. “Your homeboys weren’t free, but I’ll definitely keep them in mind for next time.”

Rafe tilted his head, eyes narrowing at her before he chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s good. That’s really good.”

He shifted closer, his tone taking on a serious edge. “Are you done, though? Can we put an end to this, or do you want to keep stretching it out?”

Maddy tilted her head, playing dumb. “Clarify,” she said, her voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Rafe’s jaw tightened, irritation flashing in his eyes. “I’m going to ask you the same thing I asked you a month ago, yeah?” He leaned forward, his gaze pinning her in place. “What do you want? Because I’ve apologized—every damn day for the past three weeks—and I’ve spoiled you rotten. Even though you can’t even answer the fucking phone when I call.”

He leaned back, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of exasperation. “So what is it? You want me to get on my knees?”

The corner of Maddy’s mouth twitched, and she could feel the playful glint in her eyes betraying her. The idea didn’t sound bad at all.

Rafe caught her expression immediately and shook his head. “Don’t do the most, Maddy.”

She straightened up, sitting forward so that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you a month ago, yeah?” she echoed back at him, mimicking his tone.

He waited, his gaze sharp and unyielding.

“I don’t want shit from you,” she said with a shrug, her voice light. “The gifts have been nice, though.”

She reached out and tapped the tip of his nose with her finger, the move so childish it bordered on petty. Then, without another word, she stood up and walked away.

Rafe stayed seated, watching her disappear into the crowd, his jaw tight with frustration. Maddy didn’t bother looking back. She had ten minutes to find Nate before her friends showed up—and she wasn’t about to waste them.

“Nate, let’s dance,” Maddy said, grabbing his hand and tugging him away from his friends. He hesitated for only a second, his gaze darting to the group he’d just left.

“I don’t want to get in the middle of shit, you know that,” he muttered, his voice low and uncertain.

Maddy sighed, rolling her eyes in visible irritation. “There isn’t shit to get in the middle of. Don’t worry about him.” Her tone was firm, dismissive, as if the mere mention of Rafe was beneath her.

Nate didn’t look entirely convinced, but when Maddy began to sway her hips to the pulsing beat of the music, his resistance faltered. Almost instinctively, his hands found her waist, his touch tentative at first but growing bolder as she moved against him.

The crowd around them thickened, bodies pressing together as the bass of the music thumped louder, rattling the walls. The heat in the room was almost stifling, a mix of sweat and cologne hanging heavy in the air. She pulled Nate closer, leaning up to brush her lips along the shell of his ear in a way that made him shiver.

Her eyes, however, were elsewhere.

Through the chaotic swirl of bodies, her gaze found him. Rafe sat with his friends, a pretty brunette perched on his lap, laughing at something he’d said. A joint dangled lazily between his fingers, though he seemed utterly uninterested in the girl giggling in his ear or the conversation happening around him.

His attention was fixed entirely on Maddy.

She felt the sharp thrill of his gaze, like electricity crackling along her skin. The corner of her mouth twitched upward in the faintest smirk.

Nate was speaking—something about how hot she looked, maybe—but Maddy barely registered his words. Instead, she cut him off mid-sentence, tugging him down to crash her lips against his.

Nate responded eagerly, his arms wrapping tighter around her as if he couldn’t get enough. He wasn’t the most compelling person she’d ever been with—far from it, actually. Everything about him was a stark contrast to Rafe: where Rafe was sharp and commanding, Nate was soft and accommodating. But he served his purpose.

Maddy let her hands trail up his chest, pulling him deeper into the moment. His hands slid lower, grazing her hips before resting on her ass. She let out a soft moan when he gave her a light squeeze, tilting her head just enough to draw him further in.

When she finally pulled back, her lips were slick and swollen, her breath mingling with his. Nate’s lips chased hers instantly, desperate and clumsy in his eagerness.

She giggled softly, brushing her fingers along his jaw. “Let’s go upstairs,” she murmured, her voice dripping with suggestion.

Nate didn’t need to be told twice. Grabbing her hand, he began weaving through the sea of bodies, his grip firm as he led her toward the stairs.

Nate had her pinned against the wall before they even made it to a room. His hands roamed her waist, gripping like he was afraid to lose his chance. The hallway was dimly lit, the muffled bass from downstairs vibrating through the walls. Maddy’s breath hitched—not from excitement, but from the sharp pang of regret she was trying to suppress.

It was a blur. One moment, Nate was in front of her, his lips brushing her neck. The next, he was ripped away with a force that made her stumble. Her eyes flew open, her back still pressed to the cool plaster, and there was Rafe.

He stood between her and Nate, broad-shouldered and seething, his jaw tight and his chest heaving. Nate, caught off guard, staggered before regaining his footing.

“You—” Rafe began, his voice low and dangerous, but he paused as Nate straightened and, to Maddy’s surprise, stepped forward with a spark of defiance.

“Don’t get any ideas, Jacobs,” Rafe warned, his tone dripping with disdain. His sharp blue eyes cut into Nate, daring him to react.

When he didn't leave, Rafe turned to Nate in surprise. "You need something?"

Nate didn’t flinch. His gaze flicked between Rafe and Maddy before he squared his shoulders. “If you don’t feel safe with him,” he said, his voice steady but charged, “I’m not leaving.”

Maddy didn’t need to look at Rafe to know that Nate had just lit the match.

“Do you want me to—” Rafe’s voice exploded, his body lurching forward like a coiled spring released. Maddy moved faster, her hand shooting out to grab his arm, halting him before he could make contact.

“Nate, go!” she barked, her voice slicing through the tension like a whip.

For a moment, Nate hesitated. His concern for her was evident, but so was his understanding of the situation. One second longer, and he turned, retreating down the hallway.

As soon as he was gone, Maddy spun on Rafe, shoving him hard in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she demanded, her voice trembling with anger.

Rafe barely moved under her shove, his stance unyielding, his lips curling into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was amused. “What’s wrong with me?” he shot back, his voice loud enough to echo. “Isn't this exactly why the fuck you do this dumb shit? Don't act like you have any interest in that poor boy.”

“The only poor boy is the one I'm looking at right now,” Maddy snapped, her voice rising to meet his. “I don't see what the fuck the issue is since last I checked, you were nice and cosied up with your little friend by the pool."

Rafe’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing. “I’m not the one who showed up with someone on my arm,” he retorted, his words sharp. “You think that shits funny, grinding your ass all over him like a slut?”

The slap came before she could stop herself. The sound was deafening in the narrow hallway, sharp and precise like the crack of a whip. Rafe’s head jerked slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she saw the sting in his eyes before he masked it with that infuriating nonchalance.

“Did I cross a line?” he asked, his voice smooth but laced with mockery. His smirk returned, daring her to do it again.

“You’re a piece of shit, you know that?” Maddy spat, her voice trembling with fury. She stepped closer, invading his space and he nods slowly like he knows something she doesn't, "You say the same shit when your pussy is creaming on my dick."

Maddy didn't want to think about it, had been avoiding the image, the memory of sex with Rafe. But he'd brought it up now, rubbed it right in her face and she was faced with the undeniable truth that he was the best she'd ever had and he knew it. He was rubbing it in her face right now, he was always rubbing it in her face that no matter what he said and how he acted, she'd never say no.

Maddy’s mind betrayed her, conjuring memories she had buried deep. She could see it clearly now—the way he moved, the way he touched her, the way he made her lose herself entirely.

She must have let it show on her face because his smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Maddy grabs him by the back of his neck before he can say something even more stupid and crushes her lips to his in a kiss that is somewhere between angry and desperate.

Rafe's got her legs wrapped around him in a flash, hands firmly on her ass as he walks them into the first room he can blindly find. Maddy's lips are coaxed open by the slide of his tongue as he slams the door closed behind them and shoves her back against the wall. She huffs at the force of his shove, "Be fucking gentle."

"Stop talking so fucking much." He grunted, mouth moving from her lips to her neck and Maddy couldn't surpress the moan that forced her way past her lips. She felt Rafe's eager fingers on the thin strap of her bikini bottom, "Don't you fucking dare rip those," She knew him all too well and these bottoms were the only clothing she had on her.

"Why? You seem to love the attention you've been getting lately." Rafe murmurs as his hand slides down to unzip his pants swiftly. She's pleased when he doesn't completely ignore her polite request and pushes her bikini to the side. Maddy whimpers, nails digging into his shoulder and back when she feels him press against her aching folds.

"Is this what you wanted, baby? This what you needed?" he whispered in a mocking voice as his tip tentatively pushes inside of Maddy's seeping cunt and her legs involuntarily tighten around him. "Now you wanna shut up, huh?" Rafe groans as he pushes inside of her and Maddy feels the air escape her lungs.

"God," Maddy whined, head falling back against the door as his stupidly big cock nestled itself deep inside her and the pleasure and pain takes her breath away. For a moment, she's not sure if breathing is still an option until he starts steadily moving and as with everything, Rafe does—it's rough and she can barely contain the moans that tumble out of her mouth.

His grip on her thighs is bruising and with every harsh thrust, her back is slamming back onto that door but she can't even find it in her to care. Her eyes flutter for a moment and she tries to keep them on him, tries to keep her focus because she can't deny that he looks so fucking good right now���all focused with groans and grunts escaping his lips as he hammers into her walls.

But it doesn't last, it can't when he's being this rough, fucking her into the door and making it impossible for her to focus on anything but the way he was pounding into her. "Fuck, baby. It's been too long, too fucking long.." He groans through gritted teeth, "Think anyone can fuck you like this? Think Jacobs can fuck you like this?" And Maddy's pathetic moans filling the room do little to keep him from trying to pick a fight with her like usual.

"Shut t-the f—"

"This is my fucking pussy," Rafe continues and each words is followed by a harsh thrust that pressed Maddy against the door over and over and Maddy's hands are trembling, scrambling to hold onto him, to assure she doesn't lose her grip with how weak her legs are starting to feel. "Mine. You're all mine, Maddy."

"Fuck you. I h-hate you.." Maddy cries out, legs tightening around Rafe because she doesn't belong to him or anyone but also because his dick is splitting her open and she can't decide wether she wants him to stop or keep going.

"Yeah, I know. You hate me so much you letting me pound your cunt. That's how much you hate me, huh?" Rafe laughs, his hands holding her up like he can feel she's about give out completely. Maddy's brain feels like it's short circuiting as Rafe goes at a pace too brutal to keep up with.

A couple of nasty words sit at the tip of her tongue for Rafe but they won't come out, a sentence refuses to form in her mind. "F-Fuck..fuck!" Maddy can't—won't ever get past how mindblowingly good the sex was.

"Mm, y-you..you're.." Maddy starts mumbling despite how her eyes are rolling back and she's seeing spots in her vision, "You're j-just some half-decent sex," Maddy chokes out and Rafe cocks his head at that, amused smirk on his lips. "Half decent?" he breathes out as Maddy clenches around his fat cock.

Maddy's about to make it worse, seconds away from telling him Nate has fucked her ten times better when he brutally pounds into her, "Rafe!" she screams as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot and she knows it's retaliation for calling their sex decent. It only makes Maddy want to say something worse.

She's gone though, whatever curse words she's throwing at him are coming out in blubbers and moans and with the way he's pounding into her, Maddy's surprised the door is still holding. "Mm..mmm..y-you you..y.." Maddy rambles absentmindedly, her words lost between the moans that are escaping her lips as Rafe's thrust only get sloppier and faster.

"Can barely get through your sentences, baby. You sure the sex is only half-decent?" He teases and Maddy knows that somewhere deep inside, that comment irritates her but right now, with his cock hammering into her, there is absolutely nothing that she cares about apart from the pit she can feel in her stomach right now.

Maddy whines, high and soft because the exhaustion is starting to catch up to her. She needs to come. "God, you look so fucking good right now, can't believe I lasted a month.." Rafe almost growls as his hips stutter and his own orgasm draws closer and closer. "Need it..n-need you.." Maddy moans before she feels herself being pushed over the edge and her blissful orgasm spills out of her. Rafe has a couple more thrusts in him before he's following suit and with a deep low groan, he's creaming inside of her.

For a few seconds, there was only silence between them, accompanied by the sound of their heavy breathing. Rafe’s forehead pressed against hers, a rare moment of calm between them both. It was a rare occurence in their particular situation—an interlude between their constant fighting or fucking. This moment, existing somewhere in the space between, might have been the closest they ever came to being normal.

The muffled roar of cheers and music swelled from downstairs, snapping the quiet like a rubber band. Rafe eased her back to the ground, and Maddy stepped away, her legs shaky but her resolve intact. She caught her reflection in the mirror, her makeup slightly smudged, hair tousled. Sighing, she adjusted herself as best she could.

A towel landed unceremoniously on her head, startling her. She turned, glaring at Rafe, who stood there with a half-smirk like he’d done her a favor.

“You expect me to wipe with this?” she asked, holding the towel up with a grimace. “Where did you even find it?”

“Too good for a towel now?” he mumbled, shaking his head as he reached for something else. He handed her a clean napkin with a smile.

She snatched it from him without a word, cleaning herself quickly before tossing it into the small trash bin by the dresser. When she straightened, he was behind her, his arm slipping loosely around her neck, his lips brushing her ear as he murmured, “Wanna get out of here?”

She did. God, she did. But instead of saying so, she turned, her expression hardening. “You can’t act like that toward Nate again. Or anyone,” she said firmly, her tone daring him to argue.

Rafe’s eyes rolled, the dismissive motion igniting her frustration. “Go fuck Jacobs if you think he’s such a saint,” he shot back mockingly, leaning against the wall like he owned the place.

Maddy raised a brow, the edge of her lips curling into a challenging smirk. “I don’t want to fuck Nate. But I can fuck him if I want to. That’s what I’m trying to make clear to you.”

His jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with something dark and unreadable. “I don’t need you to make shit clear to me,” he bit out, his voice low and rough.

Her own temper flared, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. “Watch your fucking mouth.”

And just like that, the delicate peace shattered.

Here they went again.

masterlist

[women-in-ssports]

FOREVER AND A DAY

Ch 7. ALOT HAPPENING

The whole weekend had been a whirlwind. The game Friday night had been an emotional rollercoaster, and when they’d won in the final quarter, Azzi had felt a rush of adrenaline and pride for the team. But when she saw Paige and Joseph share that kiss after the game, the sharp pang of something *different*—something she couldn’t quite put her finger on—had settled into her chest. And that feeling hadn’t gone away.

So when Jake had texted her asking if she wanted to go on a date that weekend, she’d said yes without really thinking. But then, as the days stretched on, she began to feel the weight of the decision.

She wasn’t sure if she even wanted to go on the date. But at the same time, she *did* want to go. The attention from Jake, the way he looked at her—she liked it, and it felt like a distraction from the mess of feelings surrounding Paige.

So, she changed the date. *Next weekend*, she texted back. She wasn’t sure why she’d pushed it back a whole week. Maybe she just needed more time to figure things out. Or maybe she didn’t want to feel like she was rushing into something that wasn’t really real.

But this morning, as she stood by her locker, tying her shoes and staring down at her phone, the weight of it all hit her again. She hadn’t told anyone about the date. It wasn’t that she was hiding it—she just wasn’t sure how to explain it. Especially not to Paige.

Azzi shoved the phone back into her pocket, trying to focus on getting to class, but the uncertainty still nagged at her. She wasn’t *into* Jake the way she thought she should be. She liked the attention. It felt nice. But every time she thought about him, her mind seemed to wander back to Paige. It was like she couldn’t help herself.

As Azzi walked toward the school entrance, she noticed Paige and Joseph talking outside. Paige was laughing, her smile lighting up her face as Joseph made some offhand joke, his arm casually slung over her shoulder. It was easy to see the chemistry between them—the comfort, the warmth. Everything Azzi *wished* she could have with someone, but she wasn’t sure who. She didn’t know if it was just the *idea* of Jake, or if it was something deeper—something more like what she might have with Paige.

But Paige was with Joseph, and Azzi was… stuck.

She walked past them quickly, trying to ignore the way her heart twisted, and ducked inside the building. When she reached her usual spot by the bleachers to meet up with the girls before first period, the usual group was already hanging out. Nika, Ice, and Aubrey were chatting, but Azzi couldn’t quite tune into the conversation.

Paige had joined them just a few minutes ago, slipping into her usual spot beside Azzi. But even though Paige was *there*, something felt different.

For a few moments, Azzi just stared at her best friend, who seemed uncharacteristically distracted. She wasn’t her usual self—her words came a little too quickly, her body a little too stiff. Azzi couldn’t figure out if something was *off* or if it was just the leftover tension from the game and everything that had happened since.

In a moment of quiet, when the conversation fell into a lull, Azzi found herself speaking without thinking.

“So, um, I said yes to Jake’s date next weekend,” Azzi said, her voice a little too casual for her own liking.

There was a pause, a split second of stillness, before Paige’s head snapped toward her. For just a second, Azzi thought she saw something flicker in her eyes—something she couldn’t place. But before Azzi could figure it out, Paige’s face broke into a tight, controlled smile.

“You’re going on a date with Jake?” Paige repeated, her voice tight.

Azzi nodded, feeling the weight of the words as they left her lips. "Yeah, I mean, it’ll be fun. I’m not really sure what it’ll be like, but it’s just a date, right?" Her laugh was soft, almost forced.

Paige’s smile faltered, just for the briefest second. Azzi noticed it, but before she could say anything, Paige cleared her throat and leaned back, crossing her arms. “Yeah, I guess. It’s high school, right?” she said, her words a little too quick, too sharp. She gave a half-hearted shrug.

Azzi was still watching her closely. The tension between them felt thick, the air suddenly heavier. *Was Paige upset?* She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that something wasn’t sitting right in her chest. Paige had always been supportive about everything, so why did this feel different?

“You okay?” Azzi asked gently, not sure if she was even ready for the answer.

Paige’s eyes flicked away, and she let out a small laugh, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, of course. I’m fine. Totally.” She gave Azzi a tight smile, the kind she always used when she was trying to cover something up. It made Azzi’s stomach turn.

It wasn’t like Paige to hide what she was feeling, and the fact that she was doing it now—*over something so small*—made Azzi feel like she’d missed something. Something important.

Azzi stared at her best friend for a long moment, her heart heavy. The silence between them felt loud, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“So… um, you’re really okay with it?” Azzi asked, her voice quiet now, trying to keep things light.

Paige gave her a quick, sharp nod. “Yeah, sure. It’s not a big deal,” she said quickly, then stood up, brushing herself off. “Anyway, we should head to class. Don’t want to be late for that history exam.”

Azzi nodded slowly, her eyes still lingering on Paige, who was already walking off, a little too briskly. Something was off, and Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that she was missing something.

She watched Paige walk away, her back stiff, and felt a pang of uncertainty in her chest.

*What just happened?* Nika whispered looking after Paige.

Azzi didn’t know. But she knew one thing: things between them were changing. And whatever was coming next, she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

But she was starting to realize that she couldn’t stop it.

Not anymore.

THURSDAY

It was Thursday, and Azzi was walking Jake to the double doors of the school. She wasn’t exactly in a rush—he had been talking about something trivial, a joke or a thought that had popped into his head—and Azzi had been laughing along, distracted by the easy flow of their conversation. She liked Jake, or at least, she liked the attention he gave her. It was fun and uncomplicated. He was cute, funny, and seemed genuinely interested in her. For a moment, she could almost forget the mess of feelings she had for Paige, the confusion that kept swirling beneath the surface of their friendship.

Jake waved her off with a smile as he stepped through the doors to his next class, and Azzi lingered there for a moment, watching him go. She didn’t even realize she’d been standing there for as long as she had until she glanced at the time. She was late for gym.

"Shit," Azzi muttered under her breath, grabbing her gym bag and rushing toward the gym, hoping she wouldn’t get too much of a scolding.

The halls were practically empty, and by the time Azzi reached the gym doors, she could hear the faint buzz of the bell marking the end of the passing period. She pulled open the door and stepped inside, trying to be as quiet as possible, though she knew she was already too late.

As she walked in, her eyes immediately found Paige, sitting with her usual crowd on the bleachers, her arms crossed, looking a little too relaxed for someone who was supposed to be on the court. Paige had a way of making everything seem effortless—even when she wasn’t exactly following the rules.

Azzi made her way toward the locker room, but just as she was about to head in, she heard Paige’s voice call out.

"You can't be late, Azzi," Paige said, her tone flat and surprisingly stern.

Azzi stopped mid-step and glanced back at her, unsure of the vibe Paige was giving off. Paige’s eyes met hers with a sharpness that made Azzi freeze, even though the words themselves weren’t anything to get worked up over. It was the way she said it—like she was more concerned than usual. More... *disappointed*, maybe?

“What are you on about, P? I'm not late. We still have two minutes before we need to be on the court, and you’re still sitting here,” Azzi replied, trying to keep her tone light, almost teasing, like it was no big deal.

Paige’s gaze didn’t soften. “Yes, but the bell already rang before you came in, Az,” she said quietly, but firmly.

Azzi felt a sharp tug of confusion. Something in Paige’s voice felt different today—tense, almost like she was holding something back. She couldn’t put her finger on it. There was no reason for this kind of energy, right? It was just gym class. But somehow, it felt like there was more to it than that.

She tilted her head, frowning slightly. “Okay… whatever. It’s not like I’m the only one who’s late. And I didn’t even see you rush to get in here either,” Azzi shot back, trying to play it off.

But Paige didn’t respond to that. She just looked at Azzi with an unreadable expression, then glanced at the clock on the wall, like she was mentally calculating something.

Azzi had half a mind to keep pushing it, to try and force some kind of answer out of her best friend, but the weirdness of the moment hit her like a cold wave. Paige wasn’t playing around this time. And whatever this was—it wasn’t just about being on time for gym class. It felt like there was something unsaid hanging between them, something that Azzi couldn’t get a handle on.

Instead of continuing the back-and-forth, Azzi just sighed, grabbed her stuff from the hallway, and nodded toward Paige. “Alright, I get it. I’ll go get changed,” she muttered, pushing through the door into the locker room.

Paige’s gaze lingered on Azzi for a moment, but she didn’t say anything more. She didn’t follow Azzi into the locker room either. Azzi was left with that feeling again—the feeling that things were off. She couldn’t pinpoint it, but she knew something was changing, shifting between them. And this time, it wasn’t as easy to ignore.

As Azzi got ready for gym class, the thought of Jake and the date next weekend crept back into her mind. She hadn’t told anyone about it—no one except for a few people close to her. She wasn’t sure why she was keeping it so quiet, but maybe it had something to do with Paige. Maybe she didn’t want to deal with whatever emotions that would stir up. Azzi had always been able to talk to Paige about anything, but lately, it seemed like every conversation had a way of spiraling into uncomfortable territory. And with the way Paige had reacted this morning... Azzi wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

The whole class went by quickly, but Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the tension with Paige than just the casual back-and-forth they had earlier. Azzi didn’t know why she was still so distracted by it. She didn’t even know if it was worth addressing. But it kept eating at her, and by the time the bell rang and the class dismissed, she felt the weight of it still lingering in the air.

AFTER GYM

Walking out of the gym, Azzi saw Paige talking to Joseph and for a moment, Azzi hesitated. She knew she wasn’t close to Joseph—hell, they weren’t exactly friends—but she felt an odd impulse to say something. To clear the air. To ask her best friend what the hell was going on.

But before she could act on it, she noticed something else: the way Paige was smiling at Joseph, the way her body language softened when he touched her arm. They were in their own little world, and Azzi... well, she was standing on the outside of it.

Maybe she was overthinking. Maybe Paige’s reaction to Jake was nothing to worry about. But the nagging feeling wouldn’t leave. What had changed between them? And why did it feel like Azzi was walking on thin ice every time she tried to talk to Paige?

As she walked past them and out of the gym, Azzi pushed the thoughts aside, at least for now. She had to. She didn’t have the answers yet, and the last thing she wanted was to make things more complicated.

FRIDAY

It was Friday afternoon, and the excitement of the weekend was just starting to settle in. The entire basketball team was already piling onto the bus for their team bonding trip, the chatter of teammates filled the air, their voices mixing with the low hum of excitement. It was meant to be a fun trip to take everyone's minds off the stress of the season, a bonding experience before the final push toward the playoffs. But for Azzi, the trip was already feeling complicated before it had even begun.

She stood outside Jake’s car, her hand resting on the edge of the door, her thoughts racing. The engine was running, and the car’s lights flickered in the dim light of the late afternoon. Jake was leaning against the hood, his expression a mix of anticipation and a hint of nervousness.

"You’re coming, right? You said you’d go this weekend," Jake said, his voice soft but earnest. He wasn’t pushing—just hoping.

Azzi nodded, trying to make the smile on her face look convincing. "Yeah, I said I would."

Jake stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Good," he said, leaning in a little too quickly. His lips brushed against the air as he tried to kiss her.

Azzi didn’t move, didn’t lean in. In that moment, she felt stuck, frozen. She turned her head slightly, just enough so his lips only grazed her cheek, not quite a rejection, but not what he had wanted either.

Jake pulled back, a small frown tugging at his lips, but he didn’t press the issue. "Alright. We’ll talk more this weekend. You’re sure you’re okay with this, right?" he asked, his voice quiet, as if sensing her hesitation.

Azzi didn’t know how to answer. Her mind was swirling—*Why didn’t I want to kiss him?* She liked the idea of a date. She liked how he made her feel, how easy he was to talk to. But when he’d tried to kiss her... she’d felt nothing but confusion. Shouldn’t she have felt something? Shouldn’t she have wanted to kiss him back?

"Yeah, I’m fine," Azzi said, her voice coming out a little too softly, not quite convincing even to herself.

Jake smiled, though it was a little unsure now. "Okay. See you tomorrow."

Azzi watched him walk away, the questions only growing louder in her mind as she walked back toward the bus. The whole weekend was supposed to be a fun distraction, but something about it was starting to feel... wrong. She wasn’t sure what she was even waiting for, but the doubts crept in, and they were hard to shake.

When she climbed onto the bus, everyone was already talking excitedly.m. But the second Azzi stepped in, there was a collective pause, followed by a chorus of "Oooo" and "Awwww" from the team.

Azzi felt her face flush, but she just shrugged it off, pretending like she didn’t care. No one would have noticed the hesitation in her steps or the unease in her eyes. To them, she was the girl with the guy—. Everything seemed simple for them.

Except it wasn’t simple for her.

The seat next to Paige was empty, and without thinking, Azzi slid into her usual spot. It was automatic at this point. Even though things felt off between them recently, it was still where she felt most comfortable, next to Paige.

Paige didn’t even look at her as she sat down. She was staring out the window, her expression unreadable, and Azzi felt the tension rise in her chest. It had been like this lately—small, uncomfortable silences between them. But they both pretended it wasn’t there, and maybe that was the hardest part.

The bus started moving, and Azzi leaned back in her seat, trying to shake the feeling that she was somewhere between two worlds. She was still holding on to something with Jake, still uncertain about the date they’d planned for the weekend. And then there was Paige—who felt like she was pulling away, but also, in small moments, was still *there*, as if nothing had changed.

The ride was long, and the motion of the bus made Azzi’s eyelids grow heavier. She found herself nodding off, her head falling against the cool window. Her last thought before she slipped into sleep was that she needed to stop overthinking everything. But that was easier said than done.

When she woke up, the bus was quieter than before. The sounds of excited chatter had dimmed into soft murmurs, and the movement of the bus seemed to have slowed down. Azzi blinked, feeling a strange warmth against her cheek. She tried to adjust her position, but then she realized—she wasn’t leaning against the window anymore. Her head was resting on something softer. Someone.

Azzi froze.

She blinked again, and her eyes shifted slightly, taking in the scene. Paige was sitting next to her, her head resting gently on Azzi’s. Their bodies were so close now, their shoulders almost touching. Paige’s arm was loosely wrapped around Azzi’s waist, holding her in place, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

*What the hell?*

Azzi’s heart skipped a beat. She was so confused, she couldn’t even think straight. The moment felt intimate, almost like something out of a dream, but Azzi knew this wasn’t a dream. This was real.

Slowly, she shifted, trying not to wake Paige, but something about it felt... right, like she was meant to be there, like Paige’s presence was both comforting and unsettling at the same time.

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat. She had no idea how to process this. Paige’s arms felt so natural around her, but what did it mean? Was this just something casual—an accident in their sleep? Or was there more to it than that?

*God, I’m so lost right now.*

Azzi didn’t know what to do with the rush of emotions, the mix of warmth and confusion, that ran through her as she lay there, trying to figure out what was happening. Why did this feel different? Why did it feel *good*, in a way she didn’t understand?

And then she realized—the last few days, there had been this pull, this shift between her and Paige that she couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t just jealousy over Jake. It wasn’t just the date. It was something else entirely.

Paige’s head shifted, her hair brushing against Azzi’s cheek, and Azzi’s breath hitched.

What was happening between them?

Azzi didn’t know. But all she could think as she tried to calm her racing heart was that this... this wasn’t just about Jake.

It was about Paige.

TIME JUMP

The boys' playoff game had been intense. Joseph’s team fought hard, but in the end, they lost their second game, effectively ending their playoff run. Joseph took the loss in stride, but it was obvious he was disappointed. Azzi had seen him linger in the locker room afterward, not saying much, just staring at the floor like he was processing the weight of it all. The loss stung, but what followed in the days after was even more unexpected. Paige and Joseph had broken up, though no one really knew the reason. Azzi overheard Dorka and Paige talking about it, but she didn’t press for answers. It seemed like one of those things that just… happened.

Without Joseph, Paige seemed lighter, freer. It was like the emotional weight she’d been carrying around had finally been lifted. Azzi didn’t pry into the details, but she couldn’t deny how relieved she felt. For the first time in a long while, she had her best friend back—without the constant tension that came with Joseph’s presence. The group was a little quieter without him around, but the dynamic felt more natural, more like it had before, and Azzi found herself grateful for that, even if she wasn’t sure why.

But that didn’t stop the undercurrent of change between her and Paige. Something was different now, though neither of them seemed to notice it yet. They spent more time together after the breakup, and the air between them felt lighter, more natural. They laughed more, exchanged more quiet moments, and it felt like everything was returning to the way it had been before—just the two of them in their own world, with no one else really understanding their dynamic. To Azzi, it was like they were finally getting back to that place they’d always had. She couldn’t deny that it felt good, but she never once considered it as anything more than the rekindling of their deep friendship. Neither of them realized yet how much the space between them was shrinking, how the lines were blurring. For now, they just thought they were two best friends who were closer than ever.

SUMMER

Summer felt like it lasted forever, and yet, it went by in a blur. The group of girls—Azzi, Paige, Caroline, Aubrey, Nika, and Ice—spent nearly every day together, their bond growing even tighter. Sleepovers became a regular thing, nights filled with laughter, secrets, and a never-ending supply of snacks. They’d stay up late watching movies, gossiping about anything and everything, and making plans for the future. It was the kind of carefree summer you dream about, when the world outside didn’t exist, and it was just them, creating memories.

Azzi and Paige were nearly inseparable, attached at the hip in a way that felt natural—like they were two halves of the same whole. They spent the mornings together, whether it was lounging by the pool or driving with the windows down, singing along to songs they both knew by heart. Azzi didn’t even realize how often their hands brushed or how their laughter seemed to echo a little more when they were together. They didn’t need words to fill the silence; being near each other was enough. And when they weren’t together, they were always checking in with each other, sending texts or calling just to make sure the other was okay.

The others were there too, of course. Caroline and Aubrey would make the occasional sarcastic comment, teasing Azzi and Paige about being joined at the hip, but they didn’t mind. Nika and Ice would roll their eyes but secretly enjoyed watching their best friends navigate the summer, sharing inside jokes with the group. Even when the six of them were together, there was this invisible force that pulled Azzi and Paige closer, making it seem like they were always on the same wavelength.

But amidst all the fun and the laughter, there were those moments that lingered. A lingering glance when they thought the other wasn’t looking. The quiet moments when they’d both find themselves alone, side by side, with no one else around. Azzi would feel the warmth of Paige’s hand resting against hers, or she’d catch the way Paige would smile at her—just for a second—before looking away. Neither of them said anything. Neither of them questioned it. They were best friends. That’s all it was. At least, that’s what they told themselves.

A secret

As the summer went on, Azzi couldn’t help but notice Aubrey’s growing distance whenever she and Paige were together. At first, it was subtle—an eye roll here, a quiet moment there—but the more time Azzi spent with Paige, the more it seemed like Aubrey was acting... jealous. Azzi couldn’t shake the feeling that Aubrey was upset about their closeness, but she didn’t know why. Was it just the usual summer tension, or did Aubrey like Paige in a way Azzi hadn’t realized? The unspoken tension hung between them, and though Azzi didn’t ask Aubrey directly, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she ever did. For now, the secret stayed buried, a quiet undercurrent to their summer that neither was willing to address.

[hustlemeanokay]

Solavellan vs Dread Rook? When did it become a competition? Ship all the ships, I say.

So as much as people like Solavellan (or whatever they call it) - I don't get why people don't like Solas x Rook. It's all there. It's perfect. The tension, the range, the enemies to lovers trope or hell, just the potential for so much writing to be involved. Like, okay... so okay... I go into my personal opinions about what makes each of their relationships different (just a few opinions not like power point presentation style or anything).

When I first played Inquisition, when it first came out, I naturally picked an elf and unknowingly romanced the bald dude. And Solas' romance is a good one. But it's only good because he leaves Lavellan. It's the first time that's happened to a player character in either DA or ME games. A legit breakup. With, at the time, no real reason! It wasn't until after the game, of course, that we were like "OMG!!!" But on the whole, there really wasn't a lot to their romance if you remember what actually happened in the game. But you have to ignore all the fan fiction and fan art that has been done in the decade since then. Just counting the game itself? Not a lot going on there. A couple of kisses, a couple of talks, and that's about it really.

And the whole time, he wasn't being who he really was. He was playing a part. He was Solas version soft-core, so to speak. Because while he may not have started calling himself the 'Dread Wolf', he very much is that person. Solas is prideful. He is a bit of an asshole. He is cold and calculating. The Solas we see in the memories in Veilguard was already turning into that person so the Solas that meets Lavellan is 100% already there. He uses her. The fact that he falls in love with her has very little to do with him using her, he can compartmentalize like that. As Cole says, it changes everything but it can't. But, point being, Lavellan never really got to know him. He always had a mask on. Was always so careful about what he said and how he said it as to not raise suspicion.

But with Rook? Oh, he's pissed. Gone is his careful way of speaking. Gone is his gentle tone and light smile. Rook gets Solas unfiltered. Solas without a mask. Solas the Dread-fucking-Wolf. There's still parts of him that are recognizable. But on the whole, he's more real. Because he's not worried about pretending to be something he's not. Rook knows what he is. Rook knows he's going to betray them, knows he's going to turn on them, is expecting it. (And Solas' manipulations are painfully transparent, with the exception of Varric). What he's worried about with Rook is keeping their blood-magic link in tact and molding them into someone the prison will accept (still not sure how that worked but w/e). But as far as when he talks to them? Sees them? Rook gets under his skin and he slips up and lets it show. He nearly misspeaks almost immediately and he does misspeak later. Rook does that to him. Because he's not keeping himself at arms length with them, he can't.

So the idea of Solas x Rook? Much more... real, than Solavellan to me. Does that mean I have zero fics with Solas x Lavellan? Hell no. I have like at least half a dozen with different Lavellans x Solas. But! What it means is that the relationship between Rook and Solas is very intriguing and compelling and is definently fic-fuel. It means that I already have 2 separate fics WIP for them.

You don't have to stand on either side of this line, you can draw a big circle, stand inside of it and clutch both Solavellan and Dread Rook tightly to your chest with you. I'm not sure why there's this insistence that you have to pick one. You've never had to pick one. That's what having multiple OC's is all about. That's how that works.

[embraceyourdestiny]

“Dean is abusive to Sam” is only so ridiculous to me because, in my opinion, it’s less about the content of that thought and more the idea that having any cut-and-dry, definitive interpretation of the Winchester brothers and their situation is ridiculous to me, because this is “The Nuance and Context and Complicated Issues and Situations Show” and it feels counterintuitive, like bad faith analysis, and very reductive to sum up either of these boys in a single, damming sentence that’s ignoring the text as a whole.

Dean and Sam aren’t angels. But they’re also not monsters either. That’s the point. I feel very strongly that, at least up until season 4-5, (because I am currently watching this show for the first time, so I don’t have all the knowledge, and truly a single scene can recontextualize everything very quickly, and that is happening pretty much every episode), Sam would not say that Dean abused him. But, at the same time, that’s a half truth and a half lie, because you can be blinded by faith and love and loyalty to things really going on. Dean at a certain point also would’ve never said John abused them either, and we all know that’s not reality. It’s all messy and complicated, is the point. Just as messy and complicated as real families are.

There’s also a difference between what the creators / narration is trying to tell us/get us to understand, what the characters are telling us, and what the audience can gleam from the text. I don’t believe the point the show runners are trying to make is that Dean is abusive to Sam. I really don’t. Yes, you can certainly extract that from the text, and the things they do to each other and what happens between then is fucked up and if any of that is happening to you in real life you should get out and get help, but this is also all relative when this is a fictional show and they are fighting literal monsters. Like, Sam has been tortured multiple times. I don’t think in the face of that he would call Dean one of his main abusers. But we are normal people with normal lives, so, yeah, it’s bad in that context. In their world, however, I think it’s fair to move the goalpost of severity a liiiitle bit considering. You know. They go to hell and fight the devil. Little different to typical family life.

It’s also not that serious, and I know that someone posting about their interpretations of a fictional situation between fictional characters on tv show does not automatically indicate their feelings on something so horrible and serious like abuse in real life, unless they state so, but that’s a different conversation.

Anyway. Nuance, babey!

[plip-plap-plop]

Something that romance enjoyers have taught me is that romance fiction isn’t meant to be a model for you to emulate, it’s play drama. It’s about problems in the romance, and navigating them, that’s the conflict.

I’m not a romance reader generally, but two of my favorite romances in all of media are Ymir x Historia in Attack on Titan, and Guts x Casca in Berserk. Guts and Casca because they help each other become healthy, sure, in ways I’m not really close to, to be fair.

But Ymir and Historia… They’re not just traumatized and coping, they’re assholes.

To each other

And that’s what makes them compelling. Because they’re young (in terms of life experience), because they’re inexperienced and because they take out their clashing ideals, which are already compelling (whether to be so selfish that you ignore the people around you or to be so selfless you sacrifice yourself? And both of you bitches are awful at it? I digress), ON EACH OTHER, and yet they still find something within each other that makes them want to stay around. And they fucking grow from it.

It’s like finding a shitty story that has something fascinating in it so that you dig through the rough to search out the diamonds, and because people are adaptable and changing, you actually get help each other clean up a bit.

I’m gonna go out on a limb and say, from what I see out there, this fiction can get treated like the line between wrestling with differences isn’t distinguishable from codependency. And I mean, I’m no romantic, but I think that sounds a bit cynical? And observably false? (And like… people can compare and contrast real life and fiction… it’s gonna poison their minds just like those damn video games with all them thefting grand’s auto!)

Wouldn’t writing a relationship with no conflict not be a story? Or at least, no longer than one poem about loving your partner? It’s just a vignette isn’t it?

Isn’t it more valuable even, to tell stories about shitty relationships just so some young kid can compare and be like “oh. This isn’t good!” I know Chainsaw Man did that for a few young guys out there, who saw themselves in Denji’s dynamic with Makima and starting thinking about things and making further realizations with this horrifying nightmare as their catalyst. The guys that like Makima? Either they’re getting to explore something safely, or they’re the target audience, who will be reached eventually because in five years after some more life experience they’ll have the idea of her as a story of how that could go.

So yeah. There’s my piece about how this genre should be taken just as seriously and just as lightly as any other genre

writing a relationship. is it healthy? no. but is it hot? oh, absolutely.

i love a good train wreck sometimes