#and it was shitty circumstances that happen sometimes

[f0point5]

I still think it's very shitty of rbr/vcarb that they let Danny be hounded by all the media and not be able to confirm or deny anything. Especially if he himself actually knew it was gonna be his last race, and had to say he didn't know. It's just all around a shit show.

And then hiding behind the "he didn't perform" excuse when vcarb routinely fucked up his strategies week in and week out. And when they let Checo lose the constructor's for them with poor performance. I understand the money aspect but does he bring more to the table that it's worth it for them to be second or even third in the standings? But I digress.

Daniel helped develop the car (according to the team) more in a year than Yuki did in his 3? And he's right behind him in the standings. So he was an essential help in getting the team forward.

Yeah I might be biased as a fan of his, but you can't objectively say he's washed and shit when the team compromises his races with shit strategy (which is kinda swept under the rug because we rarely get coverage of Backmarkers so it's hard to follow during the race itself). Even Max can't do wonders with stupid strategy and a shit car combined. If he really was washed how come that up until his promotion to vcarb he outperformed Checo in tests and sims?

I know this is a business at the end of the day but it still doesn't make sense, and I just don't see Liam outperforming him in six races. And as much as I liked Liam last season, his entry is tainted to me the same way Oscar's first win was by the circumstances

(sorry for the long ask, I just needed to vent. All the comments I see are how it was time for Daniel to leave but no one bothers to take into account how the team failed him)

RB not announcing it or letting Daniel tell the media was fucked up. Especially when the head of VISA didn’t even know what was happening and it seemed like neither did Mekies. Whatever went on there, he shouldn’t have had to walk into the media pen not able to answer questions.

I don’t buy this “he didn’t perform” narrative. He drove the shitbox they gave him to the level it is clearly at. What could they possibly have been expecting him to pull out of that car? When frankly he’s used to driving better and had close to a year off between the hand break and everything. They 100% wanted him in that Red Bull at some point.

The keeping Checo is about more than money for Red Bull, it’s about money for the sport. I do believe the rumour that Liberty stepped in when checo was going to lose his seat because he’s the only driver in the grid from latam, my guy is carrying that whole market and that whole Mexico GP on his back. Not to mention apparently Carlos Slim is an investor in Liberty Media. It seems like Formula 1 wants to keep Checo around more than Red Bull, but he’s probably keeping RB in the black as well.

Liam won’t outperform Daniel in 6 races, but Liam has maybe a decade left of career, Daniel doesn’t.

And honestly, I don’t think Daniel wanted to sit around in TR. he was there to get back to RB, when it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, he probably would have walked at the end of the season or the next one.

I think RB did him dirty not allowing him to leave with the proper timing but I also think timing or not timing, his time was up there because of him as much as them.

But helmut hanging him out to dry about performance is so funny when the job he was auditioning for was to literally keep the car out of the wall while Max wins. Because that’s all Checo has been doing…sometimes. And I don’t believe that they didn’t think Daniel could do a better job. I know helmut isn’t keen on Daniel but I do think this is revisionist bullshit from him. He likes to make it seem like RB is still the cutthroat outfit from 2019 when in reality they’ve built their team identity around Max and beyond that everything else has gone to shit.

They binned Daniel because they have tied themselves in knots with their driver management. That’s what I think.

And yes the performance had a part to play but I don’t think it’s even top 3 in the reasons this all happened

[lionheartedmusings]

every day i remember the last thing leo said before she went missing was "i love you very much" to q!bad and yeno i'm not over that

[pastafossa]

Do you see Jane as yourself or a separate person because when I read x reader fics I feel like I always make up characters that I think would fit more but idk

Me personally, I see Jane as a different person, just one with a few attributes I share! And that's kind of on purpose. I've essentially tried to make her a mixture of all of us, of the fandom, of the love we—me included—have for Matt and that world. That's why she's never physically described, why her original family is kind of murky and lost. She's both herself—her own character with a shaped personality and flaws and strengths—but also all of the readers, including me, and she looks like what each of us wants or needs to see, comes from where we need her to come from. Which is how I think of a lot of great Reader characters when I'm reading, or characters I style after me in RPGs! They're me but they're me in another world with another life story, which makes them different in their own way, in the way any alternate universe version of yourself might be different.

Because of Plot Reasons (TM), you can never really make a reader fully everyone, it's true. There are always choices the plot requires a Reader to make, which is one reason I've set Jane up with the backstory she has, and why we're exploring questions of identity through her that I want readers to consider - wouldn't we be the same as her, make a lot of the same decisions, feel the same loneliness and wariness and trauma, if we'd all gone through what she has? And if you spend all your time being someone else, how long until you start changing? How much of you is created and how much of you is born? How much of you would change if you went through what she did? And what if you did go through what she did? This could be you, what if? In that way, she's potentially (since some see her as entirely separate, which is fine!) a sort of a variant of us, an AU, a what-if, in which our lives and selves were morphed by circumstances beyond our control. This is how I see the CYOA books I read as a kid, and there was a great article I read a few months ago that sums up the You in CYOA, Reader fics, RPGs, and TRT pretty well (it's the highlighted bits I found most accurate, the part about not having 'relatability' I think was a misunderstanding of what You POV/Reader/the best CYOA books were about if done right since it CAN be relatable, though the rest of it after that still feels accurate).

So I don't think your stance is unusual at all! I've got a whole range of readers—some who see Jane (and other reader characters) as fully them, some who see her as wholly separate, and some who land somewhere in the middle. All of those for x Reader are valid, and I work REALLY hard to keep her as relatable as possible for that reason, so that even if someone does see her as someone else, you can still understand and appreciate her choices when the plot forces her hand. But that's the thing: where you stand on whether a Reader character is you or someone else or even a pre-established canon character is fluid. Everyone sees them differently, pulls on that costume, slides into that skin in their own way. And I think that's really awesome tbh, since it means we get a million different flavors of a character who's still essentially the same.

[doodlboy]

[eamour]

nothing exists outside of you.

when you end up not getting what you want, it’s never because of something or somebody else. no one actually thinks "oh, you weren’t good enough" or makes things happen in your reality that go against your wants. i know this is a hard pillow to swallow but it’s no one else but you doing that. like, for an example, when you get dumped by your partner, when you get denied from your dream university, when things don’t end up going your way or even the opposite, it’s never other people sabotaging you and being in your way.

things don’t exist outside of you, remember that. it’s only you in and out there.

you are your own limit.

but this is exactly where it gets exciting. the most useful and thoughtful quote i have heard so far regarding manifestation is: "it is entirely up to you to decide how much is within you. you declare who you are." this means that NO ONE can ever tell you "no". well, i'm sure they can, but you are not obligated to accept it. you don’t have to force yourself to like things you don’t like, or to settle for things you don’t want. again, you DESIRING a state is enough for it to exist. and there are infinite states and therefore realities out there! think about it this way: there is a version of you, right now, experiencing all of your desires. they have everything you have ever dreamed of. and you wanna know what’s so cool about it? you can be that person!!! infact, you already are them for all states exist within you and belong to you only! creation is fucking done, and just as neville said, your refusal to see that you already are who you wanna be is the reason why you will remain as you are right now.

others can not hinder you.

no one can define your worth. no one can determine your success. no one can make decisions for you and expect you to obey them. no one can create your life. no one can limit you. only if you think that others have power over you, then they can do whatever they want — because you let them!

only you direct your life.

i know life gets hard sometimes. genuinely hard. sometimes it’s unbearable and you feel like being suffocated and you‘ve got a shitty 3d right in your face, demanding you to deal with it, draining you the fuck out, and and and… but that doesn’t have to stop you. it won’t stop you. the outside world is also your creation. it is nothing you have to fear babes. after all, you know it’s only your conceptions of self… it’s just you. really nothing that scary!

get back on track.

now, do yourself a favour, and stop being afraid of circumstances. stop being a slave to your senses. stop giving in. stop thinking so small of yourself. stop belittling yourself. stop being so overly submissive. stop wavering. stop overthinking about every single detail that won’t go your way and remember that there is a wonderful version of you "inside" you that wants to be embodied. how wonderful is that? to be fully in control of your world? and it will only ever be up to you what you do with it!

things can change in a day. your 3d can look so… deranged? if you will? and yet, you could still get your desire the same exact day. NO ONE CAN TAKE AWAY YOUR DESIRES FROM YOU BUT YOU!!!

with love and rage, ella.

[kikyoupdates]

Love Bite ⭑˚🩸⭑ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑒

yandere!vampires x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, original characters, vampire!ocs x fem!reader

Desperate for money to pay off your debts, you sign up for a program that allows you to sell your blood to vampires. At first, everything is fine, and you’re finally able to make ends meet. But they soon begin craving more than just your blood.

story masterlist | next

Certain people are dealt a shittier hand in life than others, and unfortunately, you are one of those people.

Life has never been easy for you. As far back as you can remember, it's been one shitstorm after the other. Your parents are as good as dead to you, because all they ever did was make reckless choices and run away, leaving you to clean up their mess. That's how, at the young age of twenty, you've already got more debt than the average person could ever fathom.

Still, you make do. You hustle as best you can to get through one day and move on to the next. It's exhausting, and sometimes it feels like you're ready to give up, but against all odds, you persevere.

"That'll be 50 credits," the cashier says.

You let out a sigh and give her your card. Everything is so goddamn expensive these days. Even a simple grocery trip feels like a big slap in the face.

"Oh. Sorry," she blinks. "It's been declined. Do you have any other form of payment on hand?"

Shit. This one too?

You mumble an apology and dig through your wallet again. Thankfully, you happen to have enough cash to cover the cost. Just barely.

"Thank you for shopping with us," the cashier recites monotonously. She packs your groceries in a bag and hands it to you, then gestures for the next customer to step forward.

You leave the store the same as always, feeling worn-down and discouraged. You'll have to apply for a new card, but who knows when they'll send it to you. Goddammit. You're already scraping the bottom of the barrel as is. You hardly have enough emergency savings to last until then.

It's a shitty day, and unfortunately for you, it's about to get even worse.

"[Name]," a distinct, familiar voice mutters. You flinch at the sound, nearly dropping your grocery bag in the process. There's a man standing outside your apartment complex. A man that always makes your stomach crease in discomfort.

You instinctively step back. "I don't want any trouble, Johnny. Please, can I just get through?"

He ignores you and walks over, and while you stand there, stiff from fright, he peeks into your grocery bag and hums, visibly amused.

"Not exactly a lavish dinner," he chuckles. "But I guess you've got no choice but to be frugal, huh?"

"I just want to go home," you plead. "Please. Don't do this."

Alas, Johnny has never been one to give a shit about your circumstances, and today is no exception.

"I haven't been getting the money you promised me," he glares. "You've been late on your payments, and I'm really starting to lose my patience here."

You try to protest, but he wraps his hand around your throat and forcibly pins you against a wall. He isn't applying too much pressure, not yet, but the threat is there all the same.

"You owe me money, [Name]." His pupils constrict, a telltale sign that he's furious. "I'm done with your shitty excuses. If you can't make good on your promises, then you pay the price. This is the way the world works."

He holds you there, just so he can watch you whimper and cower in fear, then he eventually releases his hold on you and steps away.

"I'm giving you one more week," he says. "If you don't come up with the amount we agreed on in one week, I might seriously have to kill you. And don't even think of running away like your parents did. I'm sure as hell not gonna make the same mistake twice."

Johnny walks off with a steady, relaxed gait and his hands buried in his pockets. It's that easy for him. He can threaten an innocent woman and not think anything of it, the sick bastard.

You sniffle and resist the urge to cry. Fuck your parents. All they ever did was ruin your life. You have no idea where they're hiding right now, but for their own sake, they had better not show their faces around you ever again.

Still. There's no point in lamenting what can't be changed. Your parents are gone. It's up to you to remedy this situation and pay that disgusting loan shark back.

The question is, how?

How in the world will you pull that off? You barely make enough to eat two meals a day and cover your rent, let alone the steep cost of your debts.

It just seems like a lost cause. You've been working yourself to the bone, but you still can't even make a dent in what your parents owe. It's all too much to bear. It makes you want to forfeit your life entirely. At least then, you might finally be able to rest in peace.

Weighed down by the hopelessness of your situation, you trudge into your crappy studio apartment, chuck the groceries in the fridge, and plop down on the couch, defeated.

I guess it's time to look for another job. Something I can squeeze into my schedule. I can probably survive without sleeping a few days in a row, right?

You chuckle brokenly and scroll through your phone, looking for anything you might have a shot at. Finding a good job in this city is yet another hopeless dream for someone like you, who didn't go to college and doesn't have any other notable qualifications. All of your current jobs may as well be paying you dirt, which is why you can never meet Johnny's ridiculous demands.

You're just about to give up and go make yourself a rather pathetic dinner, when suddenly, something catches your eye.

[𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗠 𝗟𝗔𝗨𝗡𝗖𝗛]: 𝗕𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗱𝗼𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱. 𝗦𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗳𝘂𝗹 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘃𝗮𝗺𝗽𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀-𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝗮𝘀𝗶𝘀.

Vampires. Not long ago, a law was passed, granting vampires access to the city. More and more of them seem to be moving here, the central hub of the country. Of course, most people felt uncomfortable with this change, but it seems to be a necessary step in fighting back against years of discrimination. Humans naturally fear vampires, and the government is doing everything it can to integrate them into society.

Since drinking blood by force is considered a crime, this program is most likely a way for vampires to obtain their blood safely and without any consequence, just so long as people are willing to sign up for it.

You take a moment to assess your situation. You have almost no money to your name, and there's a greedy loan shark that's just itching to torture you if you fail to pay him back in time. If you don't get some money, and fast, you're probably headed for the afterlife.

That being said, you've never encountered a vampire before. You've heard all sorts of horror stories about them. That they're physically stronger than humans, have more acute senses, and could easily bludgeon you to death if they wanted to.

But even if that's actually true, how is it any different than what Johnny will do to you if you don't pay him back?

You press your lips together. Perhaps there's no harm in trying at least once and seeing how it'll go. It's not like you're guaranteed to get accepted for the program anyways. And besides, this is being implemented by the government, so surely, they won't allow any humans to come to harm in the process.

Above all else, you are incredibly desperate, with very little to lose.

So, you decide to take a gamble.

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬 [𝗫]?

...

Your luck might finally be changing for the better, or maybe they're just desperate for applicants, but either way, you got the job.

It was a bit tedious. The screening process was rather lengthy, and they made you do quite a few medical tests to ensure you didn't have any infectious diseases or anything like that. You suppose having a clean bill of health is the one thing required for this position, considering you'll be giving your blood to someone else. Thankfully, even though your life is shit, you've always been rather sturdy, which is the only reason you've lasted this long.

You're currently walking through a glossy white corridor. The building you're in is polished and sleek, some kind of medical company that's been researching vampires for quite a long time. They call themselves Plasma Inc., which is a bit tacky, but you're certainly in no position to judge.

The doctor escorting you holds a clipboard against his chest, and glances over at you every so often.

"We're almost there," he says. After a brief pause, he adds, "There's no need to be nervous."

Honestly, you're a little nervous, but only because you've never done this before. Giving your blood to a vampire... it all sounds so farfetched. You really didn't think this was something you'd ever be doing.

But beggars can't afford to be choosers.

"For the client's privacy and peace of mind, there aren't any cameras inside the room. We will not be able to see or hear anything that happens in there. You signed the confidentiality clause, so please keep in mind that you will be liable for any private information that you happen to disclose."

You knew as much going into this. There's no point in psyching yourself out. Everything's going to be fine. This is all perfectly safe.

...it should be, at least.

"Whenever you're ready," the doctor says. He's stopped in front of a door, and you instinctively gulp as you imagine what—or rather, who—is on the other side.

Okay, then. No reason to back out now. You chose this. It's a desperate measure, and sure, you'll lose a bit of blood in the process, but if it helps you pay off your debt and get back on your feet, then it's easily worth it.

"I'm ready," you say.

The doctor nods briefly, offers you an encouraging smile, then opens the door.

It closes behind you right away, and your eyes instinctively search the room until they land on a motionless, seated figure.

It's a man. Well, a vampire, but still a man. Deep down, you'd been hoping that it might be a woman. A man seems somewhat more intimidating, although you suppose all vampires are stronger than humans, so it wouldn't have made a difference either way.

He's beautiful, though. Vampires are scarce in numbers, and they don't usually go out during the day, so it's unlikely that you would have ever passed by one. But you've only ever heard people speak of them in frightening terms. Never in a million years did you imagine they'd be so utterly gorgeous. Or perhaps this particular vampire is simply an exception.

You don't quite realize how much time you've spent fawning over his appearance until he suddenly stands up.

Instinctively, you flinch, and it's clear that it doesn't go unnoticed.

He narrows his eyes. "If you're not comfortable doing this, you're welcome to leave. I was told that the humans who signed up for this program were all completely willing. I have no intention of taking your blood without your full cooperation."

"Oh. S-Sorry," you stammer. "I'm not uncomfortable. I guess I'm just a little bit starstruck. It's my first time meeting a vampire."

"There's no need to gawk at me. I'm not some animal trapped inside a cage."

He has a rather harsh tongue, but again, you're in no position to judge. Perhaps your reaction offended him, unintentional as it may have been.

"Sorry," you say again, then you offer him a weak smile. "Um... I'm [Name]. I'm not really sure what the etiquette for this sort of thing is, but it's nice to meet you."

It takes him a while to respond. He studies you quietly with those mesmerizing eyes of his, and the silence is awkward, to say the least.

"I'm Xavier," he finally replies. He frowns a bit. "But I didn't come here to chat. If you're ready, I'll like to move on with this as soon as possible."

Right. He's here for the same reason you are. It's not an opportunity for the two of you to exchange pleasantries.

You're here to sell your blood, and he's here to drink it.

"Okay," you swallow. Now that it's come down to it, you can feel your heart beating faster by the second. But this is fine. This is nothing. Compared to all the shit you've already been through, this may as well be a walk in the park.

You walk over to him, taking slow, careful steps, then you sit down in one of the chairs. He does the same, staring at you without blinking the whole time. You watch as he shuffles a bit closer, and he uses his fingers to pull down the collar of your shirt slightly. You shiver at the sensation of his skin brushing against yours. God, his hands are cold.

Xavier stares right into your eyes. "This is your last chance to back out. If you tell me to stop now, I will, but otherwise, I'll take it that you've agreed to move on."

"I'm fine," you reassure. Despite the fact that your stomach is a bundle of nerves right now, you're determined to press on. You need this. There's simply no other option.

You'll do whatever it takes to live on, even if it means selling the very essence that grants you life in the first place.

"Okay," Xavier says, and he wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. His jaw unhinges, and the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut is the pearly-white color of his bright, glistening fangs.

He bites into your neck.  

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[lemonwrap]

Soap was lucky enough to meet his soulmate at twenty four. The thing is…they didn’t get along great. That’s not completely unheard of for soulmates, but it didn’t make Soap and Connor get along any better.

They didn’t hate each other, no. Some days they got along well. The conversation flowed, the laughter wasn’t so strained, and the sex was good—but things always seemed better when they were apart.

They clashed on nearly everything. Connor thought Soap’s mohawk and callsign were childish, and Soap thought that Connor was overbearing and that all of his friends were assholes. Soap’s talkative nature often annoyed Connor, and Connor’s nitpicky personality often annoyed Soap in turn. Connor didn’t like Soap’s job because it kept them apart, but the military was what held Soap together and provided structure when he didn’t have much else. Soap felt out of place at Connor’s large family gatherings, where his entire family was formal and a bit cold, but Connor felt suffocated by Soap’s small but lively family.

Soap and Connor’s soulmate status didn’t seem to matter much whenever they argued. They fought until they mutually decided to break it off a few years later, and although Soap was upset, the relief vastly outweighed it. He hasn’t attempted to seek anything else out, though. How can he be right for anyone if he isn’t even right for his soulmate?

Soap tries to keep this attitude when he’s recruited into the 141 and meets Ghost, but Ghost is…well, he’s Ghost.

Soap is pretty sure he could write a whole book about his lieutenant, starting with the way Ghost kept him grounded with jokes while he was sneaking through the streets of Las Almas and ending with how the first time Ghost took off his mask, it was to kiss Soap.

They get along startlingly well, even in shitty circumstances—two peas in a pod, two halves of a whole, two pieces from different puzzles that just happen to be a match—Ghost and Soap are a fantastic team. Their arguments don’t usually last long, and they’ve never been over trivial things like Soap’s haircut or Ghost’s habit of hoarding tea well past its expiration date.

On the field, they have each other’s six, and sometimes Soap doesn’t even need an order from Ghost. He just intuitively knows what Ghost needs, on and off the field. They just work, and Soap didn’t realize that he could ever get along with someone this well.

Ghost has revealed little of his past even to Soap, but he said that his soulmate died before they even met. Trauma after trauma and a few failed relationships made Ghost eventually decide that he wasn’t going to bother, and he kept to himself until Soap joined the 141.

Soap is damn glad he somehow found his way into Ghost’s heart like he did. Soap thinks of Connor sometimes, and he’s sure Ghost thinks of his own soulmate occasionally, but neither of them truly loved someone until they met the other.

Maybe your soulmate isn’t someone who the universe chooses for you—your soulmate is someone you choose for yourself.

[jsvausvqbd]

Bae Seok Ryu and Song Hyeon Jun

Truthfully, the circumstances just weren’t in their favor, regardless of how much they loved each other and dreamed of a future together. They were faced with a huge obstacle in the form of stomach cancer, for which Hyeon Jun fully committed to being Seok ryu's caretaker, taking a sick leave from work and even putting his whole life on hold for Seok Ryu, because he loved her and wanted to be there by her side. However, Seok ryu's decision to not tell her family and close friends meant leaving Hyeon Jun- who respected her decision and even after they broke up, kept her illness hidden from her family- as her sole caretaker and support system, which was bound to take a toll on him as well sooner or later.

After her treatment ended, they were yet faced with another huge blow in the form of depression -none of which are Seok ryu's fault by the way. But once again Hyeon Jun was left as her sole source of support. Now, I'm not saying that one's partner isn't supposed to be there (I mean, "in sickness and in health", right?), but it's clear that it was too much for him at this point. This reminded me of a cancer research conference I attended years ago, where one of the discussed topics was caretaker burnout and the importance of respite for them, both the sick person and those around them are greatly affected both physically and mentally, and that's what we saw in the episode; Two exhausted people who, despite loving each other, just couldn't bear with how exhausted they were and Hyeon Jun ended up snapping. Does this mean he's a shitty person? No, we saw him be by Seok ryu's side through thick and thin, but at last he was tired and snapped in a moment of desperation. This sadly just means they just weren't what the other needed at the moment anymore, and this is a very realistic portrayal of relationships where there isn't respite nor a proper support system.

I do think he loves her and feels guilty for being so burnt out, but sadly she's ready to move on and that's all that's left for him to do now. Move on.

This sets up a huge challenge for Seung hyo tho, how do you get through her walls when she’s seen first hand what can happen to a relationship when faced with adversities? She said it herself, she’ll be constantly on the lookout for her cancer possibly coming back or even spreading. How can he convince her that he won’t burn out? How can you convince someone who knows firsthand that sometimes love is not enough? Good luck Charlie!

[moonstruckme]

helloooo, i have a request if its possible♡

since we got figure skater! Sirius..... Do you think we could get hockey player! James x figure skater! reader? Maybe they go to the same place but the place where they practice its kinda shitty so its literally kinda like an across the hallway situation where the hockey practice happens on one ice rink and when you leave you can walk thru the ice rink of the figure skaters that its on another section of the place IDK I'M NOT AN ARCHITECT SORRY

BUT THE POINT ITS, that one day James leaves practice later than usual and he's walking to get out but he heards his favorite song playing and he goes to see whats up because its his favorite song ever! and goes to the other ice rink and sees the reader practicing and inmediatly he has the biggest crush ever and its almost dreaming about a house and three kids with that cute girl

idk i think i explained myself like sht but hope you like the idea! cause i think it would be soo cute

Hi lovely, you explained yourself perfectly! Thanks for being so patient with me, I hope this is alright <3

hockey player!James x figure skater!reader ♡ 718 words

James’ entire body is pleasantly sore, and he’s very much looking forward to going home to a nice, hot shower. 

“Do you and Moony want to go get breakfast tomorrow morning?” he asks Sirius as they leave the locker room. The two of them had taken longer than usual changing out of their gear, Sirius filling him in on the absolute hell week Remus had at his new job. To hear Sirius talk about it, all the other professors are simply jealous of Remus. James is sure that’s partly true, but he’d bet they need less reason than that. Somehow, James had thought leaving school would mean emerging into a more mature world, but adults seem just as petty as teenagers. Maybe pancakes and a good, uplifting chat would do something to take the sting out of Remus’ first week and help prepare him for the next. 

Sirius cuts James a sideways look, gray eyes narrowed. “Breakfast at what time?” 

“I was thinking six, six thirty.” Sirius scoffs, and James grins. “Only joking. How’s eleven?” 

“Still too early,” Sirius grumbles, “but we’ll go.” 

James bobs his head, pleased to have a course of action for helping his friend. “Ask Moons where he feels like going, and just…” He hears a faint, familiar melody. “...just let me know.” 

“Sounds good.” Sirius pushes open the door, but James has stopped. He’s looking back towards the rink, intrigued. “Coming?” 

James waves him off. “In a bit. See you tomorrow.” 

Sirius makes an amused sound, not unused to James’ diversions, and goes. 

James follows the sound of his favorite song, unabashed about bopping his head to the beat as he approaches the rink. He knows figure skaters sometimes use the rink after his hockey practice has wrapped up, and he absolutely has to see who’s choreographed a routine to this. He comes to a stop near the edge of the bleachers, and watches through the tempered glass as one lone skater launches into a turn. 

This wouldn’t be the track James would have thought of for a figure skating routine, but frankly, you’re doing it justice. Your movements are springy and nimble as you glance across the ice, one complicated-looking move to the next to the next. It seems like both skates are never touching the ground for more than half a second. There’s a lot to be said, probably, about your skill, your technique, but James is a philistine. All he can think about is how pretty you look. 

You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Graceful in your movements and seraphim in your countenance. A wisp of hair has freed itself from the confines of the rest and whips about your face, but you don’t seem to notice it, your gaze steady and lips just slightly pursed in concentration. 

James would never tell his friends because they’d mock him to hell and back, but he does believe in love at first sight. Only under particular circumstances, though. The sight has to be good enough—meaning, he has to see some aspect of who that person is behind a pretty face. You certainly do have a pretty face, and you’re dancing to his favorite song, and James doesn’t understand how he could ever be expected to not be totally enamored with you after this one spectacular look. He worries that if you glance over, you’ll see him with giant cartoon hearts boinging out of his eyes on springs. 

The song ends, and you spin to a stop. James’ breathing stops, too, as your gaze lands on a point not ten feet to his right. He wonders if he’s being creepy. It’s not like this is a private rink, and James wouldn’t be weirded out if he spotted someone watching him running drills or something (actually, if it were you he’d be over the moon about it), but he’s been told not everyone feels like he does about that stuff. And though he hardly thinks of himself as intimidating, James is also a big guy. He wants to woo you, not spook you.

You skate to the edge of the rink to restart your music, and James slips out. He hears it blaring softly behind him, and he probably looks like a total idiot when he grins and dances out the front door. An idiot in love.

[ladamedusoif]

able

(Joel Miller x disabled F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Content/warnings: Reader is disabled (she has rheumatoid disease/arthritis in addition to panic attacks, she uses a walking stick as necessary); Reader had a sister; Reader is an art teacher; strong violence; blood; description of panic attack; references to impact of chronic illness and disability; references to medication; references to disease and death; non-canon compliant; Jackson!Joel; strong language; ableist language and abusive language

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Word Count: ~3.7k

A/N: After making a plea earlier in the week for people to actually write disabled Reader fic, as opposed to forcing writers to feel they have to tag literally everything in an able-bodied Reader story, I knew I had to put my money where my mouth was as a disabled, neurodivergent writer with various mental health things going on here and there. And this one-shot is the result.

This one is a little personal. I was diagnosed with rheumatoid disease about ten years ago, and Reader’s experiences are informed by my own (though, thankfully, I haven’t had to contend with an apocalypse that meant I couldn’t access the medication that has kept me going). She’s also inspired by @agentjackdaniels, who acted as consultant extraordinaire on walking sticks and panic attacks, and suggested the Joel picture for the moodboard. Thank you, Luce, for this, for fighting the good fight for representation in fic - and for beta-ing the story. 

(A note on terminology: rheumatoid disease/arthritis are sometimes used interchangeably. ‘Arthritis’ often sounds like it’s ‘just’ osteoarthritis to people who don’t know the difference. Rheumatoid, unlike osteoarthritis (which is shitty in its own ways), is a systemic, lifelong, chronic illness and an auto-immune disorder that affects the entire body, not just bones and/or joints. So personally I use ‘rheumatoid disease’ as it conveys more of the impact of the condition. It's also often seen as an 'old person' disease but this simply isn't true - not that this stops mobility aids being modelled by people in their 80s all the time...)

Please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to stay up to date with my work.

Dividers by @saradika - moodboard by me

You weren’t supposed to make it.

Twenty-odd years in the apocalypse with your fucked-up joints and no steady supply of the meds that kept you going, pushing through the cycles of fatigue, and fighting off your own goddamned immune system as much as you were fighting clickers and raiders. 

You really weren’t supposed to make it. But you had Annie.

You were sharing an apartment when the outbreak happened, a quirk of shitty personal circumstances - she’d just broken up with her long-term boyfriend - that probably helped save your life. Annie was the all-action sister - the kind of person who thinks there’s nothing weird about spending your weekends doing triathlons and “Tough Mudder” challenges, who had a perfect bill of health your entire lives, who bounced out of bed in the mornings while you cracked and creaked and stiffly manoeuvered yourself into being. 

The good days generally outweighed the bad in the years between your diagnosis with rheumatoid disease and the initial outbreak - or maybe you had just gotten used to the aches and pains and the occasional flare-ups of fatigue. You invested in a walking stick to help on those days when mobility was particularly bad: solid, heavy, and carved in a pale yellow wood. It felt like a comfort in your hand, more a sign of strength, to you, than of weakness. 

Annie helped you through the panic attack that consumed you on outbreak day, working with you to regulate your breathing and relax your tense muscles until you could finally say what was on your mind.

“My meds. What am I going to do without my meds?”

Nothing a quick smash and grab at the local pharmacy couldn’t fix. It was the first of many, stockpiling the little yellow tablets you relied on and taking as many packs of over-the-counter painkillers as you could carry. Useful currency in the apocalypse, as it turned out.

All-Action Annie was never going to cope with life in a QZ. She got the two of you out after months of planning, nights of whispered talk about a town out west that was normal - or something close to it, anyway. She hadn’t entertained your protestations about you slowing her down, holding her back.

“You think I’m leaving behind a girl who’s so handy with a weapon?” she’d teased, pointing to your walking stick. “Be real. We’re busting out together.”

The infection took hold in her about three days from Jackson. Fuckin’ barbed wire, tearing a jagged line through Annie’s hand and leaving behind an old-fashioned kind of threat to life, the kind penicillin had mostly dealt with. But that was then. This was now. 

She died in an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, you holding her hand until the end, talking to her about your childhoods and trying to keep smiling until she closed her beautiful eyes. 

It took all your strength to dig her grave. And then, somehow, you found more.

You weren’t supposed to make it. But you did. 

Jackson stands before you. 

He sees you for the first time in the community dining hall, talking animatedly to Maria as you hungrily devour the food set in front of you. Eyes wide, face grubby, clothes ragged. Half-wild, he thinks, like most of the new arrivals. Like him and Ellie, once upon a time. He returns to his bowl of soup and his own thoughts - at least, until he’s interrupted by Maria.

“Joel? Want to introduce a new member of the community, just arrived.”

He doesn’t quite know why he’s surprised when he realises you’re leaning on a sturdy hand-carved walking stick in a solid, light yellow wood. Maybe it’s because he knows how physically hard it is to get here. Maybe he just assumed folks who needed a stick wouldn’t have been able to manage the journey. 

For a second he can hear Sarah’s voice in his head, chiding him for focusing on what a disabled person can’t do instead of what they can. 

“Joel?”

He snaps out of his reverie and looks from Maria to you. “Uh, hi. Sorry, just…sorry. Forgot my manners.”

“I was just saying how glad we are to have someone who can offer some art education in the town, isn’t that right, Joel?”

Your eyes are warm and mischievous as you meet his gaze, silently conveying your amusement at Maria’s rather brusque manner. It’s all Joel can do not to laugh.

“Sure is. You’re an artist, then?”

You shake your head. “Not a real one. I was an art teacher, before. Long time since I created anything, though, so I hope I remember how.”

He smiles softly, his gruff exterior receding a little. “Bet it’s just like riding a bike,” he says, before his face falls as he looks at your walking stick. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean… Shit. Hope I didn’t offend.”

“As it happens, I can ride a bike, Joel. The apocalypse just doesn’t give me much cause to.”

You leave him with a smile and a wink as Maria ushers you to meet other townsfolk. He watches you as you walk away, the tap-tap-tapping of your stick beating out a new rhythm in the heart of Jackson.

You think of Annie every morning when you wake up in the little house you’d been assigned. Sometimes, as you potter around the kitchen, still revelling in the novelty of making yourself morning coffee for the first time in two decades, you even talk to her. You tell her about the town, the townsfolk, your work in the community vegetable garden, your art classes. 

“Honestly, An, you wouldn’t believe how popular they are,” you tell the Annie who, in an alternate universe, is sitting at the kitchen table with her own mug of coffee. “I’m setting up extra sessions to cater for demand.”

There’s something uplifting in how hungry the people of Jackson are to make art, no matter their experience or existing skill level. They’ll draw stuff from memory, they’ll dutifully work on a still life, they’ll even traipse outside with you, wooden sketching boards in hand, and make rapid-fire sketches of the goings-on on Main Street. 

Joel doesn’t join a class - but the teenage girl Maria refers to as “Joel’s kid” does, all potty-mouthed and enthusiastic and pretty damned talented, to boot. Ellie tells you how she’s pinned up the drawings she’s proudest of in their home, “like our own fuckin’ art gallery or some shit.” 

You pull up a tall stool and sit beside her, resting your stick over your thighs. “Joel’s got his guitar and those dumbass model figures he paints,” she continues, leaning around her easel and squinting at the woman who’d volunteered to act as a life model for this week’s classes. “But this shit? This is real art.” She adds a little highlight to the woman’s sweater and leans back to assess the work.

“You probably got exempt from patrols, I’m guessing. On account of the stick, an’ all.”

“Maria asked, and I signed up happily. I got all the way here, didn’t I? I’m sure I can manage patrols. And it’s the least I can do - they’ve even found me some of the medications I need.”

Ellie nods, somewhat convinced, and returns to sketching out the contours around the model’s jaw.

The day of your first patrol arrives. You bundle up and set out early for the stables, allowing extra time to get there on account of the flare-up you’d been experiencing the day before. 

You arrive early - just in time, in fact, to overhear a heated conversation between Joel and Maria.

“She’s doing enough, ain’t she? I just don’t think she’ll be able for patrol.”

“You’ve seen her out and about, Joel. She’s mobile. She’s competent. She’s good with the horses. She got all the way here, the last stretch on her own. What more proof do you need?”

“You’re seriously gonna send a woman with a walking stick out on patrol?”

“I seriously am. Sent you and your bad back out, didn’t we?”

“That ain’t the same and you know it.”

“Just saddle the horses, Joel. And, in case you’re wondering - yes, I paired you together deliberately, just until she gets settled.” You hear her footsteps recede as she leaves him.

You had misjudged how much your already-limited grip would be further impeded by the gloves you’re wearing. The stick clatters to the ground.

“Who’s there?”

You emerge from the shadows. “Me. Sorry.”

Joel rolls his eyes and gruffly points out the tack and supplies.

The first patrol passes in silence. You wonder what happened to the softer man you’d caught a glimpse of the first day you arrived.

On the second patrol, you ask him questions about himself. On the third patrol, he asks (fewer) questions about you. By the fourth, you’re having something approximating normal conversation. 

“Sarah loved to make all kinds of stuff,” he ventures, leading the way on his chestnut horse. “Those beaded bracelets, that girly Lego in the pink and purple, all of that. My girl had enough Magic Markers to supply a whole elementary school. Maybe two.”

You can hear him smile, even without seeing his face. His shoulders relax a little as he recalls the memory.

“So she was a creative kid?”

“Creative, sporty… she could do anything. Made the school soccer team, she was so proud. Just a…” He pauses. “A great kid.”

There’s a few beats of silence, punctuated only by the sound of the horses snickering and the steady rhythm of their hooves on the ground. 

“What about your sister, was she arty like you?”

You’d told him about Annie on the last patrol. This was the first time he’d asked about her explicitly.

“She was the sporty one. I think that’s why I survived so long, truth be told. She was so strong and fast and tough as fuck.”

He chuckles, the burr of his voice resonating in the cold air. “Sounds like a good balance, though.”

“It is - it was. Was.” Your voice grows quieter as you repeat the word to yourself, chest starting to tighten. The horse slows, responding to the tension of your body, as Joel continues to trot on, not realising you’ve come to a halt behind him. 

And then the tell-tale snapping of a twig, the sound of footsteps, and the realisation there’s someone else there, emerging out of the woods. Two someones. 

Raiders. 

The panic attack that has been building inside you gives way. An innate fight or flight response kicks in as you roar his name. 

Joel turns and charges back towards you, just in time to see you take out one raider with a crack shot from your pistol. He slows the horse and readies his rifle, staring at the other man who is now trying to haul you off your mount.

“Get the fuck off me, motherfucker!” You flail against him, desperately shifting your weight to the other side of the saddle to try to shake him off. 

Joel takes aim. 

You think you’ve kicked the raider off. And that’s when you hit the ground.

He can’t take the shot now, not with her half-hidden from his view and audibly fighting off the man who’s dragged her to the ground. Joel is still a little distance away, slightly too far to see exactly what’s happening. 

Why didn’t he hear her slowing? Why didn’t he realise she was further behind than she ought to be? Why did she slow in the fuckin’ first place?

Joel quickly dismounts, rifle in hand, moving closer so he can get a clearer shot at the guy who’s now standing over her. The horse’s elegant neck obscures the raider’s hands from Joel’s vision - he has no idea if he’s pointing a gun at her or not. 

He thinks he has a clear sight on the guy’s head, provided he stays in the same position. He readies the rifle. 

Suddenly, the raider disappears, letting out a primal roar before he hits the ground. 

“You fucking cunt!”

Joel can see she’s standing now, the man prone before her. As he rounds the horse he sees her lift her cane, hands securely gripping the pointed end of the stick. 

She brings the solid, weighty handle down on the raider’s leg with a sickening crunch. Even Joel recoils a little at the sight and the sound.

“F-f-fucking…c-c-cunt!”

Thwack. The other leg. 

Fuck. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

”Keep calling me that, and I’ll keep the blows coming.”

Holy fuck. Who is she?

”C-c-c-cripple.”

”Excuse me?”

The raider props himself up on his arms. “I said, cripple. Fucking crippled cunt.”

“You shut your fuckin’ mouth.” Joel cocks his rifle. 

The stranger sneers at Joel. “Awww, he’s actin’ the big man now. Weren’t too quick gettin’ back down here to save your cripple woman, were ya?”

Before Joel can react, she swings her stick over her head and brings it down on the man’s skull with a furious scream that seems to come from the very depths of her being. 

She screams and screams as she hits him, over and over, eyes wild in her blood-spattered face. Joel recognises this: in himself; hell, in Ellie. It’s the moment when the floodgates open and all those years of pain blend together and zone in on this convenient target, an avatar for everyone and everything who had forced loss and trauma upon you. 

He roars at her to stop, but knows she can’t hear him. It’s just her and the raider, now: her rage and fear and grief finding their expression through a walking stick turned cudgel.

A single shot ends it. She turns sharply, as if snapped out of a trance, and sees the smoke leaving Joel’s pistol. 

“Hey. Hey. You alright?” His broad hands grip your biceps as he looks into your eyes.

Yes, you tell him, yes. You’re fine. But Joel keeps asking. 

“Talk to me. Are you okay? I’m worried about you. Please, just talk to me.”

You are moving your mouth, but no sound is coming out. The familiar vice is tightening around your chest. You look down at your blood-stained hands and you struggle to breathe. 

“‘M dying, Joel. Can’t breathe. All the blood. So much. Why can’t I breathe?”

Oh, he realises with a pang. She gets these things too. And I know how to help.

“You’re okay, you hear?” He’s rubbing your arms gently, keeping his gaze on you. “You’re alright. Breathe along with me, okay?”

It’s difficult to find the rhythm, at first. Joel’s hands find yours and squeeze them in time with his breath.

”In through your nose, that’s it. Slow and steady. Now out through your mouth.”

He can see your muscles starting to visibly relax. A wave of relief courses over him.

”Yeah, that’s it - you got this. You got this, good girl, you’re just fine. Gonna be alright.”

When he’s confident your breathing has settled and the panic attack receded somewhat, he gently guides you away from the body of the dead raider, one hand holding your horse’s bridle and the other holding yours. 

“Why don’t you have a seat for a minute, huh?” Joel gestures to a long, low tree trunk lying near the forest’s edge and opens his saddlebags, rummaging until he finds a cloth, a battered hip flask and a bag of dried apple slices.

”Here.” He wipes the blood as best he can from your hands and proffers the flask, settling his substantial frame beside you on the log. “Have a sip or two, just to relax you a little bit more. Got a snack, here, too.”

You flinch at the taste of the liquor, but take a second sip regardless. The apple slices barely taste of anything in the afterburn of the moonshine. Joel nibbles on some jerky and stares into the middle distance. 

You take a break from patrol, agreed with Maria, and a few days off your art classes. It was tempting to keep going, to return to the light and airy studio and to your students. But you feared a relapse.

And your body needed to recover physically, too. You ached from head to toe, fingers and toes puffy and swollen and movement seriously restricted. You ration out the supply of medication you’ve secured since getting here, and use hot water bottles and plenty of rest to try to ride out the flare in your arthritis.

Three days after the incident, there’s a knock on the door. You hobble to answer it, leaning on your trusty stick for support.

”Came by to see how you were doing. Got you some things if you needed ‘em.”

Joel is standing on your front porch, holding a jute grocery bag. He pauses, as if waiting for you to give him permission to say more.

”That’s so very kind of you, Joel. Come in, won’t you? I was able to set a fire so it’s nice and cosy.”

He watches as you lead the way into the living room, noting how much slower you were today. Guilt laps at his conscience. He said she shouldn’t go on patrol. He knew.

”You want me to bring these into the kitchen for you?”

“That would be a great help. Thank you.” He’s glad to see you smile, after the trauma of the patrol. “If you want a drink, I’ve got some tea and coffee in the cupboard just to the left of the sink.”

He pops his head back into the living room. “What would you like?” 

“A tea would be perfect. Mugs are in the cupboard to the right.”

You wrap yourself back up in your blankets on the couch, making room for Joel when he returns with the drinks and a couple of cookies, sent over by Ellie as part of his care package for you. The mug feels like a comfort in your aching hands, its heat assuaging the inflammation ravaging your joints.

He sips his coffee and you sit in silence for a little bit, watching the flames dance over the firewood. 

“Have you, uh - you been okay, doing okay, since…”

Joel stares into his coffee cup and then looks at you, a little awkward. You smile, hoping to reassure him.

”I’ve been okay. Just the physical pain and exhaustion, mostly. And - well, you saw it. The panic. It can leave you drained.”

He nods and takes another swig of his drink. “I know. I - I’ve had times like that, too. Real fuckin’ scary, when you’ve never gone through it before.”

You study his face for a moment or two, noting the little scar on his temple, the lines on his face, the stern expression completely undermined by the warmth of his deep brown eyes. For an instant, he seems so vulnerable, this strong, tough man sitting on your little couch. 

“I haven’t had an attack like that in a while. But then, I hadn’t done anything like that in a while.”

This time Joel turns to look at you properly. “Not your first rodeo, huh?”

You giggle at the turn of phrase. “Not quite. Let’s just say my stick did a lot of work over the last twenty years. He wasn’t the first to feel the brunt of it.”

Joel nods, and you feel strangely relieved that he doesn’t seem surprised. “Doesn’t get easier, though, does it?”

“It does not. Which is why it’s better to avoid having to do it.”

”I agree. Gotta say, though, I - I was worried you wouldn’t be able for patrol, y’know?”

You arch an eyebrow at him. “I know. I overheard you, remember?”

He blushes. “Aw, shit. Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I just didn’t want anything happening to you, what with your - condition, and all.”

You sigh softly, not really noticing the affection in his voice. “Most of the time, I’m fine. Y’know? I’m slower, but I do okay. I get tired more easily, but I manage. I didn’t come here to be a drain on the community.”

”You aren’t.”

”I know, but I want to keep it that way. I want to pull my weight. I’m able, Joel.”

He huffs in agreement. “Not like I’m a perfect specimen these days, either. Knees, fuckin’ back, deaf in one ear…” 

You chuckle. “And you thought I wouldn’t manage patrol? Anyway, you’re not doing so bad, are you?”

He gives you a little smile, but that constant sadness still haunts his eyes. He stares at his coffee for a moment.

“You knew what you were doing, though.”

”I did. But I didn’t feel like I could stop.” You sip your tea, swallowing hard. “And I’m scared that makes me some kinda monster. You know?”

Oh, he knows. He knows it too well.

”You aren’t a monster.” Joel resists the urge to put an arm around you. “You just… something snapped, I guess. All that - well, all that hell you’ve gone through. It… it changes you. But it doesn’t make you a monster.”

He realises you’re crying before you do, spotting the fat tears that roll down your cheeks. He finds a clean handkerchief in his jeans and offers it to you. 

Fuck it. 

“Can I - can I put an arm round you? Just for some support?”

Your eyes light up, tears or no tears, and you nod enthusiastically. Joel is warm and comforting, his broad chest and strong arms a kind of anchor in the emotional storm. You nuzzle against him, and he gives you a little squeeze on the arm.

”You’re a really brave woman, you know that?”

His voice is quieter, more intentional. You look at him quizzically from under your lashes, unused to praise of this kind. For an instant you think about asking him what he means. But the safety you’ve found in the broad arm draped around you is all you need right now. 

You nuzzle a little against his chest, and watch the fire dancing for the rest of the night. 

[dinogoofymutated]

Enemies to lovers! Quicksilver/GN!Reader

So no one requested this but I can't get it out of my head so it's going here!! I absolutely love quicksilver in the comics and the animated shows but most of his content is from the movies. I'm not complaining! But I wanted to branch that out a bit lol. I guess you can imagine almost any Pietro, but I was picturing his personality from Wolverine and the X-men. Haven't seen it in a while so forgive me if this is OOC.

This is set pre-dead professor. I might have also gotten a little carried away with this one, lol, and there will be a part 2! Fights and stuff are kept super vague for my mental health sorry if it's shitty.

-ps- someone let me know if Pietro's super speed counts for swimming too??

TWS: Tlasophobia (possibly?) Almost drowning. Dehydration, wounds.

You weren't sure if you considered Quicksilver an enemy, a rival, or an arch-nemesis, but the one thing you did know was that Pietro Maximoff was the most annoying motherfucker on the planet. Seriously! As part of the X-men, he seemed to always be in your way in every major fight.

What didn't help was that you were a speedster in your own right- well, not on land that is. The same gene that blessed others with powers beyond comprehension turned you into... a fish? Sure, you were fine on land, able to blend in with regular humans, but the moment you hit the water you were completely different. Gills, fins, the works. And you were fast. Really fucking fast.

Now when you first met Pietro while on a mission, he was being a snarky bastard. Can't catch me this, too slow that, ha! The guy may be able to run on water, but he's clumsy when he's in it. You're sure you have his face memorized from the time you caught up with him beneath the waves, tugging on his ankle and pulling him into the sea. His eyes practically bulged out of his head when realized what had happened. Of course, you're sure his face was even funnier when he watched you speed off into the depths, having neutralized him for the moment.

Every fight after that turned into a contest. Who can beat who where, Who stranded the other first, easily taking them out of the battle quickly and efficiently. Things like that. The professor had to remind you sometimes that the goal is to protect others, protect humanity, not quarrel with Quicksilver. You knew that, of course. You're thankful for the professor and what he's trying to do- but every time you saw Pietro's stupid arrogant smile you just got so- aggravated!

That being said, just because he aggravated you, didn't mean you wanted him dead. In fact, fate would keep pulling the two of you together in the least expected ways.

First, it was you, saving him from a sinking ship. He had slipped and managed to knock himself out during the fight, you having found him while trying to ensure everyone was off the boat. You were conflicted at first, knowing he was your enemy but not wanting to leave him to drown. In the end, you had grabbed him. The problem was that he wasn't breathing when you made it to the shore.

Some aggressive CPR and a few broken ribs later, he was coughing up water from his lungs. You, surprisingly, were at his side, holding him steady. Pietro was confused at first, letting you help him sit up as he coughed his lungs out, but his expression completely changes when he looks up and realises who's been holding him up. He makes an incredulous face at first, then rising to his feet in a split second, although not without swaying. He eyed you suspiciously as you stood to face him.

"You shouldn't be moving so fast straight away. I'm sure I broke a few ribs trying to get you back." You said. He sets a hand on his side wincing as he Most likely prods at a few bruises.

"Why did you...?" He can't seem to finish the scentace, and you simply shrug. You couldn't leave him there. As annoying as he was, you wouldn't wish a death by drowning on anyone. You're pretty sure you'd have saved him in any other circumstances as well, but you choose not to think about that right now. His face of confusion morphs into slight seriousness, and when he looks back to the ocean to see the Brotherhood is long gone he stands for a moment. You can almost see the gears whirring in his head, and reach out to take his arm.

"Look, I get that you recover fast and all, but you should really take it easy-" Before you finish your scentace, you've been shoved back into the sand dune. Pietro is standing further away from you than before, arms crossed as the sand settles from his quick movement. You stare at him in shock.

"Your loss." He says, sticking his tongue out before speeding off and across the water, kicking up sand in your face as he does so. UGH! Even when you go out of your way to be nice, He's a dick!

Despite him being a straight up asshole the last time you saw him, it's safe to say something between you has changed. You couldn't quite place it, but you could see it in the way you would fight. What would have been brutal punches shifted to major inconveniences, like handcuffing you to a railing and things like that. Incapacitating you without dragging you further into the fight. In fact, he hadn't even snatched you up to run and drop you off hours away from the fight for a while. Beforehand, he loved to strand you somewhere land-locked, forcing you to wait until the X-men came to pick you up. Sometimes it would take days for them to get to you, so you were almost always on guard, staying close to or in the water so he couldn't catch you.

You had gotten used to the new Quicksilver, and what used to be a rock-solid defence and begun to crumble. That was your mistake. The next time you saw Pietro, there most definitely a shift in the air. This fight was going to be brutal, but you and the team had prepared for it. You thought you had anyway. But with your friends getting injured, the fight dragging on, taking a turn for the worse, you were genuinely beginning to fear for everyone's lives.

It wasn't long after that relvation that your head was spinning, and you were being plopped down on a gritty, sandy surface.

"Sorry babe, you'll thank me later!" You clench your jaw at the sound of his voice, catching the sight of sandy dunes as you tried to turn around to rip into the man.

"Pietro!-" Your venomous words were cut off as a blur of silver rushes off, kicking up a gust of wind and leaving you stranded. Worse than stranded, you would say. Pietro had left you in a desert. A bright, dry, hot ass desert. And it was not going well for you.

Not only did you have no clue where you were going, but you were beginning to realize that you were in a really bad position. It was like every drop of moisture was being sucked out of your body. Your mouth felt dry and cottony, exhaustion setting in a little too easily. You were dizzy, dehydrated, and hopelessly lost. The sun had no mercy for you. Eventually, you have to lie down, doing your best to stay awake and not fall asleep, worrying about the worst, but eventually your drooping eyes win over your will to remain awake.

The sun is starting to set when you wake up, throat dry as a bone, both sickly and exhausted. You can hear the sound of something approaching, and do your best to sit up on your knees, doubling over for a moment before forcing your body to move. A pair of legs step right in front of you as you do.

"Wow, You look terrible." Quicksilver says, and if you didn't know any better, you would almost say he looks concerned. You don't have the energy to roll your eyes or speak to him at the moment, stars flickering in your eyes as you start to sway. You start to teeter, before you're snatched off the desert sand, Pietro having caught you and scooped you up into his arms.

"Worse than terrible, actually." He mumbles this time. His concern is clear now, face close enough to your own for you to properly see him. You scoff, or at least attempt to.

"You... left an aquatic mutant... in the middle of the desert. What were you expecting?" You say, having to pace yourself. You're fully leaning your head against his shoulder now, not having the energy to keep your head up anymore. You can feel him suck in a breath and tense up as you begin to go limp against him. His hold tightens up on you before he takes off running.

You've always been accustomed to extreme speeds, at least mostly, but the combination of how ill you feel and his sudden stop makes you want to puke. You can't bear to open your eyes at the moment, choosing instead to bury your face in Quicksilver's shoulder. You're sure he's taken you to some random place to leave you to die, but he sets you down on something soft and cushioned.

"...Where-?"

"You're in the mansion." He says quickly, cutting you off. You stare at him in disbelief as he stands back up, and you realise he's taken you to the medbay. You and Pietro make eyecontact for a moment, both wondering what to say. Eventually, you watch as pietro moves across the room to purposely set off the alarm, which you know for a fact he knew how to avoid. He turns back to you, winking as he readies himself to speed off again.

"See you soon, slowpoke." He says. You make a face at him and he laughs. In a blink, he's gone, just as the doors bust open, Beast running in frantically, with the professor rolling close behind him.

You cant quite figure out this man. Normally, he'd just leave you to fend for yourself. He's never come back to get you before. Why would he do it then? At first you were sure he put you out in the desert as a deliberate attempt to leave you for dead, but now? He seemed genuinely concerned for you, and you're not sure how to feel about that.

In the end, only Pietro knew why he came back. Or did he? Maybe he was just as confused and conflicted as you were.

[rkvriki]

romantic moments with them - a playlist

omg ana was seen posting??? sorry for not posting but i've been so caught in my studies and i really needed to focus. also enhas comeback??!

make sure to leave feedback ! my requests are open and so is my tlak box so let's talk !

WARNINGS ! none really i think?? warn me if theres any!!

a/n: i got carried away in some of the members so sorry if theres longer one and shorter ones i jutsvfdhfef

word count: 1.8k

LEE HEESEUNG ! - bills by enhypen

enhypen’s new album had just come out and the showcase was now happening and you were watching it backstage through the monitors watching and supporting heeseung. you watched as danced and sang so passionately and your heart felt full watching him do the things he had always loved doing even before you met him in high school. you felt so proud watching as he and his group grew so much and how far they’ve become. it made you look back at the shy heeseung from a few years ago and see how much he changed, for better obviously, into a carefree person. heeseung was a very hard worker and you had to always remind him not to overwork himself and sometimes you worried he wouldn’t listen to you since you couldn’t be with him at all times. you know he had gone through a lot during his training days and you tried to make sure he didn’t have to go through the same thing now that he had debuted. the performance had just ended and you were waiting for your boyfriend to come backstage. the door finally opened revealing all of the boys sweaty from all their hard work. heeseung ran to you and pulled you up, spinning you in the air as he smothered your face with kisses. he put you down and you stared into each other's eyes like two fools in love, making you both laugh. heeseung cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a sweet and awaited kiss.

rest under the cut !

PARK JONGSEONG ! - die for you by joji 

it was late at night and you and jay were out for a day night. you were just strolling around the city which was almost empty since it was almost midnight and the weather was pretty gloomy. even though it was dark you could still see clouds covering the sky. the walk was pretty silent, you were holding each other's hands, swinging hands back and forth. there was a comfortable silence in the air, the only sound came from people walking by or from the people talking in the esplanades around you. times like this made you feel like you were in a movie where you and jay were the main characters and only you and him mattered. times like these were rare for you and you were always afraid you couldn’t enjoy them to the max, so you tried make the most of them no matter the circumstances. suddenly it started raining, anyone's first instinct would be finding a place to cover themselves, but you two just stood still in the middle of the street, feeling the droplets wet your skin. you looked at each other as the rain got heavier and just laughed. jay pulled you into his arms as you both let out loud chuckles and spun around without a care in the world, enjoying yourselves in the rain. jay pulled you closer, his breath mixing with yours as you leaned closer until your lips connected in a deep kiss.

SIM JAEYUN ! - yukon (interlude) by joji 

you and jake were spending a lazy day indoors, deciding to spend his free day at your apartment and doing things at home. having a full day with jake was a very rare thing to happen lately since he has a especially busy schedule for comeback season so you would only see each other very late at night, only having time for dinner together and him having to leave right after eating since he had to wake up extra early for practices and whatnot. so last night he came over to your apartment to enjoy the silence and privacy you two couldn’t have in the dorms. you were both laid out on your couch as a shitty movie you picked on purpose played on your tv. you both would let out occasional chuckles at awful scenes that would play in the movie. a especially bad scene played and you both started laughing so hard you had to clutch your stomach. words tried to get out of your mouth but none came since you were laughing so hard. you noticed jake’s eyes on you, and you looked at him as your chuckles died down “what?” you asked him, still letting out small giggles. “nothing” he answered “i love you.” he said “oh, why so out of the blue?” you asked, letting out a chuckle as you held his hand. he just shrugged and leaned in to kiss you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, making you smile into the kiss.

PARK SUNGHOON ! - self control by frank ocean

it was one of those rare evenings where sunghoon would appear at your house unannounced and you two would just hang out and sometimes have dinner before he went back to the dorms. this happened often since he never knew when he could or could not visit you, obviously you didn’t mind it, seeing him so unexpectedly always made you so happy and your heart felt so full knowing that he thinks of visiting you at the most random times. dark orange rays were peaking through your blinds since the sun was starting to set. the smell of food could be smelt in the living room as you cooked some food for both of you and some tunes were heard quietly in the kitchen, probably sunghoon putting some music on the speaker you had on the living room. you put the stove on the lowest heat and walked to where sunghoon was, sat on the couch scrolling through his phone. the melody from frank ocean’s self control was playing quietly, the song filling the area. you grabbed sunghoon’s hand and pulled him in a hug, making him chuckle at him but hug you back anyway. he kissed the top of your head and you both started swinging to the rhythm of the song. sunghoon hugged you tighter and you did the same, listening to the sound of his steady heartbeat along with the song that played.

KIM SUNOO ! - kiss me by dpr live

dating sunoo sometimes felt like a dream. he always made sure to plan the best days for you two, always trying to make the best out of them since you were always a little restricted as you tried to protect and hide your relationship from the public. he made sure to always prepare everything in advance and also made sure you were up for what he had planned or f you wanted to change anything. you had experienced so many things with him. from getting up at 3:30 am to get ready and watch the sunset in a place 40 minutes away from the city to camping with him in the middle of a mountain he convinced you was safe. today sunoo decided to be a little more cliché and he planned an outdoor date near the hand river, late at night where you could be alone, enjoying each other's presence. you were both laid in the picnic blanket as you looked at the stars and tried to make out the different constellations. “i literally can’t tell any of them apart.” you said looking at him.  sunoo turned to look at you and opened his mouth to say something but he decided to stay quiet and just stare at you. he propped up on his elbows as he observed each of your feature, making you blush under his gaze. he leaned down closer to your face, but only left a peck on the corner of your mouth, teasing you. you started whining at him, making him laugh at your reaction.

YANG JUNGWON ! - jasmine by dpr live

concerts were something you found yourself enjoying a lot ever since you went to your first one. it felt so good to be in a space where so many people shared the same taste and you just loved the energy of people singing along to any songs that played. usually you go with your friends, but lately you’ve been asking jungwon to go on one with you since your friends sometimes bring their partners along and you also wanted to experience that. still he needed to remind you he couldn’t just attend a concert as he pleased but that din’t make you give up. yours and jungwons favorite artist was gonna have this concert in seoul, so obviously you wouldn’t miss it for the world and you literally begged won for days to come along which he ended up giving in. you both were in high places in the venue, since those were always less booked and you could be a little more private. the concert started and you both couldn’t contain your joy as you sang along. then a song that you both consider you guys’ song started playing. jungwon pulled you to his side as his arms embraced you and you started swinging along to the song, you back against his chest. you rested your head against his shoulder as you looked up at him. he looked down at you and pulled down both of your masks as he leaned down to kiss you, not caring if anyone even saw, it felt surreal to him.

NISHIMURA RIKI ! - understand by keshi 

niki had invited you to come watch him dance in the studio at the hybe building. visits like this happened often, since he loved having your presence as he danced, saying, in his words, “you were his muse”. you also didn’t mind watching him, your chest always swells with pride and you watch as he gets better and better each time you, which you thought was impossible since he is already perfect in your eyes. niki has a tendency to be hard on himself, which ends up with you comforting him each time he gets angry at himself for thinking he is not good enough. it makes your heart break knowing he can’t see himself through your eyes, you wish he could see how flawless he looks in your eyes. you watched as niki danced, feeling the loud bass from the music vibrating in your chest. you loved when he could turn a simple studio into a huge stage and he owned it all. the song came to an end and niki did a playful bow as you clapped happily at him. other songs from his playlist started playing and understand by keshi played through. niki extended his hand to you “would you give me the honor to have this dance, m’lady?” you laughed at his choice of words but took his hand. he started swaying you through the studio, turning and twisting you, stopping as he put a hand on your back and swung you down. you stared in his eyes laughing at his playful gesture and placed a peck on his lips making him smile at you.

[blughxreader]

Damn, the "re-connection session" one-shot was an extremely heavy read in a way I never expected. I’m fully aware that your requests are closed but just wanted to ask; how would Dick and Jason deal with a traumatised omega reader? Someone who gave in to the hormones but once the effect blew over the weight of what happened set in and hit them like a truck, as they re-lived metres of being undressed and touched without their consent, which mimicked a borderline assault?

I'm blown away by the response for this fic omg <3 Thank u to everyone who left comments like this lol. "HORRID. SICK TO MY STOMACH. WILL TATTOO ON MY BODY." yall are the best

As for your questions...

We're all aware of normal trauma responses (mental breakdowns, you could throw up at the smell of Alfred's soup, blocking the memory entirely, throwing yourself into distractions), but ABO has a primal element...

Y'know how women who give birth release this brain chemical that makes them love their baby so it overrides the terror of pregnancy??

Yeah. Maybe finally joining the pack physically/emotionally releases that same chemical.

You're not a slave to your body, but it definitely takes the edge off of a horrific incident. I think you'd 1000% remember it forever and have some level of bitterness and ick about it, but sometimes it's easier to accept things you can't change.

From everyone's perspective, why should you harbor so much hatred when an easy life of love and safety is at your fingertips if you'd just forget a little incident?

It's up to the you tho.

Dick fully stands by his decision unless you try to like, kill yourself. He's used to making hard decisions, and while he'd upset at the circumstances, he feels it was the last solution. Everything else failed, so how we do things the uncomfortable way.

Jason will always feel shitty about it. He's a romantic, and the fact that your entrance into the pack was by force will forever sit heavy on him. If Dick's confidence had faltered even a little during that one-shot, then Jason would have called it off immediately.

Life would carry on normally, save for everyone watching you for any behavioral changes. Dick and Jason would accept your furious anger / sadness with understanding remorse, then would comfort you in their own ways.

Movie night? Your favorite food? Want to sit with Alfred and I in the library? Hey, maybe we can convince Bruce to let us all go to his beach house for a weekend?

And if you stop reacting all together, then they'd take the indication to cozy on up to you again. Fight back and show some emotion, orrrr sit with one of their arm's over your shoulder and let the hormones do their job.

You'll run out of fight eventually, then Bruce will start working on your trauma. At that point, the pack's already got a hold on you mentally so you begrudge them some leeway.

Small privileges here and there (sitting with your thighs touching, holding someone's hand, sleeping in the same bed), until it becomes a slippery addiction.

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ SLURPEES — BILLY HARGROVE

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, non-proof read thoughtless writing, lewd comments from Billy, mentions of sex, fluff fluff fluff, mentions of abuse, sweet billy, bit of ooc billy, somewhat sad ending?

— “Cant wait for the day I can take you away from this shitty fucking town.” Your boyfriend’s voice would pierce through the previous silence, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he spoke, the both of you watching as it rose and eventually vanished.

Billy had picked you up from your house after a big argument with his dad, the two of you driving around town in his Camaro for a while before eventually ending up at Lovers Lake, laying on the hood of the blue vehicle, staring up into the dark, endless sky above. You could pretend you were anywhere when you stared up at the sky, imagine you weren’t stuck in a town with unreal, murderous creatures, imagine you and Billy had met under better circumstances, imagine that the both of you were free to do as you pleased.

Billy had fallen for you the minute he set eyes on you during his first day at school. He’d been waiting to receive his class rota from the receptionist when the sound of a door opening caught his attention, his head turning and his eyes meeting those alluring (e/c) ones. You had a pretty smile on your lips as you waved goodbye to whoever was in the office; the principle, your dad. It was almost laughable how cliche it all was, you were the ‘sweetest girl in Hawkins’, the golden girl who had everything going for her, whilst he was the ‘troubled bad boy’ your father would never approve of. After your first encounter you seemed to appear everywhere, in the school halls, at parties, the supermarket, fuck he even spotted you when he was just driving around town. Billy had never been so drawn to anyone in his life, never felt such a craving for another persons attention — he hated it. Instead of accepting his feelings he’d done his best to forget about them, taking a new girl home each night, sometimes multiple at a time, but he never managed to get rid of the thought of you.

He’d taken a particularly harsh beating from his dad one night, driving around town as he usually did, music blaring to distract himself from the angry tears that poured down his face. He felt weak, aggravated, all kinds of thoughts running through his mind. He could leave now, just like his mum had, just keep driving and never look back. But where would he go? How would he afford the gas? Food? It wasn’t realistic, he may not be the best in school but he wasn’t stupid. So instead he parked up at the closest gas station, on the hunt for a new pack of cigarettes (he could go through a pack a day if things were particularly rough). Upon entering, his eyes were immediately drawn to you, standing over the slurpee machine and watching as the syrupy liquid turned, sipping on your own cup, almost as if you were lost in thought. You were dressed in some pink pyjama pants with little dogs in sweaters on them and an oversized hoodie, cute.

Billy almost debated approaching you for a moment, debated asking what you were doing at the gas station at 2 am, wouldn’t your dad be mad? Did he even know you were out? What if something happened on your way back and nobody knew you were out? He’d shake the thoughts away, approaching the counter, only to find nobody there, his features hardening once more as he slammed a hand down onto the service bell, looking around for any sign of an employee. That was when his eyes met yours, an amused smile playing on your lips, which were now stained purple from the mix of red and blue syrup. He couldn’t help but wonder how sweet you’d taste.

“Oscar’s out back, don’t think he’ll be back for a while, his lady friend paid him a visit and he looked pretty eager to drag her out of here.” You’d speak in that sickly sweet tone of yours, his brows raising in confusion. Oscar? You knew the employee by name? Surely he couldn’t be your boyfriend, otherwise you wouldn’t look so amused by the ‘lady friend’ part of the story. Billy would lean his hands onto the counter.

“Great, that’s great. His boss know he slacks off to have fun with his ‘friend’?” He’d question, eyeing the array of different cigarette brands behind the counter. Surely this guys friend could keep him occupied long enough for Billy to hop the counter and take a pack without anybody noticing? Well, anyone but you, but considering you were out this late, which Billy knew wouldn’t slide with your dad from his many encounters with the strict man, he didn’t think you’d be all too bothered.

“No, how would he know? Nobody’s gonna tell.” You’d shrug with a coy grin, waving your slurpee in the air. Was this guy bribing you with free drinks? Billy couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips, you looked so proud of your small act of rebellion, keeping secrets so some guy could blow his load in the back of a gas station, surrounded by trash. Deciding to go for it, the teenage boy would hop the counter, analysing the different choices he had before picking up a pack of his favourites, immediately opening it and placing one between his lips, lighting it and giving an exhale of relief. “You’re Billy, right? You’re in my home room!”

Billy wasn’t surprised you knew his name, most people in Hawkins did by now, he wasn’t exactly shy, yet for some reason just the sound of you saying it out loud made his stomach feel funny. He’d never given much thought to his name, but god did it sound good coming from your lips. He’d hum in agreement, finally turning to fully face you, cigarette still dangling from his mouth. That’s when he heard the gasp of shock that left you, confusion washing over him as he watched you approach, backing up until he was practically sat on the counter, you between his legs and staring up at him with a weird look on your face. One of curiosity, one of concern? He wasn’t used to seeing someone look worried about him.

“Holy shit! What happened to your face, did you get mugged or something?” Right, now he knew why you looked so worried. His dad had delivered a powerful blow to the side of Billy’s face during their argument that night, and there was no doubt in his mind it was already beginning to bruise. The sight of you looking concerned for his well-being had his chest tightening, he could practically feel your breath on him from this position. Fuck, since when did other people have such an effect on him? He’d never even spoken to you before yet you managed to make his cheeks become a rosy hue just from a look.

“What? No, you really think someone would try fucking mug me?” He’d scoff, almost offended, rolling his eyes and dropping the hardly used cigarette to the floor before peering back down at you, hard features suddenly melting at the sight of that caring look in your eyes, the way your lips pulled into a small frown. Did you know how gorgeous you were? He didn’t think so, nobody who knew they were as beautiful as you were would be hanging about in Hawkins. No, in Billy’s mind you were pretty enough to be a model, fuck, if he had it his way you’d be on every billboard and magazine cover out there. He’d never get tired of seeing those perfect features. “I just- I ran into my door, earlier.” He’d internally groan at the shitty excuse.

You didn’t question him, which he was grateful for; you could tell he wasn’t all that eager to talk about whatever really happened at the moment and you didn’t want to upset him more, it was clear he’d already had a tough night. “Does it hurt? Looks like it hurts.” Without thinking you’d raise the icy cup in your hand, pressing it ever so gently to the side of his face where the bruising had occurred. He’d hiss, trying to move away from it as it stung him, but your hand would follow, making sure the cup didn’t leave the side of his face. “Stop moving, it’ll help.” You’d speak sternly; you were bossy, he guessed you probably got it from your dad. But rather than getting annoyed with you like he would your father, he found himself obeying, relaxing back against the counter and letting you hold the cup to his face, the ice inside somewhat easing the burning of the bruises.

The two of you stayed like that for god knows how long, refilling the slurpee cup every so often and talking about anything and everything; California, your dad, music — all sorts. Billy was just grateful to be given the chance to have such a long conversation with you, even if he hadn’t been the one to initiate it. Eventually the gas station employee would return, he looked maybe only a few years older than the two of you, a lanky boy with hair so long in the front that it had Billy wondering how he could see where he was going. He wore a dopey grin on his lips until he spotted the two of you behind the counter, immediately throwing his arms into the air and ordering you both to move, mentioning something about how he said you could help yourself to the slurpee machine and nothing more. Billy drove you home that night, and when he parked outside of your house you grabbed a pen that had for some reason been thrown onto his dashboard, writing your number down onto the palm of his hand and offering a cheeky smile before rushing off back to your home. Billy called you the minute he woke up later that day asking you to see a movie with him, and since then you hadn’t left each others sides.

Billy had never felt so much love for another person until he met you, never wished for someone’s presence the way he wished for yours. When his mum walked out and left him behind with Neil, Billy didn’t blame her, in fact he probably would’ve done the same. Maybe she wanted to leave every trace of her old life behind, and that included him. Maybe she saw how much Neil had fucked him up and feared he’d turn out just like him; that was Billy’s biggest fear too, but when he looked at you he knew there was no way he could ever hurt you, especially not in the ways his dad had hurt his mum. You made him feel like he didn’t have to hide how he felt, you validated his emotions, helped him calm down when he was panicking, treated his wounds when he got into a fight with Neil. You reminded him that life didn’t end the minute his mum left, and that he was worthy of happiness. You let him know he had the right to feel betrayed, that it really was possible for someone to love him despite his anger and stubborn nature. Billy didn’t usually think of the future, he had a hard enough time just coping with the present, but since he’d met you it seemed he couldn’t stop imagining what life could be like as you grew together. He couldn’t stop imagining living that comfortable life he’d always hated the sound of until he began to imagine it with you; buying a home, getting married, having children, he’d do it all, as long as he got to do it with you.

So, as he gazed up at the stars above you both, he couldn’t help but let his imagination take over, a sigh leaving him as he exhaled another drag of his cigarette. “‘M gonna make you the happiest woman in the world, I’ll make sure of it… Gonna become someone your dad would be proud to see you with, someone you can brag about to your fancy friends…” He’d whisper, eyes never leaving the sky, lost in a daze. Your dad had made it clear to Billy since the moment you confirmed your relationship that he did not approve, and as much as Billy wished he could say he didn’t care — he did. You were his other half, and he knew how important your dad was to you. He wanted to fit into every aspect of your life and hated to hear of all the arguments you had with your father over him, how you had to defend him constantly. He didn’t want to be the reason for the strain in your relationship with your father, it hurt him to see you so upset, but at the same time he’d never give you up just because somebody else didn’t approve. He’d be damned if he lost you all because of another persons opinion, you were it for Billy.

“I dont care what anybody else thinks, Billy, you know that… I’m proud to be with you. I’m proud of you.” You’d voice, turning your head from the sky to look at him, eyes trailing over his side profile, from the long lashes you’d always been jealous of to those pillowy lips you knew the feel of all too well by now. You could stare at him for hours on end, he was just so pretty. “You already make me the happiest woman in the world just by being with me.”

He couldn’t help but shake his head at your words, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, eyes momentarily closing. This was the gentle side to Billy that only you got to see, and you couldn’t be more honoured. The little touches, gentle kisses, longing looks; all yours.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, huh?” He’d mumble against your hand, crystal blue eyes opening and meeting yours, a timid smile on his lips. “Still, ‘m gonna get you out of this place, take you to Cali and show you all the places I used to hang, teach you how to surf if you’re up to it.” He’d grin at the thought of you on a surfboard — you’d always been extremely clumsy, and he’d pay to see you take a tumble off a surf board and into the ocean. As if reading his mind, you’d lean over to slap at his arm before he copied you, throwing his cigarette away and attacking your sides with his fingers, sending you into a laughing fit as he tickled you. “Why’d you slap me? You gonna say sorry?” He’d joke with a wide smirk on his lips, his hands never ceasing their attack on you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, involuntary laughs leaving you.

“Billy, enough! I can’t-” You’d break into another fit of giggles, doing your best to push your boyfriend off of you, but he didn’t budge. “William! I said enough!” You’d cry out, the use of his first name causing Billy to chuckle as he finally stopped tickling you, hands resting on your hips as he allowed you to catch your breath, leaning over your body, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. He'd always hated his first name, thought it made him sound old, but when he heard it coming from your lips? He couldn't have asked for a better name. “You’re an asshole.” You’d breathe out, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek as he smirked down at you, leaning into your touch almost instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful.” He’d lean in, whispering against your lips before capturing them in a slow, passionate kiss, one hand resting on your hip, thumb caressing it whilst the other travelled higher to your waist, his chest pressed to your own. Nights like these were when Billy appreciated you the most, the nights when you could make him forget about all his problems with just your presence — he had no idea where he’d be without you there to ground him.

“Meant what I said, every word of it. We’re gonna own a nice house on the beach and I’ll make sure it has a massive porch that you can practise your painting on… Can go for morning swims, I’ll get to see what you look like when I fuck you in the sand-” He was cut off by you sending another slap to his arm, only this time it was a bit harsher, causing him to laugh loudly. “I’ll buy you the biggest fucking rock of a ring you’ve ever seen, all the ladies’ll be so jealous, and all the guys will wonder what lucky bastard got to put that thing on your finger…” He’d place a tender kiss to your cheek before moving up to your forehead, then to your closed eyelids. “You’ll be the most gorgeous bride in the world, can’t wait to see you in one of those fancy dresses, all dressed up for me.” He’d lean down to your ear, lips grazing over it as he spoke, his breath blowing against it causing shivers to run down your spine. “Then ‘m gonna make you a mummy, yeah? Make your stomach all round, fuck, you’d look so good pregnant with my babies.” He’d nibble at your ear. “Just imagine it, teaching the kids to surf, watching them play on the beach… It’s gonna be perfect. Fuck, I hope our babies have your smile, gonna be the cutest kids around.”

His words had your chest tightening, a breathless smile on your lips as you stared up at him, hand slipping from the side of his face up to his head where it ran through his curls. If he hoped your future kids had your smile, you sure hoped they had his hair and eyes, they were two of your favourite things about him. It wasn’t hard to imagine a future with Billy, in fact, you’d been planning it since the moment you met the guy when you see both 17, the two of you now 18 and about to finish Highschool. Sure, you were still young, most people would likely say too young to talk about marriage and children, but you knew, you knew you wanted those things, and you knew you wanted them with Billy.

"You'll be a great dad, Billy, I just know it." You'd whisper back, arms circling around his neck and bringing him down into a slow, sweet kiss, your fingers tangling themselves in his hair, noses occasionally bumping and causing the both of you to breathlessly laugh. The moment was sweet, full of love and sweet promises.

And he would have been, had he been given the chance, had the summer not taken him away from you before he got the chance to fulfil any of those dreams. He would have found a way to buy you that ring, would have worked extra just to get that house on the beach, would have taken care of you and your children the best he could, made sure they would never have to wonder where they'd get their next meal, never feel any fear towards him like he felt for his own father. You just wish he had the opportunity to do all of that, wish the two of you hadn't met in Hawkins, wish he hadn't been driving to meet you that day.

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Yev's Mosquito Bite

“Dad, Ian; You guys should really go on a date sometime,” were the first words Yev said to them when he came home from school on a nice, breezy afternoon. “It’s been way too long since you’ve had some time to yourselves.” 

Ian shared a glance of amusement with his husband. Yev didn’t give two shits about them having alone time, he was usually complaining about them being too openly affectionate in front of him. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Yev dropped his backpack on the floor, only to pick it back up with a sheepish smile when Mickey shot him a look. He draped it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I mean, when was the last time you guys just had a night or-” he shrugged, taking on a tone that was far from nonchalantly, “afternoon out?” 

“You know,” Ian feigned a thoughtful voice, “now that you mention it, it has been a while.” Yev nodded eagerly. “I could always take the day off sometime soon. We could stay here all day.” 

Mickey smirked when Yev deflated. He grabbed Ian by his belt loops, gently pulling him closer. “I like the way you think, Gallagher. Hit the shower with me later?” 

“Fuck yeah,” Ian grinned, widening when Yev groaned loudly. 

“God, you guys are gross.” 

“Why do you want us out of the house, Yev?” Ian got straight to the point, one hand reaching back to thread his fingers through Mickey’s hair. It was a little longer nowadays, not quite the same length when he broke out of prison but close. 

“No reason,” Yev muttered. 

“No reason?” Mickey repeated, arching his brow. “Kid, if you’re planning on drinking, you’d better do it with us here.” 

Yev rolled his eyes. “Your beer sucks ass. You can keep it.” 

“Fuck you,” Mickey said with no heat. “You got shitty taste just like your mother.” 

“Mick,” Ian nudged him. 

“What? Don’t tell me you’re gonna start defending Mother Russia now.” 

“You shouldn’t talk about her like that,” Ian said calmly, taking an onion to start chopping for dinner. 

“Eh, it’s okay,” Yev shrugged again. “She says worse about Dad.” 

This had Mickey narrowing his eyes. “The fuck does she say about me?” 

Yev just gave his father a smirk of his own, and it looked just like Mickey’s, no doubt that he was his son. 

“Stop getting off track,” Ian scolded them both. He then addressed his son. “You wanna tell us why you’re trying to get rid of us?” 

“Not really,” Yev turned to grab a soda from the fridge, giving both of his fathers a full view of the two hickies on the side of his neck. 

Mickey snickered. “I think I know why.” 

Even Ian couldn’t hide the grin that spread over his face. “Is there someone you’re not telling us about, Yev?” 

Yev had gone very still. “No,” he mumbled. 

In other circumstances, Ian would be against trying to embarrass his child, remembering from experience how uncomfortable it could be to have someone in your business like that. Whoever had given it to him was obviously his first crush and if he wanted to keep communication between all three of them open and honest, he should let it rest. 

But after all the shit Yev gave him and Mickey, this was much deserved payback. 

“Yeah?” Mickey said slyly, “that why you got a couple of hickeys?” 

Ian had never seen Yev go so red before. Completely embarrassed, he cleared his throat, ducking his head, looking like he desperately wanted the floor to swallow him whole. “I’m going to my room.” 

“Oh, no way, Little Man,” Mickey yanked him by the back of his shirt.

“You’re gonna stay here.” 

“Why?” Yev whined. “They’re not even hickeys!” 

He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. 

“Oh, they ain’t, huh?” Mickey snorted. 

“They’re mosquito bites, Dad.” 

“Oh, really?” Mickey said sarcastically. He brushed a finger over the spots, making Yev flinch. “Must have got you pretty good then.” 

“Must be really biting this time of year,” Ian remarked. 

Yev’s lips pressed together. “Yeah...” 

“That’s weird because I don’t remember you having any bites this morning,” Ian continued. 

“Must have happened when I was walking back,” Yev said quickly. 

Ian felt the laughter in his chest, threatening to come out. He managed to hold himself together, nodding like he believed the shit that was coming out of his mouth.  Mickey looked seconds away from calling him out on the bullshit too, but Ian just laid a hand on his lower back, his silent way of telling him to wait. 

“You should put a warm compress on those,” Ian advised. “It’ll help with the blood flow.” 

“Okay,” Yev grabbed his backpack, still holding his soda in his hand and made a beeline for his bedroom. 

“He thinks we’re fucking stupid,” Mickey chuckled. “How long you think it’ll be before we see whoever left ‘em?” 

Ian looped an arm around his husband’s shoulders. “I don’t know. Think we should go easy on him when he introduces us?” 

“Fuck no,” Mickey said and they both laughed. 

As it turns out, they would be introduced to the girl in question a couple of days later when Yev brought her home to work on a project together. 

“This is Emily,” their son said, fidgeting slightly. “Those are my dads; Mickey and Ian.” 

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Emily said politely. 

“You too,” Ian smiled warmly. 

“Yeah,” Mickey said with a nod. “So, you and the kid have a project together?” 

“Yes,” Emily said. “It’s for our history class. We’re supposed to take an event that happened and discuss the consequences of it.” 

“You can go ahead to my room,” Yev said hurriedly, probably to save himself from Ian or Mickey saying anything else. “It’s at the end of the hall. I’ll get us a drink.” 

“Okay,” Emily gave him and Mickey one last smile before going back there.  

Ian leaned against the countertop, watching Yev grab a couple cans of soda. “She’s pretty.” 

“Please don’t,” Yev cringed. 

“Ay, you like this girl?” Mickey asked. 

Yev’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t want to talk about this.” 

“That’s a yes,” Mickey and Ian said simultaneously. 

“Can we not?” 

“I think we should have Emily stay for dinner,” Ian said to his husband. “Get to know her a little better.” 

“No!” Yev said in horror. 

“Sure. I think Lana sent over some of his baby pictures over.” 

“We have a whole album,” Ian reminded him. 

“Oh my God-” 

Mickey nodded seriously, barely keeping a straight face as is. “You remember that one year he wore a tiger costume for Halloween and refused to take it off?” 

“That was pretty damn cute,” Ian chuckled. He meant that too. Yev had gone around trying to roar at everybody to scare them for at least two weeks after Halloween ended. 

“Bet Emily would like it,” Mickey teased. 

“Dad!” Yev whisper-yelled, a mixture of disbelief and equal parts irritation. He looked at Ian for help, but he was trying to quell his laughter so he was useless. “I fucking hate you both.” 

“Ay, watch your fucking language,” Mickey hit him lightly upside the head. 

“I’m going to room,” Yev said, aiming a glare at both of them. 

He started to walk, with Ian giving his husband a wink, calling for his son to wait. 

“What?” 

“Is your window open?” Ian said. 

“Yeah...” Yev said, agitatedly. “Why?”  

Ian threw him a bottle that he caught. 

“Bug spray,” he read off the title in bewilderment. “What the hell is this for?” 

“You know, for the mosquitoes,” Ian said calmly. Him and Mickey dissolved into loud laughter after that. 

“Ugh,” Yev snapped, looking like he wanted to throw the bottle at them. “I hope your dicks stay limp.” 

He stomped to his room after that, while his fathers tried to catch their breath. 

[tavina-writes]

MDZS Society! aka: there's a lot less killing than you'd expect

This follows from this post and also the recent translations of MXTX’s most recent interview (which I can now no longer bother to find bc this has been sitting in drafts for like, siiiix months? More? Oh god anyway.) which reminded me about my feelings regarding MDZS society and how different it is from the martial societies we see depicted in typical modern wuxia. (Small disclaimer, I am a wuxia genre fiend and I love like, thinking about fictional societies so this is like, “AHA! You’ve unlocked my trap card!”) 

For the purposes of this, I’m going to be looking at MDZS/CQL’s depiction of the jianghu (which I think is fairly similar! I don’t actually think the show writers made CQL’s jianghu/martial society more genre typical than it was in the book) and comparing that with modern classic wuxia (mostly Jin Yong and Gu Long works.) For this comparison, I’ll be looking at a Jin Yong book — Legend of the Condor Heroes (which is widely considered the starting point of modern wuxia as a genre) — and one Gu Long book — Dagger Li/Sentimental Swordsman, Ruthless Sword (widely considered his most popular work) — and seeing how their societies differ from MDZS society. 

This will likely come in two parts because this one was already getting long, and I don’t think we can fit “how often does nobility exist in a typical jianghu and what do bloodline sects look like normally versus what they look like in MDZS” in this post along with the main topic of “is MDZS society a particularly physically violent place?” 

This post discusses how often cultivators are socially expected to kill people. Like, actual living human beings instead of, say, monsters or ghosts which have been categorized differently than like, human beings. 

EDIT: I forgot to talk about Dagger Li but this was already much too long sorry. Feel free to hmu for more thoughts though.

Now, it might be easy to think that cultivators killing actual people is a really common thing in MDZS/CQL universe! After all, they do have martial arts training and one of the prominent things about the first life is just how many people die both in the Sunshot Campaign and the fallout afterwards. However, I would argue that a lot of the traumas and related issues and reactions that happen in MDZS happen because cultivators are, by training and education, not actually prepared for killing actual living breathing human beings! (And also that the morality of this world prevents it for the most part) 

Now, we do actually get a pretty good window into what the typical training is like for young cultivators in MDZS, because we get a fairly well defined schoolhouse scene where LQR is asking them questions about "how do you tell the difference between various different problems we have to solve?" and "how do you go about fixing this problem?" and none of those include the moral quandary of "if I, a young cultivator out in the Jianghu, see a guy who is doing something I morally disagree with, under what circumstances do I beat him up and/or kill him." This does not appear to enter the curriculum at any point, leading me to believe that the morally correct number of people not like, ghosts or ghouls or fierce corpses, a regular average MDZS cultivator is supposed to have killed is approximately 0.

Which. Is a thing you get in a normal martial arts wuxia jianghu. There is generally the threat of "oh yeah this that or the other faction will be doing shitty things and thereby try to murder you." Instead, in MDZS/CQL most of the heirs of sects are...attending school together. Doing teenage things like partying and gossiping and attending classes.

And sure yes, there was a case of WWX and JZX trying to beat each other up. But the sects did sure let their kids stay at Lan summer camp for months on end (sometimes repeatedly, see NHS) without fearing for their lives or that anyone would steal another sect's techniques or otherwise causing real havoc or intersect warfare etc.

Which is infeasible in any other sort of Jianghu situation. For example, contrast this scenario with this scene from LOCH where Guo Jing's shifus are giving him advice since he is newly 17 and about to set out by himself into the great big world:

Guo Jing therefore bid farewell to his teachers. They had witnessed his battle against the Four Demons of the Yellow River, and were not too greatly worried. The young man had proved that he knew how to use the skills that they taught him. Therefore they let him leave alone. On one hand, the meeting of outlaws in Yanjing worried them greatly, so that they could not ignore it; and on the other hand, a youngster always had to travel the jianghu alone, in order to learn lessons that no teacher could pass on. At the moment of parting, each made their last recommendations. As usual when the Six spoke after one another, Nan Xiren was the last one to express himself. "If you cannot defeat the enemy," he said. "Flee!" He knew that given Guo Jing's dogged character, he would prefer to die rather than to surrender, if he met a master, he would certainly fight to the bitter end, even at the risk of death. That was the reason Nan Xiren gave him this common sense warning. " Martial arts have no limits," added Zhu Cong. " As the proverb says, 'For every peak there is one yet higher', so for every man there is one stronger. Whatever your power, you will always one day meet a foe stronger than you. A true man knows to retreat when necessary, when facing grave danger, it is necessary to contain one's impatience and anger. This what is meant by the adage, « If one preserves the earth and its forests, one does not fear to lack firewood ». It is not therefore not cowardly to take good advice! When the enemy is too numerous and that you cannot face them there, it is especially necessary to avoid being too reckless. Keep in mind Fourth Shifu's advice!"

Does this seem like the sort of advice that any Young MDZS Cultivator would get? "You're a good kid, but when you go out into the world, there will be people who straight up want you dead even though they met you 15 minutes ago, you cannot persist in fighting with these people because they will want you dead and you are a baby cultivator who needs to learn to run away when shit gets rough or you will be dead."

And again I come back to how MDZS cultivators are more like occupational ghostbusters because this really does inform how their society functions and runs and how everyone reacts so badly to the Sunshot Campaign beginning and its aftermaths and possibly explains how JGS could get his way after Sunshot.

Because what happens when you get a society that does train heavily in martial arts and have Able To Kill Real People Weapons who spends most of their time solving very black and white situations of "okay is this ghost whose eating people's livers good or bad? y/n?" and a clear hierarchy of "how do we get rid of the ghost eating people's livers in town x" instead of say "is it morally correct to kill this group of bandits who's been threatening the town" or "is it morally correct to kill this shitty businessman who's been holding people hostage and threatening to hack off their limbs" you have a reduced level of philosophical musing on like, "what is the purpose of martial arts, which is designed to kill people and what do I use martial arts for?" and "under what circumstances and situations would I personally find it morally correct to kill a man?" Which are all questions that Wuxia coming of age stories typically have, and I think MDZS does have, but expressed differently.

Again, it appears that the number of Real Live Human Beings that it is morally acceptable to have stabbed in your life is approximately 0 in this universe, and the expectation that you, personally, might have to fend off people trying to stab you over brunch is also approximately 0.

This also leads to a situation where like, questions of vengeance have very difficult escape hatches! If your parents are murdered on the job by an evil rampaging ghost, this is very sad and tragic and now you're an orphan and of course that's not good, but this is a occupational job hazard, not like, "Yeah Joe Bob from the sect down the street murdered my dad because #Reasons~, and now it's my legacy to grow up to murder Job Bob from the sect down the street to avenge my dad."

(I have a whole essay about how this pertains to both of the Nie Brothers, and how it pertains to JGY and also Jin Ling, and how this seems to routinely fuck people up in MDZS in a very specific way we don't typically see in other wuxias, but this is getting SO long as it is).

But yeah "the socially acceptable number of real living people (instead of ghosts or demons or fierce corpses or whatever) to have killed in your lifetime as a cultivator is approximately 0" means that the Sunshot Generation gets really really fucked up by all of this "killing real people" they did.

Which! might be why JFM was so slow to move on "yeah the Wen are threatening to kill your heirs." <- socially inconceivable behavior. Why society in general is so shocked by Xue Yang and the murder of the Chang <- which would be bad normally but not quite like this. And why no one did anything specific about JGS even if they felt he wasn't entirely correct. What are they going to threaten him with? Death???? A trial of his peers? Social Shunning??? Public shame???

"But Tav how does this relate to CQL!Su She's morality?" I hear you ask. Well you see, the question of "he should've been ready to die for his sect!" is utterly baffling in a society where nobody is expected to be ready to die for their sect on a regular basis because the idea that you should be ready for someone trying to stab you before brunch is utterly nonsensical in a world where most people expect that the baseline number of murders a cultivator does in their lifetimes is 0. That's the world he lives in.

On this regard CQL!Su She is utterly blameless. Nobody handed him a rulebook or expectations sheet for "the sect down the street will try to kill you" nor SHOULD they expect he'd be ready to die at a drop of a hat when no part of the education or social expectations include "ready to die for your sect because it's routine for people to try to kill you."

If you don't even expect to be stabbed and possibly die at a discussion conference where there are lots of cultivators from many sects why on EARTH would you expect to be facing down death in your own home when there's. cultivators here to kill you, this situation is so out of left field?