#and they all care about each other!!!!! so much!!!!!!

[stealingyourbones]

Danny, being a halfa, falls under the strange category of people who can converse with the dead and act in their names. Most mediums simply convey messages. It was rare for someone to be able to fulfill a ghost’s dying request and have that act tied to the ghost’s core.

Honestly it’s annoying.

He doesn’t get any alone time anymore for homework or hobbies. The dead are constantly pestering Danny to help with their desires - which, sure, it helps them move on which means they’re out of Danny’s hair, but come on!! Give a guy a break! Just because he doesn’t need as much sleep as a fully living person doesn’t mean he can go without entirely!

“No Scott,” Danny repeated for the fifth time, “I am not flying to California tonight. Do you know how far that is? Literally the other coast of this massive continent. Meet me there in August like everyone else on the list.”

Spending the first spring break of college creating a map and calendar for Last Rites was not something Danny expected when he moved to Gotham.

Why did this city have so many ghosts?! It was ridiculous. And he thought Amity Park was bad? At least the ghosts here were mostly Shades. Not visible to anyone unless they were also dead-adjacent or had The Sight or a bloodline curse or a magical amulet… you know what? There were enough of those in this curse ridden city, why couldn’t these ghosts go find one of those people instead? Danny was exhausted.

So exhausted he didn’t notice the vigilante dropping down from the rooftop.

“Hey there kid, you alri-”

“Yeah yeah,” Danny waved a hand dismissively at the voice without looking up. “Wait in line like everyone else. But honestly you’d be better off coming back tomorrow when I’ve had some sleep.”

“Think maybe you outta get started on that sleep now, bud?” the voice behind him spoke in a calm careful tone.

One Danny had heard all too often since dying.

His head jerked sideways to stare wide-eyed at Nightwing, who tensed just a little as if expecting Danny to run or fight. Instead he let out a groan and slumped onto the park bench, rubbing his eyes to ease the burn of fatigue. He’d been coming out to this park at the corner of campus each night to keep the Shades from mobbing him all day long in classes, but they’d spread the word around Gotham that he was here and his precious spring break had become a non-stop line of requests and arguments. Made sense he’d caught the attention of one of the Bats. Should have expected it sooner.

Danny ignored all the voices around him and looked at Nightwing directly as he prattled off his usual list when someone caught him talking to thin air.

“No, I’m not hallucinating. I got all my Rogue Gallery immunizations the day I checked onto campus. I’m not schizophrenic. The only meds I take are for adhd and the occasional Tylenol. I’m not a danger to myself or others. Unless they attack me first.”

Nightwing nodded along, but tilted his head at the end.

“I’m talking to the dead,” Danny answered the unspoken question in a tired monotone, waiting for the usual skepticism or plea for help with lost loved ones.

“Oh. Okay then.”

“What?” That wasn’t expected.

“No yeah, that makes sense.”

Danny was sure his jaw was on the ground. “You… you believe me?”

“Well sure,” the hero shrugged and chuckled. “I can’t see ghosts myself but I know a couple magicians who work with one, and my little brother Robin has a ghost on his team - she’s actually visible most of the time so I don’t know if that’s a special skill or something else going on. But I’m glad you’re okay and don’t need any emergency medication. I know a couple 24 hour pharmacies that would help but it’s nice when they’re not needed. We don’t get a lot of mediums around Gotham holding court at night so you really can’t fault me for checking in.”

Danny was still floating in the relief of not being questioned or doubted. That hadn’t happened since Jazz found out his secret. She’d had plenty of questions about his halfa status, of course, but never called him crazy for talking to things others couldn’t see. Even Sam and Tucker would forget sometimes and give him strange looks before realizing he was dealing with a Shade, Wisp, or Memory.

He didn’t realize he was wobbling until Nightwing’s arms shot out to stabilize him.

Danny blinked up at the pretty face that was trying not to chuckle, held by strong arms, and so far past tired he might be getting delirious after all because his brain seemed to have lost its filter and he said out loud,

“You actually believe me. I think I love you.”

Then the horrifying embarrassment hit at the same time as Nightwing’s laughter. Which… sounded delighted rather than mean spirited?

“Well now it’s your turn to wait in line, cuz that’s the fourth confession I’ve had this week!” They both devolved into snorts and giggles, Danny still relying on those arms for balance, but when they’d caught their breath the vigilante said, “Come on, you’ve really got to get some sleep. I’ll walk you back to your dorm.”

Ignoring the whispers and grumbles of the Shades was easier with someone walking beside him.

This is so incredibly cute oml. It’s so rare to see the bats actually go with the flow and god it isn’t done enough. 12/10 immaculate, glorious.

The entire plot I can see so clearly in my mind dude:

Danny chatting to Nightwing as they walk to his dorm

Nightwing asking some casual questions about ghosts and Danny asking about vigilante work.

Nightwing informs the Bats of Danny as he might be a valuable asset in the future.

Nightwing helps free shades with Danny and he realizes why Danny is so incredibly tired all the time.

Nightwing managing to stumble into Danny every day of his break, slowly getting to know each other more and more and becoming really good friends (perhaps lovers 👀).

Wonderful stuff man ty for the ask!

[leia-writes]

not sure if you’ve wrote this before but Frontmanxfem reader maybe she’s like nervous for him to go down on her and he reassures her🥹

Movement

hwang in-ho | front man x reader

ao3 link

masterlist

song inspiration: movement by hozier

note: thanks for your request!! I'm so happy to finally be writing again. more to come with season 2 out!

warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY

“Fuck!” you exclaimed under your breath, elevator doors closing in front of you. You pressed the button to your floor and impatiently waited for the elevator to take you to your residence. As soon as the doors opened, you ripped your mask off and stormed down the hallway.

You passed the main living room, furnished with two leather chairs facing a large screen and a table with a half drunk glass of whiskey on it. Another mask like yours laid neatly on the table next to the glass. You hurled yours across the room in a fit of rage.

Storming into the nearby kitchen, you saw In-ho pouring a glass of your favorite wine.

“I hope that’s for me,” you sighed as you approached In-ho.

He gave you a sympathetic look and handed you the glass. “I heard what happened.”

You finished the glass off in a few seconds, slamming it down on the counter. In-ho approached your hunched over figure but you stood straight again, pointing at him.

“I could kill them all. Every last one of them,” you seethed. 

He knew exactly who you were talking about, and gave you a soft, pitying look. “I know, I know you could. You’d be really good at it too.” He caressed your cheek as he praised you, a playful smirk flashing across his face for a moment.

You huffed, rolling your eyes but softening at his affection. “I’m fucking serious. I’m done with these pretentious assholes.”

Before you joined In-ho in your shared residence that evening, you’d spent your entire day with the VIPs. Handling impossible requests and battling egos was the most insufferable part of your job. You’d run around so much that day trying to appease every demand that you could’ve probably traversed every inch of the island in the same amount of time. 

In-ho spent the day in Seoul, working with the recruiter to find the next batch of players, and was therefore spared from dealing with the VIPs. Your muscles ached with fatigue and jealousy.

In-ho embraced you, stroking your hair. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll make sure you don’t see them for a while, alright?” You sighed heavily in response, resting your head on his shoulder and wrapping your arms around his warm torso.

He smiled as you melted into his touch. “My poor darling. Let me make you feel better.”

He swiftly picked you up and carried you to one of the leather chairs in the main room, setting you down gently in front of him. Before you could register what was happening, his lips were on yours, distracting you from the tension that wracked your body and mind.

In-ho leaned over you, pressing your back to the chair. You gently pulled away. “In-ho, I-”

He gently pressed a finger over your mouth, caressing your cheek. “Shh, just let me take care of you now, alright?” 

You sighed as he dipped his head down to kiss your neck, your skin becoming flushed and warm. He brought a hand down your side, gently starting to coax your shirt upwards. 

You knew exactly what he was after - you’d done this for him more times than you could count. The job you two held was a difficult one, and you had no problem being an outlet of stress relief for each other. 

He brought his hands to your pants, carefully undoing the buttons and lowering the zipper, before slowly dipping his hand into your underwear. He released himself from your neck and looked at you, gauging your reactions.

You leaned forward and kissed him hard as his hand dipped into your warm core, soaking his fingers as he explored you. He groaned at the warm wetness on his fingers. You sighed, desperate for more, but a confused feeling of embarrassment was starting to cloud your lustful thoughts.

He brought his hand from your core to his mouth, obscenely tasting your juices on his fingers. He groaned, a sound that would’ve normally made you feral but instead made you feel vulnerable. You felt your breath catch in your throat, unsure of how to react.

He roughly grasped the waist of your pants and began pulling them down before you grabbed his hand to stop them. He immediately looked at you with concern.

Your face flushed red with embarrassment. “I… I’m, uh…”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no, not that, I just… I…” You internally slapped yourself for sounding so stupid.

He playfully smirked at you. “You know I’ve seen it, right? There’s no need to be so bashful.”

You scoffed. Of course you’d known that. You’d had sex with him many times before, that was nothing new. But having his fingers on you, and the thought of having his face down there, made you more self-conscious than you knew how to deal with. In the past, you’d redirect his attention elsewhere quickly to avoid dealing with the imaginary shame you might feel.

And that’s exactly what you planned to do now.

“I know… I’m just too tense right now. I’m sorry.” You started pulling your pants back up, looking down in guilt.

He quickly tilted your face towards him, giving you a concerned look and caressing your face. “It’s alright, darling. You don’t have to be sorry.” He placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Do you want to take a hot bath?”

“Yes."

~~~

After taking your relaxing hot bath and washing the day’s stress away, you climbed into your shared bed with In-ho. You already felt a million times better. In-ho was immersed in a book he was reading, but wrapped his arm around you when you climbed into bed next to him.

“Are you feeling better?”

You gave him a happy, dazed smile. “Very much so.”

He smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead, diverting his attention back to his book. You grabbed the one you were currently reading and began to do the same next to him.

After a short while of getting comfortable in bed, your thoughts began to wander as you read. You thought about In-ho touching you before, how good it felt and sounded to you. The overwhelming embarrassment and anxiety you felt at the time was now closer to a distant memory. You felt much more comfortable in your body, more intrigued than embarrassed about the thought of In-ho’s mouth on you. 

You felt the familiar flush in your skin again and set your book down. Warmth was spreading throughout your body but you weren’t sure how to express what you wanted, so you snuggled up to In-ho, resting your arm on his chest.

He glanced at you as he read. “Getting tired?”

“No, you’re just so warm.” A believable lie.

He smiled and continued to read, oblivious to the dirty thoughts starting to cloud your mind. You wanted him bad. How was he not able to read your mind and know exactly what you wanted at that moment? You glanced at him quickly and started playing with the hem of his shirt, hoping he’d get some sort of hint from your mixed signals.

In-ho eyed your hands on his shirt and set his book down. “What are you thinking about, darling?” He had a naughty glint in his eye, suspecting he knew what you might be after.

At the first glance from him, your newfound confidence faltered. “Nothing. Just laying here with you.” You feigned innocence - but he knew better.

He turned his body towards you, your hand unintentionally slipping underneath his shirt. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope. Nothing.” You began to gently caress his warm skin, avoiding eye contact.

He gently sighed at your touch. “Hm. You don’t want anything?”

You gave him a pleading look but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything except for a quiet hum.

He leaned forward to kiss you, gently, before slightly pulling back, testing how much you wanted. You quickly leaned forward to return his kiss, deeper and more needy, twisting the hem of his shirt in your hands.

He sighed and pushed you on your back, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss even further. After a few moments, he pulled back, observing your beautifully flushed face.

“Do you want me to make you feel better? Like before?”

Your breath hitched again, and all you could muster was a small nod, silently begging for his lips to be on yours again.

He crashed his lips into yours, kissing you more fervently now, and positioned himself completely above you. Your fingers found their way into his hair, gently tugging, eliciting delicious, soft moans from his throat. It drove you insane.

You wanted so badly for him to feel good, for him to enjoy every second with you, it was hard to understand how he’d want to solely focus on you and your pleasure. You know he’d do anything for you… but your own self-doubt clouded your mind in these moments.

As if he knew what you were thinking, In-ho pulled away and looked at you with a fierce intention. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “But… you have before.”

“Not like this. Not like I’ve wanted to. Not like you deserve.” 

He gently rubbed your cheek, hoping you could feel the sincerity in his words. It felt like your heart was in your throat, you could barely express how he made you feel in that moment. Your eyebrows furrowed and you leaned towards him for a harsh, needy kiss before guiding his hand to your underwear.

Without any pants on, he swiftly pulled your underwear down, leaning back in front of your raised knees as he pulled the blanket off. He placed his hands on your legs to spread them, but the sudden exposure made you feel vulnerable and hesitant for a moment, and you froze.

You let out a pitiful moan, your body conflicted on what to do. In-ho gently caressed your legs and leaned forward, giving you a sweet kiss. 

“Let me make you feel better.” He echoed from before.

You silently nodded and spread your legs, and In-ho quickly settled his head in between them. He gently kissed around your inner thigh, taking his time on each side, intentionally avoiding your wet, aching core. Although you couldn’t ignore the involuntary waves of self-consciousness, you focused on the anticipation rising throughout your body, your need for his mouth to be on you.

In-ho’s mouth hovered over your core, the sensation of his hot breath on you driving you crazy. You squirmed beneath him as he placed a firm arm over your stomach.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he instructed. He paused for a moment, as if waiting for your permission. 

The moment you looked down at him, he placed his mouth on you, his tongue flat on your core, gently sucking. 

The sudden wave of pleasure immediately wracked your body. You threw your head back with a surprised moan, your hands instantly grabbing at the sheets. 

In-ho groaned loudly in satisfaction, as if he’d been hungry for you his whole life and just now, finally, got a taste. You felt his groan through your sensitive clit, making your hips twitch under his movements. He continued to work his tongue over your clit and your aching entrance, tasting every inch of you, relishing in your gasps and moans.

You felt possessed, unable to control your sounds and movements as he all but consumed you. His hands grasped at your sides, your thighs, anything he could get his hands on. You felt yourself relax into this position and spread your legs further, wanting more and more of him.

He kept his mouth on you as he splayed his hands on the back of your thighs, pressing them down, following your lead and spreading you out even further for him. You looked down again at him ravenously devouring you, the sight of it almost undoing you.

You cried out in pleasure, starting to twitch and grind beneath him, feeling like your release could come at any moment now. You’d never felt like it had been this easy before. In-ho briefly stopped to look at you, a slight, satisfied grin on his face.

“You’re doing so well. Do you feel good, darling?”

You let out a soft cry. “Yes.” You gave him a needy, pleading look. 

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

The thought of it made you clench, you could barely make out words. “Mhm.”

His head was spinning with those obscene sounds you were making. “Good. I want you to cum on my face, okay?”

You cried out in pleasure and frustration, and pushed his head back on you, gripping his hair for dear life. He groaned at your unrelenting neediness, just egging you on even further to the edge.

You felt your body chasing release, pressing In-ho’s face to your aching cunt, grinding beneath him, using him solely for your pleasure. His incessant moans seemed to vibrate throughout your entire being, setting your skin on fire, bringing tears to your eyes.

With a few more swipes of his tongue, you came absolutely undone beneath him.

You felt a white hot wave of pleasure explode from your core, your muscles involuntarily shaking, and you cried out in pleasure and pure emotional release. Tears flowed down your face as you allowed the pleasure to take over, allowed yourself to feel good. In-ho diligently kept his mouth on you as you rode out your orgasm.

As you slowly came to consciousness, In-ho leaned back and watched you, all of you. You wiped the tears from your eyes and watched him in a daze. He was completely enamored by you, his hands wandering from your thighs to your core, spreading his fingers over your sensitive clit and your aching entrance.

You suddenly felt… empty. Quietly whimpering, you grabbed his wrist, keeping his fingers on you, silently begging for more. He gave you a bewildered look.

“Did that feel good?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You pressed his fingers further towards your entrance.

His eyes darkened. “Hm. Do you want more, darling?”

You nodded again. Even though you felt spent from your orgasm, you couldn’t deny the aching need to feel him inside you.

“So needy, hm? You can’t get enough, is that right? Need something to fill you up too?”

You looked away and groaned, a mixture of embarrassment and desire swirling in your mind. 

“Please,” you whispered.

In-ho slowly moved to hover over you, gently turning your head towards him.

“Tell me what you want.”

You whimpered, kissing him and reaching for the prominent bulge in his underwear. You could feel his cock straining against the fabric. In-ho groaned above you, his cock painfully aching to feel you.

He let out a harsh breath through his teeth. “Fuck… do you feel what you’ve done to me?”

You continued to massage him, feel him twitch under your fingers, his moans becoming more reckless every second. You felt all your senses go on edge again, responding to every single sound he made. He quickly swatted your hand away and pulled his underwear down.

“If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer,” he breathed out, his voice hoarse and primal. He quickly lined his cock with your entrance and thrusted into you, your hips meeting his thrust and your warmth enveloping him completely.

He stopped for a second, too overwhelmed to move. You were so deliciously warm, your flesh so sensitive from before. The feeling of his cock stretching you made a wave of pleasure sink into your body and you couldn’t help but let out a feral moan.

In-ho leaned himself further over you, pressing your legs up, and began to pound into you relentlessly. You grabbed at his arms and shoulders, any part of him you could hold onto as he fucked you through the bed. He was relentless in his movements, completely focused on the pleasure building between the two of you.

He roughly grabbed your jaw. “Fuck… I could’ve come undone just watching you before.”

You cried out beneath him, clenching on his cock as he fucked you with a determined pace.

He continued. “That pretty fucking pussy, clenching and gushing just for me… you loved it, didn’t you?”

You moaned and nodded.

“That’s right,” he huffed. “My pretty fucking girl loves to cum on my face, doesn’t she?”

His words send shockwaves throughout your body, and you could only cry out and continue nodding.

He pressed his forehead to yours, his pace quickening. You could tell he was close.

“Fuck. And you’re gonna cum on my cock now, aren’t you?”

You squeezed your eyes. “Yes, fuck, yes I’m going to right now I-”

You felt the familiar wave of pleasure crash over your entire body again, your walls clenching on In-ho’s cock as he stuttered in his pace. You cried out, feeling In-ho release himself inside of you with a loud, guttural groan. He thrusted into you slowly, chasing any remnants of pleasure for both of you as you both calmed down. You held each other close, heavy breaths slowing into satisfied sighs. 

In-ho laid down next to you and pulled you to him, kissing the side of your face and brushing his fingers through your hair. Your entire body felt exhausted, but not like before. 

In-ho leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Are you alright now?”

You sleepily nodded. “Yes. Very much so.”

He smiled, satisfied, and rested his head near yours. As he stroked your head, he whispered.

“You know I would do anything for you, right?”

You gave him a concerned look. “Of course.”

He looked at you fiercely. “So don’t be afraid to ask for what you want.”

You sighed, almost pouting. After a few moments, you nodded. “Okay.”

He smiled, pulling you close and the blanket over you two, both of you quickly falling into a satisfied slumber.

[realcleverscience]

here's my personal take on this:

The concern over AI very much IS like past freakouts over major tech breakthroughs, like textile industrialization, the advent of coal and oil, the chemical industry, computers, internet, and so much more. Personally, I'm not persuaded by those concerns that were listed:

"pervade our lives" - we already live in an advanced tech age that pervades all aspects of our lives. all of you are reading this on a computer, possibly on a small phone which you keep in your pocket all the time. AI isn't invading space. It's just piggybacking on tech that's already there.

Error rate: A. I fully expect AI error rates to continue to fall. B. Knowing that AI isn't perfect and may require some oversight - just like humans - allows people to still make tremendously use of its output. E.g. A software coder can have an AI do in 10 minutes what would have taken 10 hours. This is useful, even if the coder will have to look through the result and test it out and work out any bugs. This is all the more the case when this is the expectations we already have for people, and the AI can potentially do things which most people can't.

Plagiarism: I think there are some valid concerns here, but I also think this issue is massively overblown for two reasons. 1) Plagiarism is copying someone else's work as your own. AI typically does not spit out copies of other people's work. Instead, like humans, it takes info its acquired over its lifetime of training and uses that to create its own outputs. So I only see plagiarism as an issue in the niche situation where its outputting other people's texts as its own. Further, I expect that issue to get resolved. 2) This assumes that AI will always be trained on "illegally acquired" data. I'm not at all convinced of that. (E.g. there are already photo and video AIs that are being trained on privately owned image/video content, thereby entirely avoiding the plagiarism issues; and as AI/robots continue to grow, they'll be able to collect and create their own data.) Further, I expect that as AI grows, we'll develop legal structures which make it easier to use public data. (e.g. easier ways for people to "opt in" and get paid.)

Environment: I care a lot about the environment but I'm again not worried about this issue. 1) Most tech companies are already working toward net-zero. If the AI requires a state's worth of energy but it's all sourced from renewables or nuclear, I have no major problem with that. 2) AI is getting much better in every domain, including energy efficiency. Just about every week I read about another breakthrough that will soon massively reduce computing costs. (I have a few examples in a post here.) This is a trend which has been going on for literal decades. 3) I want to see a future where, for instance, everyone can get all the medical care they need. To get there, we could expand the population and train a LOT more doctors or we can improve AI. Of the two options, the AI one is a lot faster and more resource efficient (more on that in a second). 4) AI itself is helping us progress for all three of those previous points. The issue with AI isn't its resource needs (which again, are very low compared to humans). The issue is scale. For instance, let's say we create and AI doctor with a resource footprint that's 1/10th that of a human doctor. That's a 90% resource reduction. Great! BUT, the issue is that now everyone on earth will want their own digital doctor. To put the numbers crudely: If 8 billion people each have a digital doctor with 1/10th the footprint, that's like adding 800 million people to our resource budget. So even though the AI is much more efficient and massively growing it's healthcare output, it's still also massively growing our footprint. The issue isn't the application but the scale of application. And frankly, that's been an issue with most of our tech in modern times. When our species only had a million members, it didn't matter if they felled trees or burnt coal bc it didn't add up to much. These days, even when our processes are super efficient, the issue is that there's literally billions of us. As an example, consider hamburgers. Most of us like burgers and buy them regularly, esp as americans. I'd guess that at least 90% of people who are concerned with AI's footprint also eat burgers - even though burgers are currently much more resource heavy than AI. E.g. The average person eats 50kg of meat a year, with a co2 footprint of 3,000kg. In contrast, today, the average person has an AI-based CO2 footprint of 3.5kg per year. And unlike meat, AI is getting more energy efficient. (I got a cool post with some comparison stats here.) So I think the issue here is scale, but again, I think that will be solved by sustainable energy sources and continued computing efficiency gains.

So it's not that I think these issues aren't important, but that I think they're often overblown, taken out of context, and don't take into account tech trends on efficiency.

Personally, I'm really excited about a future where everyone is fed, everyone is housed, and everyone has healthcare. I'm excited about robots helping people with disabilities or helping to repair the ecosystem. I'm excited for radical advancements in medicine like curing all cancers, healing the blind or deaf, and so many more illnesses. I'm excited for a time when we create art for art's sake and not capitalism's sake. I'm excited for a time when no-one *has* to work anymore. But the only way for us to no longer need jobs is for us all to lose our jobs to AI and to restructure our society toward a post-labor future.

'People are panicking about AI tools the same way they did when the calculator was invented, stop worrying' cannot stress enough the calculator did not forcibly pervade every aspect of our lives, has such a low error rate it's a statistical anomaly when it does happen, isn't built on mass plagiarism, and does not obliterate the fucking environment when you use it. Be so fucking serious right now

[lady-of-endless]

"Veiled Intentions" (Hwang In-ho/Player 001/Front man x player!reader)

Summary: No game of cat and mouse ends well.

Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for this fic to be done first. I'm happy to provide. He might be a little obsessive, but you should've expected it by now. Don't worry; I got a softer, heartfelt, and angsty fic on the go for tomorrow. Hope you'll enjoy this one until then, darlings!

(Squid Game masterlist here)

Whenever he flashed a smile to the team, no one noticed how the coldness of his eyes was somehow still persistent. The charm of his smile always eclipsed that detail. It was enough to successfully manipulate most players, except for you. The only one who seemed to see the bigger picture was you and he could sense it. No amount of calculated smooth-talking, apparent encouragement, or fake short smiles could trick you too.

The others seemed to accept him easily, either for the calmness that made him seem reliable or for the vital need to have more people with the same vote. Not you, and it was clear to him.

In-ho had a plan going on; he had no intention of wasting time and trying harder to trick you too, letting you do your silent judging. But still, you were slowly becoming more and more present in his mind. You weren't warming up to him, weren't impressed like the others. Why not? More importantly, why did he like it that way? You were smarter and he enjoyed watching you analyzing everyone around, including him. Yes, you were a problem for him, but he was almost proud of having such a fascinating problem to take care of.

In-ho was too good at looking relieved, and joyful whenever the other players from player 456's team made it during the games. You noticed a strange spark in his eyes whenever you also completed the games. Was he really relieved or just glad that with each game he was getting closer to taking care of you personally?

Even now, he was watching you silently when the speakers announced bedtime. You all remembered what was the plan Gi-hun came up with to stay safe and looked around for a lonely bed bunk. Your constant doubt pushed you to come up with a plan to figure him out and now it was the perfect time to strike.

In-ho was ready to make a strategic choice when your voice interrupted his thoughts again.

"Join me?" You asked bluntly, with a warm smile on your face. A fake smile, a reflection of his. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow at your proposal. "For bonding time, getting along." You added, encouragingly, almost playfully, not to stir suspicion in others.

All the other teammates noticed how you kept your distance from him and were glad to see you try to get along.

In-ho almost wanted to chuckle at your reasoning but his expression remained composed. He could tell that you were trying to convince him with your charm and that you only played a role. And he was doing the same.

"Lead the way then." In-ho responded calmly, as always.

In-ho had a small, almost imperceptible smirk on his face the whole time following you, and his eyes were glued to the nape of your neck. How could he ignore you?

You crawled carefully under a bed that was placed closer to a corner no one else chose. A shiver ran down your spine when he joined you effortlessly, making almost no sound at all. The lights dimmed. However, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the space from under the beds was not enough for two. Both of you were lying down on your backs, staring at the bed from above. His shoulder was pressed against yours, the feeling was impossible to push aside.

You closed your eyes tightly, cursing the tight space and sighing deeply. Why didn't you think this through? In-ho was amused by your frustration and how your body tensed next to his.

"You seemed so sure about this." He teased with a mocking tone he didn't even try to hide.

The way his voice sounded so intimate in the dark and how his warmth surrounded you, were making it hard to stick to the plan. You grew a little hotter under your clothes but you had to go for it. You took a breath in and spoke in a whisper.

"I can see right through your tactics." You said bluntly, still looking at the bed from above to avoid his gaze, knowing how intense it gets sometimes. You were almost proud of the sternness of your tone. "What are your intentions?"

He didn't respond right away, taking time to just look at your expression. In-ho was a meticulous man, he was expecting that question sooner or later from you.

"Wasn't I clear from the start?" In-ho asked calmly, almost innocently, switching his position to lay on his stomach and elbows, never losing sight of you. That position forced you to look up at him, exactly the way he liked it. He was getting too comfortable for someone who was cornered. Seeing how there was no sign of panic or surprise on his face, the previous boost of confidence was starting to slowly diminish in you.

"I think we both know what I mean." You added coldly, letting him know you've had enough of his games. He could feel your patience running thin and he was enjoying it.

Your assumption was true; you were so close to figuring it out but, at the same time, so far away, so clueless about what he really wanted, what he really was capable of. It gave him the freedom of acting anyways he wanted for a little bit.

"Indeed." He said, seeing an opening and moving a hand to the opposite side of your face on the floor, making it look like he was just supporting himself and not caging you. "And that's because you're playing the same games, don't you agree?" He asked smoothly. He watched as you rolled your eyes and looked away to hide your real reaction, taking you longer to respond. In-ho didn't insist, wanting to take his time exposing you bit by bit. When you turned your head back at him to answer, your heart halted, words dying. Your eyes met intimately, his face was even closer than expected.

"It won't work with me." His breath touched your lips. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear to see your face better. He frowned when he caught himself giving in to his instincts, his fingertips caressing your cheek and stopping on your lower lip without thinking.

"But your tries were..." He added, applying pressure on your sensitive skin and moving his lips even closer to yours slowly. "Entertaining, to say the least."

In-ho watched your expression closely, observing the details of your face in the dark. He couldn't get enough that moment but his face didn't betray any sign of the greed that was coursing through him. So he didn't stop there, using the momentum of your shock.

"Was it fun?" He asked, mercilessly but blissfully tormenting and playing you. "To feel like you had the upper hand?" He whispered while his hand descended to the base of your neck.

In-ho looked at your parted lips again, waiting for your answer and not moving away. There was a storm of conflicted thoughts in your mind and the warmth of his palm on your pulse point was not helping you find a good answer in time.

"Answer me." His grip tightened slightly, his tone smooth yet demanding. "And look at me, darling"

You looked up at him and nodded, admitting silently. Finally, you understood what you got yourself into and felt more than exposed. It was frustrating how easily he switched the roles from being the one interrogated to the one asking whatever he wanted.

You shivered at the sight of his subtle smirk. It was nothing like the bright fake smile he offered to the team. One corner of his lips curled upwards while the rest of his expression remained composed. His eyes glinted with icy, calculated sharpness. Finally, you could see him, whoever he was, and not the simple player 001.

In-ho was studying her, thinking about how you weren't aware of the effect you had on him from how well he was concealing it. Still, none of your questions were answered.

"What are you going to-"

"Hush." He murmured against your lips, cutting your words. "Don't wake the others."

In-ho slowly traced your collarbones through the thin material of the shirt with your player number and placed his whole palm on your chest over your racing heart. He paused, just to feel your heart, taking credit for its hectic beating. The silence that surrounded you was not helping either, you could hear every breath, every move, enhancing the intimate feeling so much you had to remind yourself that you were still in the middle of a sick challenge with daily deadly games.

He looked back into your eyes and spoke softly, seeing your inner conflict, wanting to distract you from it. "I've caught you staring at me so many times."

"I was just spacing out." You whispered, not hesitating this time but still telling him another lie.

Even the always calm, rarely out of character In-ho chuckled at that. It was a pleasant, unfiltered but still strange sound.

"Liar." He said while caressing your hair again but making sure to tug gently at the roots as a warning. "You had so many opportunities to push me away since we got under here." He whispered, almost tenderly, meaning it. His eyes were not locked on yours. Was it because he was letting himself think out loud? "But you don't want to do that..." He added, pausing his touches, giving you time to object. But the truth was that your denial ended with him calling you 'darling'. That waited objection never came and In-ho understood.

With that, he allowed himself to take what he wanted. He thought to himself that it was inevitable. His lips found yours with an unexpected gentleness despite his restrained hunger. The hellhole you were trapped in seemed to fade away with the way his lips explored yours. His fingers tightened possessively against your skin as the kiss deepened. His warmth was embracing you blissfully but his tongue was making you dizzy with each breath he was stealing from you.

After what felt like time, bending to his will, In-ho broke the kiss slowly. Even if you didn't say a word, he still covered your lips with his finger for a moment.

"I'm expecting you to still be smart about this and keep it private." He spoke in your ear, an expectation or a warning. "Do that and you'll be safe no matter what."

What you couldn't understand was that this was a hidden promise. If you kept whatever he gave you a secret for yourself, he would pull all the strings to get you alone with him, away from that game.

[last-dropsevi]

Sparks and Screws

Mechanic Sevika x Reader

Synopsis: Stranded with a broken car in Zaun, you find yourself at Sevika’s garage, where her confident, magnetic presence instantly draws you in. Over time, your visits become less about car repairs and more about the growing tension between you.

Possesive behavior and Sexual tension.

In the heart of Zaun, tucked amidst the steel skeletons of industry and the shimmering neon haze, stood Sevika's garage. It was a haven for the grease-stained and the speed-obsessed—a place where the hum of engines and the faint melody of a half-tuned radio replaced the city's endless noise. The scent of oil and metal lingered thickly, a scent so constant it was almost a signature of the shop.

The first time you walked through the doors wasn’t planned. It was pure necessity. Your car had decided to stage a protest in the middle of Zaun traffic, coughing up smoke as you barely managed to roll it to the curb. Stranded and flustered, you’d scanned your surroundings until the glowing sign for “Zuan Auto Repeat” appeared like a beacon of salvation.

Inside, the space was a symphony of movement. Mechanics bustled about, tools clinking and tires screeching as they were dragged across the concrete. A group of men, all grease-slicked hands and cocky smirks, eyed you as you hesitantly stepped in. One of them, tall and confident, was the first to approach.

“Lost, sweetheart?” he asked, leaning just a bit too close.

Your awkward laugh and sheepish explanation about the state of your car only seemed to encourage him. “I can take a look for you,” he offered, his grin widening. “No charge for someone as pretty as you.”

Before you could respond, a commanding voice cut through the air. “I’ve got it.” You turned just in time to see her. Sevika. She stepped forward, wiping her hands on a rag, her mechanical arm catching the fluorescent light as it shifted with a faint whir. Dressed in a grease-streaked tank top and well-worn jeans, she exuded an effortless confidence that was both intimidating and magnetic. Her sharp gaze flicked from the man back to you, softening just slightly when she caught your nervous expression.

That feeling gnawed at her, especially when she watched the way they hesitated. Her instincts told her this one wasn’t like the others who stumbled in here—this was someone worth keeping an eye on. She adjusted her grip on the rag and moved forward, a touch of both desire and care flickering in her chest.

“You want it fixed right, don’t you?” she asked, her voice low and rough, though not unkind.

You nodded quickly, your face flushing as the other mechanic muttered something under his breath and walked off.

“Come on,” Sevika said, gesturing for you to follow.

The hood of your car was open within minutes, and you stood awkwardly to the side, watching as Sevika inspected the engine with practiced ease. You couldn’t help but notice the way her muscles flexed as she worked, the contrast between her weathered hands and the careful precision of her movements. Something about that look in her eyes—sharp, but with a hint of warmth—made my pulse race faster than I’d like to admit.

“So, what’s the damage?” you ventured, trying to fill the silence.

She looked up, arching a brow. “The damage is you’ve been neglecting this thing for way too long.”

You blinked. “I didn’t know cars needed that much attention.”

Her lips twitched in amusement. “Yeah, sweetheart, they do. You’re lucky this thing hasn’t fallen apart on you yet.”

Her teasing wasn’t cruel, but it still made you squirm. You watched as she wiped her hands on her rag, her smirk softening when she noticed your embarrassed fidgeting.

“It’s fixable,” she said. “But you’ve gotta take better care of it—or find someone who can.”

Over the next week, you returned a few times, more out of obligation than excitement. Each visit was met with the same dynamic: the men lingering a little too long as you walked in, and Sevika cutting through their attention with a glare that left no room for argument.

On your second visit, Sevika caught you glancing nervously at one of the mechanics who had been staring. “Ignore them,” she said, her tone laced with irritation. “They’re idiots.”

“Seems like they’re just curious,” you replied lightly, though your flushed face betrayed how uncomfortable it made you.

“They don’t need to be curious about you,” Sevika muttered, her eyes narrowing briefly before she refocused on your car.

It wasn’t until your brakes started squealing—loudly—that you found yourself back in her garage for the third time. You explained the issue, your face heating as Sevika leaned over the hood once again, her movements as fluid and deliberate as ever.

When she straightened up, her expression was a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You never changed your brake pads.”

“That’s… something you’re supposed to do?” you asked, tilting your head.

Her laughter filled the garage, drawing the attention of the others. But unlike their lingering stares, Sevika’s laugh warmed you.

“You’re a menace,” she said, shaking her head. “Alright. Here’s the deal. Bring it in every two weeks, and I’ll check it over for you. Make sure nothing else falls apart.”

“Every two weeks?” you repeated, frowning. “That sounds excessive.”

“For someone like you? It’s not,” she said with a smirk, her eyes locking onto mine for a beat longer than necessary. “And since you’re cute, I’ll even give you a discount.”

The moment the words left her mouth, you felt a flush rise to my cheeks, warmth spreading across my skin as her gaze lingered on me. your heart skipped; my mind short-circuiting as you tried to process what she’d said. Did she just call me cute? The thought lingered, making it even harder to focus on anything else. Her voice, so smooth and confident.

you gave a nervous laugh, your lips curling into a smile that felt way too goofy for the situation. You nodded, trying—and failing—to play it cool. “Deal,” you managed

And so, every two weeks, you found yourself back in Sevika’s garage. The checkups became less about the car and more about the two of you. You brought her coffee one day, then donuts the next, claiming it was a “thank you” for all her help.

“You keep this up, and I might actually start liking you,” Sevika teased, though the fondness in her tone made your chest flutter.

“You’d be lucky,” you shot back, grinning.

The tension between you grew with each visit—lingering glances, subtle brushes of hands as she handed you a wrench to “help” (not that you ever really knew what you were doing), and the way her smirk would soften into something more genuine when you laughed at her dry humor.

You noticed how her eyes would sometimes linger just a little longer than necessary, like she couldn’t help but admire the deep V-neck shirt you were wearing. The way it accentuated your chest didn’t go unnoticed by her, though she never said anything out loud. But the way her gaze would flicker there, before quickly returning to your face, made your heart race.

By the fourth visit, Sevika had stopped charging you altogether. When you realized, you confronted her, guilt weighing heavily on your words. “Sevika, this isn’t fair. I can’t just keep coming here for free.”

She shrugged, leaning against the counter, her gaze lingering on you just a little too long. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is to me,” you insisted. “Let me pay you back.”

Her brow quirked, a faint smirk playing at her lips. “How?”

You hesitated for only a moment before blurting, “I’ll take you out.”

That caught her off guard. She stared at you, her expression unreadable, before a slow, teasing grin spread across her face. “Dinner and drinks? You trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe,” you said, crossing your arms. “Is it working?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Alright, sweetheart. You’re on.”

As you left the garage that evening, your heart raced with the promise of something more. And for once, Sevika allowed herself to look forward to the unknown.

Masterlistssssss

But yeah guys sorry I haven’t posted in a while Tehe. ALSO HAPPY NEW YEARSSS MWAH

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I just imagined if batchild who favored Tim being Bruce bio-child. Damian so jealous and angry because his blood sibling chose Drake over him? This is too personal. Poor Tim will not have peace. I can imagine Damian trying to prove himself to his little sibling.

But the question is, does Damian even really give a flying fuck about this kid? Or does he just hate Tim and wants to destroy any ounce of happiness this boy has? Questions. Questions. Questions. lol.

Idk I love Damian being a little shit,,, he's something a little silly

Yes, Damian will terrorize Tim over this. He has such bad emotional regulation and he doesn't fully understand why he's so angry. He doesn't particularly like children and all their crying and babbling..they're stupid and useless...

But it peeves him so much seeing Tim take on such a prominent older brother role in their life. Tim is tainting the kid, he's not teaching them properly. A child should be held this way, it should be taught this, you need to do this. That is what his mother did to ensure his proper development so it must be right!

I can just imagine Damian cringing at all the baby talk and stupid games Tim plays with them. At first he's such a hate watcher of them. He'll be in the corner of the room, glaring daggers into them. "hmph they're perfect for each other. Dumb and even dumber. Guess which is which..." He snickers in his mind

Then he resorts to insulting Tim and micro-managing him. His baby siblings doesn't need to play with rattles, they need to be doing more intensive activities....Ughh.. They're being so stunned right now.

Then...slowly when no one is watching, he might speak to it. He doesn't get down on the floor with his sibling, he's just looking down at 'em and low-key shit talking. They piss him off so much but still he's at a lost for why?? Why does he seem to care about them and their upbringing so much when he hates them?

It isn't until Tim leaves for a mission or something when Damian *attempts* to hold and play with batchild. The child just looked so pitiful that he felt compelled to entertain them. Batchild starts to unexpectedly grow on him...eventually he starts kind of...loving them...? He feels warm when they smile at him...and an intense passion to protect them...

He's shy about it but Damian is obsessed with that damn baby. He won't try to draw attention to it but that is his baby now.

He can't help but to feel so possessive over them too, he'll cross his arms and huff when someone picks them up...he's stealing them back after five minutess...

But here's where the issue arises, Damian finally is feeling super close with batchild and has created this secret bond that no one else understands. He's done this oath with them in a pillow fort and everything, he's confidently believes that he's the new favorite sibling.

"Okay, Now we will drink this grape juice as we are solidified as true bloods of the Wayne bloodline..."

*intense babbles and clapping*

"Yes, our superior lineage is something to celebrate."

But then Tim comes back and batchild completely forgets about Damian and rushes to Tim. Even refusing to be held by Damian later on. His heart is crushed and to him this is the ultimate betrayal.

If Tim didn't have peace before, he really won't have it now. Like Damian wants to duel over this, it's that serious to him.

The pure venom that Damian spews is so fucked up that I cannot even repeat it. Like Tim is worried for his safety at this point.

Damien would definitely steal batchild out of their crib at night and take them into one of the unused rooms in another wing of the manor. It's fully decorated with tons of things batchild loves, all necessities...even has tons of snacks and a fridge with goodies. Damian is fully prepared to be the sole provider for this baby. lmaoo. He's hiding this kid out there for a good couple of hours before everyone realizes where the two of them are.

Damian is fighting hard to keep from them taking batchild...but is defeated when batchild sees Tim and goes

"Timmy!!" and tries running to him. It's so hilarious. Damian is at his wits end. He's never going to stop though until he's number one. Even if "Timmy" has to go.

Dami is the most un-serious-serious person on the planet.

[softtdaisy]

my little secret / Aaron Hotchner

summary. the team thinks you and Hotch hate each other. What you really want is to finally share a hotel room together.

words count. 1,592

a/n. i can't stop writing about hotch, this time it's just pure fluff and hot relationship with your boss

F1 masterlist | general masterlist

You and Hotch hadn’t shared a hotel room in months.

You guessed the team was doing yourself a favor by not sleeping in the same room as your boss. At this point, it can’t be a coincidence. You both had the most single rooms compared to the others. And you couldn’t even count the number of nights you shared with JJ, Emily, or Spencer. When you could actually count the number of nights shared with Hotch. One.

You guessed their strategy was built on that. The first and only night you shared a room with Hotch, you had terrible nightmares all night. Meaning you couldn’t sleep at all and were bitter all day. You and Hotch had an argument about this because you couldn’t focus properly with the lack of sleep. He almost put you away from the case, which you refused and cast a chill for the rest of the day.

So from that moment, you never shared another room when you were away for a case.

And you really found the situation ironic. Considering sharing a room with Aaron Hotchner was all you wanted.

You and Aaron had been together for almost a year now. It started before you joined the team, and you had to be discreet once you were a member. But you were nailing the discretion and the platonic relationship when at work. To the point everyone thought you couldn’t stand each other. Even Emily asked you one day if this wasn’t too hard for you and if it ever made you consider leaving.

What they didn’t know was that this night that all thought was the final straw was absolutely not as terrible. You did have nightmares all night long. But you had Aaron’s arms around you to calm you down at each awakening. He didn’t sleep much either that night. Every one of your starts was waking him up, and he couldn’t fall asleep until he was sure you were peacefully sleeping.

Which also explained the argument. You both lacked sleep and were hypersensitive. But, unbeknownst to the team, you made up the same night, once you were back at this place.

Yet, the harm was done. And you didn’t share a hotel room until tonight.

As soon as the door closed, Aaron put you against it to kiss you. With his hands around your neck, his teeth biting your lips, and his breathless sighs against your mouth, this was an eager kiss. One he was dying to give you all day long.

It was already hard enough to watch you working the case—Aaron had a real thing for you in your FBI vest and your hair tied up. But when the team told him that you had to share a room tonight because a) Rossi had enough of not having his own room and b) they thought it would help you make the work relationship better to share a room,.

To which Aaron realized two things. A) He suspected Rossi to know more than he pretended about you both. B) They all really believed you couldn’t stand each other.

But he didn’t care. Because as soon as he agreed to the room organization, Aaron was even more impatient to be at night. To be alone in a hotel room with you, finally. To forget about the case, what has been done and what was yet to come in your arms. 

“Stay silent,” he whispered in your ear before letting his lips run on your neck. Your hands were lost on his tie you were trying so hard to untie. But it was difficult with your eyes closed and your mind focused on the pleasure your man was giving you.

Soon, you were both on the bed, kissing each other with very few clothes still on. You needed more, always more. More than his lips on your naked skin. More than his hands lost on your body. More than his eager eyes that told all about the desire he had for you. 

You were so occupied kissing his chest that you didn’t hear the bang on the door the first time. Aaron did and stopped what he was doing. That’s when you looked up, disappointed, and heard it again. Accompanied this time by someone calling your name. 

“Reid?” Aaron said silently, enough for you to hear.

“I’ll go,” you replied, putting both of your hands on his chest to help you get up. “Stay still and pretend…I don’t know, to be calm.”

He laughed, a little louder than intended. You gave him a warning look to which he replied with a hand up. A very lawyerly habit from him, you had to say. “Sorry. But I’m calm,” he pleaded.

“Say that to your body, love.” 

Before he could reply, you put on the sweater he had just taken off—making sure it wasn’t Aaron’s—and went straight to the door. And indeed, like you expected, Spencer was in front of you. Dancing on his feet, apparently stressed by the situation.

“Hey Spence,” you said, coming outside and closing the door to leave your lover alone. “Do you need everything? Everything’s alright?” For a second, you get scared that something will happen. 

Either to the team or that another victim was revealed. Selfishly, you thought about the man waiting for him and how cruel it would be if you had to leave the room already. 

“Oh yeah, yes it is. For me, I mean it is.” He started speaking very quickly. “It’s just…I was talking about it with Derek, and I realized maybe it wasn’t fair for you to be forced to sleep in the same room as Hotch considering your conflicts. And Derek is ok with that. You can come upstairs and take my room, and I come here and then…”

So they really believed you hated Hotch. 

“Ok, calm down, my sweet genius.” You said with a laugh. “You do realize I don’t actually hate Hotch, right? Like…I’m not planning on killing him in his sleep.”

“But you don’t really get along. We see you talking and arguing, and” he sighed, looking down on his hands like he was trying new arguments to convince you. “I want to help.”

“And I appreciate that, Spence. But we’re good." more than good. “We talked.” and kissed. “Everything is fine, I promise. I can even pinky promise you if you want.”

Spencer finally laughed at your endless tries to reassure him. “Ok, fine. But if you change your mind, call me, ok?” 

“I won’t hesitate to call you at night if Hotch starts snoring.” Spencer nodded and left. 

He still gave you one last look before taking the elevator, making sure you weren’t running to him. But you were still there, just waiting to come back inside. Which you did, once the corridor was free.

When you turned around, you took a few seconds to look at him. Still lying on the bed. You realized how you loved everything about Aaron Hotchner. From his messy dark hair falling on his forehead, his dark eyes surrounded by wrinkles that gave him a safe look, his long nose that he loved to press against your thighs, his gorgeous smile when he was looking at you. To the dark hairs on his torso that were leading the way to every other part of his body that you loved just as much. 

He leaned on his elbows when you approached. “He’s gone?” he asked with a hoarse voice that gave you chills. 

“Well, I hope so,” you started, climbing on the bed and on his lap. “Or he is still waiting outside to join. I can check if you want.” You replied, starting to get up again. But Aaron was fast at grabbing your hips to make you stay.

When you heard him laugh, you considered making more jokes to listen to that beautiful sound more often. But that thought disappeared quickly when he put his hand on your neck to bring your face closer to his. His fingers tangled in your hair softly to maintain his grip. The only thing on your mind now is having his lips on yours again. 

“No need,” he started, brushing your neck with his long fingers. “I only want you,” he mumbled against your lips. This time, the kiss was less eager. It was full of feelings. 

Need. Desire. Love.

He was soft on the lips, less on the hips that he was pressing hard against you. When he started to pull off your sweater again, you knew the night was only beginning. 

Before you realized it, Aaron exchanged your place. You were now under him, with his big body surrounding yours. “You realize that if we argue tomorrow because we didn’t sleep much, the team is really going to believe we hate each other.” You said with a cheeky smile when he started to cover your chest with kisses.

He looked up for a second before going back to your stomach. “I’ll make sure everything goes well then,” he replied, his lips against your skin.

You bit your lip; the temptation to tease him again was too strong. “I also told Spencer that if you start snoring, I'll call him to the swap room.” you added. You brushed his hair like nothing happened.

The look he gave you was so arousing, you didn’t regret a second pushing him. “I can shut you up, you know that?”

“Make me.”

There was no way you would miss the next opportunity to share a room with your boss.

[puckinghischier]

Going off the exes to lovers w/ Quinn…

You guys are still in the same friend group so sometimes you still have to see each other during gatherings or in passing and it’s just little things that Quinn does or says that makes you realize you never fell out of love with him. Like he knew you were coming out on the boat for the day with them so he stocked up on your fav snacks to put on the boat. Or maybe he heard you were sick from his brothers so he insta carts stuff to your house. Just things that makes it blatantly obvious that he still cares.

oh he’s using every opportunity. you drank too much and need a ride home from the bar? he stopped drinking the second you ordered your third drink.

you mention in a gc you’ve been craving a certain type of food? it shows up at your door in an hour.

your friend mentions that you’ve been feeling homesick lately? your parents, somehow, mysteriously, found the money in their budget for a couple of place tickets to see you.

he would be so subtle, so nonchalant with it you don’t even notice until you look back. it’s like he never left. he’s always just…there. waiting.

it’s not like the two of you had some big, blow out break up. it was more so like you still loved him, but you needed to love yourself more. so you’re still friendly. you still speak when in groups together and you still frequent games.

but it’s like his presence in your life never really faltered, even though the absence is what you said you needed.

so one day, when you pretended to order drinks, you noticed the way his glass stayed empty as long as yours stayed full. you mentioned in a gc without him you were craving italian food, and for once, it never showed up.

you kept noticing all the things he was still doing for you, and against your will, your resolve cracked. you knew he loved you, and you still loved him, but you figured he’d quit paying attention after awhile.

but he never did.

and when you confronted him about it? well…he didn’t even deny any of it. he admitted to it like he was saying the sky was blue, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“well, why would i stop? you need someone to look after you, and i don’t trust anyone else to do it, so why stop doing what i love for who i love?”

his words were like a punch to your gut, because why, why couldn’t he have just said those things when you two were together?

“quinn, it’s not that simple. you just weren’t…there.”

that? saying he was never there? that made him angry. because while he may not have been physically there, he was always there.

“that’s bullshit. that’s bullshit and you know it. yeah, i might not have been able to be with you all the time, but don’t ever fucking tell me i wasn’t there, y/n, because i’ve always only ever been there.”

he points to your chest as he says it. his outburst surprises you, but it makes you think.

yeah, maybe he was gone all the time, but somehow your car always stayed cleaned and serviced, without you even realizing. maybe he was in a different country most of the time, but there was never a lack of fresh flowers in your apartment. maybe he wasn’t able to be on his phone all the time, but your voicemail was never empty, sweet recordings littering the inbox.

so yeah, maybe he wasn’t always there, but he was never really absent, was he?

as you stand there looking at a red faced and angry, but mostly hurt, quinn, you think…maybe he’s always meant to be there, clouding your thoughts and filling the ache in your chest you forced him to leave.

[aspenmissing]

ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ||

5985 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ (ɴᴏ ɴᴜᴅɪᴛʏ ɪɴ ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟ) , ᴏᴏᴄ ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴄᴜᴛᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀ ʟᴏᴠᴇʟʏ ᴍᴇɴ ᴀɴᴅ 'ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ' ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ, ʙᴀᴛʜꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴɢ - ɪɴᴄʀᴇᴅɪʙʟʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙʀᴜꜱʜ - ʜᴀɪʀ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴘᴏᴡᴅᴇʀ/ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The evening at the workshop in their apartment had been a whirlwind of calculations, late-night tinkering, and discoveries. Jayce sat at his workbench, weary but content with the progress he'd made. You had been there all day, by his side, offering quiet support, and now the sounds of the workshop had quieted down.

"How about a break?" you suggested, stretching slightly, your voice soft and soothing.

Jayce paused, looking up from his work, his eyes meeting yours. There was a weariness in his gaze, but also a quiet appreciation. "Sounds perfect," he said, his voice low but filled with gratitude.

Without another word, the two of you made your way out of the workshop, Jayce trailing slowly behind you to the bathroom, the familiar scent of metal and oil from the workshop lingered faintly, but it quickly gave way to the soft steam as the shower was turned on.

The two of you, both covered in the day's grime and sweat, quickly shed your clothes, stepping into the shower together. The warm water felt like a release from the weight of the day. Jayce stood just behind you, letting the water pour over his shoulders as you reached for the body wash.

"Let me take care of you first," you said softly, your hands gently lathering up the sponge.

You moved behind him, slowly running your hands over his back. The warmth of your fingers against his skin was both soothing and intimate, each motion a silent expression of how much you cared for him. The tension in his muscles began to melt away under your touch, and Jayce let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"That feels amazing," he murmured, his voice thick with relaxation.

You smiled, pleased to see him unwind under your touch. "You deserve it."

After a few moments, Jayce turned to face you, his eyes warm with appreciation. "Your turn," he said, his voice gentle but insistent. He squeezed a bit of body wash into his hands, his fingers gliding over your skin as he began to wash your back. His touch was tender, each motion slow and deliberate, making sure to be gentle, knowing how hard you worked and how much you needed this time to unwind.

His hands moved with care, massaging away the tension in your back. It felt so calming, so loving, that you couldn't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch.

"You're so gentle," you whispered, the warmth of his hands sending a soft shiver down your spine. "I never want this moment to end."

Jayce smiled softly, his gaze tender as he continued to massage your back. "I’ll always take care of you," he replied quietly, his voice full of sincerity. "You deserve nothing less."

As he finished, his hands lingered on your shoulders, pulling you gently into his arms. He pressed his chest against your back, his body warm against yours. You could feel his heartbeat thumping softly against you, and it brought a sense of peace and closeness.

Jayce's lips found the back of your neck, his kisses soft and slow, almost as if he were savouring the moment. He placed another gentle kiss on your skin, moving up to your shoulder, before pulling you even closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace.

"I love you," he whispered against your neck, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want to hold you like this forever."

You smiled, turning slightly in his arms so you could meet his gaze. "I love you too, Jayce. And please don't ever let me go."

With your arms around each other, standing beneath the warm shower, you both stayed there, savouring the quiet intimacy of the moment. No words were needed as you held each other close, surrounded by the warmth of the water and the even warmer connection between you.

VIKTOR

The evening at the workshop had been filled with quiet determination. Viktor, as always, had been hunched over his workbench, lost in the intricacies of his projects. His cane was propped up beside him, his brace still firmly in place. The toll of his condition had been ever-present, but there was a softness in the way he moved, an acknowledgment of the little things that made life more bearable—like having you by his side.

You had been working alongside him, but now, as the day wound down, you could see how worn out he was. His movements were slower than usual, his body clearly aching from long hours at the bench. You walked over to him, offering a small smile as you gently touched his shoulder.

"Viktor," you said softly, "how about a break? A nice shower? You look like you could use one."

Viktor looked up, the usual spark in his eyes dimmed slightly by exhaustion, but he returned your smile. "I suppose I could use a bit of relaxation," he admitted, though there was a slight hesitation in his voice. He’d never been one to ask for help, but with you, he allowed himself to let down his guard.

You helped him to his feet, steadying him as he leaned on his cane. His movements were deliberate, slow, but there was still that same sharp intelligence in his eyes, even as the pain of his condition settled in. Together, you made your way to the small, private bathroom attached to the workshop, where you had set up a little corner of comfort for moments like these.

The shower was already steaming by the time you arrived, and Viktor gave a small, tired laugh as he looked at the stool that was positioned under the warm spray.

"Only you would think to have a stool in the shower," he teased, his voice light despite the heaviness of his body. "You really do know me."

You smiled, nodding as you helped him to sit down. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable," you replied, your voice tender and caring.

As Viktor settled onto the stool, you carefully removed his leg brace, setting it aside before doing the same with his back brace, both actions performed with practiced ease. He leaned slightly into you as you worked, his body grateful for the moment of relief. The small stool provided him the perfect support as he sat under the warm spray of the shower, his cane resting securely against the wall outside.

You adjusted the temperature of the water just right, the steam enveloping the space, and you took a deep breath, the air smelling of soap and the comfort of home. As you reached for the shampoo, a soft, familiar tune began to hum from your lips, the melody gentle and soothing. It was a song you often hummed to calm yourself and, now, Viktor as well. Your fingers worked through Viktor’s hair with a tender, practiced touch, massaging the shampoo into his scalp.

Viktor leaned back slightly, closing his eyes, the weight of the day starting to lift from his body as your soft humming surrounded him. His mind, always filled with thoughts, slowed for a moment as he allowed himself to simply be, his body grateful for the care you were giving him.

The hum continued, filling the space with a peaceful warmth. Viktor’s accented voice, thoughtful as always, broke the silence. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I appreciate these small moments," he murmured, his words trailing off as he relaxed further under your touch.

You continued humming, your fingers gently working through his hair, never faltering in your attention to him. "You don't need to," you replied quietly, your voice soft and loving. "I do this because I want to. You deserve this care, Viktor."

His lips curved into a small, tired smile as he let the sound of your humming wash over him. "You make the world feel a little less heavy," he whispered, the emotion in his voice barely masked by his usual calm demeanour. "Even in these quiet moments... I feel like I can breathe."

The two of you shared the quiet intimacy of the moment, the sound of water and your humming blending together, creating a peaceful lull that allowed Viktor to release the tensions of the day.

His breathing slowed, but his mind, as always, was racing. "You know, I've been thinking," he began, his voice soft but filled with the familiar depth of his thoughts.

You let out a light laugh, your fingers continuing to massage his scalp with gentle care. "Of course you have," you replied with a playful tone.

Viktor shook his head lightly at your response, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, as he continues, "The future is... well, uncertain. So much can change in an instant. But with you, it feels... more steady. Like I can trust in something beyond all the... calculations and equations."

You smiled, his words both soothing and touching. "I trust you, Viktor. You’ve brought so much to this world already. You’re brilliant. And, more than that... you’re kind. That’s what matters."

His lips quirked into a smile, though he didn't open his eyes. "I don't know about all that," he murmured. "But I appreciate your faith in me." He shifted slightly, his hand gripping the edge of the stool. "I’m just... trying to do something worthwhile before it’s too late."

You continued massaging the shampoo into his scalp, your fingers moving carefully, soothingly, as he rambled on, lost in his thoughts. "Do you ever stop thinking, Viktor?" you asked playfully, your voice light.

Viktor chuckled, though it was a sound full of weariness. "No, I suppose not. I could do with a bit more silence sometimes. But then again, I wouldn’t be here without my mind always racing. I suppose it’s a gift and a curse."

You rinsed the shampoo from his hair, your hands gently running through the strands to ensure they were clean. Viktor let out a sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing under your touch.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For being patient with me... for everything."

You smiled, moving to grab the conditioner, but Viktor’s hand reached up, lightly brushing your wrist. "Let me," he said, his voice soft yet insistent.

You hesitated but then nodded, allowing him to take the bottle from your hand. Viktor applied the conditioner to his hair with steady hands, still talking, as his mind never seemed to slow.

"You know, I’ve been thinking about the long term... If I could ever fix things, if I could somehow regain what I’ve lost..." His voice trailed off, but you could hear the weight behind his words. "I’m afraid, sometimes. But then I remember... you’re here. And that thought alone makes everything feel... less daunting."

You leaned in, your lips brushing gently against his temple. "I’ll always be here, Viktor. You don’t have to face anything alone."

He smiled softly, his heart full of affection as you finished rinsing his hair. When you were done, Viktor leaned back slightly, taking a deep breath. Then, in a rare moment of vulnerability, he reached for you, his arms wrapping gently around your waist, pulling his face to your stomach.

"Thank you for being my anchor," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "For being here, even when I’m at my most... complex."

You gently wrapped your arms around his head, brushing a few stray locks of hair back from his ear as you smiled down at him. "You’re my anchor too, Viktor," you said softly, your voice filled with warmth. "We’re in this together, no matter what."

And there, in the small, steam-filled bathroom, the two of you stayed close, the warmth of the shower and the soft sound of water surrounding you. Viktor, despite his struggles, found solace in your presence—just as you found peace in being with him.

JAYVIK

The warm water cascaded down, filling the small bathroom with the comforting sound of a steady shower. The steam curled around you and Viktor, who sat on the small stool beneath the gentle spray, his cane resting against the wall outside. You were seated on the shower floor, sat between VIktor's legs and your head tilted back as Viktor carefully washed your hair.

A soft laugh escaped you as you continued telling Viktor the story. "So, I heard this one from a friend the other day," you said, the sound of your voice light and playful. "A woman walked into a bakery and asked for a dozen donuts. The baker, seeing she was holding a massive bag of flour, said, 'You sure you need all of those? You're already carrying a whole bakery with you!'"

Viktor’s lips curled slightly in amusement as he gently massaged shampoo into your hair, his touch careful and methodical. "I take it your friend isn’t lacking for wit," he remarked, his voice carrying the faintest hint of a smile.

You chuckled, feeling the warmth of the moment. "Oh, no, she’s always full of them. It's a bit dangerous, actually. You never know when she’ll throw out some ridiculous one-liner."

Viktor hummed in response, his hands continuing to work through your hair with a soft, practiced rhythm. "It’s good to have people like that around. Keeps things interesting."

"Definitely," you agreed, your smile widening. "Life's way too serious if you don’t have some humor."

Just as Viktor was rinsing out the shampoo, you heard a soft sound from the bathroom door—one that grew louder as footsteps approached.

"Hey! What about me?!" came a familiar voice, one that immediately made you smile.

Jayce appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed and a pout on his face. His gaze flicked between you and Viktor, clearly unimpressed. "You two just couldn’t wait to start the fun without me, huh? You’re lucky I’m not offended."

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a grin. "Oh, stop whining, Jayce. It’s just a shower," you teased. "You could have joined us anytime."

Suddenly, Jayce shot you a cheeky grin, his mischievous spark lighting up his face. And before you could even question his look, Jayce strips off his shirt and pants with a dramatic flair, sending a wink your way. He stepped into the shower and immediately nudged you playfully. "Scoot a boot," he said, making a motion with his hand as he settled behind you. "Make some room. I'm coming in."

With a teasing groan, you shuffled a bit, sitting up as Jayce comfortably slid in behind you, his legs folding on either side of you. He took your space between Viktor's legs, and before you knew it, you were nestled between him, your back against his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.

Viktor raised an amused eyebrow but didn’t comment. "Well, since I’ve already taken care of Y/N," he said with a smirk, "I suppose it’s only fair I wash Jayce’s hair now." He gave a small, dry chuckle as he grabbed the shampoo and positioned himself behind Jayce.

Jayce, seemingly comfortable in his new position, chuckled lightly. "Hey, don’t mess it up, Viktor. I’m trusting you with this precious mane."

You snickered at his words but then found yourself leaning back more, trying to relax in the little space between them. The warmth of the shower enveloped all three of you as Viktor began to gently work the shampoo through Jayce’s hair. Jayce let out a contented sigh as Viktor’s fingers worked their magic.

You, not one to let silence take over, continued to ramble away. "You know, I was thinking the other day about something odd, but funny. Do you think animals have favorite foods, or do they just eat whatever’s in front of them? Like... if a dog was given a steak and a peanut butter sandwich, would it know the difference?"

Jayce let out a small laugh. "Knowing you, you probably spent a good amount of time pondering that, huh?"

"I mean, if you think about it, it’s a weird question," you replied, smiling at the absurdity of your own thoughts. "It’s like they don’t have taste buds the way we do, but maybe they have their own version of favorites?"

Viktor, continuing to rinse Jayce’s hair, gave a quiet chuckle at your musings. "I imagine they must. Though I highly doubt a dog is contemplating its culinary choices the same way you do."

Jayce grinned and playfully nudged you. "Yeah, we’re the ones complicating things here. Dogs? They’re just living their best life, getting treats whenever they please."

As Viktor finished massaging the last of the shampoo through Jayce’s hair, you sighed contentedly, completely at peace in the quiet, shared moment between the three of you. The sound of water was soothing, and despite the playful bickering and light teasing, there was a warmth to the atmosphere—a deep comfort in being with them.

It was moments like this that made everything else fade away, the world outside of the bathroom no longer mattering. In this space, there was only the three of you—together.

VANDER

Vander had spent the evening closing up The Last Drop, ensuring everything was locked up tight for the night. As the kids settled into bed, he couldn’t help but glance over at you, swaying gently on your barstool, a grin plastered on your face as you giggled at something only you seemed to find amusing. It was clear you had indulged in more than a couple of drinks tonight, your words slurring and your movements a little too carefree.

He chuckled softly to himself, a warm, affectionate smile crossing his features. "Alright, love," he said, his deep voice filled with amusement, "let's get you upstairs, huh?"

You turned your head to him with wide, slightly unfocused eyes, your lips curling into a grin. "Vander," you said, your voice teasing and dreamy, "you know you’re my favorite, right? I mean, who else would take care of me like you do?"

He raised an eyebrow, helping you steady yourself as you tried to stand. "I’m your favorite? And here I thought it was Powder," he teased as he gently guided you toward the stairs.

You shook your head, stumbling a little as you leaned against him for support. "Nope, it’s you. You’re big and strong, and you’re always so... so calm. Like, you have this thing about you," you said, waving your hands around as if the words were escaping you in a wave of giggles.

Vander simply chuckled, leading you into your shared room and gently sitting you on the bed for a moment. He couldn't help but smile at your antics, shaking his head. "Alright, let’s get you cleaned up before you start singing the praises of my muscles or something," he said, already pulling your shoes off and gently tugging at your clothes.

You giggled again, clearly delighted by the whole situation. "Oh, I think I’d rather... rather see you flex those muscles," you said, your words slurring more as you spoke. Vander gave a soft laugh, amused but not bothered, before he undressed you slowly, making sure not to rush it, even if you were far from steady on your feet.

He helped you stand, guiding you toward the ensuite bathroom, where the warm steam from the shower already filled the air. He turned the water on, adjusting it to just the right temperature, and as you stumbled a bit, he placed a steadying hand on your back. "Alright, love, sit down for me," he instructed gently, leading you to the bathtub.

You plopped down into the tub with a small huff, the cool porcelain against your skin bringing you back to reality just a bit. "You’re so nice to me, Vander," you mumbled, your voice still a little distant as your eyes tried to focus on him.

Vander rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, then reached for the showerhead. He kept a soft smile on his face as he kneeled beside you, the warm water cascading over your hair. He grabbed the shampoo bottle and, as the water splashed against your skin, he gently began to lather it into your hair. "I’m just doing my job, love," he said in a soothing tone. "Taking care of you, like always."

You tilted your head back, your gaze unfocused but somehow full of affection. "You’re the best," you said softly, as if it were a secret between the two of you. "I love how you never... never get mad at me."

Vander chuckled, his hands gently massaging your scalp as he worked the shampoo in. "Well, someone’s got to be the calm one around here," he teased, his fingers working through your hair with a tenderness that came naturally to him. He glanced up, his eyes soft and amused as he watched you relax, the alcohol starting to take a back seat to the comfort of his presence.

"Do you know what I think?" you suddenly said, your words slipping out in a half-ramble. "I think... I think you should wear more shirts like that. You look so... handsome."

Vander’s lips curved into a smirk, unable to resist the warmth in your tone. "You’re a bit tipsy, aren’t you?" he teased lightly, but he couldn’t hide the fondness in his voice.

You smiled dreamily, nodding. "Just a little," you said, leaning back into the tub, your head cradled by the warm water as it rinsed away the soap. "But I still love you."

He smiled back at you, his hands tenderly rinsing your hair. "I love you too, more than you know," he replied, his voice full of quiet affection. He continued washing your hair, the warm water cascading over your skin as he patiently humoured your nonsensical ramblings. It wasn’t a perfect night, but it was a peaceful one, and as long as you were with him, that was all that mattered.

SILCO

The soft flicker of candlelight cast delicate shadows across the room, its warm glow mingling with the sweet scent of lavender and rose petals. The classical music that filled the air was gentle and soothing, wrapping around the room like a soft embrace. You lay in the bathtub, bubbles up to your chin, head tilted back, eyes closed in perfect relaxation. The warm water swirled around you, and every inch of your body seemed to melt into the comfort of the bath. It was a rare moment of peace, and you savored every second of it.

The door creaked softly as it opened, and you heard Silco’s voice calling your name, a hint of amusement in it. "Y/N?"

You hummed in response, too relaxed to speak, your eyes still closed. There was a small pause before the sound of footsteps filled the room. Silco stepped inside, his figure dark against the soft candlelight, his jacket and gloves absent, leaving him only in his dress pants and waistcoat. His sharp eyes scanned the scene in front of him—your form resting in the bath, the flickering candles casting a soft glow on your skin, and the air filled with the calm melody of the classical music.

Silco’s lips curled into a small smile as he chuckled lightly. "I see you’ve made yourself quite comfortable," he said, his voice soft and amused.

You opened your eyes slowly, your smile warm as you saw him standing there. "Just thought I’d indulge a little," you replied, your voice airy, still wrapped in the relaxation of the moment. "It’s been a long day."

He walked over and lowered himself to sit cross-legged on the floor beside you, his waistcoat wrinkling slightly as he settled. His eyes lingered on you, a soft intensity in them as he took in the sight of you so peaceful, so serene. "I can see that. But," he mused, voice almost teasing, "you didn’t wait for me to join you?"

You tilted your head slightly, a playful glint in your eyes as you met his gaze. "I figured you were busy," you teased, your fingers absently tracing the surface of the water. "But now that you’re here, I’m sure I could make room for you."

Silco raised an eyebrow at your playful tone, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. "You always do find a way to get me involved," he said, though there was warmth in his voice, something softer than his usual cool detachment. "But I don’t think I’d fit in here as well as you do."

You chuckled softly. "Maybe not, but you’d look dashing regardless."

He let out a quiet laugh, leaning back slightly as his eyes lingered on the scene, the soft glow of the candles reflecting in his gaze. "I doubt the water would stay as pristine as it is with me in it," he said, voice still warm but filled with that signature dry humor.

"True," you said with a melodic laugh. "But it would be worth it just to see you try."

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, the soft sounds of the music and the flickering candlelight filling the space between your quiet exchanges. You allowed your head to tilt back again, eyes closed, the warmth of the water easing away the tension in your body. Silco’s presence beside you was grounding, and the intimacy of the moment wrapped around you both.

After a few moments, Silco spoke again, his voice more thoughtful this time. "You know," he began, eyes glinting slightly, "you’ve always been a bit of an enigma to me. Always calm, collected... yet I can see how easily you lose yourself in moments like this." He glanced over at you, his gaze softening as he continued. "I never really understood it until now. But perhaps... it’s not so bad. Seeing you like this."

You met his gaze, a quiet understanding settling in. "It’s important, I think," you said softly, your voice almost a whisper as you traced your fingers through the bubbles, "to find peace where we can, even in a world like ours."

Silco didn’t speak immediately, his gaze distant as he processed your words. The quiet of the room wrapped around you, and for the first time, it felt as if you were both suspended in time, the outside world far away. After a long pause, Silco spoke again, his voice quieter than before. "Perhaps I’ve spent too long trying to control everything around me," he murmured, his tone softer, more vulnerable than usual. "I’ve forgotten what it feels like to simply be still."

You smiled gently, your hand resting on the edge of the tub. "You’ve always been still in your own way," you said quietly. "Even in the chaos. You just don’t notice it."

Silco’s lips twitched slightly, his sharp gaze turning to you with something softer behind it. "I think you’ve always known how to calm me," he admitted, his voice a little raspier, a touch of sincerity in it. "It’s an odd thing, isn’t it? You make me feel like I could breathe for the first time in years."

The classical music played on, its soft strings almost like a lullaby now, filling the room with an air of serenity. Silco shifted again, sitting a little closer, his gaze never leaving you. "Perhaps we should make moments like this a regular occurrence," he said, his voice softer than it had been when he entered. "I’m beginning to understand their value."

You nodded, a sense of contentment settling over you as you gazed at him. "I’d like that," you said softly. "A little stillness every now and then... it’s something we both deserve."

Silco’s lips parted just slightly, a rare, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You always know just what to say."

You chuckled lightly, the sound of it warm and carefree, before sinking deeper into the tub, letting the water soothe you further. "I’ve had practice."

As the minutes passed, the two of you remained in your quiet corner of the world, the flickering candles, soft music, and your peaceful conversation surrounding you both. It was a fleeting moment of calm, but in that moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

POWDER/JINX (PLATONIC!)

Jinx sat in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror with a deep scowl etched across her face. Her once vibrant blue hair, now a tangled mess, fell around her shoulders in wild strands. She held the brush in her hands, staring at it as if it might magically fix the knots in her hair. She gave it another try, attempting to work through the tangles, but each tug only seemed to make things worse. Frustration built up in her chest as she gritted her teeth, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. The more she tried, the more helpless she felt, and soon enough, she simply gave up, slumping back against the chair, her eyes narrowed in frustration as she stared at her reflection.

"Ugh, stupid hair!" she muttered under her breath, glaring at the brush like it had personally wronged her. She groaned loudly and dropped it onto the floor, arms crossing over her chest in defeat. “Why does it have to be so damn complicated?”

Her blue locks now lay in a chaotic heap around her, making her look even more disheveled than usual. Jinx sighed deeply and kicked the sink cupboard in irritation, eyes dropping to the scattered hairbrushes and combs in front of her.

As she sat there, wallowing in frustration, she didn't hear the soft knock on her door.

"Jinx?" came a gentle voice, warm and familiar.

Jinx’s head shot up, her eyes brightening for a second before she wiped her expression clean of irritation. "Oh, uh... come in!" she called out, trying to sound like everything was fine, though her frustration still lingered in her tone.

The door creaked open, and there you stood in the doorway, peeking inside with a gentle smile. Your eyes immediately locked onto her tangled mess of hair. “I heard some pretty dramatic groaning from in here,” you said, stepping into the room and raising an eyebrow. “What’s going on, kiddo?”

Jinx slumped back into her chair, groaning again. "This stupid hair... I washed it, but now it’s all knotted and I can’t get it to brush out. It’s like it hates me."

You smiled softly at her, walking over to kneel beside her. You ran your fingers through the strands, noting how thick and soft her hair was, despite the tangles. "I see," you said, eyes full of understanding. "That can be a pain. I remember when I used to struggle with that too."

Jinx shot you a skeptical look, but there was a soft curiosity in her eyes now. "You? Struggle with hair?" She raised an eyebrow. "I can’t even imagine you having problems with your hair."

You laughed gently, a quiet, soothing sound that seemed to settle her just a little. “Oh, trust me, it wasn’t always this easy. I had my fair share of knots and tangles when I was growing up. In fact..." You paused, glancing down at the mess of blue hair in front of you. “My mother used to help me when I couldn’t get mine untangled. And let me tell you, she was a master at it. She taught me all the tricks.”

Jinx’s eyes softened slightly at the mention of your mother. You had often spoken of her with fondness, telling stories of the care she took in raising you. For a moment, Jinx felt a pang in her chest—something she hadn’t quite felt before. That warmth, that connection. She’d never had that kind of maternal guidance, but she liked hearing your stories.

"How’d she help you?" Jinx asked, her voice softer than before.

You smiled and gently took the brush from her hand, running it through the strands of her hair with practiced ease. "First, she taught me that you’ve got to be patient with it," you said, your voice calm and comforting. "You can’t rush. You take your time, work through the tangles slowly, and remember to be gentle. Like this."

As you carefully started brushing through the knots, you noticed Jinx’s body slowly relaxing, her posture softening under your gentle care. In the reflection of the mirror, you could see her eyes following your every move. Every now and then, your own gaze flickered to hers in the mirror, catching her watching you with a look that was part curiosity, part trust.

"You’re really good at this," Jinx commented, the tension in her voice melting away as you worked through the last of the knots.

You chuckled softly. “It’s not just about the brushing. You’ve got to keep the hair untangled as you go. Otherwise, it just gets worse. And once you’ve got the tangles out, you can do fun things with it—like braids."

"Braids?" Jinx repeated the word, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. “Like... the cool ones you see in the old books?”

“Exactly,” you said, smiling as you finished brushing her hair. You gently separated the strands into sections and began braiding them, guiding Jinx through each step slowly. "My mom used to tell me stories while she braided my hair. She said that braids could help protect your hair, make it stronger. And she always said braids were a sign of care—when someone takes the time to braid your hair, it means they care about you."

Jinx looked down at your hands, her expression thoughtful. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the way your fingers worked through her hair, the gentleness of your touch, and the care in your movements. “I... I think I’d like that. To have my hair done like that. Maybe it’s not so bad, this hair thing.” She shifted in her seat, and you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips in the reflection.

You continued braiding, the room quiet save for the soft classical music filling the space, the gentle rhythm of your hands working with the hair like a lullaby. "You know, my mom also told me that hair carries memories. It’s like every braid, every knot, tells a story,” you said, your voice soft. “It’s funny—now, every time I look at my hair, I can almost hear her telling me stories of when I was little. Things she used to do when I was upset.”

Jinx looked at you through the reflection of the mirror, her fingers absently playing with the edge of her sleeve. “What kind of stories?” she asked, genuinely intrigued.

You smiled and finished the braid, gently running your fingers through it. “Oh, all kinds. She’d tell me about how she’d help her own mother with her hair, and how they’d talk about everything. About life, about what it meant to be strong even when things felt impossible. She’d say that no matter how tough it got, you always had to keep going, because you never know when something beautiful might come out of it.” You paused for a moment, glancing at Jinx in the mirror. "It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. Like, no matter what, she was always there."

Jinx’s eyes seemed to soften, and for a brief second, her usual wild energy was replaced with something quieter, more tender. “I never had that,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I always had to do things myself.”

You smiled at her reflection, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. "You don't have to do everything alone, Jinx. Not anymore."

Jinx blinked, her eyes bright with a mix of emotion she wasn’t sure how to process. But in that moment, the two of you shared something unspoken, a bond of care and understanding that transcended everything else.

The braid, now finished, lay perfectly in her hair, and you gently tugged it, just enough to show it off. “There we go,” you said with a soft smile. “Now you’re ready to take on the world, Powder.”

She looked in the mirror, at her reflection, and a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips for the first time in a long while. “Thanks, Y/N. This... feels nice. Maybe I’ll keep it like this. You know... like how you used to do.”

You smiled back, happy to see that small spark of joy in her eyes. "Anytime, kiddo. Anytime.

[asleepybisexual]

Normally I write in the tags but I have too much to say.

First the expressions, the microexpressions and fondness on both of their faces are so good. They are so true to character.

Second the outfits, stunning. Wonderful. Perfect.

As a disabled person, Jayce holding Viktors cane in his arm so that it is within reach for when they are done dancing is so wonderful to me. It helps Viktor not rely on him. He has the option to walk away without Jayces assistance. That is being an ally and a good partner.

The dialogue. THE DIALOGUE. Their hatred of the parties. Viktor saying he'll come to more because he knows Jayce hates them. Jayce saying he doesn't care about stares. The comment about them finally being seen as partners. And the jokes about matching clothes (jayce let your cane have my house colors talis). The inherent trust in each other.

"all I see is you" soulmate shit. Love them. This is beautiful. Thank you op for this ❤️💜

'All I see is you.'

[itssliyahhxoxo]

hey lovely i have a request i was thinking like paige n reader n they baby girl or boy says they first words or the reader has a baby from a previous relationship nd the baby calls paige mama or sumn

You and Paige met the months after your break up with your baby daddy. When you found out you were pregnant you were filled with joy, your boyfriend not so much. The arguing started about a month after and went on and n about the baby.

Until you had enough and left, you spent the rest of your pregnancy with your best friend (friend name)

After you gave birth you dedicated your life to your precious baby girl, meaning.

Baby comes first

No men

No getting close with anyone

You stuck with those rules for the past five months,until your best friend had enough she basically dragged you and baby girl out the house and drove to her moms. “Are you sure this is ok” you asked her mom “yes, sweetie go have some fun. Besides it’ll be nice to spend some time with my grand baby” she smiled.

Yes you weren’t related but you and (friend name) see each other as sisters and her mom was always there for you as well.

“And maybe you can find you a new man” she smirked. you laughed shaking your head “bye ma” you kiss her cheek before leaving.

That was the night you met Paige, and god was she a flirt, she just wouldn’t give up “come onn, just one chance” she clapped her hands together as she followed you to the bar.

You shook your head with a laugh “you don’t give up do you?” You took a seat at the bar “nope” she smirked “what could go wrong?”. Your heart getting broken again, that’s what could happen. You knew Paige was a good person, but was just scared.

“You’re not gonna stop until I say yes, are you?” You looked at her. she shook her head, you looked down and sighed “fine..” “YES” Paige shoot up and cheered “but!!” You spoke up “uh-oh” she panicked.

“I..I have a daughter” you looked down, Paige slowly sat back next to you “how old” she asked softly “five months” you answered still not looking at her Paige nodded her head in thought “ok”.

You looked at her confused “what’s her favorite show?” Paige asked “why?” You asked. “So I know what to get her whenever I meet her” she smiled. You blinked “look, I don’t care about you having a kid. I like you a LOT” she said making you laugh a little.

“And I want to be with you” she took your hand in hers. After that night you and Paige had your first date which led too her meeting baby girl.

She drove you to (friends name) house to go get her due to her being fussy. “Shhh” you whispered in her ear softly rubbing her back, Paige watched with a smile seeing how different you were with her (baby name) lifted her head up to look at Paige with her big curious eyes, Paige panicked her eye widened as she froze.

You turned to look at her “you ok?” you asked seeing her face, she nodded that was all she could do. You’ve noticed her gaze on (baby name) and smiled “you wanna hold her?”. Paige’s eyes snapped to you “you su-sure I don’t wanna- you just got her to settle down..”.

“It fine Paige, she’s fine” you giggled at her nervousness you walked towards her, (baby name) eyes still on her.

You slowly place her in Paige’s arms and slowly backed away to see what would happen, both stared at each other with widened eyes. (Baby name)reached up and held Paige’s face in her chubby hands, you couldn’t help but laugh at Paige’s reaction.

(Baby name) begins to rub her eyes telling you that she was tired, she placed her head on Paige’s chest and began to fall asleep. Paige heart stopped, yes she held plenty of kids before but this was different. She looked back at you and saw you smiling at them, she looked back at (baby name) and softly smiled.

That was when she knew there was no way she would be able to let you and her go.

It’s been over a year now and things were going really good during that time you and (baby name) Paige’s mom and family, and they loved you especially (baby name).

You thought she was spoiled before, but now she was spoiled every.single.day, whenever Paige came home from practice she would bring home a toy for baby girl but tonight was different “Paige!” You looked at her shocked, she held what looks a four month old husky “what she loves it” Paige placed the puppy down and it immediately ran to (baby’s name).

It began licking her face and running around her making her laughs and giggles fill the room, Paige wrapped her arms around you from behind as you to watch your baby girl play with her new puppy “you spoil her to much” you mumbled in her arms “anything to make my girl happy” Paige kissed your head.

“Yeah, well I won’t be so happy in the morning. When I’m picking up it’s shit” you told her “don’t worry about that, I’ll handle it” she laughed. (Baby name) slowly waddled her way over toward you two “m..mama” she reached forward Paige.

You and Paige looked down at her shocked, Paige picked her up and held her in her arms “mama” (baby name) mumbled in Paige chest. Paige looked to you “did she just..” you nodded not knowing what to say. “Are you ok with her calling you that?” you asked.

Paige thought about it, over the past years she grown to love (baby name) like her own but hearing her call her mama mad it deal real. “I think so” she nodded and looked down at baby girl she was half asleep gripping Paige’s shirt the sight made her heart flutter.

“Let’s get a house” she blurred out looking back at you “w..what?” You looked at her shocked “I want us to get a house” she said more confident “we’re going to need more space with that one” she nodded to the puppy who was now playing with one of Paige‘s many shoes. “And we’re gonna need a backyard for when I teach her how to play basketball” she smirked.

“Oh really, who said she was playing basketball” you smiled gently getting closer to her “me” she pulls your by the waist and kisses you with so much love. That when You knew you made the right decision that night.



If there is any misspelled words, just ignore it I didn’t have time to go over it.

@thatonequeer0358 @numberonepartyanth3m @melpthatsme

[catchastarorten]

—More than anything.

Pairing: Cho Sang-woo x lover!fem!reader

Summary: You had supported him through everything, but when you fell sick, he couldn't save you because of debt, so he participated in the games. The blood, the violence, it was all worth it because it was all for you, but he still couldn’t save you, even after winning.

Warnings: angst, illness, death, grief/loss, mentions of violence, guilt/sacrifice, emotional distress, Sang-woo won the games in this au, english isn't my first language, mistakes should be present, sorry!

Word count: ~ 1.9k

The first time you met Sang-woo, it was in the bustling hallways of Seoul National University, your books pressed against your chest as he nearly toppled over you in his haste. Apologies poured out of him, flustered but composed, but it was the soft smile that followed that made you pause. You didn’t know it then, but that clumsy encounter would change both of your lives forever.

From that moment, he had become everything to you. And soon enough, you realized you were everything to him too. Sang-woo was the kind of man who always seemed in control of himself. But with you, that cool demeanor softened. He would laugh more, touch your hand absentmindedly, watch you as if you were the only thing in the world worth looking at.

You supported each other through the tough years at university. His mind was brilliant—quick, sharp, and endlessly determined. It wasn’t hard to see why he was the pride of his family, the hope of his mother. He was going to do great things, you always believed that, and you reminded him every chance you got.

Sang-woo always spoke of a future where he’d be successful, where his mother would never have to work a day in her life again. And somewhere in that future—he said with a tentative smile—was you.

Years passed, and the challenges of adulthood crept in. Sang-woo’s ambitions, once so pure and noble, became entangled in desperation as he fell into debt. It started small—a few bad investments, a loan here and there, promises that he’d make it all back soon. But soon, the debts piled into something worse, a mess that loomed over both of your lives.

He had so much promise, so much potential, and you wanted to see him succeed. So when he started to falter—when the world wasn’t as kind, when the debts began to gather up, and his once-unshakable confidence began to fracture—you did what you thought any partner would do. You helped him.

You saw the way the guilt ate away at him. He tried to hide it, but you knew him too well.

“I’ll pay off this part for now,” you’d told him gently, holding the bank statement in your hand. He had stared at you, his expression tight, his hands gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No,” he had said firmly. “You’ve done enough. I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around.”

But you didn’t care about that. You knew he felt ashamed, that his pride was bleeding, but you loved him too much to let him drown. “Sang-woo,” you whispered, reaching out to place your hand over his. “I’m doing this because I want to. Because I believe in you.”

He looked at you like you were his lifeline, the only light in his darkening world. He kissed your hand and said nothing more, but no matter how much you reassured him, the guilt lingered. He began to withdraw, the weight of his mistakes crushed him.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t cruel enough, you fell ill. It started with fatigue and a persistent ache in your chest. You brushed it off at first, telling yourself that it was just stress, but when the symptoms worsened, you finally went to the hospital.

The diagnosis was a gut punch. The doctors spoke in clinical terms, but all Sang-woo heard at the moment was that it was serious. You needed treatment, the treatment was possible, but expensive.

The hospital bills mounted quickly. You had always lived sparingly, but this was different. The treatment you needed was far beyond what either of you could afford, especially with Sang-woo already drowning in debt. You had tried to remain strong, tried to reassure him even when your body weakened and the days became harder to endure.

But Sang-woo wasn’t strong. At least not in the way you were. He didn't want to put up the pretense of having a "perfect" reputation anymore, he just wanted you.

One night, as you lay in your hospital bed, pale and shivering despite the blankets covering you, he dropped to his knees beside you. He gripped your hand so tightly it hurt, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking.

“I’ll get the money,” he said, his voice trembling with determination. “I’ll find a way. I promise.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw the man you loved falling apart. His face was gaunt, his eyes bloodshot, guilt and desperation consuming him.

“Sang-woo,” you whispered, your heart breaking for him. For both of you. “I’ll be okay... don’t do anything reckless.”

But he shook his head, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to know so well. He pressed his lips to your forehead, a lingering, desperate kiss.

“I’ll come back,” he said. “With the money. Just hold on for me.”

You wanted to believe him, but as you watched him walk away, a part of you knew that he was heading down a dangerous path.

At first, you tried to think light. You thought he had simply left to clear his head. Maybe he was meeting someone to talk about loans or some other last-ditch effort to save you. But then the days turned into weeks, and Sang-woo didn’t return.

You tried calling him, but his phone went unanswered. You asked the nurses, his mother, even some of his old university friends, but no one had seen him. You didn’t know whether to be angry, scared, or heartbroken. All you knew was that he wasn’t here, and you were running out of time.

The nurses came and went, offering kind smiles and gentle reassurances, but it wasn’t enough. What you needed—what you wanted—was him, by your side.

You missed his voice, his laugh, the way he’d hold your hand and promise you that everything would be okay. You told yourself that he was out there fighting for you, but as the days stretched on, doubt began to creep in.

In your quieter moments, you wondered if he’d given up on you. If the burden had become too much and he just left without a trace. But deep down, you knew Sang-woo. You knew how much he loved you, how determined he could be. He’d find a way back to you. He had to.

In your final days, you thought about him often. You tried to convince yourself that he had a plan, that he would come rushing through the hospital doors at any moment with that look on his face, telling you everything was going to be okay, that you could heal properly now. But he didn’t.

Instead, you were left with an empty chair by your bedside, your heart aching with the absence of the man you loved more than anything in the world.

On the last night, you couldn’t fight the tears anymore. You whispered into the quiet room—“I just wish you were here.” Your voice cracked, and you closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion finally take over. You dreamed of him one last time—of the way he smiled when you first met, of his hand in yours, of the warmth that had once filled your life.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was what Sang-woo was enduring.

He had entered the games through a salesman with a suitcase and a card with a number on the back. The games were a deadly competition where the stakes were higher than anything he’d ever faced. Life and death were decided in brutal, messed up versions of childhood games.

At first, he told himself he was doing it for you, for the money that could save your life. But as the games progressed, as blood stained his hands and the faces of those he’d sacrificed haunted his dreams, the lines began to blur.

How much of himself was he willing to lose to save you?

Every decision, every betrayal he made, weighed on him. He thought of you constantly, your smile a light in the darkness. When he felt the weight of his actions crushing him, he clung to the hope that he could still save you. That he could win, come back to you, and make everything right, no matter how exhausted he was, no matter how much pain he had to endure, it was all for you. Because how could he call himself a man—your man—if he couldn't even keep you by his side? If he couldn't even get the money to save you and have you in his arms again, healthy and full of life?

When Sang-woo finally emerged from the games, clutching the blood money that was counted from each of the lifeless bodies of the other players, he felt hollow. His actions, the lives he’d taken, the people he’d betrayed—all of it threatened to suffocate him. But he pushed it aside. None of it mattered now. All that mattered was you.

He rushed to the hospital, his heart pounding in his chest. He imagined the look on your face when he walked through the door, how you’d smile and tell him that he’d always been your hero. And for the first time since the games, he smiled. He smiled.

But when he reached your room, he froze, and everything inside him seemed to shatter.

You were still, too still. Your chest didn't rise or fall, your lips were pale, and your eyes—those eyes he had loved so much—were closed forever.

The nurse had pity in her eyes as she approached him. "I'm sorry... she passed away a few hours prior. We... we tried calling you, but..."

“No,” he choked out, he staggered to your bedside, falling to his knees onto the mattress of the bed, his hands reaching for you. “No, no, no… please, no…”

He pulled you into his arms, cradling your lifeless body as tears streamed down his face. “Wake up,” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please, wake up. I have the money now. I did it. I got it for you. You can get better now. Please, just… open your eyes.”

But you didn't. You couldn't.

“I got the money,” he whispered, tears falling from his eyes. “I have it. We can pay for your treatment now. You’ll be okay. You’ll be okay…”

Sang-woo's hand trembled as he cupped your face. Your skin was cold to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth he remembered. He pressed his forehead to yours, the card that contained all the prize money laid forgotten on the floor, a cruel reminder of what he had to sacrifice to save you—of the blood, the death, and the lives he had destroyed in those games. He had told himself it was all for you, that he could endure anything if it meant seeing you smile again. But now, as he held your cold body in his arms, he realized it had all been for nothing.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m so, so sorry. I should’ve been here. I should’ve stayed with you. I thought… I thought I could save you.”

He had done everything he could to save you, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. And now, he was left with nothing, because you had been his everything.

[gossipgurlingursht]

@nagillim79

In the UK we used to call this theoretical leftist activism "sixth form politics", ie politics as conceived of by 16-18 year olds who have never had to be self-supporting and have an overly rose-tinted view of human nature because they've been protected from reality by parents and teachers all their lives. Generally it tends to shatter when it bashes up against reality and the fact that most humans don't give a damn about each other and can't be forced to care. Not even by socialist governments. What you're asking about is praxis but the left in the west avoids praxis. They prefer utopian delusions and theories to actually having to sacrifice their personal comfort on the altar of getting things done.

Ignoring what any movements are currently doing, I think these unrealistic expectations can be held by any age group or ideology. I think on average, people just don't understand how democratic politics works, at least in the US. People get mad that Democrats don't fix everything immediately after winning a razor-thin majority, but

They've never gone to a meeting of their local party. They don't understand how freaking hard it is just to get a room full of people WHO SUPPOSEDLY ARE ON THE SAME SIDE to agree about literally anything.

They don't like when politicians take speaking fees or donations from companies. But they've never donated themselves, and don't have any idea how much it costs to run a campaign.

They don't canvass. They don't understand that the average American A. doesn't want to talk to ANYONE B. doesn't want to talk to anyone who calls themself a Democrat C. just wants to know how jesus fits into all of this.

They don't like when politicians "lie" to them (and some straight-up do). But they don't want to vote for someone who tells them a realistic goal of making incremental to moderate change within the limits of the current political climate & with (or against) the other democratically elected reps.

They've never READ and advocated for a bill or policy proposal before. They think medicare for all (which I support!) is as simple as "$2000 < $8000". They don't think about what to do with all the people currently working in the health insurance industry, how employers will act when their contribution is removed, how this affects the tax system, and how to build an entire freaking government agency. "It doesn't matter, M4A is about saving peoples lives!" Yeah, so we need to make sure we're smart about it & do a good job.

To be very very clear, I don't hate leftists, we agree on a lot of points, and I don't think they were responsible for 2024. I am just begging, BEGGING, Americans to do something, ANYTHING, to get involved. Never tell me you're bored if you've never volunteered in politics!

The left SUCKS at recruiting people. And so many of you are part of the problem.

The talk about centrists and moderates being the literal devil I see constantly in online leftist spaces is one great example of the left's failure. Yes, it sucks when the people don't see how horrible the right is. But centrists are some of the most open people to discussion- and some already lean left!!

You can't demonize moderates to such an extent that you close yourself off to them and then wonder why you're losing swing states.

Centrists aren't even always people with all the privileges- you will find plenty of people who are part of marginalized groups who are concerned about politicians on all sides.

You can be a smol radical leftist bean all you want who only talks to other smol socialist and communist beans, but you're never going to make the difference you want to in the world that way. It's the cold, hard truth. It doesn't mean you have to engage in discourse with everyone- some people have no real hope of changing and are emotionally draining- just more than your bubble.

I am tired of the left eating itself alive and deranged people like Trump winning.

[sunni-stuff]

People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives. 

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.  

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”  

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”  

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”  

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper. 

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for. 

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation. 

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands. 

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you. 

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information. 

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination.  “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

-

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

[puckinghischier]

Hiiii happy new year! I absolutely adore your quinnxreader fics! I loved the one about his brothers asking her questions and calling her all the time because they love her so much! Would you consider writing more about that?

Maybe about their dynamic in person, meeting over Christmas or summer or something!??

Have a great day!

oh listen when the four of you are together for long periods of time? you’re convinced you and quinn will never have to have kids, because you’re gonna be parenting jack and luke for the rest of your lives.

like meeting at the lake house over the summer. even if ellen and jim are there with everyone, luke and jack still bug you with any and every question they have.

“y/n! what should i eat for lunch?”

“y/n! where’s the remote?”

“y/n! have you seen my swimming trunks?”

every time you take a breath, one of them is yelling for you for help, or advice, or nothing at all. jack is a regular at shouting your name from wherever he is in the house just to show you some video on his phone, or ask you how to spell a word for a text he’s sending.

quinn and ellen have both scolded them numerous times to leave you alone and quit treating you like a maid, but you don’t tell them you secretly love it. you hate that they’re acting like toddlers that can’t fend for themselves, but you love the comfort level they have with you to do it all.

and it’s not like they don’t return the favor.

you always manage to get a summer cold when you come to the lake house. you don’t know if it’s the water mixed with the chilly nights or the fact you’re always on the go and never resting, but you somehow always get a case of the sniffles for a few days each summer.

whenever it happens, jack and luke dote on you like you’re bedridden. constantly bringing you snacks and meds and juice. asking if you need anything, watching movies with you and quinn while all four of you cuddle on the couch.

ellen never fails to snap a picture of the occasion, all of her kids (you included) safe and sound under one roof, a rare occurrence in her world.

now, you have your own moments visiting the two youngest brothers, missing them just as badly as they miss you sometimes. when quinn is away on a particularly long road trip and jack and luke have a few home games, you’re booking a flight and off to see them.

you can always see how excited they are to have you at their games, making sure you have the best seats and even buying you a custom split hughes sweater, so you never have to choose one over the other.

they tell all of their teammates you’re coming and gesture to you throughout the whole game, making sure you saw that save, or watched them score a goal.

you go out with them after games and send quinn lots of pictures of his drunk, idiot brothers singing karaoke and displaying terrible dance moves.

quinn loves seeing you have the friendship with his brothers that you do, but he always reminds them to keep you safe, his protective side coming out, even though he knows they would never let anything happen.

still, it doesn’t keep them from finding sunglasses from god knows where, drunkenly waltzing you out of bar on either side of you, gesturing for people to move out of the way like they’re your bodyguards. every move you make, they’re sending (blurry) pictures of you safely outside the bar, getting into the uber, getting out of the uber, walking into their apartment building, in the elevator, unlocking their door, walking through their door, walking to the guest room, and one final shot of you in bed with the covers pulled up to your chin, to the groupchat you’re in with them and your boyfriend.

and once the apartment is quiet and their voices are reduced to light snores, you sneak into their rooms and take pictures of them, too, feeling just as much of a responsibility to keep them safe and cared for.

christmases? now those are an event, truly.

luke and jack are on you for months to help them pick out the perfect gift for quinn and ellen, claiming you know gifts way better than they do. you even fly out to jersey for a couple days in the middle of december, finding a stretch where they have a couple home games.

you take them out shopping, coaching and making sure they don’t pick out some random scarf for their mom or striped tie for quinn and jim. they take you to do all the touristy christmas things around the city (even if you’ve done it a million times before) and make fun of how you still can’t skate, even after all the years of being with quinn.

when you all finally make it back to michigan for the big family christmas, quinn steals you away for some one on one time, of course, but it’s never long lived. one of the two man-children, as quinn so affectionately calls them, comes barging in your room eventually, flopping down onto the bed right in-between you and quinn. and once one is in there, the other gets jealous and fights his way into the dog pile happening.

“can you two go annoy mom and dad or something? you just had her for four days, it’s my turn,” quinn huffs, your quiet bubble now burst.

“well, mom and dad told us to come annoy you guys, they have to wrap presents,” luke pouts to quinn, causing him to roll his eyes and accept his fate.

christmas morning with them is always your favorite, though.

jack and luke are always so high energy, wanting everyone to open their presents from them first so they can see the reactions.

they’re just like little kids, almost blurting out what it is as the person is opening it. they always tell ellen and quinn and jim you helped them, not wanting to take all the credit for themselves. but when it comes to their gifts to you? you start to think their claims that they’re terrible at gift giving is just a rouse to get you to visit them each year, because they never fail to give you the most heartfelt gifts.

like this christmas, they had gone in together on paying an artist to paint a collage of your favorite pictures of you and quinn together, the canvasses each in the shape of yours and quinn’s initials. you had noticed the canvas shaped like a plus sign in-between the two letters is blank, not knowing why they would leave such a large section bare.

when you look up to ask them, you notice they’re standing on either side of you, gesturing you to stand up. quinn is nowhere to be found, looking around for him as you stand and follow their lead to the back door of the large house.

when they open the door you’re met with the michigan snow, falling perfectly onto a beautifully decorated archway that you hadn’t noticed the night before. you noticed the poinsettias forming a walkway to the arch, finding quinn standing there under the perfectly hung mistletoe, waiting for you.

jack and luke walk push you on, staying behind in the warmth of the house.

you walk down the snow covered path, focusing on not falling the whole way.

once you reach the end of the path, quinn grabs your hand and plants you right in front of him.

he launches into a speech about how much he loves you, and how much he loves watching you with his family, how easily you’ve become a part of it, intertwined so deeply into his soul he couldn’t let you go, even if he wanted to, before dropping down on one knee, asking you to spend the rest of your life trusting him and loving him.

you immediately tell him yes, launching your body to his once he stands, tears streaming down your frozen face. right as you go to share a kiss to seal the intimate moment, you’re broken apart by the woops and hollers of none other than jack and luke, turning your head to see them barreling down the walkway towards you two.

“oh my god! we’re getting a sister! she’s actually gonna be ours now!” jack screams, crushing you two in a bear hug that would give quinn a run for his money.

“now quinn can’t use the excuse she’s his anymore, because now she’s ours. she’s gonna be a hughes! no more stingy quinn!” luke follows up, another weight added onto the already crushing hug.

“oh god, i didn’t think this through,” quinn groans, not enjoying his brothers’ newfound claim on you.

you giggle, encased in all the hughes love.

“also, we helped plan this, don’t let him hog all the credit, here. we planned our gift so it’d be the perfect segway into the proposal!” luke rushes out, too excited to keep it in any longer.

“the blank canvas is for engagement pictures!” jack confirms, beaming from ear to ear.

they finally release you and quinn from their clutches.

“okay, you guys have had your moment, now go back inside. she might getting ready to be your sister-in-law,” quinn emphasizes the last two words, “but she’s my fiancé, so we’ve earned some alone time.”

the two brothers huff and pout as they walk off, grumbling about how they can’t wait until you’re a hughes so he can’t claim you’re just his.

before you allow yourself the time with quinn, you run after your two best friends, tackling them in their own bear hug, despite how much larger they are than you.

“thank you guys. for this, for accepting me into your family, for sharing quinn with me,” you giggle at their scoff and luke’s mumble of ‘more like we share you with him’ before continuing. “i love you two. i’ll always be your big sister, yeah? as long as you’re always my two obnoxious little brothers.”

they squeeze you back so tightly you can’t breathe, telling you again how much they can’t wait for you to officially be part of their family.

quinn watches you with them, his own heart warmed despite the snow falling, wondering how in the world he got so lucky with such an amazing family, and now an even more amazing woman to bring into it.

[kyri45]

✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 06/01✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do the little monkeys on Flower Fruit mountain ever see at Wukong and Macaque bickering like an old married couple and think to themselves 'just kiss already'?

Yes. They keep doing and Wukong tries to stop them otherwise Macaque could hear them (he already does)

Anonimo ha chiesto: Been reading up on Macaque Body Language and found this: "A peculiar behaviour displayed by macaques is lip smacking. Between macaques, lip smacking is used to show submission, affection and reconciliation. This behaviour is a form of communication and is sometimes accompanied with cooing vocalisations and mild raising of eyebrows." So now I can't stop imaging Monkey King and Macaque just smacking lips and raising eyebrows to each other instead of saying "I love you" or after a fight just smacking lips and then hugging. But then I also started questioning, do the two monkeys in your AU actually use monkey body language to communicate? Or is it just human language they use? Great work on your AU btw! Loving the art and story ^^

Mm some? Like a little but not too much. But that’s an adorable trivia!!

Does macaque know about Wukong's stage fright?👀

Yes.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Baby MK lives in my head rent free. If Wukong or Macaque were trappen in the calabash than their perfect world would be one where they could raise mk without him having to fight or get hurt and traumatized

I THINK the fanfiction series Squashed Apricots is just about this if it can interest you.

@abbytheslothwitch ha chiesto: In your AU or your general opinion, which monkey dad is the taller one; Wukong or Macaque?

Macaque

Anonimo ha chiesto: The way you draw Pigsy honestly is one of the best I've seen I mean just look at him!!! He doesn't have the proportions of a regular human because he's not human and it works so well! I dunno he just looks cool in your artstyle and design That all I had to say :]]]]

Thank you so much!!!♥️♥️♥️ He’s honestly quite hard to draw exactly bc of that, but it’s good practice! Him and DBK are generally harder, I’m not super used to draw animals.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: Ello! Sorry, it's me again But just had a thought, sense Macaque has died and went to Dìyù or the underworld. (I think that's were the book of death is) Wouldn't he be at least scared or nervous to go back? Idk like bad memories like their fight or the lady bone demon or something? Idk maybe overthinking or that I just like angsty :P (P.s I fricking love your art and your AU's so much!!!!)

Yes. I believe he wouldn’t like the idea. I like to think he”s actually terrified. But he wouldn’t care less if it means to protect and help his baby.

Anonimo ha chiesto: will MK try to try change his name into nobody or something form of loophole name so that can be like ohhhh nobody us in trouble! Everyone is safeeee! And nezha’s dad is like wait no

Ahah that’s a good idea! Unfortunately that isn’t the plan

Anonimo ha chiesto: Hear me out we know Wukong made the bed because he made it bigger. It's made out of peach tree wood. And carved moon and suns and stars on the headboard.

AWWWW!!😭😭😭😭😭

@a1teruniverse ha chiesto: What's the hardest panel you've drawn

It is a panel if it’s an animation?

Anonimo ha chiesto: Will u ever do flash backs for shadowpeach thats “happy” like them first meeting realizing there in love a jealous mac courtnapping the monkey king just being young and in love.

Mmm yeah i wanna do smth like that. Don’t know when or how but i wanna.

Anonimo ha chiesto: does Wukong ever/will ever let glamours down and let like everything hang out like Mac would come in and his husband just causally has his boobs out and he’s like sweet my husband got hotter bc he’s pan(?) like I think you said that in an earlier post

I mean. I don’t think he has any issues dropping his glamours in front of macaque. I don’t think he would stay too much without his glamours bc still, I guess he would have some slight dysphoria. Also I mean, yeah Macaque loves him with or without boobies. But if Wukong could choose he would prefer not to have them out if he can.

Anonimo ha chiesto: which bottle is every ship in your lmk comic chugging? (I’m talking about your red bubble stickers for ao3 tags I would find it but I’m lazyyyh)

Shadowpeach is hurt & comfort (which I saw now I didn’t uploaded but yeah I got that one as well.), slowburn, enemies to lovers, and angst cause- duh.

Spicynoodle I would say is fluff, oneshot, enemies to lovers, found family.

Anonimo ha chiesto: im so embarrassed to ask about this but, later when mk and red boy r dating, who would ask the other first on a date? What would the date be? Also what does dbk and pif personal opinion of their relationship? SORRY IF THIS HAS BEEN ASKED BEFORE😭

I think MK, because dates are something a little more human, and cause Red Son is a workaholic. It can either be something like a training session, a videogame session at Red castle, or just also the traffic light trio being competitive. DBK and PIF are supporting, mostly bc they know their family will be even more powerful with an union such as theirs. Of course PIF is supporting also cause MK is Mac baby.

@kandymaneuwu ha chiesto: On a scale of 1 to 10 how fluffy is macaque this is very important

10 with merits

@5hadowm0ch1 ha chiesto: When will Shadowpeach kiss? It's always head-to-head Pats (I'm trying to predict what happening)

b-b-b-b-b- but head-to-head pats are cute…

@majesticgazell ha chiesto: Ooohhh I’m just imagining Li Jing catching wind of the plan and activating MK’s fillet while he’s in the shadows… maybe he wouldn’t lose himself under normal circumstances, but with that thing tightening around his head? 👀 Just a thought

Hehe, isn’t that a possibility?

@nataszaluiz ha chiesto: So I have a few questions. First: do you plan on ending it before Season 6 releases or do you plan on continuing it and mixing it up with your AU? Second: have you heard theories that a fragment of Azure's Soul is placed in the blue flower that appears after it's sacrifice? Third: Will characters like Yellowtusk and Peng appear in your AU?

S6 seems to either happen next year or never, so I ve3ry much hope i finish my story sooner.

no i haven’t

mmmm i don’t know

@cheddarcheesebiscuit1 ha chiesto: I gotta ask, if MK would to ever get injured in his monkie form, then would Macaque/Wukong try to take him to a human doctor or a vet?

I know we all want to see Macaque and Wukong freaking out when their baby is sick, but I think we forget sometimes that, even though they aren’t medics, Wukong has a basic understanding how to heal wounds and medicine. Macaque is head-canoned many times to be an expert in fact. And I think there are demons/demonic doctors in case MK has some kind of curse or demonic sickness, which would be what actually makes them worry in the first place.

@ainnur ha chiesto: Mei and Wukong team up?! Wasabi Duo the party crasher🎉✨ Love them💕 They need more love as a duo

Their name IS WASABI DUO????????? AAAWWWWWW

@sleeo-goos10 ha chiesto: Hi kyri! Thank you for sparking my LMK hyper fixation and I’m really curious: Will we get more Nezha? How will he react knowing that the Buddha approved this? IF the Buddha approved it at all 👀

Yes you will have plenty of Nezha. Also if youo guys really want to know, yeah, the Buddha themself approved of this. No, Li Jing wasn’t lying.

@saphstories ha chiesto: KYRI PLEASE IF I ASK FOR NOTHING ELSE I NEED TO SEE HELICOPTER AUNT PIF AND UNCLE DBK IN THAT FIGHT BECAUSE *HEAVEN DID WHAT TO THEIR NEPHEW???* And I'm sorry but of freaking course Red Son being the brat he is would call Mommy and Daddy to tattle about how mean Heaven is for stealing his Monkey before he could. 😂😂 Can you tell how insane the extended Monkey Fam makes me? 😂😂😂 I love this AU, I can't wait to see more!

When they heard the news they wanted to come to help attack the palace as well, but Red Son stopped them saying smt like “HE IS MY FUTURE HOUSBAND AND I GET TO KIDNAP HIM OUT OF HEAVEN MOM!”

@anxiousbb-witch ha chiesto: Do I have a reason to fear the possibilities of the golden headband being used on MK and all the emotions and tears coming from it?

oh year, absolutely.

Anonimo ha chiesto: I just have the funny thought that MK woke up one morning in his true form and get jumpscared by looking at himself and see he has boobs again

nooouuuu poor baby! But yeah it’s a funny image

@monkieshad0w ha chiesto: HELLOO HELLOO! What’s ur opinion on sundial duo :D (if you don’t know what sundial duo is, it’s basically Macaque and Wukong being duos and besties but not lovers) :3

oohhh well I do live any pf my ships as besties as well! Platonic love is just as important as romantic one for me personally!