#anyway that's for anyone that even cares about it

[living-in-a-box]

THIS!!!! SO MUCH THIS!!!!

I went through a phase of doing this. It was terrifying at first, but luckily I had support. They didn't quite understand my want or need for this but they were supportive nonetheless. I eventually realised no one cares. I'm not sure I ever even noticed anyone looking. Certainly never had anyone comment on it besides people who were close to me.

Didn't stop me from physical intimacy or dating either. Sure it had its challenges with online dating. At the time I was struggling way more with my mental health so it used to feel quite bad being rejected for it. But in hindsight I realise that those people were assholes to begin with and I dodged a bullet. For context, I never minded the people who just said "yeah not my preference, sorry". Those people were great! A lot of people, however, would just end up being extremely misogynistic and end up attacking me for it which sucked, but also saved me a lot of time by quickly showing me their colours.

I ended up going back to shaving my legs and armpits but without the anxiety I used to have about my body hair being visible. I rarely ever pluck my eyebrows.

Honestly, I recommend every woman to try this just to see that it really isn't the end of the world and that we can do this in our terms. Whether that's shaving daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, never - no one cares. The people who are invested in what other people do with their own bodies won't be missed anyway.

sometimes i wish i could tell other women that you can just stop removing your body hair and in many cases the consequences will be way less severe than u expect. you can go to the beach with all your leg hair intact and nobody will stop you or say a thing. you can stop waxing your upper lip and people won’t stare at it the way u might be bracing yourself for. you can quit plucking your brows and eventually they will grow back into themselves and no one will even notice. like for sure women are punished for not participating in beauty rituals but i also feel like so much of it is like The Panopticon sometimes where you just convince yourself that if u stop that kind of gendered upkeep everyone will be mad and stop talking to u forever when in reality you just keep existing and nothing remarkable happens. it’s not always easy but you can kind of just stop for real

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

This picture is giving me some major vibes. Quinn is seen wearing that necklace all night while the two of you flirt on and off. Soft touches. Whispered thoughts in each other ears. Everyone asks if there’s something going on between you two but you always brush them off.

“Just friends.” You both tell everyone who asks.

Yet, the morning after, you’re seen wearing that necklace along with a deep red mark on your neck.

hey! you chose violence in our texts AND my inbox smh

anyways!!! it’s been talk for a while now. you’re never see sporting anyone else’s jersey, and heads never turn when you run up to Quinn after a game, no matter the outcome.

Jack’s been yapping on about how “you should just make it official everyone knows.” and it’s always “no we’re just friends!” and then a sad look from the other party even though you both know it’s not true.

it’s no surprise when you show up on Quinn’s arm to the charity event on their off day. black dress to match his outfit, and that stupid burgundy lipstick he’s obsessed with it.

he has his eyes on you literally the whole night. doesn’t really care if he seems rude, he just wants you to be comfortable and okay.

random team sponsors asking how long you two have been together cause “he looks smitten, and i don’t think my own husbands looks at me like that!” and how can you tell that poor old women who just donated bank, that Quinn is just your friend. your friend who you dream about kissing after every game and wish he was the first thing you saw every morning?

by the end of the night, Quinn’s had a few drinks. nothing crazy of course, just enough that he’s not really scared to say what’s on his mind.

he’s quick to sneak up to you and Petey, and Petey has that knowing look on his face. Quinn’s hands find comfort around your waist, “ready to go, baby?”

Quinn’s never called you that and the heat in your cheeks gives it away. “yeah, Quinny. let’s go.”

“don’t forget, team breakfast with the wives tomorrow!” Petey’s yelling as you walk away.

when tomorrow comes, and you walk in with Quinn’s hoodie and his hands resting dangerously close to your ass while he’s leading you to the table. everyone’s ignoring the purple mark poking out around your collarbone and the scratch marks on Quinn’s neck.

“you finally get the girl, huggy?”

“yeah, Petey. sure did.”

“it’s about damn time.”

[captain-bubble-wrap]

Hiiii i have a request from your list if you take any at the moment.

10.. "You bought me flowers?"

Maybe Quinn x reader and he brings her glowers just because and shes overwhelmed because she never really had anyone doing that for her (besides her parents on birthdays or something) but never romantically!!

Sorry this took so long! I had two requests come in the same day I combined both prompts. 🩷

You had laid down on your sofa about two hours ago. It had been a kind of throw-away day with Quinn traveling back to Vancouver after finishing a long road series. They had encountered some bad weather and their flight had been delayed, so you had decided to catch up on some sleep while you waited for him to get back to the city since it seemed like it was going to be a late night. However, you had left your phone on the kitchen counter with the volume off, having gone to the movies the night before, so you hadn't heard any of his text notifications.

My Huggy Bear: They're finally letting us take off. I'll message you when we touch down. I love you. (2:32am)

My Huggy Bear: Have I mentioned enough that I've missed you? (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: Oh, I said I'd message you when we got back, didn't I? 😅 (2:17am)

My Huggy Bear: I do, though, I miss you a lot. I'll be home soon. (2:25am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm guessing you fell asleep. I'm jealous. Turbulence is too bad for me to get to sleep. (2:37am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to leave you alone so these messages don't wake you. I love you. (2:41am)

My Huggy Bear: Finally back in BC, babe. (8:12am)

My Huggy Bear: I'm going to come by in a bit if you don't care. (8:55am)

Apparently, your body thought when you laid now that it wasn't just for a simple nap. It would be morning before you finally woke up, and that was because of the sound of your doorbell going off. Slowly, you put your feet down on the ground and shuffled to the door. Having not seen any of Quinn's messages, or even what time it was, everything was such a blur. Through the peep-hole, you'd make out Quinn's figure standing on your porch.

"Oh, hi baby," you yawned after opening the door and struggling to function after waking so abruptly.

He just looked at you and smiled, though he himself, was just as groggy as you were. "Good morning, babe."

You opened your arms for a hug and you both nearly stumbled through the door, "I'm so glad you're home!"

"So am I," he chuckled, holding on to you with his one free arm. "Did I wake you up?"

"It's okay, I didn't aim to fall asleep on the sofa, but I guess I did anyways."

"Ah, so I'm guessing you didn't see my messages."

When the two of you parted ways, you'd close the door and turn back towards him. "I never heard my-- I must have left it somewhere! I'm sorry baby!"

Again, he smiled as he watched you move about and wake up in stages. He knew you'd never ignore him on purpose (as least he hoped not) but he appreciated that you acknowledged when you had missed them. "I didn't expect you to stay awake until we landed. It's okay." Quinn stepped forward and gave you a kiss. That was when the scent of floral hit you.

"Oh, I got you something this morning," he added, bringing the bouquet up from his side. You somehow hadn't noticed, likely because of your sleepy state.

"You bought me flowers?" You asked, shocked by the gesture. "Quinny, they're beautiful!"

"I'm glad you like them," he confessed, watching as you brought them to your nose. "I just wanted to get you something, as an apology for not getting home when I wanted to."

Following a deep inhale of the fresh flowers, you'd look at Quinn concerned, "You didn't owe me an apology, baby! You can't help the weather! I'm just glad you're safe! That's all that matters to me."

"Still, I should get them for you more often. I know how much you like them."

You'd smile at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You're so sweet, but you don't have to!"

"I'll see what I can do," he winked, his forehead against yours. "I love you."

His confession took your breath away with how he had said it. His voice was low; that sleepy tone that always drove you wild. "I love you, too, Quinn. So much!"

You both would share a series of kisses --slow and passionate-- that expressed just how much you both had missed the other.

"Do you mind if I stay here with you today?" He mumbled, his lips still close to yours.

\"Of course not!"

"I don't want to drive home."

You pouted, "I don't want you to leave." In reality, you never wanted him to leave when you were together, but it was nice when he asked you if he could stay.

"Come lay down with me?"

"I'll meet you in there. I need to get these into water first." You'd give him the softest kiss to his pouty lips before he would let you walk away from him. Quinn wouldn't wander into the bedroom like you thought. Instead, he'd follow you into the kitchen and hover just over your shoulder while you worked. His arms wrapped around your waist, his lips painting kisses behind your ear and down your neck. He wasn't trying to distract you, and in truth, it would take you a lot longer to transfer the bouquet to a vase than it should have, but Quinn was always a welcomed hindrance.

"I just missed you," he whispered. "I hate being gone for so long now. It didn't affect me until I met you."

Your hands found his at your stomach, as you laid your head back on his shoulder, "I'm sorry, baby."

"Don't be. I just love you. Makes coming back to you so much nicer," he smiled as he spoke, placing one last kiss to your temple before letting you go. "That's enough sad confessions for one morning, yeah?"

You nodded, "Mhm, let's go lay down. I'll make a late lunch after."

"I'd like that, baby. Thank you."

- - -

The weeks following Quinn returning from the 6-game stretch had brought with them numerous surprises. He spent more time at your house than his apartment, more of this things dotted your place than ever had before, and most unexpected of them all were the weekly flower arrangements that showed up "just because", as he put it. He had told you that he would try to get them for you more often, and you should have known better that he wasn't talking to just hear his own voice. Sure enough, at some point through the week, on the road or in Vancouver, Quinn had flowers delivered to you with cute little love notes attached.

Your house smelled like a flower shop and was beginning to look like one as well. Each room had a vase and every time you saw one of them, butterflies tickled your heart and stomach. You hoped that Quinn knew how much each and every one of them meant to you and the meaning they held. He seemed to like them as well, always making small compliments on how nice a certain flower smelled or liking where you had placed one within the house.

He was becoming your Disney prince right before your eyes.

[madebycloud]

pt 4 | Not Even at All

jinx/powder x female reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: vi is off limits until her sister gets a date that doesn't end within the first ten minutes. eager to date vi, a certain girl approaches you with a proposal. date jinx. win her over. and for your efforts, she's willing to be generous. (10 Things I Hate About You AU) warnings/themes: fluff (eh maybe?) and angst, kinda enemies to what, one sided fake dating, highschool, modern au, prom, kat!jinx, patrick!reader words: 4.7k notes: we're so close… — ✩ part one, part two, part three, part four, part five

Jinx leans over the bathroom sink, applying a moisturizer to her face. She pauses at the sound of someone at the door.

Vi taps on the open bathroom door and smiles at her sister. “Nice haircut,” Vi remarks.

Jinx glances at her from the mirror's reflection, giving her a side-eye.

“What, not gonna say hi?”

Jinx sighs, setting the bottle down on the sink. 

Vi lingers in the doorway, looking at Jinx, who's doing her skincare routine. She waits until Jinx shuts the bottle before speaking. “You goin' to the prom?”

“Why do you care?”

“I'm just asking a question. So, are you going or-”

Before Vi can even finish her sentence, Jinx reaches out a hand and slams the bathroom door shut inches from her face, nearly closing it on her nose.

—

Jinx lays flat on her bed, her headphones over her ears and music playing.

Vi knocks on the door and opens it, peeking inside. “Hey, you-”

“No, Vi,” Jinx cuts her off before she can get a word out. She takes off the headphones and sits up. “I'm not going to prom.”

Vi steps into the room fully, shutting the door behind her. “Why not?” she asks, walking over to her bed.

Jinx leans back against the pillows. “It's stupid.” 

Vi sits down on the edge of the bed. “Is that all you've got?” she teases, shoving Jinx's knee.

Jinx slaps her arm away. “I don't want to go, okay? It's lame.”

“It's not lame,” Vi retorts, raising an eyebrow. “It's senior prom. You can't just skip it.”

“Watch me.”

“Why are you being so difficult?”

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me going to some dumb dance?”

“Prom is not that bad,” Vi counters. “Besides, it's your senior year. You're supposed to go.”

Jinx scoffs. “Supposed to? Who says I'm supposed to go? I have a right to choose what I want to do.”

“Yeah, but-” Vi stops herself, thinking carefully about her phrasing. “Have you really not found anyone to go with? no one has asked you?”

Jinx pauses, pulling a pillow from behind her back and bringing it to her chest. She hugs it tightly. “I mean, yeah, well… someone did,” she mumbles, staring at one of her many punk band posters.

Vi chuckles, flashing a grin at Jinx.

Jinx glares at her, narrowing her eyes. “Shut up,” she huffs, throwing the pillow at her face.

Vi catches the pillow with one hand and holds her other hand up. “Hey, hey, I didn't say anything!” 

“Yeah, you were thinking about it.”

“Maybe,” Vi replies with a shrug. “Maybe not.” She grins innocently as Jinx continues to scowl at her. “Why did you turn her down anyway?” Vi asks, tossing the pillow back at her.

Jinx catches the pillow before it hits her face, clutching it to her chest. “I told you already, prom is stupid,” she says, pulling the blankets up tighter around herself.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that.” Vi plops down on the bed next to Jinx, who gives her a glare.

Jinx grumbles. “Then why are we having this discussion?” 

“Because you keep avoiding the question,” Vi replies, nudging Jinx's shoulder.

“I'm not avoiding the question,” Jinx retorts, sinking deeper into the blankets. “I already gave you an answer.”

“That's not a real answer,” Vi says, poking Jinx’s shoulder again.

��Yes, it is.” 

“Saying prom is dumb isn't a real answer.”

Jinx buries herself deeper into the blankets.

Vi sighs and scoots closer to her. “C'mon, Pow, you can tell me,” she says, reaching out to touch Jinx’s shoulder.

Jinx glares at her from beneath the blankets. 

But Vi doesn't relent. She reaches out and yanks the blankets back, revealing Jinx's face. “You've always loved dressing up, even when you were little.”

Jinx bites her lip, looking away.

“And you've always loved dancing and music,” Vi continues. “So why turn down the perfect opportunity?”

“I just…” Jinx murmurs. “No one... nobody asked me to prom for the last few years. And then, suddenly, someone asked me in my last year… it's weird.” She looks up at Vi. “I don't know, maybe she's up to something?”

“Powder…”

“Don't call me that,” Jinx snaps.

“Why not? That's your name.”

“Was my name,”

“Still is your name,” Vi insists.

Jinx grunts but doesn't protest further.

“Powder,” she repeats.“Do you like her?”

Jinx fidgets with the edges of the blanket, her fingers twisting and tugging at the fabric. “I don't know,” she mumbles. “Maybe?”

Vi grins, sensing weakness. “You're blushing.”

“No, I'm not,” Jinx protests, but her flushed cheeks say otherwise.

“You're blushing because you like her,” Vi singsongs.

“Shut up, no, I'm not,” Jinx snaps, punching Vi in the arm. “I'm just… frustrated!”

Vi laughs, rubbing the spot where Jinx hit her. “You're frustrated that you like her.”

“Ugh, you're a dick,” Jinx groans, burying her head in a pillow.

“Look, Pow—Jinx, I just want you to be happy.”

Jinx lifts her head up just enough to look at her sister. “I am happy.”

“You know what I mean. You deserve to have fun. Go to prom, enjoy yourself-”

“Stop it,” Jinx interjects. “You sound like Dad.”

Vi laughs. “Maybe I just want you to take advantage of your last year of high school. Have a good time, make some memories. I mean, you're going to be an adult soon. Time's moving fast.”

“Ugh, now you sound like an old person.”

“I'm not that old.”

“You're going to be twenty-five,” Jinx sits up, wrinkling her nose.

“Exactly. Not old.”

“Debatable.”

They both laugh, and Jinx rolls her eyes.

“So anyway,” Vi starts, grinning. “You gonna reconsider going to prom? Just give it some thought.”

“Fine,” Jinx groans, flopping backward onto the bed. “Fine, I'll go. Can I sleep now?”

—

The second you see Jinx's name flash across the screen, you snatch your phone off the table and answer it on the first ring.

“Hey,” you say, breathless.

There's an awkwardly long silence on her end.

You frown, wondering if she's accidentally butt-dialed you or something. Are you going to have to listen to her fart noises until she notices?

Just as you're about to call out her name, she suddenly greets you back. “Um, hey,” she mumbles. “Sorry. I was... surprised you picked up so fast.”

Okay, she’s not going to start farting then. “Well, I wasn't sure you'd call me after... you know.”

“Yeah, about that. I wanted to say sorry.”

“You don't have to apologize,” you reassure. “I was being pushy and an ass. I shouldn't have pushed you so much.”

“Maybe,” she concedes. “But I didn't need to be so, uh, hostile.”

Silence again.

“Anyway, that's not why I called,” she continues, changing the topic.

You adjust the phone against your ear. “Okay then,” you reply with a nervous chuckle. “Why did you call?”

“I was thinking, if…” she trails off, mumbling the rest of her sentence.

“What?” you ask loudly. “I can't hear you.”

“Iwasjustwonderingiftheoffertopromisstillup,” she says, words rushing and tumbling over each other.

Hang on.

Huh?

After what happened, you weren’t sure she'd still want to go with you.

“Yeah-” you reply. “I mean, why wouldn't it be up?”

“I don't know. I just thought maybe you'd have asked someone else to go with you.” 

“No, I hadn't asked anyone else,” you assure her. “I didn't want to go with anyone else… just you.”

She's quiet for maybe one, maybe two or three seconds before replying.

“Oh.”

Oh?

Just ‘oh’.

What were you supposed to do with ‘oh’ as a response?

“So then... you want to go to prom with me? or... was that a hypothetical question?” you ask.

“No, I-” she pauses, groaning. “Yeah, I mean, yes. I do want to go to prom with you.”

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from smiling. “Cool... cool, cool, cool.”

“Yeah, cool.”

Another long, awkward silence.

Do you say goodbye? Do you ask her a question? 

“Well,” you mumble, “I guess I'll see you on the-“

“No!” she suddenly blurts out.

“No?” you repeat, raising your eyebrows. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“Wait, no. I didn't mean ‘no’ as in like, ‘no don’t see me at prom,’” she explains, tripping over her words. “Like I still want you to see me.”

“Yeah… I kind of got that.” 

“I meant, like, don't hang up the phone.”

“Why?”

“Just… don't,” she says. “Can you just… stay on the line for a while longer?”

Stay on the line.

Why does she want you to—oh. Ooooh…

“Oh.”

Now you are the one who can only say ‘oh’.

“Yeah, I can stay on the line for a while.”

“Really?” she pipes up.

“Yeah, really,” you repeat, flopping onto your back and propping your head up on your pillow. “So…?”

“Soooo… what's your favorite color..?”

—

A band that does not ‘suck’ by definition and more ‘bearable’ manages to please the audience with a surprisingly decent performance. You can hear them all the way out near the entrance to the prom.

You check yourself a third time for any wrinkles on your outfit and fix your hair to make sure it’s good to go.

With nothing else to do, you grab a fake rose from a nearby vase and spin it in your fingers.

You take a look around, waiting and-

She's here.

Jinx walks up the stairs, wearing a black dress that looks like it's made of satin. She's also wearing heels, giving her a couple extra inches of height. And is it just you, or does that dress also have a slit going all the way up her thigh?

Holy, shitting balls. You're already feeling lightheaded.

She walks past you without noticing you, and you step right behind her, clearing your throat. “Wow,” you say loudly when she's close enough.

Jinx turns around at the sound of your voice, meeting your eyes. She glances you up and down. “You too.”

You try not to have your eyes lingering over the exposed skin of her legs. “You look really good. I like the dress.”

“Yeah?” She looks down at the dress clinging to her curves. “I wasn't sure. Vi was telling me I might be showing too much skin, but I don't know.”

You clear your head and force your eyes up to her face. “Well, I for one, think it looks amazing.”

Jinx raises an eyebrow. “Oh, do you?”

“Yeah, I mean it.” You stick out the fake flower you've been holding this whole time. “You're beautiful.”

Jinx looks at the rose.

She looks at you.

She looks at your rose again.

Then she takes it and twirls it in her fingers. “Mmm, how romantic,” she says, hiding her face with the flower.

Oh god, hearing that in her voice does things to you.

“You ready?” she asks.

You take another look at her face and that dress, and you know for a fact you aren't ready... at all. “I'm ready.” You hold out your arm.

Jinx links her arm with yours, squeezing your arm before both of you begin walking together. “Where'd you get that at the last minute?” she asks, glancing over your outfit.

“Just something I had, you know, lying around.” You shrug. You return the favor, looking at her dress as well. “Where'd you get that at the last minute?”

“Just something I had, you know, lying around,” she repeats, copying your tone.

The two of you share a laugh, and Jinx lets go of the grip on your arm. You approach the booth where other students are taking pictures together.

“Listen,” she starts, hesitating for a few seconds. “I really am... sorry that I questioned your motives. I was wrong.”

You wince internally. It hurts you that she's apologizing for something you can't be honest about. She didn't do anything wrong, and here she is, apologizing.

You force a smile, hiding the guilt that's eating you up. “You're forgiven.”

You want to tell her the truth. You feel the words threatening to spill from your lips. To spill the beans and tell her this was all bullshit. But now's not the time. If you confessed now, you would only ruin the evening for both of you.

Well, there's no point in dwelling on it. The problem's already sorted out anyway.

The smile you force is enough to fool her. For now. Jinx just nods, pleased. “Okay,” she says, releasing a breath. “Ready for the prom?”

“Yes ma'am,” you respond, holding out your arm again.

—

The band wraps up their song, and everyone claps their hands loudly.

You turn to Jinx, joining her with applause. She raises an eyebrow, and you raise one back at her. 

A new song starts, and Jinx immediately recognizes the opening notes, her hand flies over her mouth. “Ohmygod it's-” Letters to Cleo.

“I called in a favor!” you reply, giving her a wink.

“For real?!”

You nod. “Just for you.”

The lead singer of the band makes her way to the center of the stage and glances around, her eyes finding Jinx. The two lock eyes, and the lead singer smiles.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” she gushes.

The lead singer approaches Jinx, a microphone in hand, and begins singing to her. Everyone around moves to get out of the way. “Oh, I can't take another heartache. Though you say you're my friend, I'm at my wits end.”

Jinx doesn't blink, barely moves, and her mouth opens in shock.

The lead singer continues singing. “You say your is bonified, but that don't coinside.” The singer winks at the both of you and returns to the stage.

Jinx slowly turns to you, mouth open to say something. But you cut off her words with a kiss.

You pull away, and she whispers, “Thank you.”

You take her hands in yours, her head finding a spot against your shoulder. She holds you close, arms encircling your shoulders, her nose nuzzling your neck.

The two of you begin dancing as the lead singer continues with the song.

You reach up, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear before moving to rest your hand on her waist.

Jinx hums. She lifts her head, her eyes meeting yours. But she looks away quickly, burying her face back into your neck again. She says something, but her words are swallowed by the music.

You lean in closer to her to hear her words again. But she just shakes her head, burying her face deeper into the crook of your neck.

“What's that?” you tease, “Couldn't quite catch what you said.”

She lifts her head again, pulling away just enough to look at you. Her cheeks are dusted pink, and she looks at you with nervous eyes. “I… I said… I…” She's having a hard time getting the words out, like she's not used to saying it. Or even thinking it. “I said, you shouldn't hold me so tight.”

You chuckle, loosening the tight grip you had round her middle. “Sorry.”

She shakes her head quickly. “No, no, no, I-” she stammers. “I didn't mean it like that... I-I… because-” She stops, not meeting your gaze. Her eyes dart around, avoiding eye contact.

Until-

“Because I-” She swallows, taking a deep breath. “Because I can't breathe.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Jinx continues before you can say anything. “When I'm close to you... like this,” she starts, her hand moving to her chest. Her fingertips press on her collarbone, her palm over her heart.

Your eyes flicker down before meeting hers.

“My heart…” She swallows again, glancing down at her hand. “My heart's beating so fast,” she admits. She pulls her hand away and looks up at you. “I can't breathe.”

The dance continues on, the music still playing.

Her hand reaches up, fingers finding the nape of your neck. “It's because of... you,” she says. “It's because of you.”

You felt it too.

You feel your own heart racing in your chest. Your ears are ringing, all the background noise feels distant. Your face feels hot. You feel like the world is spinning. Your palms feel sweaty all of a sudden, like they've never started sweating before.

You feel it—your heart, swelling, growing bigger and bigger against your ribcage. The beat pounding hard until it's all you can hear.

Holy shit, she is genuinely trying to give you a heart attack.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” she mumbles, her words breaking through your thoughts. “Forget I said anything. I didn-"

“I can't breathe,” you interrupt, speaking without thinking. “...I can't breathe either.”

Jinx's fingers stop caressing the back of your neck, and she stills in your arms. Her eyes widen as she stares at you. But then a smile slowly curves her lips. She rests her chin back on your shoulder, her hand moving down from your neck to wrap around your shoulders.

“I didn't think it was possible,” she says. “I never thought I'd feel this way,” she continues, her arm tightening around your shoulders. “About anyone. About anything.”

You turn your head to the side, your nose brushing on the shell of her ear. “What changed?"

“You did.”

You say nothing, your brain still trying to understand what she's saying and what the hell you're feeling. It's too much to process.

But that's okay. Because Jinx continues.

“This... this feeling. It's… It's new. Different. It's like...” She trails off, her hand resting on the space between your shoulder blades as she rubs soothing circles into your back. “No one's ever been this close to me. It's like I've been running away my whole life, and you just... somehow you managed to stand still long enough for me to finally run to you.”

Your heart stutters again, the pace picking up once more. If it hadn't been for her arm around you, you would've fallen over from how weak and trembling your knees felt.

She lifts her head from your shoulder, and you follow her lead.

Slowly, cautiously, she reaches up to rest her palm on the side of your neck, pressing her thumb just under your chin. Her thumb sweeps over your jawline as she holds your gaze.

“You're the only one who's ever made me want to stay.”

Something in your chest clenches so hard, and it feels hard to breathe all over again and again. She says it with such certainty that there's no way you could dismiss it as anything less than the truth.

Her other hand, which was around your shoulder, drops to your chest.  She can probably feel how hard your heart is beating—how out of control it is.

She looks down at her hand, watching it rise and fall with every thump of your heart. Her fingers flex around the fabric, and you catch the twitch of a smile on her lips. “Looks like we're both doomed,” she says. “Doomed to not be able to breathe while we're together.”

“I don't mind it.”

“Yeah… me neither.”

“You just might kill me,” you tease. “What did you say about not holding you tight again?”

“Shut up.”

—

The two of you continue to dance, twirling and spinning and laughing.

It might not look like it, but you practiced your ass off to get all these moves down correctly. You know you looked like a complete idiot the last time she saw you dance, so you took the time and effort to learn some moves. You wanted to give Jinx the night of her life.

You pull her away, only to spin her around and pull her close again. She giggles as she spins, her hand still in yours.

Jinx stumbles when she comes back around to face you. Her other hand catches itself on your shoulder to steady her. You hold her close, one of your arms wrapped around her waist, the other still holding her hand.

“My grandmother's.”

Jinx looks at you strangely. “Huh?”

“That's where I was last year. My grandma was lonely, so I moved in with her. I wasn't in jail, know Marilyn Manson, or slept with a Spice Girl. I spent the last year watching Wheel of Fortune with my grandma,” you say, not letting go of Jinx in your grasp as you dip her down. “End of story.”

“Awww,” she coos as you raise her back up. “That's adorable!”

“I know, I'm a saint,” you tease. “I'm such a great grandchild.” You grin, and the two of you continue dancing.

The room spins as you spin her around. Dizziness creeps up on you when you both come to a stop, but the sound of Jinx's giggle makes it go away.

“Well, I had a different name,” she tells you.

“Oh yeah?” you reply, not letting go of her.

“Yeah, I used to go by the name Powder.”

“Powder,” you repeat.

Jinx nods as the two of you continue dancing. “Yeah, Powder... It was stupid,” she adds with a chuckle. “I went by that at my old school.”

You try to push the name out of your thoughts for now, not wanting to ruin the night. Jinx spins around again, and you hold her close, dipping her again. She squeals as she goes upside down, then laughs when she's raised again.

You hear the sound of your phone's ringtone, but you don't budge. Nah, you just ignore it.

Rinnngg

The call goes to voicemail.

Rinnnggg

Again. Whoever's calling is definitely being persistent.

Rinnnnnggg

…and again. And this time, you actually stop dancing and check the call.

Caitlyn.

You pull away from her, reluctantly letting go of her hands. She lets you go, but with a scowl directed at your phone.

“Ugh... I gotta take this. Sorry,” you grumble.

“It's fine,” she replies. “Be quick.”

You begin searching for a place where the signal is better, somewhere where the call won’t have to be repeated or sound like a shitty recording.

—

You step into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Weirdly enough, the bathroom is empty. Considering how many people are at the prom, you thought there'd be couples making out or at least a few girls fixing their makeup, but nope. Nothing.

At least it's quiet now, and the signal is good too.

You answer the call, holding the phone to your ear. “You know you've just interrupted-”

“THANKTHANKTHANKTHANKYOU!!” she cuts you off, squealing on the other line. What the hell?

You hold your phone away from your ear, just in case her next words are ear-piercingly loud. “Uh... You're welcome?”

“VI. AND—AND I! ARE. OFFICIALLY. TOGETHER!!”

She's going to give you tinnitus from how loud she is. “...congrats?”

“ALL THANKS TO YOU.”

Oh. Right. That.

“I asked her out again and—and—and she said yes! YES!!” she shrieks.

Caitlyn's overjoyed. But to be honest?

You aren't.

You could be out there, dancing and having a good time with Jinx. Instead, you're stuck in the quiet bathroom being deafened by your friend's squeals.

—

After a while. Jinx looks around, watching the other students continue their dancing. 

Lux is having the time of her life with her dance partner, while Ekko's talking with someone standing beside the table. A few of the guys are eyeing her, but with a quick glance in their direction, they immediately look away.

You still aren't around.

She groans, shifting her weight from foot to foot. She looks around again before making her choice. Bathroom break.

—

Caitlyn continues gushing on the other end of the line, gushing about how perfect Vi is and how wonderful she is. It's not exactly news to you, you've heard this all before.

You sigh, rubbing your face. “Listen, Cait-”

She continues on and on, not hearing you at first.

“LISTEN.”

She finally stops talking, going quiet.

You take the chance to speak. “Can we just forget the deal? can we just forget that you paid me to date Jinx? I mean, you got your happy ending. You asked Vi out again, and she said yes. Case closed, right?”

“What?”

You turn around to face-

“Jinx.”

You freeze. You suddenly feel so cold.

Jinx. Standing right in front of you. There's an odd look in her eyes, like she doesn't recognize you. Like she's completely lost herself.

“You…” Her hands tremble as they slowly clench by her sides. “Nothing in it for you, huh?” She didn't wait for a response, turning on her heel and storming out the bathroom door.

You watch her leave, still in shock.

No, no, no, no, no.

NO.

She heard you. She heard everything.

You hang up the call with Caitlyn. You quickly scramble to your feet, tearing open the bathroom door. “Jinx!”

Despite how short she is, Jinx can move fast. And you've got a ton of ground to cover.

“Jinx—wait!”

She heads for the stairs, and you give chase. She's running fast, but eventually you catch up with her at the top, grabbing her arm and pulling her to a stop.

Your heart sinks as she continues to look at you like you're some stranger, someone she doesn't know. You feel like you're going to be sick.

You hold her arm tighter. “No, it's—please, just wai-”

Jinx yanks her arm out of your hands, pushing you away. “How much did she pay you? Fifty? One hundred!?”  

You stumble backwards. “Jinx, just let me-” you protest. You try to explain, but each word seems to come out wrong. Or they never come out at all.

She storms off again, but this time you're just quick enough to catch up with her. You grab her shoulder, forcing her to look at you. “Wait, wait—it wasn't like tha-”

She scowls, ripping her shoulder away from your grasp. ”Oh, really?” she snaps. “What the hell was it like? a down payment now, and a bonus if I slept with you?”

The look of hurt on her face nearly stops your heart. You never intended that. That was never what you wanted for her. “NO!” you yell. “I didn't care about the money, okay? I cared-” You cut yourself off, pausing to catch your breath. “I cared about you.”

Your hands twitch, wanting to reach out and grab her, to hold her and tell her that you're sorry, you're so sorry, you never wanted to ever hurt her. You cared about her. You cared about her so much.

But you're just so scared to touch her, to look at her. She's hurting. She's so angry at you.

And yet, you do it anyway and reach for her again. “Jinx, please-”

“Don't touch me.”

It hurts.

God, it hurts.

You slowly lower your hand back down to your side, but you still can’t take your eyes off her.

Every word she says. Every second that goes by. Every minute. It feels like your heart is going to stop and die in your chest.

Keep talking. Talk some sense into her. But the look on her face tells you that she's already made up her mind. It's done.

Tears glisten in her eyes, but she holds them back, clenching her jaw. “You are not who I thought you were.”

Your mind races, desperate and searching for a way to fix this mess. You reach out, grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her into a hug.

This always worked in the movies. A single, simple action. A single, simple embrace. A single, simple hug.

Except this is reality.

Reality sucks.

But you can hope, can't you?

A tear slides down her cheek and lands on your shoulder. She shoves you away aggressively, and even though you want to pull her against you again, you don't.

With that, she turns and runs outside. She doesn't look back or stop.

She's gone. You're left alone.

She's gone.

Those words ring in your head, over and over again. She's gone.

You can't move.

You can't think.

Your eyes sting, and tears blur your vision. 

This whole time, this entire… everything you had done, everything.

Maybe if you'd said something sooner, maybe if you hadn't taken the money in the first place, maybe if you'd just been better about saying no.

None of that matters now. You've lost her.

All thanks to you. 

notes: caitlyn when i catch you

taglist: @axolotl-arsonist, @crvcified-kinx, @axoluxy, @dyslexic-dreamer, @urdeadpoet, @iluvshifting, @shootingc, @freementallyillkid, @tr3nzit444s, @powderbomb-jinxed, @chickennuggetsaresootasty, @multiliker, @rick-grimes-girl, @angelsglitch, @blobfishyy

[zero-up]

"Shooters are still A thing. Therefore: no one shouldn't complain when someone kills A CEO. Because making rich people unrelated to the suffering of 6-year-olds is totally good because."

What was the point of killing that CEO? How will it improve the health care system? Doesn't it just make it harder to attack the corporation he was in charge of, which role likely just continue honest though nothing happened anyway? Even if the CEO was completely evil, what was the point? Was it just to make someone you don't like suffer? Did you even know the CEO before this incident?

Gosh, I hate the Luigi apology! Especially when they try to pull the "so we should just sit down and politely ask for rides?". My dude, what will violence accomplish? How will killing anyone illegally make anything better in any way shape or form? What is the process here? How does this work? What is the step 2? Because unless your goal is to literally overthrow the government, I'm not really seeing how killing people can help you accomplish your goals.

You want to know how peace can actually solve the issue? By voting! Your elected officials rely on votes in order to keep power. You're elected officials have to care about their voters, because if they don't: they lose power. And if you do not vote: you do not have power over your elected officials. Doing research and voting sound like work? Fine then, don't vote, I don't either for that very reason. But at least I'm not saying "ViOlEnCe Is ThE oNlY aNsWeR" when I can't even be bother to vote!

And everyone sympathizing for the CEO because they don't want to live in a society that normalizes violence. And trust me: you don't either. You don't want the average person to think it's justified to resort to violence for political reasons. Because long beliefs don't magically have A different effect on one's psychology than true beliefs, and the vast majority of people think they are good, and that people they don't like are guilty.

If you normalize good people killing the guilty, then you also normalize bad people killing the innocent. That's not a slippery slope fallacy, that's A logical consequence of most bad people think their good people.

I generally do not like or trust the cops. If there's no other reason to hate them: let it be for how they conduct interrogations. And I have many problems with the US legal system. But I recognize the benefit of the law is that it forces people to abide by a standard that maximizes the punishment of the guilty and minimizes the punishment of the innocent. We can definitely do way better, but the easiest way to do that is to improving the system we currently have, and trying to ignore it or circumvent it is way more likely to make things incredibly worse than they are to make it better.

And trust me, I could go on, I have at least one extra point I could make right now that's alluded to in a previous point. I actually have A Reddit post draft that I barely started a while ago that I should probably finish at some point. But right now I'm really just venting because this gets me angry every time I see it, and I'm kind of annoyed that someone I followed unironically unironically reposted this, I still they thought it was so obviously correct that they didn't need to worry about backlash. And honestly, the Luigi-simping is just an example of a greater problem where people unironically think political violence is justified without ever putting A single iota of thought into how that would actually work. They come to conclusions based entirely off of what feels right, and then they call others naive when they point out how absurd their conclusions are.

I just want people to critically examine the own beliefs more, or at least honestly listen to what others critiques of theirs more.

[umamaki]

THE SWEETHEART GRIP

one way soldiers kept their loved ones close during battle was by inserting a photo of them under a clear grip of either plexiglass or acrylic on their pistols. this is known as the sweetheart grip.

l&ds sylus x reader

me finding out about anything: how can i make this about love and deepspace... and yes i am american. yes i still don't respect anyone involved in or supporting the military leave me alone.

divider

So... Sylus definitely has a sweetheart grip of you. On all of his guns, actually. And you're not even aware of it.

They're all his favorite photos of you. Pictures of you on dates, selfies you've posted on social media, polaroids he's taken of you after sex.

He's insanely adept at weapons assembly so of coursee all his stuff is custom. Takes them apart, adds tributes of you, puts them back together.

You know he STAYS strapped. Always has a gun on him, always has a piece of you with him. As if your souls are not literally bound together. Whatever. He needs a physical reminder I guess. Can't go anywhere without some sort of keepsake. Keeps him sane.

Likes keeping his weapons clean; never lets your image get bloody, wet, scratched, foggy. Carries around a cloth to wipe away at any imperfections. Would never ruin your picture like that. Spends a modest chunk of his day making sure they're clean to his liking. It's so canon, have you seen this man during the in-game study and work feature even??!

Looks at your pretty picture all the time. Whips out his gun as if it’s his phone. Professional meetings, philanthropy galas, you name it. Intimidates everyone around him in doing so, thinking he's gonna shoot them—not that they would say that to his face—but no. He simply misses your cute face. Just wants a reminder of who's waiting at home for him.

Looks at your picture while he aims his gun at someone's head. Asks himself if this is what you would want. Shoots them anyways lol. Uses his palm to cover your photo as he pulls the trigger, careful to not taint your darling image with his enemy's blood.

You're bound to find out. He doesn't hide the fact from you, doesn't flaunt it either, so it's a while before you do end up finding your face staring back at you whilst looking through his armory.

"Sylus, what is this?" You ask, holding up the pistol so he can see.

"It's you, do you like it?"

"Well yes, I can see that it's me. Why is my face on your gun? And why am I naked in this one?"

"Technically your face is on all of my guns, sweetheart. That one's just my favorite." As if it's the most obvious fact in the world.

"... You did this yourself?"

"Absolutely. Do you not like it?"

"It's not that, but..." he waits, then the last thing he would expect you to say comes from your mouth, "...can you do this to my guns?"

He laughs, booming and robust, "why? You want my nudes on your guns? You must like me a lot, huh?"

It's enough for you to give him a slap on his bicep. "Fine. Nevermind. Don't know why I even asked."

He's still laughing as he pulls you into his body. He tickles your stomach, turning your pout into your own set of giggles, "I'm teasing, sweetheart. You can use as many nudes of me as you want. Shall we begin now?"

He jolts his hips up to your body, catching you off guard. He's noticeably hard now, tent in his pants evident. You get the hint.

“Why wait when we’re already here?”

“That’s the spirit, sweetheart.”

[artuurle]

The sinking feeling of tragedy in slow motion.

THIS HEADCANON STARTED AS A ONE OFF JOKE HOW DID WE GET HERE [HEAD IN HANDS]

[wendichester]

༘˚⋆ 𖦹.✧˚ after school walks,

summary. dean walks you home every single day.

pairing. teenage!dean winchester x reader

wordcount. 536

notes. am i the only obsessed with teenage dean or...?

The afternoon sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalks. You’re clutching your backpack straps, your steps matching Dean Winchester’s as he walks beside you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his worn leather jacket.

It’s the same jacket he wears every day, the one that smells faintly of motor oil and cologne, though you’ve never mentioned it. You’d never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much you notice.

“Benson's a pain in the ass,” Dean mutters, kicking a pebble down the street.

“You’re just mad she caught you sleeping in class again,” you tease, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He smirks, his dimples flashing. “What can I say? She has a gift. Boring me to sleep one history class at a time,”

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you. It’s not fair how effortlessly charming Dean can be. You tell yourself you’re just friends, that you don’t notice the way his smile makes your knees feel a little weak.

“So, what’d she lecture you about this time?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence.

He shrugs. “Something about ‘wasting potential.’”

“You? Wasting potential?” you tease, feigning shock. “I can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

Dean chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “Funny.”

The two of you turn down your street, the quiet neighborhood settling into its evening routine. Porch lights flicker on, and the smell of dinner drifts through open windows. Dean walks a little closer, his shoulder brushing yours.

“You know,” he says after a moment, his tone slightly teasing, “It's really tiring having to walk you home everyday.”

You glance at him, immediately noticing his cheeky grin. “You don’t have to, but you do it anyway.”

Dean’s eyes flick to yours, a glimmer of something unreadable in his gaze. “Yeah, well... it’s not like I trust anyone else to make sure you get home safe.”

You swallow hard, your heart beating a little faster. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he replies, his smirk returning. “But it doesn’t hurt to have backup.”

You reach your house all too soon, the familiar sight of the chipped paint and sagging porch steps pulling you back to reality.

“This is me,” you say, gesturing to the front door.

Dean stops at the bottom of the steps, his hands still buried in his pockets. He glances up at the house, then back at you, as if debating something.

“Well,” he says after a pause, “guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You hesitate, gripping the straps of your backpack a little tighter. “Dean?”

“Yeah?”

You shift on your feet, suddenly nervous. “Thanks. For walking me home.”

His smirk softens into a genuine smile, one that makes your chest ache in the best way. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

With that, he turns and starts back down the sidewalk, his strides confident and unhurried. You watch him go, your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering in a way that’s becoming all too familiar.

And as you step inside, you can't wait for tomorrow morning, where Dean will be waiting so you can walk to school together.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @krabog ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @lyarr24 ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine

[icarusredwings]

Just so you guys know someone responded to my fic once reminding me that I did not post the ending.

This is not rude because I DID write the ending, but I FORGOT to post it!!

SO I DID.

Let this be your reminder to ALWAYS leave a comment no matter how big how small or even just a smiley face!

I dont care if the fic is 15 years old, If I liked it, im commenting on it. If I didn't, I dont but I still leave kudos. Its only the respectful thing to do really.

Reminder that you are not owed ANYTHING so yes! Even the fics that you didn't entire like 100% deserve love!

People write content for YOU to read about YOUR favorite charaters for FREE in their SPARE time. Time they could be using to do something else and instead they decide to post and provide free content for you ungreatfuls to enjoy.

So please!! Enjoy!

"Ah man I wish there was more fics like this" THEN TELL THEM

"I really loved this fic but its 6 years old"

DONT CARE TELL THEM ANYWAY

My friend wrote fanfic all the time. Small little tidbits of their thoughts about dean x reader and such. Do I like dean x readers? No not exactly. He isn't my cup of tea romance wise, but I still liked and commented on ALL of their fics. Now that my friend has taken their life due to their abusive parents, i feel like commenting on their old work is the only way I can talk to them.

I found evidence suggesting that support from readers was one of the reasons they prolonged their life. Talking about how it made their week and feel cared about.

You never know how much a comment can mean to someone.

Before anyone asks I will not be giving out their fics because they'd constantly ask me to delete all their fics but I could never. They always said their writing was garbage but I disagree. So while I wont delete their legacy, I will try to keep it hushed to just their friends and supporters. And no, theres nothing I could have done, we were children an entire ocean apart. That is the harsh reality of long distance friends...

Fun Story to Share.

I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.

Well - she got this email this morning:

The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.

Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).

Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.

———

Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ludos Imperiales IIII

Summary: Princess!Reader tries to convince her mates to leave the Empire, but they have other ideas.

Content Warnings: Mentions of Slavery/Abuse

Part 1, 2, 3

-----------------

Anise is right; I do look like shit. No attempt at washing my face or fixing my hair or changing my clothes changes the sickly color that remains on my skin from the time spent with my head in the toilet. Secluding myself in the house these last couple months have already sapped the color from my cheeks, but today’s events have not helped bring any life back into my features. The dull, lifeless gray of my eyes, the limpness of my hair, the way my dress hangs limp off me… I do not recognize the face in the mirror.

“Anise?” She’s still pacing in my chambers, biting on her weathered thumbnail. Her anxiety makes the vines sprouting from her head grow, leaves and tiny, yellow flowers blossoming as the thick strands slither down her waist. 

“You shouldn’t see them alone,” she persists.

I brush a strand of hair over my yellowing cheek, then push it back behind my ear. I can explain away a bruise. Besides, it is not as if I can expect them to care enough about me to ask how it got there.

I sigh as I push the hair back in front of my face. I do not want to appear weak and frail, not in front of my mates. Not in front of anybody. I need to remain strong.

“Anise,” I try again, turning away from the mirror. There is nothing I can do to change it now, the damage is done and it’s too late in the evening to call for one of my lady’s-in-waiting to come help me fix it. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Get the guard? Yes, a splendid idea!”

I snag her arm as she goes for the door. “No, Anise.”

She huffs her irritation. “You’re being foolish, Little One.”

Probably; she won’t hear that from me though. “I need you to look into something for me and I need you not to tell a soul about it.”

She goes still at that, her emerald eyes widening in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

“I need you to see if there is passage out of the Empire and into the Wastes through the sea.”

Her bark-like features twist in surprise as I continue. “I need a passage my Father doesn’t know about, and I need it quickly.”

“What have you done?” She whispers. 

“Nothing. Not yet anyway.”

Anise fights her way out of my grip so she can take my face in her hands. “Now you listen to me, child! I have already lost your Mother, do not ask me to sit here and lose you too.”

“It’s not for me.”

Her eyes flick to the door and back. “Them?”

I nod.

“Why?”

“They’re dead men if I don’t,” I say, hoping the heaviness in my voice is enough to keep her from pressing further. I do not have it in me to admit what they are after what I’ve done, not even to her. Her loyalty was always to my Mother first, and I trust her more than anyone, but there are some secrets best kept close to the vest. Maybe she’d never tell anyone, but her mouth wanders sometimes, and if it were to slip… any number of the staff would sell me out to my Father in a heartbeat. I have to be careful. This is all I can tell her for now.

“I don’t like this,” she whispers. “You are entering a dangerous game. If your Father finds out…”

“Don’t let him find out,” I counter, pulling free of her grip. If I linger any longer, I will lose my nerve. I need to see them now.

My hands shake as I open the door. Moonlight spills into the hallway from the high, open windows on either side of me. I’d kept the heavy, silk curtains pushed against the far walls closed for months and months, refusing to accept that time was moving on without me. Anise had opened them this morning, when I’d announced I was finally ready to go out again. She’d hoped the fresh air would be good for me, truth be told, so had I. I didn’t expect so much to change in such a short time frame. 

There are guards on patrol outside the windows. A couple torches had been lit along the path through the gardens, bathing their armored heads and ridiculously large horse hair plumes in an orange glow. As a kid, I’d thought they were monsters when I’d see them in this light, stalking through the palace grounds; maybe I hadn’t been so far off.

Anise trails after me. “I will do it, but you will let me accompany you for this first.”

“No.” I should head out the side door and follow the footpath to the guest house, but I make a show of walking towards the kitchen instead. There is a servant’s passage through the cellar that will keep me out of sight. As far as the guards are concerned, I’m getting a snack in the kitchen with my maid. No one needs to know that I’m meeting the Illyrians. 

“Why are you…” she stops when we come to the kitchen. All the lights are off. The staff asleep earlier than usual so they can, undoubtedly, rise earlier in the morning in order to prepare bigger meals than they’re used to. They have to be in an uproar over the sheer amount of guards they’ll have to feed every day now. The House has not seen much attention in the last couple of months; I certainly wasn’t hosting any parties. 

“Is this a sex thing?”

I am grateful the dark hides the blush working its way up my neck and cheeks. “What!?”

“It’s not like you to sneak around, I’m just wondering if there’s something happening here between you and them?” She is the only other person that knows about the secret passages in the house. Mother had them built as a safety measure against intruders, and promptly found an excuse to execute the architect before he could show Father the plans. There are a number of false doors and hidden hallways throughout the house, a couple of secret exits and a panic room only accessible with a key I keep around my neck at all times. She was as paranoid as my Father, but at least hers had practical applications. And could now serve as a means to move around my house without arousing suspicion. 

“This most definitely is not a sex thing!” I hiss. 

I mean, yes, some sponsors do sleep with their champions. Hels, some sponsors sell their champions for a night of pleasure to the highest bidder. Amarantha and my cousins included. It was an abhorrent practice that I tried not to think about in the past, but the mere suggestion of it has me clenching my fists. Did she truly think I’d stoop to that?

“You’re being strange is all I’m saying,” she returns. 

“I don’t have time for this. If you’re going to insist on hovering, just make it look like we’re in here making a snack, will you?”

“Will you tell me why this is necessary?”

I pry the door that leads down to the cellar open slowly, conscious of how loudly it squeaks and trying to minimize the noise as best I can. “No.”

“Then I’m coming with!”

I slip behind the door and hold it nearly closed as she approaches. “Fine, we’ll talk when I get back. Happy?”

Even in the dark I can see her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Don’t get pregnant.”

“I’m not fucking them!” I hiss as I close the door. She’s impossible! Once she sets her mind on something, she just can’t let it go. At least she doesn’t try to follow me. 

There’s a slim set of stairs that leads down into the cellar lined with fae lights that flicker to life as I descend. Rows of dried meats and herbs hang from the rafters, casting eerie shadows over the shelf lined walls. The cellar is lined with rows of more shelves and barrels of wine, everything cataloged and arranged in alphabetical order. Our steward has always been exceptionally neat, and the concealed door in the backs sits connected to the wall where he keeps all his flour. I will have to remember to sweep the floor upon my return, just in case anything falls from the shelf and gives the door away. 

The door opens by turning one of the panels in the wood in a full circle, disturbing a sack of flour as it swings inward with a groan. The hallway is dark and dusty, a heavy layer of cobwebs disturbed by the door. I haven’t used this tunnel in years. 

I take one of the bobbing fae lights out of its perch on the stairs and carry it with me into the dark, making sure the door closes behind me, just in case any of the guards decide to come do a sweep of the place now that they’ve seen Anise in the kitchen. I can’t be sure of their orders, I have to assume that they will check on everyone in the house if there is the slightest deviation from the routine. Which also means I need to make this quick.

The silence of the tunnel is not good for my nerves, I find myself once again digging my knuckle into the knot in my chest. Without Anise to distract me, I’m once again consumed with the guilt of having to look at them after what I’d done. Not knowing why they’re asking to see me doesn’t help either. 

The tunnel slopes downward, filled with cobwebs and the occasional rat I startle back into holes in the walls. There’s some rain damage along the supports I should really have looked at, but updating these means having to tell someone about them, and that’s not an option. Not unless I wish for Father to find out about it, or worse, be forced into a situation where I have to consider killing an architect after rebuilding it as my Mother had done. There haven’t been any reasons for the tunnels since I was a child, I’ll avoid having to make any decisions on it until I absolutely have to. As long as the roof holds, I can make do.

Mother wanted to ensure that this place had multiple advantages, one of them being strategically placed and concealed vents for both air flow, and espionage. The vent hidden in the garden lets me hear the stomping of boots as the guards pass overhead. Some of them complain about the quiet as they pass each other, but it doesn’t sound like they’re yet suspicious of me moving around the house this late. 

I keep moving, comforted just a little by the fact that I don’t have to worry about dealing with them yet. 

The tunnel curves in a crescent shape to come around the back of the guest house, where there’s a door carefully hidden behind the lararium built for the Mother. The carefully carved statue of our beloved Goddess hides the door, and the altar serves as a deterrent to keep people from looking too close at the seams in the wall. It also hides the vent that lets me hear three, arguing voices, even in hushed tones:

“This is a bad idea, Rhys!” Cassian. 

“It is our only shot,” Rhysand shoots back. 

Their voices are so different: Cassian’s gruff and husky, Rhysand’s smooth and rich. Having them near soothes an anxiousness I didn’t know was inside me, I find myself drawn closer and closer to the door, just for a chance to listen to them speak. I’ve never had something as simple as a voice cause such an intense reaction before. All of this is so new and foreign; it will take some getting used to.

“I don’t care!” Cassian returns, the words sharp as a knife. “I don’t want anything to do with her.”

And just like that, my revelry is broken and that pesky knot in my chest returns. It is an effort to get a deep enough breath in, as if someone had sucker punched me right in the stomach. He really does hate me. It was one thing to think it, but it’s another to hear it so openly. I really have ruined this before it even had a chance to begin.

“She is our only chance,” Azriel chimes in, voice a hissed whisper. He sounds agitated, I can picture him pacing in front of the altar. 

“She’s his daughter! Am I the only one bothered by that?” Cassian protests. 

“That’s exactly why we need her,” Rhysand counters. 

Time slows to a crawl. Need me? Hope is a pesky, irritating, thing that I shove down inside me, even as my body moves to press itself against the door, waiting for them to continue. 

“We can’t trust her.”

“Yes we can,” Azriel retorts. 

I wonder if they can hear my heartbeat stuttering through the door--no matter that it’s waded so I can hear them and they can’t hear me, it’s so loud it still feels like a possibility. 

“What, because your shadows can smell that on her?” Cassian sneers. 

“Because I looked in her head,” Rhysand hisses, his voice rising. 

I know that I have a limited amount of time to do this, but I can’t bring myself to open the door, not with a confession like that. What does he mean he looked in my head?

“She’s terrified of him.”

“She could have fooled me. She didn’t look a bit terrified of branding us.”

“Because she didn’t brand us at all!” Rhysand snarls. “I did.”

“You hit your fucking head harder than I thought.”

“Asking for us to be spared threw Hybern off his game. Whatever plans he has for us got derailed because of her. And we need whatever edge we can get right now. When I slipped into her mind, she was panicking, she couldn’t do it and we would have all been fucked. I moved her hands around that iron, I touched it to your skin. Not her. She was so distraught over it I had to hold her upright the whole way back. Trust me, she liked it as much as you did.”

“But the collar…?” Cassian stammers.

“It dims a lot of my powers, but not all of them. I threw what I had out there. It only works when I’m close. Whatever she felt after we separated, whatever she’s doing now, I can’t get a feel.”

Rhysand was that invisible hand on me? I hadn’t just imagined it? How is that even possible? The twins are Daemati, but even they can’t reach into someone’s head and control them like that, especially with the gorsian chains in the way. At least, they’d never shown me they could. I suppose I’d never thought to ask.

“We have to act fast,” Azriel chimes in. “The quicker we get ahead of this, the more time we have to work around Hybern. Until now, he’s always been one step ahead of us. We’ve been playing his games on his terms. She… changes things.”

Does he know that we’re mates? Could that really mean something to him?

“Why are you so quick to trust her?” Cassian challenges. “Let's say what Rhys saw in her head is even real, because let's face it, she very well could be like the twins and been throwing those things up to see if you’d take the bait, but for the sake of the argument, sure they’re real. So what? What do you think she’s going to do here? Throw in her lot with us and help us overthrow her father?”

“Yes,” Rhysand says, as if it’s just that simple.

They can’t really be serious with this, can they?

“What could she possibly get out of it? She’s a spoiled princess who has not had to feel the effects of this Empire a day in her life! The best of this place has been handed to her and you think she’s just going to give that up to a couple of bastards like us?”

I dig my knuckle into my chest again, trying to ease the tension that feels like it’s trying to claw its way out of my skin. 

“You don’t get it,” Azriel hisses. 

“Explain it to me, Az!” Cassian shoots back. “Explain to me how the limited interaction we had convinced you that she’s a good person who would help us for the hell of it?”

“You don’t have to trust her, Cass,” Rhysand interjects. “That doesn’t change the fact that we need her.”

I take my lower lip between my teeth. I’m supposed to be saving them; I’m supposed to be getting them as far away from this place as possible and they want me to what? Overthrow my Father? It’s delusional. No one can outmaneuver him. Mother tried and failed. How many rebels has Amarantha executed? How many slaves have been carted from the far reaches, having been defeated for daring to oppose the Empire? Everyone that has ever gone up against him has lost and paid for it with their lives. I can’t let them do this. It’s suicide!

I get my hand on the hidden lock and turn. It’s my responsibility as a mate to save them from themselves. I have to put this foolish notion to bed. By tomorrow, Anise will have an answer about a way out of here. I just need them to stay put for the night and this mess will be over. 

I get the impression they are not males used to being taken by surprise, if the way they stand their gaping at me is any indication. Dark shadows wreath Azriel’s, still bare, shoulders, curling around his ears like they’re living things whispering in his ear. His scarred hands twitch over his hip, as if he’s reaching for a weapon instinctively, despite there being nothing there. 

Rhysand grins wolfishly as he leans a bruised shoulder against the doorframe, violet eyes once again roving over every inch of me. “Aren’t you full of surprises, Princess?”

“What if we had been indecent?” Cassian retorts.

“You’re barely dressed now,” I blurt before I can stop myself, though it is true. He’s stripped down to his boxers, using what was once a white towel, but it’s now brown, to clean up a gash across his thigh. Judging by the color of the bruising and the still forming scab, the wound is from before the arena. He needs to have it cleaned and looked at by a healer. I should be focusing on that. I should not be focusing on how large his thighs are, or imagining what it might feel like to sit in his lap.

Rhysand’s grin broadens like he can hear my thoughts, and then I remember that he can. 

Shit! I need to focus. I need to put my shields up, just like I do when I’m around the twins. Just because they’re my mates, doesn’t mean they’re incapable of using their abilities on me. Who’s to say, if Rhysand really is powerful enough to move me around like a puppet, even with the collar, that he won’t simply reach in and use me as he sees fit if I don’t cooperate. I don’t know anything about them. I have to be careful.

“We can strip down if you’d like?” He purrs.

“Did you make me come all this way just to harass me, or…?” I let the question hang there so I can give myself an extra second to reinforce my mental shields. 

“Sorry to pull you from your ivory tower,” Cassian snarls.

I instinctively take a step away from him, the venom behind each word enough to make me flinch despite myself. Azriel moves away from where he’s been sitting on the edge of the altar, effectively putting himself between us. “No, we didn’t.”

“Then what do you want?” My shields are in place, but I feel my confidence waning. I thought that this would be easy, that the bond would make everything click into place for us. They could trust me and I could trust them and this thing that tethered us together would put us at an even playing field. But it doesn’t. Our goals are off and I don’t know how to get them even, I don’t know how to get them to listen to me. 

“We want your help,” Rhysand says. 

“We need your help,” Azriel corrects.

I should just tell them that I heard them and skip all the repetitiveness, but there is a piece of me that worries I was naive before, and that they will tell me something different to my face. Maybe I’m the only one who feels the bond and they merely see me as something to be manipulated and used. I have to be sure.

“With what?” I ask.

“We want Hybern off the throne,” Rhysand explains. He hasn’t left his perch against the wall; though his gaze lingers on me, he gives me space that feels intentional. As if I’m a rabid dog he thinks might bite if it feels cornered. “We think you do too.”

“And why would you think that?” It is only from years of training that my voice doesn’t shake. How can they be so flippant about this? Saying those words out loud is enough to have their heads removed from their shoulders. The thought that any guard walking past might hear has me shaking, yet they don’t even flinch.

“He scares you,” Azriel says. His voice is already a low whisper, but it softens when he looks at me. A tendril of shadows slithers down his leg and across the floor, tentatively drifting across the pale tiles to come poke around at my ankles.

“He scares everybody and for good reason.” I need to keep my original goal in mind here. I’m here to get them out. They need to see the necessity of it. “Do you know how many people are dead because they underestimated him? No one is safe.”

“That’s why he needs to be stopped,” Rhysand presses.

Cassian folds his broad arms over his tattooed chest, frowning, but he doesn’t jump into the conversation. While Rhysand’s gaze is assessing, Cassian’s is cold, unyielding. He’s made up his mind about me. 

The fact that the others haven’t gives me more hope than I know I should have. They will have to leave anyway. I should hope they haven’t felt the bond, hope that it doesn’t convince them to stay. They need to be far, far away. But there is a small, desperate piece of me that clings to it anyway. 

“He can’t be stopped.” I bite back all the bitterness and rage that threatens to escape out of me and try to keep my tone even, unbothered. 

“You stopped him this afternoon,” Azriel counters as his shadow brushes up my calf like a phantom cat. They feel like a slight brush of breath against my skin, gentle and strange and I might giggle against the sensation if I wasn’t so focused on keeping my composure. 

I don’t kick it off either. A broken, desperate piece of me claws after the attention and blatant need for affection like a lifeline. 

“He listened to you,” Rhysand presses, doubling down when he sees me hesitate. Azriel isn’t wrong, though he’s not, technically right either. Still, he sees an opening and he swoops down like a vulture to take it. “No one else has that kind of influence.”

“It was a fluke,” I retort. “He was surprised. That won’t happen again.”

“It will if you keep surprising him,” Rhysand counters. “He has you, and everyone else, in a quaint little box, but if you deviate from the script he’s written for you, you can maneuver him where you want him.”

My hand goes instinctively to my bruised cheek, right as Azriel’s shadow comes slithering up my shoulder. It lets out a soft huffing sound as it follows my wrist to see what my fingers are doing. The shadow still curled around Azriel’s ear hisses softly, like the two are communicating. Maybe they are, given the way his eyes darken. 

“You cannot fight him.” I pull my hand away from my face a little faster than I mean to, and the shadow curls into my palm, inspecting the indents my fingernails had left earlier.  “You might as well quit while you’re ahead.”

“I wouldn’t call this being ahead,” Cassian huffs, turning his wrist to flash the brand I put there.

“I can find passage out of the Empire for you.” We’re going to run out of time if we keep standing here talking in circles. The guard will get curious eventually. They are bound to wonder why the lights are still on and no one is preparing for bed soon. “I should know by morning when it will be here.”

“If that’s true, why haven’t you taken it?” Cassian challenges.

Azriel takes a tentative step towards me. For someone so large, he’s surprisingly quiet on his feet. “I was terrified of my father too,” he says gently.

I can’t help but look at his hands. Had his father done that to him?

“I thought it was normal, how he treated me. I thought everyone was afraid of their father. I didn’t know any better until I got out. Until I met these two jackasses.”

Rhysand snorts a laugh behind him.

Cassian grumbles out a retort that sounds like it’s in another language. 

Azriel stops when he’s only a few inches away from me. I have to tilt my head back to look him in the eyes. “Sometimes you just need a little help. We can help each other, like you helped us earlier, right?”

I’ve lived around the ass kissing and political games of the palace long enough to know when someone’s trying to work an angle on me, and this isn’t one of those times. He means it. As hard to imagine that someone his size, someone who just took down a Giant and a bunch of Wargs, even with his wings broken, could be scared of anything, I believe him.

The bond warms, just a little. It’s nice, after years of feeling like no one could hear me when I whispered my complaints, to have a kinship with someone. I cling to that little shred of warmth like it’s a roaring fire amidst a blizzard. How long have I begged the Mother for even a shred of solace like this?

Perhaps that makes me weak. Perhaps I am a fool, but I want this. I want them. 

“A lot of good my help did,” it comes out in a whisper, like it’s dragging itself out of my throat. 

“But it does help,” Rhysand interjects. “Being your champions gives us an excuse to be close, and it gets us into places we couldn’t get before. You give us direct access to your father. That’s all we need.”

Azriel reaches out and brushes that loose strand of hair I’d pushed over my cheek behind my ear, scarred fingers brushing over my jaw with a feather light touch that is not unlike the one his shadow gives me. My whole body trembles all the same. 

“We won’t let anyone hurt you,” he promises.

I am entirely unprepared for that kind of promise. I’m supposed to be protecting them, not the other way around, but I’ve been on my own for awhile now, and I can’t help the way my body leans into that faint brush of his hand over my skin. Am I so starved for affection that even this feels like some grand gesture?

“We’re not asking you to do any fighting. You’re not challenging him.” Rhysand assures. “We merely need you to use these brands to your advantage. Drag us around with you. Show off the prize you’ve claimed like anyone else in the Empire would.”

My stomach twists. 

“Play the games the rest of the court plays, and we will do all the rest,” he assures. 

“I don’t understand how that helps you?” 

“For now, we need to observe his habits. There’s a parade tomorrow, right?”

Shit, I’d forgotten about that! 

“Yes.”

“Take us with you,” Rhysand explains. “Lots of people bring their champions out like bodyguards or trophies, right?”

“Or dogs,” Cassian hisses.

I wince. “Yes.”

“We don’t know much about the city. Just act like you’re showing us off so we can get a look around.”

He makes it sound so simple.

“And then what?”

He shrugs as he finally pushes off the wall. Though the touch had been brief, Azriel hasn’t moved out of my space, and seeing that it hasn’t sent me running, Rhysand takes this as a sign that he can move closer too. He’s just barely shorter than Azriel, and despite the fact that I inherited my Mother’s height, I cannot help but feel small next to them. I don’t think I entirely mind though.

 “Leave the strategies to us. The less you know what we’re doing and when, the safer you are. This is a long game, we have to take it one step at a time.”

“I don’t think you realize how dangerous playing this game with my Father is,” I warn. If anything were to happen to them because I didn’t insist on getting them on that ship in the morning, I’d never forgive myself!

He grins, flecks of starlight glinting in his eyes. He really is the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen, even with all the grime and blood on him. Which reminds me, they still haven’t seen the healer. Ember will never let me hear the end of it; I’m surprised she didn’t come with Anise to bust down my door. 

 “Let us do the worrying, Princess.” He’s very confident for someone who had just been thrown into a pit and been forced to fight a bunch of monsters. I hate to admit it, but that confidence worms its way through the bond like a rat chewing through a wall. No matter how hard I try to fight it back, a bit of it hits me anyway. Even without his presence inside my head, I feel safer when he’s near. 

My gaze flicks from him to Azriel for confirmation that this is something they have both agreed on, and he nods reassuringly. 

“You really think you can win?” I ask.

“Darling, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for my people,” Rhysand vows. “Whatever it takes to see them free, I will do it.”

So much for me finding a way to get them out of here, they’re pretty determined to stay, influence from the mating bond or not. On one hand, if I do this, I can keep an eye on them; maybe I can find ways to rig another Game, can make sure they have everything they need to survive. On the other hand, this is crazy! We’re talking about taking on Hybern. Take him being my Father out of the question, no one has ever won anything against him, he’s always two steps ahead, always sees the outcome before it happens. 

I take my lower lip between my teeth again. I’m going to need a dark shade of lipstick in the morning to hide all the teeth marks I’ve undoubtedly left in it today. 

“Let’s say I agree, but only on a trial basis,” I begin, trying and failing to organize all my thoughts. The bond pulls me one way and rationale pulls me the other. I cannot find a happy middle ground. “If tomorrow goes poorly, will you get on the boat and leave the Empire behind?”

“Happily,” Cassian huffs.

Rhysand shrugs, “Ask me again tomorrow.”

I have a sinking feeling it’ll be the same answer tomorrow, but I’ll take whatever I can get, as long as it means there’s a shot at keeping them alive.

----------------

Tag List: @sirenpearldust, @saltedcoffeescotch, @littlemissfix-itfic, @waka-babe , @raisam

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Thank you all for the comments and messages! As always, let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag List =)

[fuk3d]

A Moment In Time

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

Warning(s): Mentions of neglect, verbal abuse, and self-doubt.

Word Count: 1,074

A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first time getting back into writing fanfic since 2016 LMAOOO. Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is pure shit so pls feel free to give me constructive criticism. AND PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE'S MISTAKES CUZ THATS EMBARRASSING HAHA. Also writings cringe as hell so soz.

The Wayne resident felt empty, soulless, cold, and you couldn't bare the stillness of it all. So you step out onto the balcony, coffee in hand with the chilling air biting at your fingers harshly. You absentmindedly sipped on your coffee, the warm sensation from your cup steadily combating the freezing cold. The garden's atmosphere was filled with tranquility, the sun's rays slowly touching everything in its path. 

If only it could be like this forever.

You breathe in a shaky sigh and flutter your eyes to a gentle close, small puffs of air exit your mouth as you exhale out slowly. This would be the last time you’ll be gazing down at the alluring range of flowers scattered across the garden, its colours radiating brightly from the warm sunrise as it gently caressed the horizon. You can’t help but think back to all of your greatest achievements, your not so finest moments, and the bitter reminder of lonely memories that are left dormant inside your mind.

What more could I have done? Why didn’t I try harder? Why? Why, why, why, wh-

“Young (Name)? Are you alright? It’s cold out there, you should come back inside, where it’s warm.” Your eyes snap back open and you turn your body to face your family butler, Alfred. You blink, then you blink again, until you sputter out your reply with a wobbly smile. “Alfred! I’m- I’m fine, I just wanted to have my coffee out on the balcony.” ‘one last time’.

You turn to breathe in the fresh air for the final time before leaving the balcony area in silence. Today is your 18th birthday, and yet it doesn’t feel like it. A birthday is supposed to be a milestone, something to be celebrated with friends and family, with loved ones.

You shake yourself out of your stupor, a shudder leaves your lips, the icy temperature sending chills throughout your body. You find yourself sitting down near the kitchen table, your lukewarm coffee still in hand. And Alfred all but quietly makes your favourite breakfast, just how you’ve liked it for the last 18 years of your life. It’s been hard, you think to yourself. The unwarranted isolation from Bruce, the hurtful, cut-throat words thrown towards you from Damian as if you were a burden, the excuses from Dick, claiming he already had plans made so “Maybe next time! Yeah?”. And you remember so vividly of Jason pushing you away, as if the bond you two shared didn’t matter anymore. The fond memories, the time spent together, gone, just like that after he had died.

And how could you forget about Tim? Or about Cass, Barbara, Stephanie, and Duke? None of them rarely ever put in the effort to spend even a fraction of their time with you. But it doesn’t matter to you, right? No, not even a single bit, you don’t care anymore; of course you don’t care! Because you’re done, you’re done being in the shadows, done being stuck within those four tiny walls that had been called ‘your room’, and done with not being anyone's choice, especially not even your fathers. 

Even so, that's not true is it? You can lie to everyone else, but you can’t lie to yourself. You do care, and it stings because you’ve been caring up until you forced yourself not to anymore.

With your heart held heavy in your chest, an indescribable ache creeps up your throat as you recount the gut-wrenching memories that you struggle to desperately shake from your head, your now empty cup sits cold on the table in front of you. 

“Breakfast served.” Alfred slides a plate of your favourite in front of you. Your lips are stretched into a light smile, yet it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thank you Alfred..” You say before the both of you are engulfed in comfortable silence. You eat your breakfast at a comfortable pace, savouring the delectable taste that fills your mouth before inevitably finishing your breakfast. Your family's butler busies himself by cleaning the kitchen counter, wiping it down with careful precision before moving down to wipe down the very kitchen table you sit at. “Hey, uhm Alfred?” You speak up before you can even stop yourself, the words stumbling out in a fervent storm. 

“Will you miss me when I move out?” Alfred can only stop and look at you, really look at you. And from the looks of it, you appear collected, indifferent even, but to your butler he notices nearly everything about you. The way you play with your hair when you’re nervous, or how you fiddle with your fingers when you’re uncomfortable and the slight furrow of your eyebrows as you concentrate. So you can’t help but shrink just a little at his expression, his features showing no emotion for you to understand what he’s feeling. 

“I know you’re busy assisting the families business with… their nightly duties and... and I realise I’ve been such a burden to you and the family, but I know I’ll miss you the most out of everyone so-” 

you’re abruptly cut off by the shuffling of Alfred’s feet walking towards you, his arms enveloping you into a hug. A hug that was desperately needed and long overdue. You reciprocate Afred’s action’s and tightly wrap your arms around him, your hands scrunching up Alfred’s uniform because of how hard your hands are balled up into fists. You’re stunned, too puzzled to speak as Afred’s begins to speak. 

“You will be missed dearly Young [Name]. You’re smile, you’re creativity, you’re ideas, our time together; I’ll miss all of these things, those moments that we have.” a pleasant warmth settles within you, Alfred’s hand makes its way to the back of your head, bringing you to his chest as he pats gently. It’s barely audible but it's there, a small sniffle once, twice, then a series of them start to fill the empty rooms' quietness. Tears start to well up within your tear ducts except you refuse to let them fall despite a few already running down your face. You cry, you just feel so scattered and a bit of a mess right now as your tears and snot stain Alfred's clothes.

You let yourself be in the moment, you let down your walls and stripped away the hard exterior around your heart. You’re vulnerable and…  it feels great. 

For once you feel relieved. Happy.

Credit to @adornedwithlight!

End Note: Just to rephrase, this is my first time getting back into writing fan-fiction so I'm rusty asf lol. And any writers that have been doing this for way longer than me, please give me some tips or advice on how I can improve my own writing LMAOO.

[cherrysolo]

I knew it, I know you.

yall have asked for a longer fic of this request, so here you go <3 instances where the reader comforts lu because of his back pain.

warnings: a wee bit of smut maybe angst too

you had been dating luigi for a couple of years now, you knew him better than anyone else. you knew all of his behaviours, every time he was frustrated and had a pout on his face, or when he would use his hands to talk during arguments. you could read him like a book, which was handy when he didn’t want to communicate. especially after having a rough time with back pain and surgery complications, you wanted to be the best partner you could be.

for instance, you guys were hiking together in hawaii, and halfway through the hike you could tell the mood completely changed. every couple of steps, lu would kind of stretch his back, or even let out a groan. it was obvious he was struggling, “baby is everything okay?” you questioned quietly, not sure how to approach this. “all good,” giving you a shy smile. you could tell he was in pain, but trying to pull through. you guys have been wanting to do this trail for months but never found time, until today. “why don’t we just go home and rest, it’s getting kind of hot out here anyways,” you suggest trying not to pry. you were already breaking a sweat and luigi was shirtless, so maybe this was a good excuse to leave. you wanted to take care of him but not baby him either. “but we made it this far, why give up now?” he snaps back. “yeah, but you’re in pain, let’s go, if we don’t stop now you’ll regret it later,” you snap right back because you want him to take care of himself, and sometimes that includes rest. “I’ll be fine,” you give him a look, raising your eyebrows. “fine, let’s go, it won’t change anything though,” he sighs grabbing your hand to walk back to the car. “I know you’re pissed at me lu, but you need to take care of yourself. I worry about you,” pleading with him to understand your side. he squeezes your hand, knowing that he does care what you say. “thank you, baby, I know you care, sometimes I do push myself too much,” he leans over to kiss your forehead. you two end up cuddling on the couch for the rest of the evening, sometimes rest is not a bad thing.

another time is when you two are intimate, it can complicate how a night can play out. communication is everything to you guys when you’re together. sometimes you could tell instantly from the way luigi moves or his face twitches that his back is starting to bother him. you always motion for him to lay back and you take charge. straddling him and grinding your hips onto him. “hmmm why don’t I take care of you lu?” you smirk down to him. lowering yourself onto him, he groans out as if it’s a sense of relief. his hands immediately fall onto your hips, gripping onto you as you bounce up and down. “you’re such a good girl, taking care of me like this,” he’d moan out. attacking your neck with kisses, pleasure taking over the room. as you guys both reach your peak, a sense of gratitude fills luigi’s heart. even though you’re showing love (literally) switching up positions or doing things for lu’s comfort makes his heart swell.

the most common thing is showing small gestures of pda. if it’s small back rubs in public, lingering kisses of comfort, or just simple whispers of “are you okay?”. you’d hug lu from behind, and ask him how his back is feeling, if he needed any ibuprofen, or wanted to go home. you were scared of overbearing him, but your affection and worry made him feel loved. he loved the way you always looked out for him even in simple situations. after a long night out, or a workout that didn’t help, you’d give him a massage or cuddle with him to relax. it was just the little gestures that meant the most. you just wanted him to be happy and healthy, without the worry of his back pain.

[nmakii]

everything is blue!

— what colors do kunigami + bachira + kaiser + rin + nagi + otoya + nanase love in?

u guys can argue that they see love differently, but i j thought this was cute. tried another format for this btw lmk wyt

the deep maroon shade of the roses he buys for you; the scarlet stains you leave on his lips. rensuke kunigami sees love in red. yes, it’s pretty boring— maybe even expected from a good guy like him. but, it’s what he grew up associating love with, so why should anyone expect anything different from him? his scars and cuts all bleed red, the color of his love for you. it’s a fiery color that expresses all of his affections and desire to be your one and only in one simple shade. every piercing sun rise that overwhelms the gloomy dark sky with a burning red as he takes his morning jog reminds him of his passion for you. it also reminds him to work out, just so he’s strong enough to be your man— someone who’s strong enough to keep you safe from the world’s troubles, and be your hero. every valentine’s day, the corridors of his school are filled with red cut out hearts, and the only thing he can think about is you; the owner of his heart and body. to kunigami, red is love, and love is you.

the gentle flutter of a monarch butterfly landing on your nose after the two of you went butterfly catching; the orange juice that spills on to the plate after you had asked him to peel your orange. meguru bachira sees love in orange. he’s never had a friend he can trust will stay before. so when he falls for you, he falls hard and fast. no one else besides his mother has understood what he meant by his monster. so, it left him unbelievably jaw-dropped and star-struck when you told him of a similar monster that haunted you. his eyes shone a bright marigold to learn more about you and your monster; an imaginary friend that made life just as exciting for you as his has made soccer fun for him. all of a sudden, all he could think about was you, and how much he wanted to know everything about you. his mind— once filled with only hope for the next day to come, so that he could play more soccer, was suddenly overflowing with excitement for the next time he could talk to you again. just imagine— the lonely, weird kid finally meeting his match. but hey, misery loves company, right? who cares if the world is against him? fitting in would be too boring anyways. he’d rather have one person who understands him, than a world that supports him. they say that the color orange isn’t rare in nature. but, it isn’t common either. the same could be said for bachira. people who tolerate and accept him such as isagi, nagi, or aryu are a dime a dozen amongst geniuses such as himself. but, to find someone like you who can understand his eccentricity and what he means below the surface-level— you’re his one of a kind gem. one that’s his, and his alone.

the champagne blonde strands of hair that flow through your fingers; the gold rays of sun that shone on his skin after another win as he ran to the stands to kiss you. michael kaiser sees love in yellow. he really didn’t expect to fall in love with you. he kept trying to push you away by any means— undermining you, ignoring you, even physically pushing you away! but, your stubborn ass never got the point, and just thought that he’s always like that. that’s how he treats ness after all, so he just teases people he likes! your persistence eventually wore off his walls, and he finally allowed himself to be vulnerable. he finally let you into his life, and against his better judgment, told you about his mental scars. now, you were simply just too dangerous of a person to push away now, he’s told you far too much. well… he doesn’t see himself pushing you away anytime soon though. he’s found himself to be much more fond of your presence. when he’s with you, everything feels okay. he doesn’t question if he’s worthy of all this happiness— you make him forget all of it. after the cold winter of his childhood, spring has finally came. it’s why he buys you daffodils, instead of the roses he loves so much. while roses, blue ones, represent the impossible becoming reality, daffodils represent a new beginning— one where he hopefully doesn’t need to cling relentlessly to the past to evolve, and instead evolves to become a man you can proudly say you’re dating.

the sound of your footsteps on a football field after he practiced into the night for the nth time; the cute cactus plushie he won for you after you told him how cute it was. rin itoshi sees love in green. he knows that after his big brother abandoned him, he hasn’t been the kindest of people. which is why he was so confused as to why you still stayed. you were amazing— you could certainly have any other guy. but, you still wanted him! why is that? why do you want sae itoshi’s stupid little brother? after another night of questioning himself, he’s found his answer when you talk him through his emotions, and help him sort out his problems. it was because you actually cared for him. you knew rin isn’t as indifferent as he pretend to be. there was more to him than that. but, he’s wrapped that part of himself in chains and spikes, making sure he doesn’t get hurt again. he wasn’t sure if he could ever love the same way again. but, just as a plant needs tender care to grow, he needs you to be patient with him to let him heal and carefully take down the walls he built ever so meticulously.

the denim jeans you wear when he takes a nap on your lap; the stone color of the usually bright sky when it rains, which makes you have to stay the night in his apartment again. seishiro nagi sees love in blue. just like how he can rely on the sun to rise again the next day, nagi knows that he can always rely on you to be honest with him. his trust with you runs deeper than skin and bones. he knows he isn’t the most ideal boyfriend, he’s always afraid that you might leave him for someone who’s more outgoing with him one day. but, he always manages to remind himself that you’d tell him if he was lackluster in a certain way. but just because you’re saying he’s doing nothing wrong, it doesn’t mean he’s gonna remain the same lazy genius. for you, he’ll always try to improve and evolve to be someone whom you can rely on as well. like the bright blue sky that wakes everyone up in the morning every day without fail, nagi will never forget the moment you jumped into his life and promised that you’d stay until the end of times.

the bright mauve lights in the karaoke room whilst the two of you sang ‘i wanna dance with somebody’ by whitney houston; the vibrant violet takis bag carelessly dropped on the floor after the two of you fell asleep marathoning the harry potter series during the weekend. eita otoya sees love in purple. even though he was quite the lover-boy, he found relationships quite exhausting. having to date a high maintenance girl that needed to constantly go on dates and be given gifts was something that killed his vibe; very unenjoyable. so, he enjoyed it when he finally found you; someone who didn’t need the high life to have a good time. whether it’s the both of you speeding his car at 1 AM with some of your friends after blowing through 3 weeks worth of allowance money in one night, or staying over at your place and just doing whatever little arts and crafts sounded fun that day, you always had fun as long as the both of you were together. sure, at first, he just wanted to have some fun until the next one came along… but, he finally found himself to be enamored with someone. it isn’t so bad if he just doesn’t tell you that, right? all’s well that ends well..? either way, he finally feels fulfilled in a relationship, and like he might actually stay for a while this time. it’s fun, fresh, but still deep with an unspoken connection— just like the royal eloquence, yet playfulness, of purple.

the rosy blush of his cheeks when he saw you for the first time; the cherry blossom kitkats he shaped into a heart for your first valentine’s as a couple. nijiro nanase sees love in pink. being from the countryside of japan, he’s a stereotypical country boy. he was raised well by his grandparents, he’s been taught well in the likes of chivalry, and he’s unbelievably naive. oh, to be looked at the same way as the way nanase’s eyes gleam— star struck, at the sight of you. now, he doesn’t know what to do! his hearts’s all… what’s the word…? thumpy thumpy..! he can’t help, but get jittery whenever you’re around. this is what love feels like? it feels good! he wants to feel this fluttery feeling all the time. and to have that, he has to be your boyfriend. nothing can compare to the feeling of first love— slowly falling deeper and deeper into a pit that swallows him from the inside out. he feel like he’s drowning, but at the same time, it’s so gratifying, he can’t help but get addicted to the sound of syllables falling from your heaven-sent lips. he can tell you’re new at this too. you’re nervous— maybe even more nervous than him. but, hey! that’s alright. the two of you will go by this whole relationship thingy step by step. like how a pink rose is so delicate that it falls apart when crushed by the fist, he’ll make sure to be careful with your heart. as long as you promise to be careful with his.

[velvetvexations]

The problem with AGAB-segregated gatherings isn't even that it hurts people's feelings by implying they're not a social construct that doesn't really exist for anyone anyway, it's that it keeps the arbitrary divisions in place and keeps us trapped in the sex binary every time we split ourselves into Penises and Vaginas. Transfeminism cannot advance if it's solely focused on hammering trans women and trans men into the same gender dynamics as cis women and cis men, which is what a lot of people want more than actually dismantling the patriarchy.

Validation is good and cool but why do you care about that more than the freedom to identify how you want as a principle? The pathological need to have someone tell you you're a poor oppressed woman or a strong oppressive man every five seconds makes me want to grind my teeth to nubs. Some will look at sexual violence and murder rates being a million times worse for trans woman than they are for cis women, and then desperately try to pretend trans men are going around mansplaining to them because they don't care about trans women being murdered or sexually assaulted, they just want the Wymynly Experience with the exact same relationship to men that cis women do in spite of the fact that we already have it worse.

The level of oppression isn't really the point, it's how similar it is to cis women's oppression. It's worse, sure, but it's a worse version of what cis women go through, right? Because I'm a Trve Wymyn? Please tell me I'm a Trve Wymyn!

And, yes, it's trans men too! "You're so right, you're a Trve Wymyn and I recognize my power over you as a Trvue Myn. I'm a Trvue Myn, right? Please tell me I make you feel unsafe!"

None of this is helping anything!

[illustr-ace]

Y'all, I'm thinking about Phoenix Wright again, someone stop me.

Anyway, you ever think about how Phoenix loves people?

Phoenix didn't climb Miles' walls or bring the walls down gradually with nothing but kindness. He beat the walls down with his bare fists, bloody knuckles, and heart on his sleeve because he knew that little boy that he once knew was still in there.

Phoenix /is/ nice. He's sassy and snarky and will roast anyone within an inch of their life, even if he's very close with them. But he also loves so righteously that he'll destroy himself because of it.

And Feenie is such a pure example of that. In that case, his love was misplaced, but he still wore it like a badge of fuckin honor and was fully prepared to lose his life for it. If they'd ever met, Bratworth wouldn't have stood a chance against that little dumbass and his pink sweater.

People joke about how, haha Phoenix changed the course of his life because gay, which like... yeah. But I never see enough people acknowledge that it wasn't just haha gay. He saw an article about Miles (someone he hadn't spoken to in an actual decade) that didn't sound like the person he knew (who was a child at the time), and determined he must've been horribly damaged and lonely. And his solution was, well... time to give up on any other passion I may have had to find the fucker.

Phoenix doesn't love like a golden retriever. He loves like the fucking sun. It's so bright and beautiful, and it burns, and he doesn't care.

Anyway, that got away from me, but tldr: I adore Phoenix so damn much.

[megumismyhusband]

HAIII!!! Can i request Bllk characters reacting to a tall s/o thats also a foreign but like their of course taller then her, but when they stand next to another girl, she just looks so intimidating cause of how tall she is compared to other japanese women. (PLS INCLUDE NAGI, SAE, RIN AND SHIDOU😘😘) LOVE U

soso sorry this took so long but i hope you like it

nagi

•honestly, nagi doesn’t care about height. like, at all. he’s already tall so when he sees you’re tall too, he just thinks, “oh, less effort to look down.”

• he likes that you’re tall, though. it means you can reach things for him when he’s too lazy to stand up. “hey, grab that for me? you’re closer.”

• when you stand next to other girls and look all intimidating because of how tall you are, nagi doesn’t really get why people are scared. he’ll just blink and be like, “what’s their problem? you’re nice.”

• he probably doesn’t even notice how others react to you half the time. if you bring it up, he’d just yawn and say, “eh, it’s not a big deal. you’re cooler than them anyway.

sae

• sae notices your height immediately. he’s not towering, so he finds your height striking in a really attractive way. “you stand out in the best way possible,”

• he’s protective, especially when he notices people staring or feeling nervous around you. if you ever feel awkward about it, he’ll gently hold your hand and tell you, “it’s not your fault you’re gorgeous.”

• when you stand next to smaller girls and look intimidating, sae finds it a little funny.

• if anyone says something rude about your height, he shuts it down immediately. “they don’t know what they’re talking about. you’re perfect.”

• he’s genuinely in awe of how confident and poised you look, even when you’re not trying. to him, you’re the definition of elegance.

rin

• rin’s already tall, so he’s not fazed by your height at all. in fact, he thinks it’s nice to have a s/o who matches his energy and presence.

• he notices how others react to you, especially smaller girls who seem intimidated, but he doesn’t get why. “you’re not scary,” he’ll say, almost defensively. “they’re just overthinking it.”

• if you ever feel insecure about being tall, rin will quietly reassure you. “you’re perfect how you are. i wouldn’t change anything about you.” it’s awkward but heartfelt.

• he loves how you naturally stand out in a crowd and secretly feels proud to be by your side. it makes him feel less awkward about his own height.

• rin gets protective if anyone comments on your height in a negative way. he won’t make a scene, but he’ll glare at them and mutter something like, “they’re just jealous.

shidou

• shidou loves that you’re tall. you’re taller than most girls? makes you even cooler.

• when you stand next to smaller girls and look intimidating, shidou thinks it’s hilarious. “you’re scaring them without even trying!”

• he’s super vocal about how much he loves your height. “you’re taller, hotter, and way more interesting than all of them. they can deal with it.”

• he absolutely adores how striking and confident you look, even when you’re just standing there. to him, you’re a total powerhouse, and he’s obsessed with it.