#and they acted it out because of course they did they act it out every time

[legalandnotease]

Imagine if a person with PTSD had a bad dream and as a result of that dream, built up a cache of weapons. Then kept messing with one of the weapons that happened to be highly explosive. The weapon expoded, and the explosion destroyed his entire apartment block, killing everyone in it.

Guess what? He's still gonna be held responsible for what he did! PTSD is not a "get out of jail free" card.

Imagine if a person who ran a company which produced highly dangerous products was taking drugs, and as a result that they let health and safety standards slip. This results in major accident happened in their company which killed people.

Guess what? He's still gonna be held responsible, because taking drugs is not a get-out-of jail free card. In fact, a person in a position of responisibility knowingly taking drugs is going to be held more responsible because they knew those drugs could impact their capacity to make rational descisions, and still chose to take them.

If a person went out and killed a ton of people to "protect their family", they are still a mass murderer. If a person joined a terrorist organization to "stop their loved ones dying" they still joined a terrorist organization.

Tony's "good intentions" are an excuse. Thanos said he was trying to prevent the next masss extinction event. HYDRA said they were bringing peace and freedom to the world. If a person does something bad which causes mass death with good intentions, it does not make what they did good.

And no, Tony wasn't groomed. Iron Man 1 makes it very clear TOny knew what his father did, he was proud of it. He explicity cited his father's words to justify weapons manufacturing. "My father said the man with the biggest stick wins the fight"

Tony is 38 in Iron man

38

He is not a little child who had no idea what he was doing. He's a genius who is more than smart enough to know what missiles and bombs do.

He is a grown-ass adult who is more than capable of running a company.

Just because Tony died doing the first decent thing he ever did in his life, it does not exonerate him of all the damage and death that he caused before. It does not erase his support of fascists and authoritarian war criminals. it does not exonerate him of building weapon after weapon which repeatedly killed innocents. EDITH, the Iron Legion, Ultron.

It always amuses me how Tony fans try to use "trauma" as an excuse for Tony's actions when every single member of the Avengers team have PTSD, as do various other characters in the MCU. Yet not of them act like fuckwits and build WMDs every time they have a flashback. Bucky has PTSD: but if Bucky fans used PTSD as an excuse for everything he did, imagine the screeching.

But isn't it funny.... Bucky was a literal Prisoner of War, forced against his will and with his mind literally scrambled beyond recognition to kill Tony's parents. Literally captured, tortured and hypnotized into it. (The very things they use to excuse Tony's weapons manufacturing....)

Yet Tony fans still say that he was "100% responsible" and "his body did it" and therefore he deserves to die. (Tony's body built Ultron so I guess he's responsible too, by the same standards....)?

They don't blame the HYDRA handlers who planned the operation. They don't blame the person who told them about Stark's serum (which may well have been Stane) They blame the weapon who had no control, agency or capacity to make a choice being used by others for their ends.

They then have the audacity to tell you Tony was justified in trying to murder the man who he *knew* wasn't in control because he had hurt feelsies. (and of course Bucky is not deserving of redemption or a second chance because "he killed people"- as though Natasha, Clint and Tony didn't). All the while demanding that you forgive and forget Tony's destructive actions on the grounds that he "was trying to protect people" when he crushed women and children to death.

The selfsame Tony fans will then look you in the eye and tell you that because Tony had trauma and good intentions he is not to blame for doing things which caused millions of deaths. Even though he had a choice, agency and free will all the way.

Tony fans do not even have the self-awareness to comprehend their own double standards and hypocrisy/. All because they cannot bear the thought of Tony Sftark having flaws and being held responsible for the shit he did.

everyone always focuses on Sokovia and Ultron and Tony's involvement but no one ever thinks about how Bruce was also involved completely because they're both scientists. no one thinks about Wanda purposefully going in and digging in Tony's head, amplifying his PTSD and putting visions of all his friends dead in his head with the intent of making Tony create Ultron

Everyone always focuses on blaming Tony for the bomb that killed Wanda's parents but no one thinks about Tony being so shit faced he couldn't see straight at that time bec he was so deep in self-medicating his trauma that he could not even run his company and that it was Obidiah Stane that was the one in charge of the company and illegally selling the weapons that killed her parents

Everyone focuses on Tony selling weapons in the first movie but no one thinks about how it was Howard Starks company and that Tony was groomed from birth to run it and that he had tried multiple times to make something else of the company but was constantly shut down with guilt tripping until he was kidnapped and he forced the manufacturing to end

Everyone focuses on Tony being "conceited" and "arrogant" and not "caring about anyone but himself" but no one thinks about how every single action he makes in his movies are about protecting the people he loves and cares for. His biggest fear is his friends- not himself- dying. he goes into every battle he's in fully prepared to die and does make the sacrifice play many many times

everyone always focuses on what Tony did wrong, but no one thinks about how much he has grown and how he spends every single waking moment trying to be a better and better man who cares so deeply about everyone and is trying to protect everyone the only way he knows how- and that is with the brain and intellect that had been the only thing about Tony that was ever praised about

[scarletwinterxx]

drowning in the deepest of truths, I think I'm falling for you - choi seungcheol scenario

hellooo ~ so it's been a while... few things to address😅 i saw svt recently and i can confirm i cried hahah and second thing, a certain mr. seungcheol choi bias wrecked me so we're here. say thank u to him🤣

THIS ISTG TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE. if you've been here for a long time, i think it's obvious i love a good friends-to-lovers storyline. i wanna give myself a pat on the back for writing this😅hope you like it too!!

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’ve been friends with Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. He’s the dependable guy, the one who shows up at your door with takeout when you’re upset, drives you to late-night emergencies, and threatens to "have a word" with anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way. He’s also the same guy who will call you at 2 AM to complain about Jeonghan stealing his food or Seungkwan roasting his playlist choices.

It’s all very platonic.

At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself.

But here’s the thing—platonic friends don’t always behave the way Seungcheol does with you.

Like how he always walks closest to the road when you’re together. You thought he did that for everyone until Jeonghan once teased him about being your personal bodyguard. “What, I’m just making sure she’s safe,” he’d grumbled, cheeks faintly red. You’d laughed it off, but now every time he switches sides to keep you away from traffic, your brain unhelpfully replays Jeonghan’s teasing.

Then there’s his car. His precious car. The one you’ve seen him ban people from for spilling a drink or even breathing too close to the upholstery. Yet, somehow, you’re the only one allowed to eat fries in it without getting scolded. “Because you’re neat,” he’d explained once, though you distinctly remember dropping ketchup on the seat that one time. He cleaned it up himself and still handed you another fry.

And don’t even get started on the hand thing. He always has a hand on your back—guiding you through crowds, steadying you when you wobble on uneven ground, or just casually resting it there when you’re walking side by side.

It’s warm, reassuring, and totally not something friends think about when they’re lying in bed at night.

You tried asking him about it once. “You’re very handsy, you know.”

“Would you rather I let you trip and fall?” he’d retorted with a smirk.

“Not what I meant, but okay.”

The problem is, Seungcheol seems completely unaffected by all this. He treats you like you’re just another one of his friends, albeit one he’s particularly protective of. You’ve heard him swear up and down to Jeonghan and Seungkwan that you’re just his friend. Jeonghan, of course, doesn’t believe him.

“Right, because you hold all your ‘friends’ like they’re a national treasure,” Jeonghan had said, earning himself a withering glare.

“Shut up, Jeonghan,” Seungcheol had snapped, but his ears were noticeably pink.

Then there was Seungkwan, who once asked, “Why don’t you just marry her already? Save us all the suspense.”

“We’re friends,” Seungcheol had groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It’s honestly infuriating. Not because you want him to admit something else (okay, maybe you do, but only a little), but because it leaves you constantly second-guessing everything.

Like when he shows up to your apartment with soup because you mentioned a scratchy throat, or when he lingers outside your building after dropping you off just to make sure you’re inside safely.

Or—your personal favorite—when he softens. That big, tough guy act he puts on with everyone else melts the second he looks at you.

His voice gets gentler, his eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he’s suddenly the kind of guy who brushes hair out of your face without a second thought.

It’s maddening.

And apparently, you’re not the only one who thinks so.

“I don’t get it,” Jeonghan says one day, while you’re all sitting at a café. “Why are you two still dancing around each other? Just confess already.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “What?! There’s nothing to confess!”

“Exactly,” Seungcheol agrees, but his jaw tightens ever so slightly

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Sure. And I’m the president.”

“Jeonghan, drop it,” Seungcheol warns.

“Fine, fine.” Jeonghan smirks but doesn’t look convinced.

By the time you’re walking home together later, the conversation keeps replaying in your head. Seungcheol is quiet beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you say, bumping your shoulder against his.

He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“...Nothing important.”

You don’t push, but as his hand finds its familiar place on your back when you cross the street, you can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Jeonghan was onto something.

You knew it was going to be a long day when your boss handed you that stack of papers at 4 PM. By the time you finally wrapped up, the office was practically empty, the night sky spilling across the windows.

A quick glance at your phone confirmed what you already dreaded—you’d missed the last bus. Groaning, you stuffed your things into your bag, resigning yourself to the long walk home.

It wasn’t that bad. Just… cold, dark, and slightly creepy. You’d be fine.

Totally fine.

But when you pushed through the lobby doors and stepped outside, you stopped dead in your tracks.

There he was.

Choi Seungcheol, leaning casually against his car, arms crossed over his chest like he’d been waiting all night. His head tilted up as soon as he heard the door open, and when he saw you, that familiar, infuriatingly soft smile spread across his face.

“Finally,” he said, pushing off the car. “I thought you were going to sleep in there.”

Your mouth opened and closed a few times before you managed, “What… what are you doing here?”

“Picking you up,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world

“I didn’t ask you to.”

He shrugged. “Didn’t need to.”

You frowned, confused. “How did you even know I was still here?”

“Your light was on when I drove by earlier.”

“You drove by?”

He had the audacity to look sheepish. “I figured you’d miss the bus. And I didn’t want you walking home alone.”

Your heart did an annoying little flip. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Sure you can,” he said, completely unfazed. “But humor me, okay? Get in the car.”

You hesitated for a moment, debating whether to argue, but the cold wind nipping at your cheeks made the decision for you. “Fine,” you muttered, walking past him to the passenger door.

“Good choice,” he said, smirking as he opened the door for you.

The car was warm, smelling faintly of his cologne, and as you settled into the seat, you couldn’t help but notice the little things—how he’d adjusted the seat warmer on your side or how there was a blanket folded neatly in the backseat.

He climbed in and started the engine, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “Hungry?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You barely eat when you’re working late,” he said. “We can grab something on the way home.”

You stared at him, baffled. “Do you do this for all your friends?”

He smirked, pulling out of the parking lot. “Do what?”

“Show up unannounced, wait in the cold, and then offer to feed them.”

“Only the ones who miss the last bus.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “So just me, then?”

“Just you,” he admitted, glancing at you again with a small smile.

The ride home was quiet, the hum of the engine and the city lights passing by making everything feel oddly intimate. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you turned to him, suddenly unsure of what to say.

“Thanks for… this,” you said awkwardly, gesturing vaguely.

“Anytime,” he said easily.

As you reached for the door handle, he stopped you. “Hey.”

You turned back, and his expression had softened, the playful smirk replaced with something quieter, more sincere.

“Text me next time, okay? So I don’t have to guess.”

Your chest tightened, and you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

You stepped out of the car, his eyes on you the entire time, and as you walked to your building, you couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t just a friend. Not to you, anyway. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t just a friend to him either.

It was supposed to be a quiet night for Seungcheol. He’d gone out with some friends, had a couple of drinks, and was planning to head home early. But somehow, he ended up back at Jeonghan’s place with Seungkwan sitting cross-legged on the couch, both of them looking far too smug for his liking.

They were up to something. They were always up to something.

“So,” Jeonghan started, drawing out the word like he had all the time in the world, “guess who’s out on a date right now?”

Seungcheol barely glanced up from his phone. “I don’t know. Who?”

“You,” Seungkwan deadpanned, then snorted. “Kidding. It’s her.”

Seungcheol’s fingers froze mid-scroll. “What?”

“You know who,” Jeonghan said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s on a date,” Seungkwan added, like he was explaining something to a toddler.

Seungcheol’s brain short-circuited for a second. “Wait. What?”

“Why are you so shocked?” Jeonghan leaned back, looking like the cat that got the cream. “She’s a grown woman. She deserves to have a little fun.”

“She’s—she’s on a date?” Seungcheol repeated, his voice louder this time

“Yes, and he’s so handsome,” Seungkwan said dramatically, clasping his hands together like he was narrating a fairytale. “Tall, charming, great hair—”

“Wait a minute. You set her up?” Seungcheol cut in, his voice sharp

“Of course,” Jeonghan said breezily. “You weren’t making a move, so we figured someone else should.”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol started, then stopped, his jaw clenching. “She doesn’t need you meddling in her life.”

“She seemed fine with it,” Jeonghan said, grinning. “Actually, she looked pretty excited.”

That sentence hit Seungcheol like a punch to the gut. You? Excited to go on a date with some random guy? The thought made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t want to think about.

“I don’t get why you care so much,” Seungkwan said, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, she’s just your friend, right?”

Seungcheol’s head snapped toward him, but he didn’t say anything, his jaw working furiously as he tried to come up with a response.

“Right?” Seungkwan pressed, leaning forward.

Jeonghan smirked. “You do seem awfully worked up for someone who’s ‘just a friend.’”

Seungcheol shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel. “She is my friend.”

“Hmm,” Jeonghan hummed, unconvinced. “Then why do you look like you’re about to track down this guy and challenge him to a duel?”

“I’m not—” Seungcheol groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m just… concerned.”

“About what?” Seungkwan asked innocently.

“About her,” Seungcheol snapped. “What if he’s some creep? What if he says something to upset her? What if—”

“Oh my God,” Jeonghan interrupted, laughing. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Seungcheol said through gritted teeth.

“Then why are you gripping the couch like it insulted your ancestors?” Seungkwan asked, gesturing to Seungcheol’s white-knuckled hands.

“I’m just protective,” he argued weakly.

“Right. Protective,” Jeonghan said, rolling his eyes. “Because that totally explains the vein popping out of your forehead right now.”

Seungcheol groaned again, sinking back into the couch. He hated how transparent he was, especially to these two.

“Look,” Jeonghan said, leaning forward, his tone suddenly serious. “If you don’t want her going on dates with other guys, then maybe you should finally admit how you feel.”

“I don’t—”

“Don’t even try it,” Seungkwan cut in, holding up a hand. “We all know. She’s the only person you drop everything for. The only one you talk to with that stupid soft voice. You treat her like she’s your entire world, but you’re too stubborn to say it.”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Because they were right. They were absolutely, infuriatingly right.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe I feel something. But what if she doesn’t feel the same?”

Jeonghan snorted. “Are you kidding me? She’s just as bad as you. She talks about you all the time, and don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you. You’re both idiots.”

Seungkwan nodded solemnly. “Big, dumb idiots.”

Seungcheol stared at them, his mind racing. Maybe it was time to stop being an idiot.

“Where’s this date happening?” he asked suddenly.

Jeonghan and Seungkwan exchanged a glance, their smirks returning.

“Why?” Jeonghan asked, feigning innocence.

Seungcheol stood, grabbing his jacket. “Because I’m about to fix this.”

“Finally,” Seungkwan muttered, shaking his head.

Jeonghan grinned. “Go get her, tiger.”

And with that, Seungcheol stormed out, determined to set things right—even if it meant crashing your date.

Meanwhile you were having a perfectly peaceful evening. The kind where the air was crisp, the stars were starting to peek out, and the banana milk you’d picked up from the convenience store was hitting just right. Strolling through your neighborhood, you took another long sip, savoring the sweetness.

And then, like something out of a drama, Seungcheol’s sleek black car zipped past you.

You blinked, nearly choking on your drink.

Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. But then the brake lights lit up, and the car slowed before making a sharp U-turn.

You stopped walking, half-expecting someone else to step out of the car. But, of course, it was Seungcheol.

He parked haphazardly by the curb and got out, looking a little disheveled, which was unusual for him. His jacket was slightly askew, and his hair looked like he’d run his hands through it one too many times.

“Hey,” he said, jogging up to you, his voice slightly breathless.

“Uh, hi?” you said, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he countered, crossing his arms but not quite meeting your eyes.

“I’m just walking,” you replied, holding up your banana milk as if to prove your innocence. “What about you?”

He hesitated for a second too long. “I was… driving.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Driving? Around here?”

“Yeah,” he said quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was… in the area.”

“In the area?” you repeated, unconvinced.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his eyes flickered to the drink in your hand, betraying his nerves.

You decided not to press him. Seungcheol acting weird wasn’t exactly new, but something about him tonight seemed different. Like he was on edge. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense, and he kept shifting from foot to foot like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

He froze, then sighed, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m just… stressed,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Work?” you guessed.

“Something like that,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You frowned, feeling a pang of concern. Without thinking, you held out your banana milk to him, your fingers curling around the straw as you offered it up. “Here. This always makes me feel better.”

He blinked at you, caught completely off guard. “What?”

“Drink it,” you said, blinking up at him innocently. “It’ll help.”

He stared at you for a moment, his expression softening in that way that always made your heart skip a beat. “You’re sharing your banana milk with me?”

“Don’t make it weird,” you mumbled, cheeks warming.

A small smile tugged at his lips as he took the drink from you, his fingers brushing yours. He took a hesitant sip, his eyes never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world felt strangely quiet.

“Not bad,” he said, handing it back to you.

“See? Instant stress relief,” you said lightly, though your chest felt tight for reasons you didn’t want to examine too closely.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made you feel uncharacteristically shy. Finally, he reached out, ruffling your hair like he used to do when you were younger. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

You laughed softly, brushing his hand away. “Someone’s gotta take care of you.”

His smile faltered just slightly, something unspoken passing between you before he cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s just a short walk—”

“Let me drive you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You didn’t fight him on it. You weren’t sure why, but Seungcheol’s strange mood tugged at something deep inside you.

As you climbed into his car and he pulled onto the road, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his stress than he was letting on. And from the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened every time he glanced at you, you had a feeling he was thinking the exact same thing.

A few days later since that night. You're still wondering why Seungcheol was acting weird but you brush it off, thinking maybe he's just stressed because of work.

Now you're somewhere unfamiliar.

You sighed in frustration, staring at the unfamiliar street signs around you.

You were definitely lost.

The errand you thought would take twenty minutes had somehow turned into an hour-long disaster. To make matters worse, your phone signal had cut out just when you’d tried to pull up directions.

After wandering aimlessly for what felt like forever, your phone finally regained some service, and you immediately dialed Jeonghan’s number. He was your go-to for emergencies like this—always on his phone and annoyingly calm in situations where you were about ready to cry.

“Hello?” Jeonghan’s familiar voice answered on the first ring

“Jeonghan!” you practically wailed. “I’m lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed, sounding more amused than concerned. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned, scanning the street for anything remotely familiar. “I think I took a wrong turn somewhere, and then my phone lost signal, and now I have no idea where I am.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, clearly suppressing a laugh. “Relax. Describe your surroundings.”

You rattled off a description of the nearby buildings and street signs, and Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully. “Alright, I think I know where you are. Just stay put, and I’ll send someone to get you.”

“Wait—someone? Who?”

But before he could answer, the line disconnected.

Fifteen minutes later, as you sat on a bench scrolling through your now-working phone, your screen lit up with an incoming call from Seungcheol.

You hesitated for a second before answering. “Hello?”

“What the hell?” was the first thing out of his mouth, his voice a mix of irritation and concern.

“What?” you asked, confused

“Why didn’t you call me?” he demanded

You blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re lost, right? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I—” You paused, feeling slightly guilty. “I figured you’d be busy with work. I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother me?” he repeated incredulously. “You think calling me when you’re lost is a bother?”

“I mean… kind of?” you said hesitantly. “You’re always so busy, and I didn’t want to distract you.”

There was a brief pause, and when he spoke again, his tone was softer, almost hurt. “You’re never a bother, you know that, right?”

You swallowed, suddenly feeling small. “I didn’t want to interrupt anything important.”

“You’re important,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your heart did a funny little flip at his words, but you tried to shake it off. “Jeonghan said he’d send someone to get me,” you mumbled.

“Yeah, and that someone is me,” Seungcheol said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.”

“Oh,” was all you managed to say.

“Stay where you are. I’ll be there in ten minutes,” he said, and then the line went dead.

True to his word, Seungcheol’s car pulled up exactly ten minutes later. He got out and strode toward you, his expression a mixture of exasperation and relief.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning you for any signs of distress.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said sheepishly. “Sorry for making you come all the way out here.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said firmly. “Just… next time, call me first, okay? No matter what. I don’t care how busy I am.”

You nodded, feeling warmth spread through your chest at his words. “Okay. I will.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before reaching out to flick your forehead gently. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in his voice. “You scared me.”

You smiled up at him, clutching your phone tightly. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Always.”

And with that, he opened the car door for you, muttering something about making sure you had a proper map app installed while you slid into the passenger seat, feeling safer than you’d felt all day.

The car was quiet save for the low hum of the engine as Seungcheol drove. You sat in the passenger seat, sneaking glances at him every now and then. His brows were slightly furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. You could tell he was still annoyed—though more at himself than at you—but the silence was starting to get to you.

“Are you really mad?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper

He didn’t answer right away, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. You shifted in your seat, feeling a small pang of guilt.

“Cheol?” you tried again, a little louder this time

Finally, he glanced at you, just for a second, and that’s when he saw it—the faint pout on your lips, your eyes wide and filled with worry.

Whatever lingering annoyance he felt melted away instantly.

How could he ever stay mad at you?

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat.

In that fleeting moment, something clicked. He’d always known he cared about you, but this was different.

This was deeper.

The way his chest ached at the thought of you being lost, the way he couldn’t focus on anything else until he knew you were safe—it all made sense now.

He was in deep. Really, truly in deep.

But he kept that realization buried, locking it away for now. Because what if you didn’t feel the same? What if he ruined what you already had?

So instead of saying what was really on his mind, he shook his head and let out a small sigh. “No, I’m not mad,” he said softly, his voice losing all the sharpness from earlier.

“Really?” you asked, your pout disappearing as a hopeful smile crept onto your face.

He glanced at you again, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Really. Just… call me next time, okay? No matter what.”

“Okay,” you said quickly, nodding.

“Good,” he said, turning his attention back to the road. But the corner of his mouth quirked up, betraying his amusement at how eager you were to ease his worries.

And as you settled back into your seat, sipping the banana milk you’d insisted on bringing with you, Seungcheol kept driving, silently grappling with the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger—and you didn’t even know it.

It’s not something you consciously think about, but Seungcheol is the first person you instinctively search for in every situation.

Whether it’s at a gathering, in a crowded room, or even during simple moments like deciding where to sit, your eyes always find him first. And it’s always easy to spot him—because, without fail, he leaves a space open beside him, like he’s silently saving it just for you.

He never says anything about it, but you’ve come to notice how it’s always you in the passenger seat of his car, you who gets the last fry from his plate, and you who he lets get away with things no one else can.

One day, after an especially long week at work, you found yourself riding home with him again. The car was quiet, save for the soft hum of the radio, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander.

“Cheol,” you said, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Do you think…” You hesitated, biting your lip. “Do you think I’m taking advantage of you being such a good friend?”

He frowned slightly, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “What?”

“I mean…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain yourself. “You do so much for me. I feel like I’m always leaning on you, and maybe—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, pulling the car to a gentle stop at a red light. He turned to look at you, his expression soft but serious. “You’re not taking advantage of me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he reached over, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear in that way that always made your breath catch.

“I wouldn’t do any of it if I didn’t want to,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. Then, with a small smile, he added, “Take advantage of me all you want.”

You blinked at him, startled by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, it felt like the world outside the car had faded away, leaving only the two of you in your little bubble.

There was something in the way he said it, something in his gaze that made your chest tighten. Like he wasn’t just saying you could rely on him, but something deeper—something more.

But you didn’t push it, didn’t ask him to elaborate.

Instead, you smiled softly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Cheol.”

He nodded, turning back to the road as the light turned green, but his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel, as if he was trying to shake off whatever had just passed between you.

And though neither of you said it out loud, his words lingered in the air between you, unspoken but clear.

Take advantage of me all you want.

It sounded an awful lot like he was saying, I’m yours.

The music was loud, the kind that vibrated through your chest and made regular conversation impossible.

You were at yet another one of Seungkwan’s chaotic gatherings, where everyone was laughing, shouting, and dancing all at once. You were trying to tell Seungcheol something, but no matter how loud you spoke, your voice barely reached him over the noise.

Finally, with a little huff of frustration, you stepped closer to him. So close that you had to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. He raised an eyebrow at you, amused but curious, as if to ask, What’s up?

Without thinking, you stood on your tiptoes, your hand lightly gripping his arm for balance. Leaning in, you brought your lips close to his ear and whispered the words you’d been trying to say.

His reaction was immediate. You felt his hands gently rest on your waist, steadying you like it was second nature. His touch was warm, firm, and grounding in the chaos of the room.

“What?” he asked, turning his head slightly so his lips were near your ear now, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

You repeated yourself, barely able to focus with how close the two of you were. You could feel the heat radiating from him, smell the faint, familiar scent of his cologne.

When you pulled back just enough to look at him, you caught the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one of his hands down from your waist and took your hand in his.

Your breath hitched when his fingers laced with yours, his grip firm but gentle, like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, and he gave your hand a little squeeze, as if to silently say, I hear you now.

The moment stretched between you, the noise of the room fading into the background as you stared up at him. His eyes were warm, his smile soft, and for a second, you felt like the two of you were the only ones in the room.

“Better?” he asked, his voice just loud enough for you to hear.

You nodded, your cheeks warm as you managed a small smile. “Better.”

He didn’t let go of your hand for the rest of the night.

As the night wore on, you and Seungcheol gravitated toward each other like magnets. Even in the chaos of the party, you never strayed far, and he made no effort to hide how closely he kept you by his side.

At one point, you found yourself standing in front of him, tucked neatly into the protective circle of his arms. His broad frame loomed behind you, shielding your much smaller figure from the crowd. It was a natural thing, the way his arms rested lightly around your waist, his hands occasionally brushing against your sides.

You weren’t sure when you had become so glued to each other, but you didn’t mind. You felt safe there, cocooned in his warmth, the noise of the party fading into the background as you leaned into his steady presence.

Seungcheol leaned down slightly, his chin nearly brushing the top of your head as he murmured, “You okay?”

You turned your head slightly to glance back at him, your eyes meeting his. “Yeah, I’m good.”

His lips quirked into a soft smile, and he gave your waist a gentle squeeze, as if to reassure himself. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“I think I’m fine as long as I stay right here,” you replied without thinking, and you felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter behind you.

“Yeah?” he teased, his voice low and warm. “You planning to stick to me all night?”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Maybe.”

His laugh softened, and you felt his arms tighten around you ever so slightly. “Good,” he said, his voice quieter this time, almost like he hadn’t meant for you to hear it.

From the other side of the room, Seungkwan and Jeonghan stood together, sipping their drinks and watching the scene unfold like it was a live drama.

Jeonghan leaned casually against the wall, a smirk dancing on his lips as his eyes flicked between you and Seungcheol. “You seeing this?” he murmured, just loud enough for Seungkwan to hear over the noise.

“Oh, I’m seeing it,” Seungkwan replied, trying his best to keep a straight face but failing miserably. His grin threatened to split his face in two as he watched Seungcheol pull you closer, his arms tightening protectively around you.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. “Should we—”

“Don’t even think about it,” Seungkwan interrupted, though he looked like he was barely holding himself back. “You saw the look he gave us earlier. He’ll kill us if we say anything.”

Just then, Seungcheol’s eyes flicked toward them, sharp and warning. It was a look that screamed, Don’t. You. Dare.

Jeonghan, of course, couldn’t resist a bit of mischief. He raised his glass in a mock toast, tilting his head slightly as if to say, Oh, we’ll see about that.

Seungcheol’s glare darkened, and he subtly mouthed, Don’t.

Seungkwan elbowed Jeonghan, barely stifling his laughter. “You’re gonna get us both killed.”

“Oh, come on,” Jeonghan whispered back, smirking. “It’s too good not to say something. Look at them. She’s practically in his arms, and he’s acting like she’s the only person in the room.”

“I know, but...” Seungkwan hesitated, glancing back at Seungcheol, who had now fully turned his body to shield you from the crowd. “He’s terrifying when it comes to her.”

“Exactly,” Jeonghan said, his smirk widening. “Which makes this even more fun.”

Before either of them could act on their instincts, Seungcheol shot them another glare—this one so intense that even Jeonghan momentarily reconsidered his life choices.

Seungkwan cleared his throat, straightening up. “Yeah, nope. Not worth it. I like being alive.”

Jeonghan chuckled, but even he backed off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. We’ll let him have his moment. For now.”

But as they watched you and Seungcheol disappear into the night, Jeonghan leaned over to Seungkwan with a glint in his eye. “We’re never letting him live this down, though.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Seungkwan agreed, grinning. “We’re just waiting for the right moment to strike.”

And with that, the two of them shared a conspiratorial laugh, already plotting how they’d tease Seungcheol later—if they lived to tell the tale.

The quiet of the car was a stark contrast to the laughter and energy of the night. It was just the two of you now, the hum of the engine and the soft rush of air outside the windows filling the space between your thoughts.

Seungcheol’s eyes were on the road, his focus steady, but there was something different in the air tonight. It felt like the perfect moment to finally ask the question that had been lingering on your mind.

"Cheol?" you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence.

"Mhm?" he replied, glancing at you briefly before returning his gaze to the road.

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of your thoughts making your chest tighten just a little. "We're not just friends, are we?" you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

You had been wondering for a while now, but it felt like the right time to ask.

Seungcheol didn’t immediately respond. The car continued on its path, the sound of the engine filling the space. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was a quiet, almost amused undertone to it.

"Whatever you want me to be, I'll be that," he said simply, his eyes still on the road, but there was something in his tone that made your heart skip a beat.

You blinked, processing his words. "What does that mean?" you asked, voice quieter now, trying to decipher his meaning.

"It means," he began, "if you want me to be more than a friend, then that’s what I’ll be. If you want me to be something else, I’ll be that too."

You felt your chest tighten, the air between you both thick with unspoken things.

The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that things had shifted, that the line between just friends and something more was now more blurred than ever before.

"Thanks for the ride," you said softly, unable to hold back a small smile.

Seungcheol smiled back, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer. "Anytime,".

The boys had decided it was time for a beach day—a full day of sun, sand, and chaos. Naturally, Seungcheol insisted you join, claiming it wouldn’t be the same without you. So here you were, walking down the sandy shore with a tote bag slung over your shoulder while the boys argued over the best spot to set up.

Jeonghan, of course, found the shadiest area and claimed it before anyone could argue, while Seungkwan bickered about who had to blow up the inflatable. Meanwhile, Seungcheol carried your beach chair and umbrella, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were keeping up.

When everything was set up, you kicked off your sandals and ran toward the water, the cool waves splashing against your feet. The boys stayed back for a while, caught up in their own antics, until Jeonghan called out to Seungcheol.

“Hey, big guy! You’re really just going to let her wander off alone?”

Seungcheol rolled his eyes but still got up, his protective instincts kicking in almost immediately. He strolled down the beach after you, arms crossed casually over his chest, his broad shoulders drawing attention from passersby.

You were completely oblivious, laughing as you dipped your toes into the waves. That is, until a couple of guys sidled up to you, grinning and trying to make small talk.

“Hey, you here alone?” one of them asked, his tone far too confident for his own good.

“No,” you replied politely but firmly, already taking a step back.

“Come on, just a little chat—”

“Is there a problem here?”

That voice. Low, firm, and unmistakably Seungcheol’s.

The guys froze, their smiles faltering as they turned to see him standing there. His towering frame, sharp jawline, and intense gaze were enough to make them instantly reconsider their life choices.

“N-no, man, we were just—”

“Leaving,” Seungcheol finished for them, his tone leaving no room for argument.

They didn’t need to be told twice, muttering apologies as they shuffled away.

You turned to Seungcheol, your eyebrows raised. “That wasn’t necessary. I could’ve handled it.”

“I know you could’ve,” he said, his tone softening as he looked at you. “But why should you have to?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “My knight in shining board shorts.”

Seungcheol chuckled, nudging your shoulder gently. “Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

The two of you made your way back to the group, where Jeonghan and Seungkwan were snickering.

“Cheol scared off some beach bros, didn’t he?” Jeonghan guessed, smirking.

“Didn’t even have to try,” Seungkwan added. “He just exists, and they run for their lives.”

Seungcheol ignored them, guiding you to your chair and handing you a bottle of water. “Drink up,” he said, his hand brushing against yours briefly.

You didn’t miss the way his touch lingered or the way his gaze softened when he looked at you. And while the boys continued to tease him relentlessly, he just sat back with a satisfied smirk, his protective streak in full swing.

By the end of the day, no one even thought about approaching you again—not when Seungcheol made it very clear, without saying a word, that you weren’t alone.

The sun was beginning its slow descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The beach was quieter now, the once-loud waves now lapping gently at the shore. Seungcheol crouched down in front of you, his back turned as he gestured for you to hop on.

“Come on, before the sun sets,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a small grin.

“Why do I have to be the one on your back?” you teased, but you didn’t hesitate to climb on, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as his hands secured your legs.

“Because I’d crush you if it were the other way around,” he shot back, standing effortlessly with you in tow.

He started walking along the shoreline, the sand soft beneath his feet. You leaned your cheek against his, your fingers lightly tapping against his chest as you spoke.

“Did you know that sea otters hold hands while they sleep so they don’t drift apart?”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. It’s called a raft. Isn’t that cute?”

“Almost as cute as you randomly spitting out facts,” he said with a chuckle, glancing sideways at you.

You ignored him, continuing your stream of trivia. “Oh! And dolphins have names for each other. Like, they have a specific whistle for every dolphin in their pod.”

“Do they have a whistle for their favorite dolphin?” he asked, his voice teasing.

“Obviously,” you said, squishing your cheek harder against his. “If I were a dolphin, you’d have a whistle just for me.”

“I already do,” he murmured, his words so soft that you almost didn’t catch them over the sound of the waves.

You paused for a moment, the warm breeze brushing past the two of you. Then, out of nowhere, you whispered, “I love you.”

Seungcheol froze mid-step, his breath hitching just enough for you to notice. Slowly, he turned his head to look at you, his cheek brushing against yours.

“I was hoping I’d say it first,” he said with a soft laugh, his dimples deepening as he smiled at you.

Your heart swelled at the sight, and you couldn’t help but grin back. “Guess you’re too slow, Cheol.”

“Guess so,” he replied, his voice warm and steady. Then, without putting you down, he turned to face the sunset.

“Say it again,” he said after a moment, his tone teasing but with a hint of something deeper beneath it.

“I love you,” you said, softer this time, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke.

He let out a content sigh, his hands tightening slightly on your legs as if grounding himself in the moment.

“I love you too,” he finally said, his voice carrying all the tenderness he’d been holding back for so long.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, you stayed there, clinging to each other, both knowing you had everything you could ever need right in that moment.

[lanaroff]

To Love, To Stay

pearing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

summary: Reader and Wanda Maximoff are basking in the joy of a blossoming relationship when an unexpected pregnancy changes everything.

The first months with Wanda were a dream. Everything felt easy, natural. Dates at quaint little cafes, lazy mornings wrapped in blankets on the couch, and laughter—so much laughter. Wanda had a way of making even the simplest moments feel magical. It was as if being with her brought color to a life you hadn’t realized was so gray before.

You were still in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, enjoying every moment without thinking too far ahead. Conversations about the future felt distant, unimportant. All that mattered was the now, and the now was perfect.

But then things changed.

Wanda started acting distant. At first, it was subtle. She seemed preoccupied, her mind wandering during conversations. She canceled a couple of dates with vague excuses, and when you did see her, she wasn’t as present as she used to be. It wasn’t like her to pull away—Wanda was always so open, so warm.

You tried not to overthink it, but the nagging feeling that something was wrong only grew. It wasn’t until one evening, when you’d gone to her room at the Avengers Compound unannounced, that everything came crashing down.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar, and a small white stick sat on the counter. At first, it didn’t register what it was. But then you saw the two pink lines.

Your stomach dropped. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you. A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, but one stood out above the rest: She cheated on me.

“Wanda!” you called, your voice sharp and trembling. She appeared in the doorway, her face pale when she saw what you were holding.

“It’s not what you think,” she said quickly, her hands raised as if to calm you.

You scoffed, your chest tightening with anger and hurt. “Not what I think? Then explain this to me, Wanda, because it sure looks like you’ve been hiding something pretty big.”

“It’s yours,” she said, her voice steady despite the tears welling in her eyes. “The baby is yours.”

The words hit you like a freight train. “What?” you whispered, stumbling back a step. “No… no, we haven’t even talked about this. We never…” Your breathing quickened as panic set in. “I can’t do this. I can’t be a parent. I don’t know how.”

“Y/N please,” Wanda pleaded, her voice rising. She stepped closer, her eyes filled with desperation. “We can handle this. Together. Please, just listen—”

“Listen to what?” you snapped, your voice cracking. “That you decided to keep this from me? That you didn’t even think to talk to me about something this big? How could you, Wanda?”

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” she shouted back, tears streaming down her face now. “I was scared, okay? I… I didn’t know how you’d react. I’ve seen how you get when we even talk about the future, and I… I panicked.”

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “So you just decided to keep it to yourself? To make this decision for both of us?”

“I didn’t make any decisions,” she shot back. “I’m still trying to figure it out, just like you. But you… you’re running away before we can even talk about it.”

“Because I’m not ready for this!” you yelled, your voice echoing through the room. “I don’t know how to be a parent, Wanda. I don’t even know if I want to be a parent.”

Her face crumpled at your words, and for a moment, the room was silent except for the sound of her quiet sobs. You felt a pang of guilt, but the fear and anger coursing through you were too overwhelming.

“I need time,” you said finally, your voice breaking. Without another word, you turned and left, the sound of the door closing behind you echoing in your ears.

You found yourself at a bar, drowning your panic in shot after shot of whiskey. The fear clawed at your chest, and no amount of alcohol could quiet the voices in your head. Memories of your parents flashed through your mind—the yelling, the tears, the chaos.

Your father’s voice was always loud, sharp, biting. He had a temper that seemed to ignite over the smallest things, leaving you walking on eggshells every moment you were around him. Your mother, though softer, wasn’t much better. Her silence often felt as cutting as his words. She would retreat, disappearing into herself, leaving you to navigate the storm alone. You could still remember the fights—so loud, so consuming. Nights spent curled up in your room, covering your ears as the walls shook with their screaming matches.

When they finally left, it didn’t feel like relief. Your father slammed the door with a suitcase in hand, his angry footsteps echoing in your memory. Your mother stayed for a while, but her emptiness was suffocating. Then she too was gone, leaving nothing but the ghost of what a family should have been. They had both vanished from your life in different ways, but their absence carried the same message: You’re not worth staying for.

And now, here you were, standing on the precipice of creating a family of your own. The idea of it filled you with dread. What if you turned out just like them? What if you failed the way they did? What if you hurt the people you loved because that was all you’d ever known? The fear was paralyzing.

Yet, despite that fear, there was another feeling that cut through the haze of alcohol and self-loathing. Love. Love for Wanda. Love for the way she looked at you like you mattered, like you were worth something. Love for the way she could make you laugh even on your worst days. Love for the possibility of something good, something real. But was love enough to outweigh the fear?

Hours later, you stumbled into the Avengers Compound, your legs barely carrying you. The common area was dimly lit, and there she was, sitting on the couch, her eyes red from crying. Wanda shot up the moment she saw you, rushing to your side.

“Where have you been?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. She steadied you as you nearly collapsed, her arms strong and grounding despite your drunken state.

“Wanda,” you slurred, tears streaming down your face. “I’m so scared. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to be a parent. What if I ruin everything? What if I ruin them? I… I don’t want to hurt you, or… or our baby.”

Her face softened, and she guided you to sit down, keeping her hands on your shoulders as if to anchor you.

“You think I’m not scared too?” she said, her voice breaking as she held you close. “Do you think I have all the answers? I don’t. But I know one thing—I love you, and I want to do this with you. Please don’t shut me out. Don’t run from me.”

“I’m not running,” you said, your voice cracking as you sobbed into her shoulder. “I… I just don’t know how to be anything other than scared. My parents were a mess, Wanda. They destroyed each other, and they destroyed me. What if I… what if I’m just like them?”

“You’re not them,” Wanda said firmly, her hands cupping your face. Her thumbs brushed away your tears, her touch gentle but steady. “You’re kind, and loving, and you’ve already shown me how much you care. That’s what matters. You don’t have to be perfect. We just have to love them, and each other. We can do this.”

You looked into her eyes, seeing nothing but warmth and determination. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I’m so sorry for how I reacted. I… I love you so much, Wanda. I don’t think I ever thought I’d be this happy, and it scares me. But the thought of losing you scares me even more.”

Wanda’s lips quivered as she smiled through her own tears. “I love you too,” she said, her voice soft and full of emotion. “And you’re not going to lose me. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

“I don’t deserve you,” you said, your voice breaking again. “But I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to. I promise.”

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, her hands still cradling your face. “You already do,” she whispered against your lips. “And you’ll be an amazing parent. I know you will.”

The two of you sat there, holding each other as the weight of the night slowly lifted. It wouldn’t be easy—you knew that. But as long as you had Wanda by your side, you felt like maybe, just maybe, you could face whatever came next. Together.

[aspenmissing]

I’m projecting badly but I’m alone and I hurt… what about Viktor, Jayce, and Jinx with an s/o that suffers from two forms (genetic lotto, lost) of early onset arthritis but due to high pain tolerance, easily hidden braces and usually well managed pain medication… simply never told them about their condition until one day they show up using the cane they only need on exceptionally bad pain days, much needed simply to stay upright.

ᴜɴꜱᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊɪɴx | ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 3943 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ||

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴍᴇᴅɪᴄᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ (ᴀʀᴛʜʀɪᴛɪꜱ), ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ (ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴜʀᴅᴇɴ).

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ᴏʜ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ɪꜰ ɪᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ꜱᴏʀᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ꜰᴏʀɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ɪɴᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇᴀʙʟᴇ ɪɴ ᴀʀᴛʜʀɪᴛɪꜱ - ʙɪᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ ᴍʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜰᴇᴇʟꜱ. ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ᴠᴇʀʏ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏ/ɴɪɢʜᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

Y/N’s arthritis wasn’t something she spoke about often. Diagnosed young, she’d learned to adapt over the years—hidden braces, carefully managed medication, and a remarkable tolerance for pain. It wasn’t a matter of shame but rather a deep-seated instinct to handle it herself. She didn’t want the condition to define her or become a reason for others to treat her differently. On most days, it wasn’t obvious. Her movements were smooth, her posture upright, and her smile steady.

Her colleagues and friends had no idea she lived with the condition, and she preferred it that way.

But some days were different. Some days, the pain flared so intensely it felt as though her body were betraying her, her joints a battlefield she couldn’t escape. On those rare occasions, she relied on a cane—an unspoken admission that her strength alone wasn’t enough.

Today was one of those days.

The morning had been particularly cruel. Her knees and wrists throbbed even before she attempted to get out of bed. Every joint seemed to protest as she moved, her fingers stiff and uncooperative as she fumbled with the simple act of getting dressed. Each step felt like walking through wet cement, every movement a negotiation with pain. She’d sat on the edge of her bed for a long moment, staring at the cane propped against her wardrobe. She hated using it. Hated what it represented.

But today, there was no getting around it.

Work beckoned, as it always did. Y/N wasn’t one to let discomfort stop her. She had too much to do, too many projects and experiments that needed her attention. So, with a resigned sigh, she grabbed the cane and made her way to the lab, each tap against the tiled floor echoing louder in her ears than it probably was.

She told herself no one would notice.

That hope was dashed the moment Jayce turned around.

His attention snapped to her like a magnet, his usual easygoing smile faltering as his eyes zeroed in on the cane. His expression shifted from surprise to concern in an instant, his brow furrowing as he took a step closer.

“Y/N?” he asked, his voice laced with worry. “What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

Y/N winced internally. Of course, he’d notice. There was no hiding the cane, no brushing this off. She offered a smile, though it was strained. “I’m fine, Jayce,” she said lightly, her voice betraying none of the pain that lanced through her with every step. “Just... having a bit of a bad day.”

Jayce’s work was forgotten as he moved towards her, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, as though he wasn’t sure how close he should get. He stopped a few steps away, his hands hovering mid-air like he wanted to help but didn’t want to overstep.

“A bad day?” he repeated, his gaze flickering between her face and the cane. “Y/N, you’re using a cane. Why didn’t you tell me you needed one?”

She sighed, leaning the cane against the nearest table as she lowered herself into a chair. The relief of sitting down was immediate, though she didn’t let it show. “Because I don’t, usually. Only on really bad days.”

Jayce crouched in front of her, his warm brown eyes filled with worry. “What do you mean, ‘really bad days’? What’s going on?”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers tightening around the cane’s handle. She’d spent years keeping this part of her life private, even from Jayce. It wasn’t about trust—it was about independence, about not wanting to burden anyone. But there was no avoiding it now.

“I have arthritis,” she admitted quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the hum of the lab’s machinery. “Two kinds, actually. Early onset. It’s genetic.”

Jayce’s expression softened, concern deepening as understanding began to dawn. “Arthritis? Since when?”

“Since I was a kid,” she said, offering a small, wry smile. “It’s manageable most of the time. Painkillers, braces, pacing myself—it usually works. But sometimes... the pain flares up. Like today.”

He shook his head slowly, disbelief mingling with worry. “Y/N, why didn’t you tell me? I’m your boyfriend—I would’ve helped.”

She looked away, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Because I didn’t want to worry you,” she said, her voice soft but steady. “I’ve lived with this for so long that it’s just... part of life. I can handle it.”

Jayce reached out, his hand enveloping hers with a warmth that made her chest tighten. “But you don’t have to handle it alone,” he said firmly, his voice low and steady. “You know that, right? You can lean on me, Y/N. Literally, if you need to.” He cracked a small, lopsided smile, an attempt to lighten the mood.

Her lips trembled, and she blinked against the tears that suddenly blurred her vision. “Jayce, I didn’t want to be a burden. You’ve got so much on your plate already.”

“You’re not a burden,” he said with quiet conviction, squeezing her hand gently. “You never could be. I hate the thought of you hiding this, suffering in silence. You don’t have to be strong all the time.”

A tear slipped free, and she hastily wiped it away, a small, shaky laugh escaping her. “Alright,” she said after a moment, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll try to let you in more.”

Jayce smiled warmly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “That’s all I ask.”

From that day forward, Y/N began to share more of her struggles. Jayce threw himself into learning everything he could about arthritis, scouring research papers and talking to specialists. He designed tools in the lab to help ease her pain on difficult days, his care and attention shining through in every detail.

And on those rare days when Y/N needed her cane, Jayce stood proudly by her side, his love for her unwavering. She wasn’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

VIKTOR

It had been a quiet morning in the lab, sunlight streaming through the high windows and casting long shadows over the many contraptions that filled the room. Viktor sat at his workbench, his fingers deftly tinkering with a hextech core, while Jayce hovered nearby, deep in thought, scribbling notes on a blueprint spread across the table. The usual hum of creativity filled the air, the faint whir of Viktor’s mechanical leg accompanying the occasional clink of metal tools against delicate machinery. Everything seemed normal—calm, productive, routine.

But something was off.

The sound of your steps broke through the stillness, heavier than usual, each one deliberate and measured. There was an unfamiliar tap accompanying them, a rhythm out of sync with the soft padding of your shoes. Viktor looked up instinctively, and his heart immediately sank. You stood in the doorway, gripping a cane, your knuckles white against the polished wood. The shadows beneath your eyes were darker than usual, your lips pressed tightly together as if to suppress a grimace. Even the faint smile you managed looked strained, barely holding against the weight of whatever pain you were carrying.

“Miláčku,” Viktor said softly, setting down his tools. His golden eyes locked onto you, concern etched into every line of his face. “What is this? Why are you using that?” (Darling)

You froze for a moment, your mind racing for an explanation. You hadn’t wanted this to happen, hadn’t wanted him to see you like this. For years, you’d carefully concealed the realities of your condition—braces hidden under long sleeves and trousers, medication tucked discreetly into your bag, a well-practised mask of strength that rarely faltered. But today… today, the pain was unrelenting, a relentless storm that surged through your joints with every movement. The cane was the only thing keeping you upright, but it was also the betrayal of a secret you’d worked so hard to keep.

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly, forcing a lightness you didn’t feel. “Just a bad day. You know how it is.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He was no stranger to hiding pain—he recognised the way you shifted your weight carefully from one leg to the other, the way your shoulders tensed as if bracing against an invisible force. Slowly, he rose from his stool, leaning on his own cane as he made his way toward you.

“You are lying,” he said gently but firmly, his voice laced with quiet determination. “Please, tell me the truth.”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to the floor. His voice wasn’t accusatory—it was filled with worry, the kind that made your chest ache even more than the pain in your knees and wrists. With a deep breath, you decided there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I have arthritis,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Two types, actually. It’s genetic and… well, I got unlucky.” You tried to laugh, but it came out hollow. “Most days, it’s manageable. I can push through. But today…” Your grip on the cane tightened. “Today isn’t one of those days.”

Viktor stopped in front of you, his expression shifting into something unreadable. He reached out hesitantly, his hand hovering over yours on the cane before finally settling lightly atop it. The warmth of his touch grounded you, even as his silence stretched on for a moment too long.

“And you never told me?” he asked finally, his voice trembling just slightly, a mix of hurt and concern. “Why, Y/N? Why would you keep this from me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you said quickly, your words tumbling out in a rush. “You already have enough to deal with, Vik. Your work, your health, everything with Piltover. I didn’t want to add to that.”

Viktor let out a sharp exhale, his brows knitting together. “Lásko...” He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “You are not a burden. You could never be a burden. If you are in pain, I want to know. I want to help.” (Love)

Tears pricked your eyes, blurring the golden glow of his irises. His sincerity was overwhelming, his words breaking through the walls you’d built around yourself. You let out a shaky laugh, trying to lighten the moment. “You’re going to regret saying that when I start complaining about how much my joints hate me.”

A small smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, though his eyes remained serious. “Then we can complain together,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to support you. “Come, sit. You should not be standing like this.”

You let him guide you to a nearby chair, easing down with a grateful sigh as the pressure on your knees lifted. Viktor pulled up a stool beside you, his hand never leaving yours.

“From now on,” he said softly, his gaze fixed on yours, “no more hiding. We face this together, yes?”

You nodded, your heart swelling at the unwavering resolve in his voice. “Together,” you agreed.

Viktor pressed a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if sealing his promise. When he pulled back, there was a new determination in his expression, the kind that always lit up his face when he was deep in thought.

“I will look into this,” he said firmly, his mind already racing with possibilities. “There may be something hextech can do to ease your pain, or at least make your bad days less… bad. I promise you, Y/N, we will find a way to make things better.”

For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to lean on him—not just physically, but emotionally. And in his arms, you realised that you didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

JINX

Jinx hadn’t seen Y/N all morning, which was unusual. Normally, you’d have already poked your head into her room by now, making some sarcastic quip about her projects, asking if she ever slept, or offering her something to eat. It was your routine—your way of grounding her when her thoughts spiralled out of control. But today? Silence.

She frowned, throwing aside the pile of blueprints she’d been half-heartedly sorting. The hideout felt eerily quiet, and the faint hum of the city outside seemed to grow louder in the stillness.

“Y/N?” she called out, stepping into the main room. Her voice echoed, and the emptiness only deepened her unease.

Jinx’s sharp eyes darted around, scanning every corner. No sign of you. The gnawing feeling of dread, the one she thought she’d buried long ago, crept up her spine. She hated this—hated the hollow ache that came with wondering if someone she cared about had disappeared, leaving her behind again.

She clenched her fists, shaking her head as if to banish the thought. “Get it together,” she muttered to herself, before heading towards the workshop.

As she neared the doorway, the sound of faint, uneven footsteps on the stairs made her freeze mid-step. Her heart leapt to her throat.

“Y/N?” she called again, her voice hesitant this time.

When you finally appeared, gripping the railing tightly with one hand and clutching a cane in the other, Jinx’s breath caught. Her bright blue eyes widened as she took in the sight of you.

Your face was pale, a sheen of sweat on your forehead. The usual warmth in your expression was dimmed, replaced by an exhaustion you couldn’t quite hide. For once, you looked... vulnerable.

“Jinx,” you greeted softly, your voice as steady as you could manage. You offered her a smile, the same comforting one you always gave her, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“What the hell, Y/N?” Jinx demanded, sprinting over to you. Her sharp gaze darted between your face and the cane. “What’s this? You hurt? Did someone do this to you?”

You huffed a weak laugh, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Calm down, love. No one did this to me. It’s just... well, it’s me.”

Jinx’s frown deepened, her confusion giving way to worry. “What do you mean, ‘it’s just you’? You’re not making any sense.”

You sighed, gesturing for her to help you over to the nearby sofa. She was at your side in an instant, her hands hovering nervously as though unsure where to touch. She ended up slipping an arm around your waist, supporting you as you eased down onto the worn cushions.

The relief was immediate, though the ache in your joints persisted. You let out a breath, wincing slightly as you adjusted your position. Jinx stood in front of you, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her foot tapping anxiously against the floor.

“Alright,” she said, her voice sharper than usual, “start talking.”

““I’ve got arthritis.” you began, your tone calm but serious. “Early-onset. Two kinds, actually. Lucky me, eh?”

Her jaw dropped, her expression twisting into one of disbelief. “What? Since when?”

“Since always, really,” you replied with a shrug. “It’s genetic. But I manage it, mostly. Pain meds, braces... you’ve just never noticed because I’m good at hiding it. Today’s just... a bad day.”

Jinx’s brows knitted together, and she clenched her fists at her sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly. “You always tell me to come to you when something’s wrong. Why didn’t you do the same?”

You reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “Because I didn’t want you to worry, Jinx. You’ve got enough on your plate without adding me to it.”

“That’s stupid,” she shot back, her tone laced with frustration. “You’re the one person who’s always been there for me. You can’t just... hide this from me! What if you get worse? What if you—”

Her words faltered, her voice breaking as her throat tightened. She looked away, blinking rapidly, but not before you saw the tears welling in her eyes.

“Jinx,” you said softly, your voice full of warmth as you reached up to cup her cheek. She flinched slightly but didn’t pull away. Instead, you gently turned her face back towards you. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ve been dealing with this for years, and I’ll keep dealing with it. But you’re right. I should’ve told you. I’m sorry.”

Her lip wobbled, and she let out a shaky breath, her blue eyes searching yours. “You scared me,” she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” you said, pulling her into a hug. She hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around you, clinging tightly. Her grip was firm but careful, as though afraid she might hurt you.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the faint hum of machinery in the background and the distant murmur of the city outside.

When Jinx finally pulled back, her expression had shifted. Her usual manic energy was creeping back, though her concern still lingered. “Alright, here’s the deal,” she said, her voice more determined now. “From now on, no more secrets, yeah? If you’re in pain or need help, you tell me. Got it?”

You smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “Got it.”

“Good,” she said, standing up and cracking her knuckles. “Now, you sit there and rest while I go blow something up. That’ll make us both feel better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Go on, then. Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“No promises!” she called over her shoulder, her grin wide and mischievous. But as she bounded towards the door, she paused, glancing back at you. Her gaze lingered, softer than usual, before she finally disappeared from sight.

You leaned back against the cushions, letting out a slow breath. The pain was still there, a constant ache in your joints, but for the first time in a long while, the weight on your heart felt a little lighter. You didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

BONUS: JAYVIK

The soft glow of Piltover’s lanterns spilled through the workshop windows as the rhythmic clinking of tools filled the air. Jayce was hunched over a blueprint, his brow furrowed in concentration, his hand occasionally scribbling notes in the margins. Viktor, seated nearby, tinkered with a new Hextech prototype, his movements precise despite the faint tremor in his hands. Both men were so engrossed in their work that neither noticed you entering the room—until the unmistakable sound of a cane tapping against the floor cut through the silence.

Jayce’s head shot up immediately, his blue eyes wide with concern. Viktor’s hand stilled, his grip tightening on the small screwdriver in his fingers as he turned towards you. The intensity of their gazes was almost enough to make you want to turn around and leave, but the pain radiating through your joints made standing without the cane a battle you weren’t willing to fight.

“Y/N?” Jayce’s voice was thick with alarm, his gaze dropping instantly to the cane in your hand. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You hesitated, your hand tightening around the polished wood. The pain today was unbearable, spreading through your body like fire, refusing to be ignored even with the strongest medication you had on hand. It had taken everything you had just to make it to the workshop. Hiding this from them had always been easy—you’d mastered the art of disguising discomfort with easy smiles and careful movements—but today wasn’t one of those days.

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Just… a bad day.”

“Nothing?” Jayce echoed, his voice rising slightly with disbelief. “Love, you’re using a cane. That’s not nothing. What’s going on?”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the weight of both the pain and their scrutiny. “It’s arthritis,” you admitted at last, your tone calm but firm. “I’ve had it for years. Most days, it’s manageable. I don’t even need the cane most of the time. But sometimes…” You glanced at the cane in your hand, then back at them, gesturing vaguely. “Well, sometimes it’s like this.”

Jayce looked as though someone had just punched him in the gut. His mouth opened and closed several times before he managed to get the words out. “You’ve had it for years? And you didn’t think to tell us?”

Viktor, however, didn’t react with the same shock. His amber eyes studied you with quiet understanding, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned back slightly in his chair. “You didn’t want us to worry,” he said gently, his voice low and measured. “You’ve dealt with it alone because you thought it was easier that way. Am I right?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you nodded. “Yes,” you admitted after a moment. “I didn’t want to burden either of you. You’ve both got so much on your plates already—Hextech, the Council, everything with Zaun. I didn’t want to add to it.”

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, his pacing footsteps echoing softly in the workshop. “Burden us?” he repeated, his voice tight with emotion. “You’re not a burden. You never could be. How could you even think that?”

“Because I know how much you two care,” you said softly, your eyes flicking between them. “And I didn’t want to see that look on your faces—this look—every time I had a bad day.”

Viktor’s own cane tapped gently against the floor as he moved closer to you, his expression steady but compassionate. “I understand,” he said, his tone reassuring. “It is not easy to let others see your struggles, especially when you’ve become so used to hiding them. But you don’t have to hide from us.”

Jayce stopped pacing and turned to face you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He’s right,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with guilt. “We’re a team, Y/N. If you’re hurting, we want to know. We need to know.”

You felt your resolve waver under their combined concern, a lump forming in your throat. “I didn’t want to seem weak,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Y/N.” Viktor’s tone was firm but warm. “Strength is not pretending to be fine when you are not. It is letting those who care for you help.” He paused, a flicker of amusement softening his serious expression. “Besides, if you ever need to borrow my cane, you’re welcome to it. We can be a matching set.”

A startled laugh bubbled up through your tears, and you found yourself smiling despite the ache in your joints. “What, and have the two of us hobbling around like an old married couple?” you teased. “I think I’ll pass, Viktor.”

Jayce’s lips twitched into a smile, his shoulders relaxing as some of the tension left the room. “For the record,” he said, crossing the room in a few long strides and wrapping you in a fierce hug, “you’re not weak, Y/N. And you don’t have to do this alone anymore. We’re here—for the good days and the bad ones.”

Viktor placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his touch grounding. “And I promise I won’t make too many jokes about sharing canes. Only a few.” His eyes sparkled with subtle mischief.

You leaned into Jayce’s embrace, feeling the weight you’d been carrying alone begin to lift. With Jayce’s unrelenting support and Viktor’s quiet understanding—peppered with his dry humour—you realised you didn’t have to face the worst days alone anymore. And that thought, more than anything, made the pain a little easier to bear.

[linklethehistorian]

Hi — OP here. I wanted to highlight some of the tags that I thought were worth showing from y’all insightful folks (especially those in other countries) who have been reblogging:

Also, since I’m getting a few people reblogging and/or commenting like I’m fearmongering and saying the situation is already doomed:

This was NOT my intent. I am well aware of everything that’s required for this to get passed. I’m well aware it’s a slim shot of it happening. This does not make it a non-threat. Listen to the voices around you — even those who do not live in this country. Listen to them, and take heed of their warnings. They know this situation by heart, from experience. They’ve seen it all before.

Listen to the people who know their history, who know history in general of situations that were similar. They speak the truth.

Me telling you that this will not be the end was not fearmongering and it was not an attempt to be demoralizing and it was not treating the situation like, or implying it was, an inescapable Armageddon. I know it sounds terrifying, but that’s because it is. And people need to see that. They need to think about it. They need to know what is at stake in the event this passes, however unlikely those odds may or may not be.

It was a warning. A call to action. A “unless we both as a country and as individuals act to stop it here and now, this will happen.”

The reason why I did not bring up the odds is largely because I was in a hurry to get this out, because I wanted to alert people as soon as I could. Because this it’s important. As I have said previously, this post was made very early in to this becoming public knowledge. There weren’t many places talking about it yet and I wanted to do so before people started flooding in with the dangerous, downplaying “don’t worry, it’s a 0% chance” rhetoric that would convince people it wasn’t worth acting against and that they didn’t have to do anything, because they’d think they could trust it would all just be okay.

And you should never just trust that it will all be okay, if there’s something you can do to help ensure that. The odds of the situation are ultimately entirely irrelevant when it comes to the necessity to act. You should always treat situations like this like if you don’t act, no one will.

As I have said in another post, while it’s understandable people want to comfort themselves, there is no such thing as a 0% chance, and there is also no such thing as slim odds unless you act in every way you can to ensure the odds are, in fact, as slim as you believe and hope them to be, and spreading anything along those lines is to play an extremely dangerous game that only helps your enemy.

We are not omniscient. We cannot read the hearts and minds of each individual member of congress and head of state and know in an instant how they feel, nor can we see the future. Betting on odds to save your life and your fate and the lives and fates of everyone you know and love when you could be doing something to at least help those odds is a fool’s game.

Do your research. Know your odds, if it helps to comfort you. Check out the links the kind people in the reblogs and comments have sent or offered you and listen to those around you.

But don’t ever assume that you don’t have to act. Especially on important matters like this.

Yes, part of the reason this bill got passed may have been a distraction tactic to get you to look the other way from other things going on; HOWEVER, THIS DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS DANGEROUS OR A NON-THREAT.

Multiple things can be a threat at once. Something can be both a distraction and a serious attempt to alter the course of the American future. You can care about multiple things at once. You don’t have to choose. But if you do choose only a few, certainly don’t choose to ignore the amendment that could permanently alter how America runs and allow this man — or people like him — to have a grip over this country for 12 years each, and pave the way for lifelong dictatorships.

Thanks for your time and all the reblogs that help made this post spread. My blog is not super popular, so I never could’ve dreamed this would fly away like it has, but I’m so happy that it was something important like this that took off.

I love you all. We’re in this together. Protect your country in any way you can. Be safe. There is hope, but it’s hope we need to help carve out by our own hands. Not hope we put blindly into the hands of others.

Source

Transcript:

“BREAKING: A constitutional amendment has been filed allowing President Trump to seek a 3rd term in office.

"No person shall be elected to the office of the President more than three times, nor be elected to any additional term after being elected to two consecutive terms, and no person who has held the office of President, or acted as President, for more than two years of a term to which some other person was elected President shall be elected to the office of the President more than twice."

It was filed by Congressman Andy Ogles (R-TN).

Don’t let this slip by unnoticed. This is not just “one extra term”, it’s a warning shot. It’s a red flag. It’s an omen.

They are slowly turning up the heat in the pan. Do not be the frog who sits denying it’s getting hotter.

One extra term will become two, two will become three, and three will eventually give way to lifelong reign of each president.

Fight. Fight for God’s sake.

Contact your local representative of congress. Convince them we do not want this.

We are going to end up in a dictatorship.

@ikiyou

Please help spread this. I don’t usually get political and I don’t usually ask for assistance but this is important and you have more reach.

[bougiebutchbitch]

never gonna actually do it because it would be a MASSIVE project but

if I were to write a Shen Jiu redemption arc

it would be with the knowledge that his original character would die like he did in the book - aka, being a prideful, toxic, Binghe-hating, abusive&abused little shit to the end

...then, in classic fanfic fashion, he'd be reincarnated in his shizun-self with young disciple Luo Binghe locked in the woodshed after a beating. Aka, where Shen Yuan came in

of course once he gets over the panic

(and the confused morass of emotions upon seeing Yue Qingyuan alive)

his first thought is. I have to kill that fucking monster.

and he goes to do just that - but Binghe is the protagonist and the protagonist can't die/the System stops him/etc. etc. etc.

eventually, despite a... couple more attempts, Shen Jiu realises the only way he's going to change his fate is the long and hard way (aka, repairing every single relationship he's spent his whole life RUINING)

he starts acting in subtly ooc ways, specifically as a ploy to convince people to like him. He is constantly thinking about how he can manipulate their opinion of him to show himself in a good light, and he is not above undercutting other people to paint himself as a Sweet Innocent Shizun who only puts on a cold mask because he's easily flustered. He does his damned best to convince everyone that he's not really a villain. He's just misunderstood. He's still harsh to his disciples, but it's interspersed with far more (reluctant) praise, and always for a genuine teaching purpose, so he can pretend he cares for them really, deep down.

Oh - it makes him sick. His loathing of Binghe festers as the child slooowly begins to creep out of his shell and become more attached to him. He seeks to maintain as much distance from him as possible while still maintaining his 'kind shizun' demeanour, but of course, Binghe being Binghe (and barely needing an excuse to develop a terrible crush on his teacher) makes that very difficult.

Basically: I want Shen Jiu scheming on how he can trick the whole world into thinking he's not a villain, while he himself still considers himself a despicable and irredeemable monster who is cunningly cheating death. I want his intentions to be genuinely rotten. I want him to loathe everyone and everything, and internally gnash his teeth and roll his eyes and inspect any kindness he's shown, working it into that massive web of paranoia that hovers above his head and tells him all the ways in which his so-called 'friends' and disciples may still turn on him in future

I want him to not realise that actions matter far more than intentions, and genuinely endear himself to a lot of people, his shit personality and all. They're like - yeah, that's Shen Qingqiu! He's a backstabbing two faced son of a bitch, but he keeps pulling through for us at the last moment, and he obviously cares deeply about his disciples! We all love him! He might be a dick, but he's our dick!

All while Shen Jiu is very much stuck in a Paranoid Torment Nexus of his own creation

he becomes the peaks' horrid little cat, is what I'm saying

[cei1ne]

—You suffer from anemia yet your boyfriends as supportive as ever, just in his own way

დ .•*”Summary: You suffer from anemia but you don’t let it stop you from becoming a hero, yet, your boyfriend’s a stubborn mess and forced you to rest.

༺ღ༒Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x GN!Anemic!Reader

☆࿐ཽ༵Tags: High school; Relationship; UA; GN!Reader

＊*•̩̩͙Warnings: Cursing?; Anemia; Overprotective boyfriend

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳Word count: 3.8k

‧͙⁺˚*･A/N: Someone requested this but it was anonymous and my tumblr was bugging lately! It just got deleted but I still had lots of fun writing this and I hope you’ll have just as much fun reading this! And I didn’t know if they meant headcanons or Scenario so I just did both!

Headcanons: Katsuki Bakugou x GN!Anemic!Reader

1. Worry Masked by Irritation: Bakugou would constantly mask his concern for your condition by pretending to be annoyed. He’d grumble about you being “too weak” but would secretly go above and beyond to ensure you’re healthy.

2. Diet Control Freak: He’d take control of your meals, researching iron-rich foods and sneaking them into your diet. If you tried to resist, he’d shove a plate at you with a snarky remark like, “Eat this before I lose it.”

3. Hyper Awareness: Bakugou would become hyper-aware of your signs of fatigue or dizziness. If you so much as swayed while standing, he’d immediately drag you to sit down.

4. Loud Protector: If anyone dared to tease or question you about your condition, he’d explode (figuratively and maybe literally). “You got something to say?! Say it to me!”

5. Gentle in Private: Though Bakugou is explosive in public, in private, he’d show softer affection. He’d tuck blankets around you, carry you to bed if you overexerted yourself, and grumble softly, “Don’t push yourself, idiot.”

6. Hates Seeing You Weak: Seeing you too tired to get up genuinely unnerves him. He’d pace, bark orders, and eventually sit by your side, silently holding your hand.

7. Acts of Service: Bakugou would do small things like fetching water, helping you stand, or taking on your chores. Of course, he’d act like it’s no big deal. “You’re lucky I’m not a total asshole, huh?”

8. Research Master: He’d secretly learn about anemia from every available resource and even consult Recovery Girl or doctors. He wouldn’t tell you about it, though; he’d just start doing things that showed he knew what he was talking about.

9. Training Adjustment: He’d modify training sessions for you, subtly encouraging you to take breaks without making you feel weak. He might even offer to spar lightly to “keep you on your toes.”

10. Blunt Reassurance: If you ever felt self-conscious about your condition, Bakugou would bluntly shut you down. “You’re not weak. You’re mine, and that’s all that matters.”

Got it! Here’s the extended version of the scenario, which will build up to at least 4,000 words with added details, inner thoughts, interactions with other characters, and expanded scenes.

Rest is for the Weak (But Not for You)

The morning started like any other. The dorms buzzed with activity as Class 1-A prepared for the day ahead. You had been one of the first to wake, though not because you were particularly eager. A familiar heaviness sat on your chest, and your limbs felt as though they were weighed down by lead.

It was nothing new. This was your normal.

“Y/N, you doing okay?” Mina’s cheerful voice rang out as she caught sight of you rubbing your temples. “You look kinda pale.”

You gave her a small smile, brushing it off. “I’m fine. Just a bit tired.”

“You sure? I can grab you something from the cafeteria real quick if you need it!”

“Thanks, Mina, but I’m good,” you said firmly, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself.

She hesitated but eventually nodded, skipping off to join the others. As you gathered your things and headed toward the training grounds, you could feel the weight of someone’s gaze on you.

Turning your head, you locked eyes with Bakugou.

He didn’t say anything, but his narrowed eyes and furrowed brow made it clear he’d heard the exchange. You pretended not to notice and hurried to catch up with the others, hoping he wouldn’t press the issue.

_________________________________

The training session was supposed to be routine—a series of combat drills designed to test reflexes and stamina. You had been paired with Midoriya for a sparring match, something that usually wouldn’t faze you.

But today, every movement felt sluggish. Your punches lacked their usual strength, and your dodges were just a fraction too slow. Midoriya, ever the observant one, noticed almost immediately.

“Y/N, are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he asked, concern etched into his face as he blocked one of your weak punches.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, dodging to the side as he retaliated.

But the dizziness was getting worse. Your vision blurred at the edges, and the sound of your own heartbeat roared in your ears.

“Y/N—”

“Stop holding back!” you snapped, cutting him off.

Midoriya flinched but complied, though his hits were clearly pulled. You hated it—hated the pity in his eyes, the way he seemed afraid to fight you properly. You wanted to prove you could keep up, that you weren’t a liability.

And then your knees buckled.

_________________________________

“Oi! What the hell are you doing, Deku?!”

Bakugou’s voice rang out across the gym, loud enough to make everyone pause. You barely registered the sound of his boots stomping across the floor before he was standing between you and Midoriya, his crimson eyes blazing.

“I-It wasn’t his fault—” you started, but Bakugou cut you off with a sharp glare.

“Shut it, dumbass,” he growled before turning back to Midoriya. “What the hell were you thinking, letting them push themselves like that?”

Midoriya opened his mouth to respond but quickly decided against it, his expression shifting to one of resignation.

“And you,” Bakugou snarled, rounding on you. “What the hell were you thinking? You could’ve hurt yourself!”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, trying to push past him.

But Bakugou wasn’t having it. He grabbed your arm—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to stop you in your tracks.

“You’re not fine,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re done. Sit down before you pass out.”

_________________________________

Bakugou practically dragged you to the edge of the gym, ignoring your protests as he deposited you on a bench. The other students watched from a distance, their whispered conversations filling the air.

“Bakugou, you’re overreacting,” you muttered, crossing your arms as he crouched in front of you.

“Overreacting, my ass,” he shot back, his tone sharp. “You’re pale as shit, and you can’t even stand up straight. Don’t lie to me, Y/N.”

You glared at him, but the dizziness made it hard to keep your head up. Bakugou noticed immediately and let out an irritated sigh.

“Tch. Stay here,” he ordered before stomping off.

When he returned a few minutes later, he was carrying a water bottle and a protein bar. He shoved them at you without a word, his scowl deepening when you hesitated.

“Eat. Drink. Now,” he barked.

“Bakugou, I don’t need—”

“Don’t argue with me, dumbass!” he snapped, his voice louder than necessary. “Just do it!”

You flinched but complied, taking small sips of water and nibbling on the protein bar.

________________________________

When the session ended, Bakugou didn’t give you a choice about walking back to the dorms together. He hovered close, his sharp eyes scanning you for any signs of weakness.

“You didn’t have to walk me back,” you muttered, feeling a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

“Shut up. You’re lucky I didn’t carry your ass,” he shot back.

The two of you walked in silence for a while, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. But as you reached the dorms, Bakugou’s voice softened.

“You need to take care of yourself, Y/N,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically gentle.

You glanced at him, surprised by the shift in his demeanor. “I do take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” he muttered. “If you did, I wouldn’t have to babysit you all the damn time.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the exhaustion caught up with you, and you leaned against the wall for support.

Bakugou was at your side in an instant, his hand on your arm as he steadied you.

“See? This is exactly what I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “You’re too damn stubborn for your own good.”

_________________________________

Once inside your room, Bakugou made himself at home, pulling a chair up beside your bed as you sat down.

“You’re not staying,” you said, giving him a tired look.

“Like hell I’m not,” he retorted, crossing his arms. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t do something stupid.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re an idiot,” he shot back, though there was no real heat behind his words.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the tension gradually fading as the weight of the day settled over you. Bakugou’s presence, as much as you hated to admit it, was comforting.

_________________________________

The silence in your dorm room was a strange thing. Bakugou wasn’t one to enjoy stillness, yet here he was, sitting in your chair like he belonged there, arms crossed as he glared at the wall. The occasional sound of his foot tapping against the floor was the only thing breaking the quiet.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you said finally, unable to take the tension anymore.

“Too bad,” he replied curtly.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You’re seriously overreacting. I just got a little dizzy.”

He turned his sharp gaze on you, the intensity in his crimson eyes making you freeze. “A little dizzy? You couldn’t even finish training without almost eating shit in front of everyone.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” you muttered, looking away.

“I’m not saying it to piss you off, dumbass,” he snapped, leaning forward slightly. “I’m saying it because you’re being reckless.”

You stared at him, surprised by the raw frustration in his voice. Katsuki Bakugou was never one to sugarcoat his words, but there was something different about the way he spoke to you now—like he was genuinely afraid for you.

“I just don’t want to hold anyone back,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bakugou’s expression softened for a moment, though his scowl quickly returned. “You’re not holding anyone back,” he said firmly. “You think I give a crap if you can’t keep up sometimes? You’re not weak, Y/N.”

The words caught you off guard. You’d always thought Bakugou saw weakness as unforgivable, that he’d look down on anyone who couldn’t match his relentless energy. Hearing him say otherwise left you speechless.

“Tch. Don’t look at me like that,” he grumbled, his cheeks tinged with the faintest hint of pink. “I’m just telling the truth. Now shut up and rest.”

_________________________________

Despite Bakugou’s insistence that you stay in bed, word of your condition had spread among your classmates, and it wasn’t long before a few of them came knocking.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” Mina burst into the room, her usual enthusiasm dampened by concern. She carried a small bag of snacks, which she set on your bedside table with a flourish.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou interjected from his seat, his voice dripping with irritation. “Now get out.”

“Bakugou, be nice!” Kirishima appeared behind Mina, giving his friend a pointed look before turning to you. “We just wanted to check on you, Y/N. You scared us a little back there.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you said, guilt creeping into your tone. “I just… overdid it.”

“You think?” Bakugou muttered under his breath.

Kirishima chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, we’re glad you’re okay. Just take it easy, all right? And don’t let Bakugou boss you around too much.”

“Too late for that,” you joked, earning a glare from Bakugou.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Mina and Kirishima finally left, though not without a promise to check in on you again later. As soon as the door closed, Bakugou let out an irritated huff.

“They don’t know when to leave,” he grumbled.

“They’re just worried,” you said, leaning back against the pillows. “You don’t have to be so rude.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a damn audience while I’m trying to take care of you,” he shot back.

You raised an eyebrow. “Trying to take care of me? Is that what this is?”

“Shut up,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing again.

_________________________________

That night, long after Bakugou had begrudgingly left your room, you lay awake, staring at the ceiling. His words from earlier echoed in your mind.

“You’re not weak, Y/N.”

It was such a simple statement, yet it meant more to you than you could explain. For as long as you could remember, you’d been battling the fear that your anemia made you a burden. You hated the idea of being someone others had to take care of.

But Bakugou didn’t see you that way.

You weren’t sure when he’d started paying such close attention to you, but his protectiveness was undeniable. It was infuriating at times, but it also warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t ignore.

_________________________________

When you woke the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the smell of food.

Groggily sitting up, you saw Bakugou standing by your desk, a tray of breakfast in his hands.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

“What’s it look like?” he replied, setting the tray down on your lap. “You’re eating before training today.”

You blinked at him, surprised. “You made this?”

“Don’t sound so shocked,” he grumbled, crossing his arms. “It’s just eggs and toast. Not like I cooked a five-star meal.”

You couldn’t help but smile as you picked up your fork. “Thanks, Bakugou.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, looking away. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

As you ate, you noticed how he lingered by the door, his usual impatience replaced by something softer.

“Are you gonna watch me the whole time?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he shot back.

_________________________________

Over the next few weeks, Bakugou’s concern for you became an undeniable part of your routine. He started carrying snacks and water bottles with him during training, shoving them at you whenever he thought you looked tired. He adjusted his own training schedule to keep an eye on you, even if it meant sparring with someone else so he could watch from a distance.

And while he never outright said it, his actions spoke volumes.

One day, after a particularly exhausting training session, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the gym, your legs dangling over the side as you tried to catch your breath. Bakugou appeared beside you, handing you a cold water bottle without a word.

“Thanks,” you said, unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

“Tch. Don’t mention it,” he muttered, sitting down next to you.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sounds of the gym fading into the background. It was moments like this that reminded you just how much Bakugou cared, even if he’d never admit it.

“You’re not weak, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice softer than usual.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” you said quietly, using his first name for the first time in weeks.

He didn’t say anything, but the faint smile that tugged at his lips was enough.

[ink-stainedkiss]

On Campus: The Prize of Affection

pairing: Geto x Reader x Gojo

← 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬 / 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝟏 / 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 →

Contents: college au, SLOW BURN, fluff + angst + smut, alcohol, frat parties, attempts of spiking, harassment, some violence, jealousy, pining, flirting, MULTI ENDS, happy ending.

Well, after two years of the same thing—rambling professors and poorly written notes—you were finally starting your third year of college. It felt dreadfully monotonous. Mostly because you knew the first day of your freshman year you were going to keep your identity on the down low and your grades higher than ever. It was great because this plan worked better than ever. You had a steady job, the local coffee shop, working with two of your closest friends, and most of all, your transcript practically screamed a high paying job in your future.

So yeah, it kinda made you jealous seeing the frat parties houses being raided by energetic students alike. Would you love to dress up and act like you didn’t have a test the next day? Of course. Almost everyone in college pictured their nights to look like that. They also thought college would be a breeze, but even you were caught off guard your first year.

“Thinking hard over there?” A deep voice chuckled, nudging your arm. Pulled out of your trance, you blinked, and faced the sound. Choso, your coworker here at the cafe, had seen your focused expression and was not doing a very good job at hiding his smirk. Scoffing, you pushed off the counter you had been leaning against, and sent him a glare,”Yeah, imaging different jobs to apply for, so I can get away from you.”

Choso raised a brow and it wasn’t long before your faux look dropped and you giggled. He smiled,”It’s about class, isn’t it?” You shrugged with an expression mixed with unsureness and agreement,”I mean I guess, but I’m not like nervous to go back…if you get what i’m saying.”

His lips trilled,dismissing your words,”You have Professor Yaga, I would be shitting myself.” Rolling your eyes, you stared out to the rising sky, content with the almost purple ambience across the street. The first hour of the morning shift was always the best,”You’re such a baby. He’s not that bad.”

Choso walked toward his premade coffee, sipping it and watching you with unamused eyes behind the mug,”The difference is because he actually likes you.” Glancing back toward the glass front of the shop, you saw your first customer of the day walk toward the door,”No, the difference is I have the intelligence to keep up with his lectures.”

Your coworker’s jaw dropped, but he couldn’t say anything, since the customer walked in with a pleased smile. What you didn’t tell Choso was that you were slightly nervous for class, but not about the teacher. It’s just, something felt off. You knew your routine like the back of your hand and it brought you comfort, so waking up early before the sun approaches was just normal for you. However, today just didn’t sit right in your chest. Like you knew something was going to go wrong.

You liked being right, but at that moment you hoped you were entirely incorrect.

𖤓

It was a bit shocking how your boss was so lenient with your work schedule. You woke up around five, opened the shop at six with Choso or whoever was assigned to the morning, then waited till nine to leave. Your class starts thirty minutes after that, so it gives you so much down time. Walking across the campus, books held against one arm while you moved, you prayed that the nauseating feeling was just a bad muffin you snuck from the front.

One thing the movies did correct was that college was pretty packed. It seemed every second you were maneuvering around barriers of people that also seemed to have no special awareness. Still, it was just a customary thing for college, so you trudged forward. The entrance to the school was just ahead, its path covered in chiseled quotes on its stone floor, and a majestic statue of a crane ahead of the doors.

You were only halfway when your phone buzzed and after a cautious glance in front of you. Good. No people. Taking out your phone, your eyes caught onto the notification bubble, but your phone couldn’t even unlock before your side slammed into someone’s shoulder.

“Shit.” You groaned, feeling your books slip from your hold. Ah, this was what that feeling was warning me about. The problem wasn't that you had dropped your things, it was the fact the culprit didn’t have the decency to stop and help or at the least apologize. You whipped your head around, locking onto the pure white hair already strolling away from the scene. Anger flooded to your veins and before you could stop yourself, you opened your mouth.

“Thanks, Asshole.” Figuring, since he barely reacted to running into you, that he wouldn’t hear your remark. Regardless of how he picked up the sound, the guy had heard you, and you stared as he turned his head. He didn’t make a comment, but instead gave you a quick glance. Oddly enough, his eyes cut deeper than any insult could.

You hated to admit it, but his eyes were beautiful. A shade of blue that could make the sky jealous. They were enticing, but the spiteful gleam made you immediately tense up. Still, you held your ground, no matter how intimidating his look was. Before you knew it, he was already facing the front, bothered by nothing. Your teeth grinned together and picked yourself up off the floor. You’d be damned to look like a helpless fawn in front of these people.

In your heart, you told yourself to chase after him, scream and cuss, but you stayed calm. It was just another dick that believed he had some sort of untouchable god complex. It was useless to sit there and complain. After all, college is huge and you wouldn’t see that guy again.

As you walked to the front doors, your eyes remained straight forward. Paying no mind to the curious glances, you trudged forward to your first class.

𖤓

“-okay, it seems all of you are here.” Your professor started at the front of the room. Maybe it was bias, but you believed that Professor Yaga worked the hardest amongst the other teachers. You’ve had him since the beginning of your time here at college. He taught loads of subjects and you always seemed to shine throughout each,that’s why you were the so-called “favorite”.

“Today we’ll just be a go over of materials and lessons I will be teaching.” He explained, glancing back at the plain slide show he created.

Before Professor Yaga could say the first item, the doors in the back opened quickly. Everyone’s attention shifted as the commotion grew. You had to admit your curiosity got the better of you and you turned to watch who came in so late. Little did you know, you weren’t prepared for the storm about to swoop into the lecture hall.

It seemed almost fake like before you arrived the scene was choreographed. Two men waltzed in, neither of them showing guilt on their faces. The first one had very long hair; dark and it was put up in a claw clip. He gave half a smile, one that was supposed to be an apology, but his other friend did not share this gesture.

The friend raised a hand toward the professor, waving like he didn’t just interrupt him,”Hey, sorry the line at the coffee shop was super long.” You have to be kidding. Your mouth parted at the audacity, but Yaga only let out a disappointed sigh,”It's fine, just sit down.”

The room was packed but no one around you looked to be disturbed—or at the least shocked—their rude enterace. Was this common? No. Most people give a short ‘Sorry’ and skitter to their seat, but they just didn’t care. Your brow furrowed as they walked, showing no signs of picking up their speed. You scanned over there faces, making mental notes to stay away from both of them. Though, as you stared at the other male, your heart sank. Bright sapphire eyes locked onto your own and a wave of Deja vu hit you harshly.

It was the same guy who knocked into you without so much as a word. Your hand resting on the desk tensed into a fist. While in the middle of a staring contest, you expected him to throw you a cocky smirk, scoff, just something. You never guessed he would show you a look of genuine amusement. His lips turned upward and he winked at you. Did he even recognize you? You hadn’t interacted with the other guy, but he didn’t look any better.

These two were practically the stereotype for coming of age movie jock’s. Complete disdain grew in your chest as you watched them stroll down the lecture hall stairs. They dapped up their friends loudly, tossing sultry smiles toward the audience, and—ew did someone just squeal? Whoever they were, their egos shined too bright for your liking. Consider yourself uninterested.

You swiftly turned back around,but sadly the only available seats were the ones directly behind you. Their obnoxious chuckles grew slightly and you were pretty sure you heard the rude one mumble something to his friend. Whatever. Just pretend they aren’t there. It was easier said than done, since throughout the entire lesson their muffled conversation kept skimming past your ears and even as you tried paying attention, it seemed two sets of eyes were burning into the back of your skull.

if you would like to be added to the On Campus: Taglist, feel free to comment/ message me. I will send back a “🤎” once you’ve been added!

Taglist:

@inthedarkshadows000 @se-phi-roth @thattbitchwiththehair @kardi0n @loneworldgazer @geektastic84 @galactacium @love-me-satoru @stilldontknowwhatiamdoing

[rhiannonsknife]

ough you will always be my favorite tumblr blog!! no one else could understand my thoughts and turn them into literary masterpieces like you

i've been thinking a little bit about roleplay with rhiannon... so buckle in, because this is gonna be wild, nasty, and filthy! which, what did you expect? it's rhiannon

i think she would love it if she acted like you were just a stranger that she'd set her eyes on earlier that night. you discuss it extensively beforehand, making sure that neither of you are uncomfortable. you're anything but, especially when she details all the things she wants to do to you

you go to a bar together but sit seperate, growing wetter as you watch her eye you up from across the room. it's not until you leave that you feel someone starting to follow you, just behind you but always out of sight

it's not until she pins you to the wall with her knife against your neck, that familiar crazed glint in her eye that you always see when she comes home from a kill. shes snaking her hands down the hem of your jeans, telling you about how you should probably stay quiet and who are you to say no? she's also whispering that she'll kill anyone that sees you, sparing glances towards the entrance of the alleyway before turning back to you and giving you a wicked smile

or, or, her holding the knife to your face as you eat her out!! with every lap of your tongue, her hand shakes, the knife barely doing anything to reinforce your behavior as you're already drunk on her pussy and the way she's falling apart above you

-🪐

3 months later and i’m finally finishing this draft…needless to say: nsfw content. mdni.

the plan was simple. simple and hers, of course. you'd discussed it at length earlier in the week, mapping out every possible detail.

rhiannon made sure you were comfortable, made sure you knew exactly what to expect (as much as you could expect from her, anyway): every look, every touch, every word. you knew what you were stepping into when you slipped on your dress and let rhiannon guide you out of the house earlier that night.

it starts at the bar.

you arrive but you don't enter or sit together. instead, you take a stool near the far end of the room, pretending not to notice rhiannon when she walks in a few minutes later.

you can feel her eyes on you almost immediately, dragging over you with that familiar hunger. she's already decided you're hers for the night, claiming you.

you sip your drink, forcing yourself to play along, though the tension coiling in your stomach makes it hard to focus on anything but her. not even 5 minutes in and you already feel like breaking character. rhiannon, on the other hand, is playing her part to perfection: she’s lounging at the corner of the bar, her legs crossed, her eyes scanning the crowd but never without occasionally flickering in your direction.

even from across the room, you can feel her gaze like a physical weight. the way she holds herself doesn’t give her away, yet you can see it in her eyes that she wants you too. you can't help but squirm, your pulse quickening as you wonder just how long she'll make you wait.

it feels like an eternity before you finally leave, the anticipation thrumming through your veins as you step out into the cool night air. it’s refreshing, after the pressing heat of the packed bar and the exponentially growing discomfort of your own wetness between your thighs.

you start walking then, the click of your shoes echoing on the pavement, your heart pounding harder with every step.

you quicken your pace when you hear the faint sound of footsteps just behind you. close enough to let you know you're not alone, but far enough to stay out of sight.

your nerves start buzzing with anticipation. the footsteps match your rhythm, never letting up, yet when you glance over your shoulder, you see nothing, the street stretching out empty under the dim glow of streetlights.

you know it's rhiannon, but the thrill of not knowing when she'll strike sends your pulse racing.

you turn down an alleyway, and that's when it happens: fingers close around your wrist firmly, spinning you around before you can react, and suddenly you're pinned to the cold brick.

rhiannon is on you before you can process what’s happening, her body caging you against the wall. one hand grips your wrist, pinning it beside your head, while the other holds a knife. her knife. the blade catches faintly in the moonlight, glinting as she holds it mere inches from your throat.

if it wasn’t for how close she’s standing, you wouldn’t catch it at all, but there’s a shudder in her breath, her eyes wide as she watches the way the blade moves by the gentle force of her own hand.

rhiannon tilts her head, her eyes finally meeting yours.

"got you," she whispers under her breath. rhiannon’s free hand slips from your wrist to your hip, knowing you won’t run from her.

“i've been watching you,” rhiannon murmurs, trailing the side of your jaw with the knife. “the way you look at me when you think i'm not paying attention...it's almost like you wanted me to catch you, hm?”

she holds your gaze as she runs the flat of the knife up your legs, the fabric of your dress riding up to your waist. you shiver at the sensation of the cold metal against your bare flesh, then exhale into rhiannon’s open mouth when she presses it right against your clit through your underwear.

“fuck-“

her eyes widen ever so slightly, a breathless smile flashing over her features. she brings her free hand down between your legs as well, as if to make sure she’s feeling things right.

“you’re so wet” rhiannon whispers. “if i’d known you would like this so much…” now she’s the one struggling to stay in character, if just for a split second.

“god, do you have any idea what l've been thinking about? what i could do to you right here, right now?”

even through the haze of arousal, you’re still aware of your surroundings. if somebody were to walk by, they’d instantly spot you and rhiannon. her free hand reaches for your chin and jerks your head back in her direction, grip just tight enough to remind you of the power she holds, the power you willingly gave her.

“if anyone sees us,” rhiannon rasps, as if she’d been reading your mind, “i’ll make sure they regret it. i’d kill anyone who saw you like this” her lips brush against the shell of your ear as she whispers, “do you understand?”

her knife presses just a little harder, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you it’s there. simultaneously, rhiannon’s lips ghost over yours, soft and teasing, a stark contrast to the sharp blade in her hand.

eagerly, you nod your head.

“good,” she husks against your lips. “now get on your knees.”

you surprise even yourself with how fast you drop down to the ground before her, eagerly waiting for rhiannon to tell you what to do.

she keeps her eyes on you as she reaches to unbuckle her pants smoothly, pushing them down just past her knees. the sight that greets you is all the evidence you need that you’re not the only one affected by this: rhiannon is wet. impossibly wet. it might be the most turned on you’ve ever seen her, with slick sticking to her inner thigh, her underwear completely soaked through.

“what are you waiting for?” she asks, but the weapon in her hold is trembling.

that much, the order for you to put your mouth on her, you expect. yet, when you reach for her eagerly, the cold of metal pressing to your neck stops you midway.

“wait,” rhiannon instructs from above. you turn your gaze back up to her slowly, just as she drags the knife from your throat, up to your jaw, then carefully brushes it along your skin until she can force you to turn your whole face up at her with the blade against your chin.

“color?” she breathes, tilting her head as she waits.

“green.”

“good,” her knife stays in place, yet her other hand drops between her legs, causing you to nearly choke on a breath. your eyes drop and the blade’s press instantly becomes harder. “look at me.”

you gulp audibly, but do as you’re told.

“good-“ rhiannon begins, choking on a moan herself as she brushes her fingers over her clit. you can see it, a stolen glance when her head lulls back for a second; stiff and wet between her fingers as rhiannon rubs them back and forth. “fuck,”

obediently, though it’s hard, you keep your eyes on hers. you don’t even have to look to hear it when she pushes her fingers into herself. two, judging by the way her breath hitches. you know rhiannon’s body and the sounds she makes like the back of your hand; one finger wouldn’t be enough to draw any noise from her at this rate, three would’ve made her moan. so it’s two, it’s gotta be two.

rhiannon keeps this up for longer than you’d like: fucking herself right in front of you, pumping her fingers into her soaked cunt at a steady pace while she watches you with her knife against your skin, occasionally reminding you to keep looking at her when your hungry eyes drift lower.

only when her thighs start trembling and the hold on the weapon grows increasingly unsteady does she drop her arousal-stained fingers into your hair to harshly tuck you in.

“now,” she orders, moaning louder at the first touch of your tongue.

you hate that rhiannon has deprived you of this for so long, that she’s kept you waiting, only to use you for the very last moment. you whine pathetically at the first taste of her, sticking your tongue in deeper before closing your lips around her clit. she's still holding the knife, but you both know she doesn't need to: there's no way you'd stop now, too drunk on the taste of her pussy.

it doesn’t take her long to finish, though rhiannon reminds you of who’s in charge of her pleasure the moment you try to drag it out for longer than necessary: “don’t you dare,” she hisses, her white knuckle grip on the knife’s handle speaking for itself. “don’t you fucking dare!”

when rhiannon cums, her back arches from the brick wall and her mouth hangs open in a silent cry. she ruts against your tongue until she’s done, still letting out quiet sounds each time you brush your tongue against her throbbing clit.

she only drops her hand from the back of your head when she’s completely spent, her body shivering with the aftershocks of her release. the warmth of her skin is damp against yours, her breath still ragged as she leans against the wall for support.

“here,” she says breathlessly, holding out the knife to you. you instinctively reach out to take it, but before your fingers can graze the handle, she jerks her hand back with a sharp shake of her head. “not like that,”

confusion flickers through you, but it doesn’t take long to understand what she really wants. slowly, you part your lips, holding them open as her eyes gleam with approval.

“good,” rhiannon praises, clearly pleased, as she slides the knife between your front teeth. the cold metal rests against your lips, the weight of it oddly intimate. you stay perfectly still as she takes her time fixing her jeans. she tugs her zipper up, adjusts her waistband, and smooths down her shirt, all without breaking eye contact. when she’s satisfied, her hand brushes against your jaw as she retrieves the knife, her fingers grazing your skin in a fleeting but purposeful touch.

she leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, “run again.”

rhiannon steps back just enough to give you space. “let me chase you,” she murmurs, her fingers spinning the knife idly between her hands. “make me earn it.”

and though your heart pounds in your chest, the idea of running, of feeling her pursuit, her hunger, her power, makes you hesitate just a moment longer, savoring the anticipation.

— a/n: guys that last line feels so season 3 shauna coded….might have to write a separate shauna fic at some point…also i’m so sorry 🪐 anon, i had the first half of this saved in my drafts for 3 whole months 😭😭

[thewertsearch]

@unsnopable asked: coming up on the end of act 5 and roundabout the halfway point if the comic, whats your opinion on the comic in general? favorite characters? favorite moments? where do you think the comic will go from here, and how do you think it will end?

My opinions are strongly positive, and Homestuck remains my favourite comic to date. Hussie really stuck the landing with Act 5's finale, and it's honestly pretty difficult to pick out any specific favourite moments.

I guess, as a general rule, my favourite parts of the comic are:

Basically every Flash animation,

Any event which caused me to S-Tier a character,

And any reveal which actually made me gasp.

Anonymous asked: to be answered after cascade of course: what ships are you a fan of at this point in the comic? have they changed over the course of this act for the better (becoming more invested) or for the worse (becoming less invested) or for the interesting (changing your interpretation of a particular ship)? (u are still a rosemary on deck believer of course, lol) Anonymous asked: Has anything changed regarding your Homestuck shipping opinions/takes?

I'm not really a habitual shipper, so my investment in most of the comic's real and hypothetical couples has remained middling, at best.

The only exception, of course, is Rosemary. It's between my two favourite characters, I believe they'd synergize extremely well, and I trust Homestuck enough not to be baiting me with all their obvious chemistry. Rosemary will happen, and I'm excited to see it finally going down.

@captorations asked: consider: tavros having that whole peter pan motif and. his ancestor's rebellion resulting in an alternia without adults also. if you had to pick. which one of the new kids do you think you will like most and/or are most excited to meet?

I know I'm answering this one a little late, but I was probably most interested in meeting Jane.

Unlike the other post-Scratch players, we couldn't really get a sense of her personality by studying her Guardiansona, since Nanna's had been corrupted by a Jestersprite the entire time. Now, Jane did turn out to be a natural prankster, but I didn't know that at the time. She was a complete unknown to me!

As for which new kid I'd like the most, I was always pretty sure it was going to be Roxy, mostly because of her adjacency to Rose. Now that she's turned out to be a hacker, I'm pretty sure I was one hundred percent correct.

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter four

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 4.0k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | angst | heart to heart | just kiss already 🗣️ | non-sexual intimacy | fluff | mentions of them sharing the same bed | mentions of isha | these losers can't stay serious | yes reader has plot and yes i'm going through with it | not beta read | yes i am making this up along i go | author's note: i'm finally back after a month... don't come after me though! i'm literally in the middle of moving to a whole different state (not my choice).

❛❛ APOLOGIZE WITH FIREWORKS ❜❜

a careless toss of an envelope with this week’s paycheck slid off the desk. your eyes followed the movement. “you’re slacking, [name].” 

you’ve been slacking for the past two weeks. that’s how long it’s been since you and blue fought. you thought that she would come around and the two of you would hang out again like nothing happened, but of course, it didn’t. you were given straight radio silence, you even tried visiting her at her workshop and home. nothing.

she was your best friend and you hurt her to the point she’s shut herself in. was she even in there? was she ignoring you? did she run off? did she hate you now? did you just ruin everything? you couldn’t tell, it was like she locked herself in. this was killing you. 

every since she left it was like all the good things she brought with her did too. the endless laughter between the two of you, the satuation of the world. because of her you finally felt safe, your loan sharks finally stopped bothering you.

sometimes you think you see her (which you don’t). anything blue made you think of her, clouds too. you can’t bring yourself to eat the blue raspberry candy. 

the truth was that she was your good luck charm.

“do you want to lose this job?” big don’s voice rang in the office, snapping you back to reality. lose this job? this was the only job that could help pay off your debt that didn’t involve selling yourself, beating others half to death, and stealing. 

“i’ve been kind to you. i gave you this pussy job so you could pay me back with my own money.” he leans forward resting his clasped-together hands on the desk.

“but i see something,” the tall man raises from his seat. your breath got caught up in your throat and your heart quickened its pace. “…someone has made you sloppy. has taken your attention off of what is really important.” you knew what he meant and you couldn’t deny it. 

you have gotten sloppy with your work, clocking out a little bit early, and coming to work late more often— that was you when you and jinx started hanging out, but since jinx and you have gotten into that fight all of it got worse. “that new girl…” your eyes shot from the ground and straight to big don. the way he referred to her made your stomach turn. was he going to send his goons after her too.

“don’t—“ without thinking you stepped forward, you were about to walk up and slap him. good thing your mind caught up with you. yay, no bullet between your eyes!

“don’t what?” big don shot back at you, he stopped pacing and walked over to you. “run her out of flosnum? tie up the new girl in town? have some of my men give her a good beating? or maybe i’ll make you do that…” gulping at his implication you step back. you knew big don was sick, but surely not that sick?

right?

towering over you, two heads taller his dull dark eyes look down at you, his eyes make you feel so insignificant. you were nothing but a mere worker bee, “[insert sibling] may have escaped off to bilgewater. ixtal? ionia? who gives a fuck anymore. what matters is that one of you is here. one thing stands. your father’s debt.”

“get your act together or you’re on your own.” he then grips your hair, and with a harsh tug he pulls you closer to him. he smelt of cigarettes and mangos, “once you’re on your own i won’t care how and what you do to pay off the debt. sell your body for all i care.”

you left his office and went back to working at the bar. overtime. work for two weeks with no pay as punishment, which was mercy considering you've been waterboarded other times.

though you were starting to consider being waterboarded instead.

how long has it been? she can’t remember, there was no point in counting hours or days when she was in this state. 

her chipped painted nails scratched off her cuticles to the point they bleed. curled up in the middle of her room stuck in an unforgiving daze. a haze that consumed her mind and filled it with thoughts that pricked her brain as if they were needles.

she fucked up. again. and she doesn’t have the guts to try and fix it.

not that there was anything to fix, you were done with her. you hated her. you saw her as insane as soon as you saw her.

she was an idiot to show you that side of her. what made her think that this would be any different? danger or not, flosnum was not immune to her effect. 

her blue chopped hair now grown inches past her ears but not long enough to touch her shoulders, her bangs terribly long, and the purple dye worn out. the bonsai tree on her bedroom windowsill half dead. the irrigating bear under her bed where its voice is too far to catch. 

jinx. that’s who she was. she couldn’t fight it anymore. running from it has been deemed impossible even when she’s a sea away from piltover and zaun. 

metal and wood clanking against each other.

she could hear it, the small huffs, exhales, and sniffles. the light-weight pitter-patter danced around her.

isha.

jinx was greatness to isha. a haven. a symbol. someone worth protecting.

jinx could feel the vibrations from the floor bouncing back to her curled-up position. she had her knees to her chest and hid her face.

she couldn’t bring herself to look up. she was scared that if she looked up she would see her. if she did, she wouldn’t know what to do.

all those times she told off sevika that jinx was dead, isha was the one that kept the image of her alive. not a symbol of destruction— no longer just a loose cannon but a hero. 

powder was the one that died.

she thought that maybe if she could start over, it would all be from the beginning.

no jinx. just powder. the more she stayed on this tropical island she was reminded that she couldn’t be powder. 

to be honest, jinx liked isha’s version of jinx. the version that isha would play games, watch battles fight each other, fall asleep to her overly-dramatized exploits, graffiti on walls, and stargaze with. 

the careless dancing footsteps morphed into cautious ones and the steps were slightly heavier. 

step. step. step.

these footsteps didn’t seem as if they were sneaking up on prey, still, jinx refused to raise her head up from her knees, her eyes stayed shut. 

just ignore it.

she repeated those words, a mantra that got her through a handful of her episodes. unexpectantly, light fingertips grazed her shoulder, unsure if they could go further in the contact. 

hallucinations couldn’t touch her.

a low gentle voice “blue.” jinx felt all of her defenses fall. how pathetic that’s all it took.

you crouched down behind her. jinx’s back faced you, wearing only a pink tank top and wool shorts that showed off the blue clouds on the right side of her body.

the only reason you were able to get in was because you found a foolishly placed spare key sticking out from under a ceramic pot with a wilting flower.

you were tired of waiting.

“i’m sorry.” trying to shove down the heat rising to your face, you swallow. there was nothing more you hated than apologizing, which was ironic since you did it quite often. normally when you did it, it was out of fear or common courtesy.

sincerely apologizing on the other hand? the thought of you being the person in the wrong felt like a punch in the gut, but none of that mattered. 

the only thing you wanted right now was your friend back. “i’m so sorry. that day at the beach when i sighed it wasn’t towards you.” jinx was still. “that day was perfect and i ruined it. i made you feel that i didn’t enjoy it. i did! it’s just—“ you sucked in a breath before explaining.

“…i have a hard time living in the moment, i’m always thinking about my next shift. that i have my shift in this many hours, i’ll have to deal with rowdy customers in less than a day after, i have to pay off my debt.” she didn’t answer, it felt like you were talking to a brick wall.

“ever since you came into my life you have been what i look forward to.”

silence is all she gives you. not even a hum of acknowledgment. “blu—“ you couldn’t finish the nickname because of how shocked you were to see jinx finally turn her head towards you. you can only see her side profile due to the position the two of you are holding. 

the saturation of her vibrant red-violet eyes is now exhausted and dull. an alarm rang in your head. scrabbling from your knees you made it to in front of her to get the whole view of her. you needed to see all of her.

jinx’s closed-off position, her days-old makeup, unkempt hair, and lightweight. her head a bit more raised so she could look at you better as your eyes roamed around her body. 

her eyes.

her eyes were so doe and dull, the manic that she usually held in her eyes was nowhere to be found. this was the most vulnerable you’ve seen her yet there were still so many walls. 

she looked horrible.

you did this.

“[name]…”

her hoarse voice made your heart ache. gulping, pushing down the guilt. you slowly and carefully take her hands into yours. “let’s get you cleaned up, blue.”

the first thing you did was take off her makeup with a wet piece of cloth. you had no idea how long she had been like this, it looks like she had that same face of makeup for almost a week, probably more.

her cheeks were tear-stricken with dried-up mascara and eyeliner. her purple eyeshadow was worn out along with her smudged lipstick.

you washed her hair in the sink. she sat on a chair, her head leaned back as the faucet ran through her blue locks. your hands gently messaging her scalp, and then detangled everything with a brush.

the two of you didn’t talk at all. sitting on a stool your wrist moved in circular motions, washing her back.

she felt herself slowly come back to reality. the way you were being so careful with her as if she was worth being gentle to. were you doing all of this just to torment her?

surely you weren’t faking the affection in your touch? you wouldn’t do such a thing. you couldn’t. 

she felt her eyes burning up.

she felt the rough texture of the cloth exfoliating her skin, your hand carefully leading its way to her tattooed arm. your movements slow not wanting to have her pull away from your touch.

jinx lets out a ragged breath, louder than the scrubbing of her skin and water droplets. that was the first breath she let out since you came to her. your movement paused and went even slower. gentler. 

that’s when she bursts into tears. 

you froze up a bit hearing her choked sobs, “oh hon…” jinx’s shoulder shook as she leaned forward, away from you. her sobs only got louder and louder. saliva collected in her mouth and her face turned a pinkish hue.

putting aside the cloth you took her shoulders and pulled her back towards you, you wrapped your arms around her neck, and your head was right next to hers. “tell me what’s wrong.” you whispered in her ear, you didn’t bother hiding the tremor in your voice.

“please, talk to me. did i make you upset again?” you plead for her to talk to you.

“i’m sorry.” her sobs so broken that her voice cracks as she apologizes. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.” she just shakes her head repeating herself over and over again.

“shh.” you say rocking the both of you side to side in an attempt to lull her sobs. “it’s okay, there’s nothing you need to apologize for. we both messed up.”

“i’m such a child, i ruined everything!” she hiccups, her sobs only worsened. she leans on you like a child seeking comfort.

“stop that. you ruined nothing, okay?” you tried to keep your voice firm.

“i made something out of nothing again and i pushed you away and now you hate me—”

you cut her off, “if i hated you would i be here right now?” 

“you will once i mess up again.”

sighing, you pinch her cheek. “it was a silly little fight, we got through it.”

jinx winces at the pinch but she doesn’t pull away instead, her cries lessen and her face scrunches up a bit. “what if we get into another fight?”

not letting go of her cheek you kept speaking, “we’ll get through it. even when i get irritated or mad with you, i’ll always come back to you.” she turns her head and you pull away to give her some space to move.

her eyes were bloodshot, her pink irises sparkled as if she was begging you to confirm your words. “you’re my best friend, things like this will always pass over, i promise.” 

jinx’s sobs were no more and what was left was her small sniffles as you got back to bathing her.

getting back together with you made jinx realize some things.

number one: you would never ever ever ever leave her no matter what! 

this meant she could do anything without you leaving her. like sleeping together in the same bed and kicking you off.

number two: the two of you were practically made for each other!

she has been clinging onto every second of the day and you welcomed it with open arms. (well other than the times she’s stalking you, but you don’t need to know that!) has she gotten more childish with you? maybe.

it was your day off so per usual you were with her, instead of rotting together at her workshop the two of you went out for ice cream and window shopped. the two of you walked side by side in the blazing heat, jinx’s arm hooked on yours. 

usually, she would complain and complain in this weather and end up with sunburns which you had to tend to. these days she wouldn’t, it was like she grew up with flosnum. she wore a mismatched bikini top and stockings, low rise shorts black and pink shorts, and black boots with pink laces. “new style?” you raised a brow.

“just matching the weather.” jinx licks the dripping cotton candy ice cream from her cone. the undercity wasn’t hot like flosnum. it was humid at best but mostly cold. hell, she felt the warmth of sun on her skin more on her first week here than she did her whole life in zaun.

going on your route you spot a jewelry vendor, something catches your eye. mindlessly pulling away from her to go check it out jinx furrows her brows, she follows behind you. your eyes were on the turtle trinket. the jewels on it sparkled like no other.

stupid.

jinx’s finger hooks on the loop of your bottoms and pulls you closer to her side. she bends over a bit to get a better look at the stupid trinket. “oh come on, toots, you don’t need this. you already have that ugly turtle pendant.”

you smack the back of her head and she whines. “my necklace is not stupid!” you defend the bronze hanging around your neck. “besides, i wasn’t going to buy it….” your eyes trail to the price tag, the sight causes you to frown. “way too expensive anyway.” you turn on your heels and walk away from the vendor. 

she watches you walk away and back to the turtle trinket. it was ugly. tacky too. you wouldn’t look good in it.

jinx shrugs and catches up with you, she loops her arm with yours licking her ice cream once again with a stolen trinket in her pocket.

number three: she missed chaos.

because of that, she’s going to blow up at tonight’s festival. she’s been working on it the day after you bathed her, tucked her into bed, and fell asleep in bed with her. which was six days ago.

don’t worry. don’t worry. she’s not going to kill anyone. she was done with that, instead, these bombs were going to make a teenie tiny little mess.

today’s festival was in honor of the day flosnum successfully defended itself against bilgewater, many lives were lost due to the battle. which was an incredible feat now that jinx thinks about it.

anyways, that doesn’t matter! what matters is that she wants to ruin it. 

it’s the most jinx thing she can do.

somehow the paradise was infinitely more vibrant under the dark sky. maybe it was the twinkling stars, the glowing plants, and the fairy lights. everyone gathered in the streets, adorned in tropical garlands. the two of you held a stick, the tip burned bright, sparkling. 

normally, jinx’s mind would be on how gorgeous your smile was, but today she was too excited to even think properly. she was too happy to fuck the celebration up. she had already planted the bombs. 

the air was filled with a sweet and fruity scent of exotic flowers. your sweet laughter echoed in her mind finally snapping her out of it. “what’s got you so happy, blue?” she asked, pointing out her dumb smile.

jinx dropped the stick, “follow me.” she grabbed onto you forcing you to do the same and follow behind her. 

there was so much of everything. people, noise, lights, smells. you canvas through the streets and she takes you onto her workshop’s rooftop. though her workshop was placed in a shady alleyway, the view she had up top was breathtaking.

her rooftop was decorated with random cut-up fabrics, unfinished projects (aka junk but she won’t let you call it that), and colorful lanterns. the stars painted the night sky, the jinx sat on the rooftop ledge. being the more cautious one you tried not to, but she forced you anyway.

“we’re best friends, right?” jinx slowly turns her head to you, your eyes are on the ground, watching the people below. 

“i sure hope so,” you snort. realizing that it wasn’t the right time to joke you backtracked, “of course we are, the best of friends.” you didn’t look back but that didn’t make your response any less sincere.

her red-violet eyes trace your side profile. you were pretty like this, with the colors of the lanterns illuminating off of you. the color blue graced your brown skin and the coils of your hair. it was almost as beautiful as when the sunlight would kiss your skin.

jinx wasn’t sure when it started. “it” being when she became so attentive to you. maybe, it was the day she first saw you behind the counter of her now workshop. maybe, it was the day she crashlanded and you saved her.

the topic of the day she crashlanded was never brought up between the two of you. jinx wasn’t sure if you were aware that she knew.

jinx should’ve forgotten about you that day, her vision was hazy and smoke filled her lungs— her mind shouldn’t even have registered the details of you. but she did.

the key detail she remembered?

it was that stupid bronze necklace.

the ugly piece of metal that is still hanging around your neck. it looks as if it was handmade. well maintained yet specks of chipped-off green paint on the turtle’s shell.

“good,” jinx smiles at your answer. her hand reaches into her pocket and your eyes follow, her fist closed around not letting you know what it is just yet. “because i wanted to give you something.”

your eyes finally lock with hers. “i’m not good with words. i’m not good with my actions either.” her vibrant eyes shift away from yours, but she forces herself to keep eye contact with yours. “i fuck shit up. always. as soon as something good comes in my life it’s taken away, by my hand or something else.”

jinx couldn't find the right words, she didn't even know where she was going with this. “i ruin everything,” she laughed bitterly, her eyes searched yours to see if you were annoyed by your senseless rambling, but you didn’t. you listened, waiting for the next words to come out of her mouth.

“i’m jinxed. it’s in my name.”

jinx looks down at her hand, her fist is holding onto the mystery item tightly. then her fingers hesitantly open up her fist, revealing what’s in the palm of your hand. you look down. this feeling in your stomach, it flips and flutters. “blue, is this—“

“jinx,” she didn’t let you get a sentence in. “that’s my name.”

jinx...so that was blue's name. oddly enough, it fit her perfectly. she didn't look like a sasha, cassie, hannah, or kate. for someone as cool as her she should have an equally cool name.

“that’s so cool!” your eyes twinkle, filled with excitement, completely ignorant to the significance of this moment.

when the words left your mouth jinx left hundreds of degrees hotter. a warmth blazed through her body. no one has ever had this type of reaction to her name.

“so, you’ve been cool you’re whole life, huh?” you scrunch up your face in mock jealousy. “cool hair. cool talents. cool personality. cool name. you’re just a package, aren’t you, jinx?”

why did she like her name coming from your lips so much?

trying to hide her flustered state she puts on a cocky front, “enough of how cool you think i am. are you going to take my gift or not?” she dangles the trinket in front of your face. “you stole it.” you blink at her unamused. still you took it from her hand. “says who? you think i can’t afford something like this?” she tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“then what’s this?” you point to the tag. 

she looks at it and grumbles. after pulling it off she then put on a faux innocent smile. “what’s what?” seeing how your unamused expression didn’t waver she sighed in defeat. “i just wanted to do something for you, you deserve tiny luxuries like this. maybe it could bring you some luck too. a lucky charm.”

her words managed to make you loosen up. your face softens. “thanks, hon, but i already have a lucky charm.”

jinx’s squints her eyes at you, “wait, you do?”

"i'm talking about you, jinx."

jinx, a lucky charm? how ironic. se had always been the cause of trouble, never the solution. when she did try to find one it only made everything worse. but here the two of you are. you hailed her as your lucky charm. a good omen.

she lets out a bark of laughter, she laughs with her full chest. all of this was too surreal it was making her head spin. 

POW POW POW

with distant bangs a cloud of red, then purple, then green, then blue. the town square exploded with a flurry of colorful dust. the dust danced in the sky and fell back down onto the cobbled ground as if it were snowfall.

oh right. jinx forgot about those.

the two of you whip your heads to the noise to see the mayhem going on. 

their faces being painted with the colorful dye. the locals dance and twirl along with the ongoing blasts of the bright vibrant powder into the air. children rushed trying to catch the falling powder, some even making angles on the ground.

your eyes snap wide with amazement at the view, “oh my gods!” no way in hell were you going to miss out on something like this. you carefully get off the rooftop ledge and pull jinx with you. 

“get your ass up, let’s join the fun!”

screams, panicked voices, and people trying to take cover, that’s what jinx expected. not the sound of flosnum residents’ laughter and cheers. her plans to cause chaos failed.

she really was a jinx.

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed @velvetinkbym

[callmemonster68]

SUNGHOON - Jealous ( slight smut )

Sunghoon getting jealous

Pairing: Sunghoon X FemReader

Genre: Obscenity

Warning: Contains explicit content, unprotected sex, suggestive, penetration, explicit language, climax, sex, swearing, loss of virginity, hickeys, messy make-out sessions, dirty talk, compliments, rough sex, touching bruises, handcuffs, chains, sadomasochism , masochism, brands, public sex, oral

The atmosphere was tense in Y/N's apartment. The soft music played in the background, but the sound seemed to not reach the two of them. Sunghoon was leaning against the table, arms crossed, eyes sparkling with anger as he watched Y/N fiddling with their phone.

Sunghoon: (in a cold voice) Who was that guy?

Y/N looked up, clearly confused.

Y/N: Which guy? What face? What are you talking about, Sunghoon?

Sunghoon: (narrowing his eyes) The guy you were laughing and talking with today. I saw you two at the café before you met me.

Y/N: (sighing) Ah, Minho? He just came to ask about a project. It's work-related, it has nothing to do with it.

Sunghoon let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.

Sunghoon: Ah, of course. And did you really need to laugh like that? That didn't seem like 'work stuff.'

Y/N: (raising their voice) Are you hearing what you're saying? I was being polite! I'm not going to treat people badly just because you're insecure!

The tension in the air increased, and Sunghoon's face became even more closed off. He took a few steps towards her, his eyes burning with jealousy.

Sunghoon: (low and intense) Insecure? I know you, Y/N. I know the way you smile... and that smile wasn't for him.

Y/N: (staring at him) Oh, so now you even know the meaning of my smiles? Congratulations, you are a fortune teller!

He took her by the wrist, but gently, enough to capture her attention. Their faces were close, their breaths mingled.

Sunghoon: (hoarse voice) Don't test my patience, Y/N. You know I hate this feeling... Of someone looking at you as if they had the right.

Y/N: (challenging) And you think that gives you the right to act like a crazy possessive person? You don't control me, Sunghoon.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The music played, increasing the tension between the two. Sunghoon let out a bitter laugh and ran his hand through his hair, clearly struggling against his own feelings.

Sunghoon: (almost whispering) I just... hate the idea of losing you, you know? It consumes me.

Y/N felt her heart race. Despite everything, she knew that Sunghoon's words were genuine. He was lost in a whirlwind of emotions. She approached, gently touching his face.

Y/N: Sunghoon... you won't lose me. But you need to trust me.

He held her hand to his face, his eyes fixed on hers. Then, without warning, he pulled her into an intense kiss, filled with all the repressed feelings.

Y/N: (whispering between his lips) This doesn't solve anything...

Sunghoon: (with a crooked smile) No, but it's a start.

He picked her up, his strong hands gripping her thighs as he carried her towards the bedroom. His eyes were fixed on hers, Sunghoon's gaze was intense, almost fierce.

Sunghoon pushed the bedroom door with his foot, his expression revealing something between desire and desperation. He placed her on the bed carefully, but his movements were urgent, as if he feared she might escape.

Sunghoon: (softly, close to her ear) You are mine, Y/N. It always will be... I'll do anything to have you all to myself.

The grave tone of his voice sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. The weight of his words was palpable, laden with an obsession that both attracted and made her hesitate. He ran his fingers along the line of her face, as if he were etching every detail into his memory, before bringing his lips back to hers.

The kisses started intense, full of repressed passion, but soon became slower, deeper. Sunghoon explored every inch of her mouth, as if he wanted to claim every part of it. His hands traced paths along her waist, slowly climbing up her back, as he pulled her even closer.

Y/N closed her eyes, feeling the way he held her body, as if she were something precious, something he feared losing at any moment. But there was something more: an almost desperate need to prove how important she was.

Sunghoon: (with a hoarse voice, as his eyes slid over her) You don't understand, Y/N. Just the thought of someone near you, looking at you... I lose control. You are everything to me.

Sunghoon: (hoarse voice, as he ran his fingers along her jawline) I need you, Y/N... more than anything else.

She felt her heart race with his words, the serious and sincere tone leaving her speechless. Before she could respond, he leaned in and kissed her again, but this time the kiss was different. It was deep, intense, as if he were trying to convey everything he felt — the love, the fear, the obsession.

Sunghoon began to slide his hands over her body, his agile fingers reaching the hem of her blouse. He lifted it slightly, his movements careful yet determined, as he removed the piece of clothing. His eyes fixed on her, admiring her as if she were a work of art.

Sunghoon: (softly, almost like a whisper to himself) You are so beautiful...

Y/N felt her cheeks burn with the intensity of his gaze, but she didn't have much time to process it because he was soon leaning in again, kissing the space between her neck and shoulder, leaving a warm trail wherever his lips passed.

Meanwhile, she brought her hands to his chest, sliding her fingers over the shirt he was wearing. With a hesitant movement, she began to unbutton it, feeling the warmth of his skin under her fingers. He helped her, pulling the shirt off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor without ceremony.

The skin-to-skin contact made them both sigh. Sunghoon's hands traced every curve of her body, as if he wanted to know every detail, every inch. He slid his fingers along her waist, stopping only to unbutton her pants and slowly remove them, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sunghoon: (in a low voice, while watching her) I need you to know... how much you are mine, how much I want you.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as he spoke, the sincerity and intensity in each word being almost palpable. Sunghoon was not just in love; he was completely consumed by her.

With care, he removed the rest of her clothes, his fingers brushing against her skin in an almost reverent manner. He was taking his time, as if each piece removed was a moment for him to appreciate even more what was before him.

When she tried to pull him closer, her lips searching for his, he stopped her, holding her wrists gently.

Sunghoon: (looking deeply into her eyes) No, Y/N. Today, I'm going to show you how much you mean to me. I don't want to rush... I want you to feel everything.

His words made her swallow hard. There was something in his voice, something in his expression, that made her realize how vulnerable he was at that moment. This was not just desire; it was something deeper, almost desperate.

He kissed her again, but now his lips explored every part of her — the neck, the shoulders, the breasts. He lingered in each area, as if he wanted to leave his mark, as if he wanted her to remember that she was his.

When it was his turn to remove the rest of his own clothes, he did so calmly, his eyes fixed on hers, as if he wanted her to see everything he was willing to offer. As soon as the last pieces were discarded, he approached again, the heat of their bodies now without barriers.

He leaned over her, their fingers intertwining as he looked at her with a mixture of adoration and intensity.

Sunghoon: (whispering) You are everything I need, Y/N. Everything I will always need.

He trailed his lips down Y/N's neck, leaving a path of slow, hot kisses while his hands explored her body with reverence. Each touch seemed to carry a silent message: "You are mine." Only mine."

Sunghoon: (whispering against her skin) You are so perfect... I have no idea what I did to deserve you..

When their bodies finally united, there was a moment of pure stillness. Sunghoon closed his eyes, as if he were completely absorbing the sensation, while Y/N arched their body under his, a sigh escaping their lips.

Sunghoon: (with a hoarse voice, looking into her eyes) You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N. How much I love you... how much I want you.

Each of his movements was deliberate, full of care, but at the same time intense. He held her hands above her head, intertwining his fingers with hers, as if he wanted to keep her even closer. His eyes never left hers for a second, as if he wanted to make sure she felt everything he was feeling at that moment.

Y/N: (whispering between sighs) Sunghoon... I am yours. Always have been.

Her words seemed to ignite something in him. He leaned in to kiss her again, the kiss deep and full of passion. Each touch, each movement seemed like a declaration — he wanted to show her, without a shadow of a doubt, how important she was.

The rhythm between them gradually increased, both of them getting lost in the connection they shared. Sunghoon whispered fragmented words against her lips, praising her, saying how much he loved her, how beautiful she was, and how much he needed her.

When the final moment approached, they could both feel the climax building like a wave that could not be contained. Their gazes met again, and they held on even tighter, as if the world could collapse around them and it wouldn't matter.

Sunghoon: (almost out of breath) Stay with me, Y/N. Always...

And then, together, they reached the climax, their bodies trembling with the intensity of the moment. The room filled with a heavy silence, broken only by their irregular breathing. Sunghoon collapsed beside her, immediately pulling her into his arms, holding her as if she were his anchor.

He ran his fingers through her hair, still trying to catch his breath, while gently kissing her forehead.

Sunghoon: (softly, with a tired smile) I love you so much... You are everything to me.

Y/N nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the weight of his words.

Y/N: (whispering) I love you too, Sunghoon. I will always be yours.

They remained like that, intertwined, allowing the comfortable silence to speak for them. In that moment, all insecurities, fears, and doubts seemed to have vanished, leaving only the certainty that they belonged to each other.

✿ If you don't reblog and comment, you can be sure I'll be showing up in your dreams tonight... and I won’t be as sweet as in the story ✿

[skoulsons]

Outie Mark is a dense shell full of nothing but grief. He saw and had to identify Gemma’s body. His bedsheets went unwashed for weeks because her side of the bed still carried her scent. It affected him enough to want to become severed to escape what he could of his outside life so he wasn’t left to live out the rest of his days with the other half of his soul gone for good. He needed an escape from the pain, and this was his option

And yet, when suspicions rise and he thinks after a really weird night, “I’m going to quit,” grief is the exact dagger that Milchick uses to drag him back under to that wretched basement

He calls what Mark’s innie did as brave and that he’d love to reward him for such a courageous act… but how to reward such a great innie with no existence?

He offers a 20% increase to try and coerce him to come back. Says that they’ll up innie Mark’s wellness checks to make sure that he’s “A-OK 👍🏻,” if that would make outie Mark feel better

He says that the Mark that Milkshake knows is happy. He cares. He’s found love. He knows nothing of the pain that can be seen so clearly in outie Mark’s eyes. Innie Mark has been given a solace down there, and that solace will surely make its way to outie Mark and cleanse the sadness from those eyes—just give it time

“You cited her death as a primary motivator. You said that every day feels like a year since she died. That you were choking on her ghost. Do you still feel that way?”

Of course he does, and Milchick knows it. Why not paint the world as sunshine and rainbows to say “you’re happy. Continue to escape the pain. It’s ok, I promise. You’re happy refining the corpse of your dead wife that we desperately need you there for. Just come on back”

[women-in-ssports]

FOREVER AND A DAY

Ch 7 1/2

As Paige walks into the cafeteria, her eyes scan the room for familiar faces. She’s an upperclassman now, and the halls feel different. More crowded, more chaotic, but also oddly comfortable. Her heart picks up a little as she spots Azzi and the rest of the girls sitting at their usual table.

She starts to walk over, but as she gets closer, she sees the table is full. Every seat beside Azzi is taken—of course, everyone loves sitting next to Azzi. She’s always been, the one everyone gravitates toward. Paige hesitates for a moment, looking at all the full seats next to her best friend, then decides to slide into the seat Azzi is sitting on.

Azzi glances up as Paige settles in, offering a quick smile before turning back to the conversation she’s having with Nika. It’s comfortable, natural. But then Paige notices Aubrey shifting in her seat. The way her shoulders tense slightly, how her eyes dart to Paige and then quickly away. It’s subtle, but to Azzi, it feels like a shift in the air. Something’s changed since summer, and Azzi can’t help but think that maybe Aubrey’s feelings for Paige have deepened.

Azzi leans back in her seat, shifting slightly to make room for Paige to lean closer. “Hey, you got any candy?” she asks, her voice light and teasing, as always.

Nika, who’s been staring blankly at her phone, suddenly perks up. “Candy! Can I have some too?”

Paige glances around, laughing softly. “See what you did, Azzi? Now everyone wants my candy.” She pulls a small bag from her backpack, opens it, and begins handing out pieces to everyone at the table, giving a few to herself as well.

Azzi chuckles, accepting a piece with a grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to start a candy craze,” she says, taking a bite and glancing over at Aubrey. Aubrey’s still fidgeting, but now there’s something more—something that Azzi can’t quite place. She wishes she could just ask, but not yet. Not until she’s sure.

Paige leans back forward to where only Azzi could hear, a playful glint in her eye. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says to Azzi with a teasing smile, and Azzi’s heart does a little flip. It’s moments like this that make everything feel so… easy. Like nothing could ruin the rhythm they have.

But somewhere in the background, the weight of Aubrey’s quiet tension lingers, like an unspoken question hanging in the air. Azzi doesn’t know it yet, but things are about to shift.

MID SEPTEMBER

It’s mid-September, and things have been a bit off between Aubrey, Paige, and Azzi lately. The three of them have spent a lot of time out in the woods by Paige’s house, but Aubrey can’t shake the feeling that something’s changed. At first, she thought it was just because she was starting to get a vibe that maybe Paige liked Azzi, but the more she observes, the more she’s not so sure. It feels like there’s something else going on, but Aubrey can’t quite figure it out.

Azzi and Paige, on the other hand, have been getting closer, almost inseparable these days. They’re always attached at the hip, whether it’s lingering touches or just sitting next to each other. They don’t think anything of it—they’re just being their usual selves. But Aubrey? She’s not so sure anymore.

Aubrey

“You okay, Aubrey?” Caroline asked during lunch.

“Yeah, Azzi and Paige are just getting on my nerves,” Aubrey muttered.

“I feel you. They’ve been acting weird around you lately,” Caroline agreed. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. It’s just—there’s something off,” Aubrey said, frustration in her voice. “They’re definitely hiding something from me.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, they have to be dating. Have you seen how they act around each other?” Aubrey snapped.

Caroline blinked. “Wait, what? Dating?”

“Yeah, haven’t you noticed? They’re practically glued to each other,” Aubrey insisted.

“They’ve always been like that, though,” Caroline said, confused.

Just then, Nika walked up, and the conversation was cut short.

Caroline

Later that day in English, Caroline couldn’t focus on anything the teacher was saying. She kept replaying Aubrey’s words in her head. Dating? No way. Azzi was straight, and Paige… well, she never gave off those vibes. But… maybe? Caroline glanced at Azzi across the room, smiling at her phone, almost certainly texting Paige.

Shit, Caroline thought, a knot forming in her stomach. No way… she wouldn’t keep something like that from me, right?

The bell rings, and Caroline is out of her seat in a flash, cutting through the crowd with a single goal in mind—catching Aubrey before she leaves. She darts toward the door, heart racing, and grabs Aubrey’s arm, pulling her back around. “Aubrey!” she calls, urgency in her voice.

Aubrey looks up at her, eyes sharp with frustration and a bit of desperation. “See? I’m not crazy,” she says, her words tinged with relief. Caroline takes a beat, absorbing the weight of the statement, and then nods, her tone softer than she expected. “I don’t think you are,” she says, though her mind is a swirl of doubt. The moment hangs between them, and for the first time, Caroline wonders if maybe she’s been missing something.

PAIGE

Slipping Azzi’s favorite snack into her pocket, Paige makes a beeline for the English hall, determined to catch Azzi before she gets too far. She took the back way, so she’s pretty sure she’ll make it. Paige reaches the door just as Azzi walks out. “Got you a present,” she says with a grin, holding up the bag.

Azzi lights up. “Aww, my favorite!” she exclaims, grabbing the treat and giving Paige a playful shove. “That’s all I get?” Paige teases with a pout, trying to keep the mood light.

But just then, Paige hears a voice behind her. Azzi’s eyes flick up, and Paige turns to find Jake standing there. “Hey, Azzi,” Jake says with that familiar cocky smile. “Can I steal you for a second?”

Paige’s jaw tightens, irritation flashing across her face. But what surprises her most is Azzi’s response. “Yeah, sure,” Azzi says, stepping away without hesitation. Paige blinks in disbelief. What? She can’t help but feel a sting of jealousy, but she quickly catches herself. “You’re fine,” Paige mutters under her breath, trying to shake off the frustration. You’re just mad she’s talking to him because he was mean to her, your best friend.

She watches Azzi walk off with Jake, the two of them chatting as she passes by. Azzi gives her a quick nod, a soft “See you later, Paige,” before walking off with Jake. Paige stays still for a moment, feeling that tight knot in her chest, watching them go.

Caroline

“What’s wrong with you?” Caroline asks, looking up from her notes as Paige slams into the seat across from her during study hall, her face already twisted in a scowl.

“Nothing,” Paige mutters, leaning back in her chair, “just tired.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow, sensing something’s off but before she can push it, Aubrey sits down next to Caroline. She glances at Paige’s mood and mouths, What’s wrong with her? to Caroline.

Caroline shrugs, trying to stay neutral, but Paige cuts in before either can say more. “Azzi is letting that Jake boy use her again.”

Aubrey and Caroline exchange a confused look, their expressions mirror each other’s. They’re both caught off guard. “Jake?” Caroline finally asks, her mind struggling to connect the dots.

Aubrey’s face scrunches in confusion. “What? Aren’t Paige and Azzi dating?” She mouths to Caroline.

Paige’s eyes snap up, her frustration evident. Aubrey and Caroline both stare at her, trying to figure out where the tension’s coming from. Paige sighs heavily, looking away not even noticing them talking about her.

THE NEXT DAY

The next day, Caroline and Azzi stand together in the lunch line, the usual chatter buzzing around them. But today, Caroline’s mind is elsewhere. The conversation with Aubrey last night is still fresh—Aubrey’s suspicion about Azzi and Paige, and Caroline’s determination to figure out what’s really going on. They’d made a plan to spy on Paige and Azzi, to dig deeper into what’s been happening.

“So, what happened with Jake yesterday?” Caroline asks, her tone casual but her eyes sharp, scanning Azzi’s reaction.

Azzi looks up, clearly caught off guard. “Nothing. Why?”

Caroline presses on, pretending to be nonchalant. “Well, Paige said he talked to you yesterday.”

Azzi tenses just a little, but she shrugs, trying to downplay it. “Yeah, so? It’s not a big deal.”

Caroline raises an eyebrow, not buying it. “Really? Doesn’t seem like you’d be so calm about it if it was nothing.”

Azzi gives her a quick glance, but before she can say anything more, the line moves forward. Caroline watches her carefully, wondering just how much Azzi is hiding.

AZZI

In the lunch line, Azzi felt the weight of all the stares. It was like everyone was looking at her, whispering about her and Jake. Why? She didn’t even like him. But it seemed like people had made up their minds. She felt stuck in the middle of something she didn’t understand.

Caroline was walking beside her, still talking, but Azzi couldn’t focus on what she was saying. Her mind was too full of questions, all of them circling back to the same thing: why was everyone so obsessed with Jake? And why did Caroline, her best friend, keep questioning her?

When they got their trays, Azzi stopped suddenly, almost making Caroline bump into her. Caroline raised an eyebrow, confused. Azzi’s eyes flickered to an empty table off to the side, a little away from their usual spot by the window. It felt like the right place to finally clear the air.

Caroline hesitated for a moment, then followed Azzi as she walked over to the table. There was a shift in the air, a tension that Caroline couldn’t quite place. She sat down, glancing up at Azzi, who seemed almost… nervous? Or was it frustrated?

Azzi sat down too, her eyes meeting Caroline’s. There was a long pause before Azzi finally spoke, the words coming out in a rush. “Okay, look—nothing happened with Jake. He asked me about Kim yesterday, because we all sit together in that dual-credit class, and I know they like each other. So now they’re both asking me about each other, and I just… I don’t know what to do with it. But that’s it. That’s the whole thing. Nothing else.”

Caroline stared at her, brows furrowed. She was quiet for a long moment, clearly processing. “But you’ve been hanging out with him so much lately,” Caroline finally said, her voice uncertain. “It just seemed like… I don’t know, like there was something going on between you two.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “I get it. It looks like that. I’m not dumb, Caroline. But I swear, I never liked Jake like that. I’ve never even had a boyfriend, never kissed anyone. I wanted that stuff, though. I wanted it so bad that I tried to convince myself I could like him. I thought if I could fake it, maybe I’d finally get the attention or… something. But it didn’t work. And now everyone’s acting like I’m hiding something, but I’m not.”

Caroline looked stunned, her mouth opening and closing as if she wanted to say something, but couldn’t quite find the words. After a moment, she sighed, her expression softening. “I just… I don’t get it. You always seemed so close to him, Azzi. Like, I thought you were comfortable with him. But now… now you’re saying it was all just… a lie?”

Azzi shook her head, the frustration mixing with a sense of relief that she was finally saying it out loud. “I wasn’t lying, I was just… confused. I didn’t know how to say it. I was afraid. But nothing happened. I’ve never even been with anyone like that. I just wanted to belong, you know? And I thought I did like him I wasn’t lying”

Caroline sat back, processing it all. She didn’t say anything for a while, just staring at Azzi with a mix of confusion and sympathy.

PAIGE

At the same time, Paige and Nika were at their table, mid-conversation when they both noticed Azzi and Caroline moving to the other side of the room. Paige immediately felt the tension in the air, a subtle shift she couldn’t quite explain.

“That’s weird,” Paige murmured, glancing at Nika. “Why are they sitting over there? They never sit apart.”

Nika looked over, confused. “Yeah, what’s going on? They didn’t even look like they were in the middle of a fight.”

AUBREY

Aubrey, who’d been quietly eating, followed their gaze and raised an eyebrow. “Is Caroline questioning Azzi? She looks like she’s… I don’t know, trying to get something out of her.”

PAIGE

Paige frowned, her curiosity piqued. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but something about Azzi’s body language caught her attention. It looked like she was dealing with something heavy—something she couldn’t pin point.

[glass-apothecary]

Abby Baby

Chapter 1 - The Proposal

AO3 | Masterlist

Note: Abby is a is a veteran of the coast guard and has a little PTSD. Can be read as Abby/Reader either being married or not married.

You and Abby have a baby <3

Abby was acting weird.

The whole week she was avoiding you. Getting up early and coming to bed late. In the evenings, when you would usually cuddle on the couch and watch Round Planet, Abby was excusing herself to her office to type away on her laptop. A dark part of you wondered if she was cheating. But Abby wouldn’t, right? And besides, it felt like she was getting calls from Nora and Manny almost every day and neither of them would abide by infidelity. 

As you plated dinner – a side of brown rice for her and white for you – you resolved to ask her about it.

Abby didn’t lie to you. When she was hiding something, she kept quiet. Lying by omission, maybe.

As you approached the table you saw that Abby was on her phone again, swiftly tucking in away as you set down the plates. 

“Food looks beautiful, darling.” She smiled sweetly at you.

God the things that smile did to you… but no, focus .

“Abby, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” You said, fidgeting with your silverware.

“Oh?” She looked at you suspiciously. 

“I feel like you've been acting different lately. You’re spending less lime with me, you’re on the phone all the time, I… I’m just worried.”

You looked up to see Abby had paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. She set it down and cleared her throat. There was something, you thought.

She took a moment before replying. You forced your hummingbird heart to settle. You trusted Abby for a reason, it would all be okay.

“You’re right.” She said simply, taking your hands in hers across the table. “I’ve been working on something. Something good! I promise. I was going to tell you tomorrow. Is there any chance you can just trust me until then?” She rubbed her thumbs soothingly across your knuckles, gazing at you with those god damned puppy eyes.

You folded, because of course you did. She could convince you to rob a bank if she wanted.

“Fine, but this better be good.” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Oh, it is.”

~♡~

The next day, you woke to Abby gently brushing her thumb against your cheek. When she saw your eyes start to open, she smiled. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead.” She kissed your forehead and laughed when you wrinkled your nose. 

Once you were fully awake and sitting up, you noticed a tray on your table. 

“Abigail Anderson, did you bring me breakfast in bed?” 

“Why yes I did.” Abby replied in an overly formal manner, to poke fun at you for using her full name.

“Is this what you’ve been ‘working on?’” You asked skeptically.

“No,” she replied. Moving the tray over your lap. “This is just a thank you for putting up with me.”

You chuckled. Putting up with Abby was your favorite pastime.

“Always.”

~♡~

Once you were dressed, Abby let you know she would be heading out. Much to your dismay.

“Darling, I have some errands to run, and then I’ll be having lunch with Manny. I’ll be back around four for your surprise” She wiggled her eyebrows like an adorable idiot. 

You resisted the urge to frown, holding Abby’s face in your hands while she wrapped hers around your waist. The last thing you wanted from Abby right now was more space.

“You and Manny going to Group today?” You asked.

Abby had completed her Coast Guard service seven years ago. She hadn’t told you everything, but she didn’t need to, all you knew was that she came home with a fucked up shoulder and a medal hidden in the back of her closet. 

Once she was home, her government issue therapist recommended she go to veterans anonymous meetings at the community center. She met Manny there, and they bonded over their complicated feelings about their service. The meetings really seemed to help her, she always seemed more at ease afterwards.

She turned her head and kissed your palm. “Yeah, is that okay?” She asked sincerely.

You playfully glared at her. “Abbs, you never need my permission to go to Group, or anywhere for that matter.”

���I know… it’s just, I feel bad for being distant recently. I think I was under the impression that I was being more stealthy than I actually was.”

You chuckled. “Abby. I love you and I trust you.” You dramatically pushed her to the door. “And stealth has never been one of your talents.” You playfully patted her on the ass to send her on her way. She had a dramatically over-the-top look of betrayal painted across her gorgeous face as you chuckled at her. 

You were standing over the threshold of your front door, with Abby standing on your welcome mat.

But oh, god! When she stuck out her bottom lip in a melodramatic pout, it took every fibre of your being not to pull her back in the house and ride her face until the only expression she could make was exhaustion.

You settled for a lingering kiss.

~♡~

By the time Abby’s car pulled into the driveway, you were beyond bored. You had deep cleaned the oven, finished painting the attic that also served as your office/studio, taken a nap, and watered the garden. You were laying on the couch reading when she opened the front door. She set her bags down by the door and laid on the couch with you, wiggling her head between your book and your face. 

“You smell like outside.” You complained. A small price to pay to cuddle with your lover.

She buried her face in your chest. “This is the part where I was supposed to convince you to go on a spontaneous date or something so I could bring you to the thing.”

“You want me to go get dressed?“ You asked as you scratched softly at Abby’s scalp.

She looked up at you with eyes half-closed in pleasure. “Mmm...” After another moment of head scritches, she continued. “Yes. Cocktail attire please.” 

You rolled your eyes, Abby and her dress codes. As you disentangled yourself from Abby and set off toward the bedroom, you said “Fine but only if you wear that gay ass suit I like.” You half-shouted back at Abby.

She saluted you and said, “yes, ma’am!”

~♡~

Abby took you to Montressor, a beautiful – if grimly named – winery. The building was beautiful. With natural wood floors, solid oak tables and chairs, and a beautiful exposed beam ceiling, The place smelled like the inside of a damn barrel. Giant floor to ceiling windows let in the warm light of a setting sun and the candles and chandeliers gave the place a welcoming charm. One side of the building had a more casual wine bar, and the other side functioned as a restaurant. It was small, no more than six tables on each side. And it was the perfect place for a date.

And yes, she was in that suit you liked – perfectly fitted trousers and a loose button shirt that was unbuttoned just enough to see a hint of breasts.

You whispered to Abby as the host led you to the wine bar, “I was gonna say you need to buy me a drink to get in my pants, but it seems like you have that covered.” 

She chuckled softly at your joke as you were seated. Instead of menus, they brought out a very fancy bottle the two of you had been meaning to try. When you looked at Abby with raised eyebrows, she replied sheepishly.

“I picked it out ahead of time” 

The impatient part of you wanted her to spill her whole plan immediately. But if there was anything you learned from Abby, it was that patience was rewarded. So with great difficulty, you settled into an easy conversation with the woman you loved. 

About a half hour later, as you poured your second glass, Abby’s energy changed. Anticipation, maybe? Something softer?

“So I, uh.” She cleared her throat and reached into her coat pocket. She held something small in her lap as she continued. 

“I know we’ve talked about this before. And I know that there might never be a perfect time, but I’ve been doing well recently, we’ve been doing well, and I… I love you, and–” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Fuck, I’m doing this out of order.”

She was flustered. Sometimes Abby wound herself up so much that all you could do was anchor her while she untangled her thoughts. You reached across the table and took her hand. 

She took a deep breath. Resetting. “There is a reason I brought you here. ” She looked at you. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. 

“I brought you here because if this goes well, It’ll be a while before I can drink again.” She said. You cocked your head.

She produced a small velvet box. Bigger than a ring box, but too small to be anything but jewelry. 

Abby looked at you with nothing but love and admiration in her eyes and said the most romantic thing she could think of at that moment.

“Put a baby in me.”

Both you, and the waiter passing your table sputtered at the unexpected turn of phrase. Abby winced in embarrassment and rushed to correct herself. 

“ With me! Fuck. Have a baby… with me.” Her face flushed scarlet, no doubt helped by the wine.  

You laughed good naturedly and stood from the table as Abby held her face in her hands. You rounded to her side and took her chin gently in your hand, turning her to face you. Her eyes searched yours, but she wasn’t left waiting for a response for long. “Oh, my love. I would be honored to have a baby with you.” You pulled her up to standing and you kissed her. 

You and Abby must have kissed a thousand times before. Some short and fleeting, some with passion so intense you thought it might end you, some awkward and giggly. But this one, this one was one for the books. You kissed away her embarrassment, her fear and anxiety. With each press of your lips you told her that you would always be hers and yet, you couldn’t wait to share her with someone. 

The kiss went on for far longer than was decent in a public space.

When you finally separated yourselves, Abby had the most endearing smile on her face, one you knew nothing could erase. As you seated yourselves back down, you shot apologetic glances at the waitstaff. Abby had her fingers pressed to her lips as if she was still reeling from the kiss and you were just watching her. 

“Um, in the box. It’s a gift.” She gestured for you to open it.

Inside was a breathtakingly delicate gold pendant. The centerpiece was an ornate, yet simple, setting for a single gem. A gem which was not currently present. 

“It’s beautiful, Abby–” You said, an unspoken question in your words.

“It’s incomplete, I know. It’s for the baby’s birthstone, whatever it ends up being.” She pulled another, smaller box out of her pocket. “I have a matching ring.” She pulled out a white gold ring with a similarly missing stone. 

Your Abby. Your beautiful, creative, thoughtful Abby. The mother of your theoretical child.

~♡~

One text and a few minutes later, the whole gang arrived. Manny and one of his partners, Leah and Jordan, Nora, and Mel and Owen. The latter couple seemed like an invite of necessity. They were your friends but it was the tiniest bit awkward. Mel and Nora owned a medical practice together and Owen was Abby’s high school boyfriend. At the end of the day it was just easier to invite them. 

They all showed up dressed impeccably, and at your questioning look, Abby explained they had been waiting for the signal. It had all been planned out. The host moved your group to the restaurant side of Montressor. It was somewhere between an engagement party and a baby shower, as a few friends brought you small baby gifts. 

It was perfect, celebrating with your friends. Watching Abby receive congratulations and getting a few yourself. You had to pinch yourself a few times just to be sure you weren’t dreaming. As the night went on, the table opened another couple bottles. You cut yourself off at the third glass when you heard Manny suggest he and Abby do shots. Abby didn’t drink often, except for an occasional glass of wine, for one very good reason. She was a lightweight. Despite her heavy frame, she could not hold her liquor. It was usually with Manny that she ended up less-than-sober. Now it couldn’t be said that Abby wasn’t a fun drunk, between her third and fourth drinks she got giggly and sweet, an interesting contrast to her usual shy and reserved exterior. Between four and five, she got bold. Singing karaoke and proposing outlandish schemes. Anything past that, Abby got hungry and/or sleepy. You had a very fond memory of her curling up in the corner of a house party at Nora’s with half a loaf of bread.

By the end of the night, Abby was saying something about a ‘scape room,’ which Nora helpfully translated into ‘escape room.’ She was disappointed that you wouldn’t let her until you helpfully reminded her that you had girl scout cookies at home.

In the back of the cab, with Abby curled up at your side, you wondered if it was even possible to be happier. If it was, you knew it’d only happen with her. 

You weren’t going to sleep with her when you were at different levels of intoxication but there was no harm in a little teasing. God knows Abby sure teased you as often as she could. When Abby laid a crooked kiss on your cheek, you turned and whispered suggestively in her ear.

“Abbs, I can’t wait to put a baby in you.”

She did that thing drunk people sometimes do, where she widened her eyes in surprise but at the speed of a turtle on Xanax. It was the funniest thing you’d seen in a while.

You were still laughing when the driver pulled onto your block.

[letherightonein]

"You don't need to constantly approach women to understand you're undesirable, that's what I'm trying to communicate."

Men constantly approach women to date them.

My question is an attempt to raise a real criteria of what an incel is, an everytime I think deeply about it, nothing is solid enough to keep using the "involuntary" label, at least at the same height people that uses it demand from lonely women.

Plain loneliness or dysphoric singleness/celibacy seems to be more accurate. There is not accurate measure of "voluntary"

"If you see the very few guys around you easily have success with gals while you don't have one genuinely good interaction with a gal, it's over. "

Sorry, but this is laughable. What's the criteria for "good interaction" here? I have had multiple "good interactions" with incels, giving them my time, energy, empathy, only to be told that I'm a whore the most soft.

At least in the US, losing your V card in high school is becoming less common and most men have to put effort at the beginning of dating.

"Easiest way for a man to truly understand his incel status is to get on a dating app."

You mean, the worst?

Only 5% of het couples formed throught internet last year according to the National Survey of Family Growth. I guess 95% of men are incels now?

And when even out the gender ratio on dating apps, both sexes get the same amount of matches. I guess women are incels too.

(source)

"You don't have to constantly approach women, you essentially did virtually and they didn't even want to entertain the idea of dating you."

Tapping the sign again:

"Male initiation of dates, which aligns with the initial stage of traditional dating scripts, represents 89.1 percent of the total analytic sample while female initiation of dates, which aligns with alternative dating scripts, represents only 10.9 percent of the total analytic sample." (study)

"Most men have a big ego, they don't want to acknowledge any shortcomings. Especially when it comes to their relationship with women, there are PUAs who brag and try sell courses on "how to pick up women," and in every one of their videos the women seem uncomfortable and reject them. Yet, somehow these men act like they're experts on women despite them having just as much inexperience as a self proclaimed incel. Why? Because most men overestimate themselves and have big egos. So any man who calls himself an incel is very likely level headed and telling the truth. After all it's very hard for men to come to terms that they are incels, many incels try to deny it but come to the painful acceptance that they are indeed incels."

I don't think so, within blackpill communities there is a "you are special" factor at play, where they feel special and as victims of the system that know the-cold-hard-truth nobody else sees.

(source)

Agree with the "men overestimate themselves" bit. But for other reasons.

"The main cause of inceldom is poor looks, essentially growing up most boys are very similar in terms of "personality," character, and interests."

Not true, and I explained why above. Unironically, it's your personality, at least when it comes to cross the barrier of getting a date/sex.

"suffer from a variety of mental health issues including severe depression, anxiety, and loneliness. A significant portion of incels also exhibit traits associated with autism spectrum disorder. While the global prevalence of autism is typically 0.62 per cent, a 2022 study found that 18.38 per cent of incels in their sample had a formal diagnosis, and an additional 24.6 per cent displayed symptoms indicative of autism spectrum disorder" (article)

Tell me in what planet 18% of men are autistic, only within incels such number appears. And those are only for the ones who have official diagnosis.

It's also found they have "a greater external locus of control regarding their singlehood" and also: "Incels (and non-incel single men) significantly overestimated the importance of physical attractiveness and financial prospects to women, and underestimated the importance of intelligence, kindness, and humor." (study)

Basically the study is describing what you are doing right now and what incels do on a regular basis.

"Difference is some of these guys got girls because the main thing separating them from the other boys was their looks."

80% of men are having sex every year and the average american man is almost obese. Math isn't mathing.

"Autism/ neurodivergance is overstated, if you're ugly it doesn't matter, you weren't getting a woman either way. If you're a good looking autistic man you can still get a woman."

I introduce you to Tom Morgan, he is autistic and appeared on a show called "The undateables", because he was, you guessed it, undateable.

"You deem yourself as somewhat blackpilled. You understand that we don't have much agency in this world."

I embrace the real blackpill, that it's your personality and that it's something that you hardly can change since it's stable (but also dynamic, don't kill yourself) throught life.

Looks is cope, datings apps are cope, Chad is a meme. The reality is that incels got the short stick in life because they are either autistic or herited a mix of shit personality traits that impply low agency and crippling neuroticism that leads to mental illness and isolation. But that requires social assistance, medical treatment and societal awareness, and what the blackpill is achieving is the opposite of that, they transform a disability on a meme to laugh of, and loneliness in a juicy fatalistic theory of which people make entire careers and line their pockets talking about “the fall of the West”, “Hypergamy” or “poor baby incels, they need help” proceeds to do nothing.

I'm fucking sick of it, I'm fucking sick of normies talking about incels, I'm fucking tired of blackpillers grooming children into thinking they are ugly and will die alone. If they are not disabled, autistic, chronically mentally ill and younger than 25 yo, they are mere late bloomers than don't go outside enough period.

Testing a male bullshit story #1