#but it brings me joy to think he likes to do that

[talisidekick]

Someone tagged this with the following and I actually want to talk about this:

This isn't the first response like this. I've had comments, asks, tags like this one, reblogs, and even comments on other platforms where this has spread to that bring up racism and xenophobia. Whether thats accusing me of being racist or hating immigrants (despite coming from a family if immigrants) or just pointing out, like this person did, the inherent xenophobic attitude the world has for my pharmacist to want to change his first name to an English sounding name. And it gets worse, I was given an English name at birth because my mother wanted me to "have a name that fit in". They weren't English, my last name was German, my great-grandmother who was a pillar in the family used German and Norweigan words mixed in her English that carried into my life and still does to this day. And because I wasn't "English", I still got picked on at school to the point I filtered out the german/norweigan in my vocabulary and learned to mimick accents to remove any germanic lilt I had in my speech.

Point being, I made this post recognizing the inherent xenophobia present. That's one of the reasons I told my pharmacist he didn't need to do that for my sake. I kind of suspected he wasn't just being kind. The way he said it had intent. The next time I saw him, nametag out, proud, it was touching to see the name I was given to protect me from xenophobia going to protect someone else, but also a bit bitter that I know part of the reason for wanting to find an English name was the pressure to blend in and sidestep a LOT of bullshit.

My name now is Germanic, my middle name Italian, my last name Ukrainian, and my nickname I use everywhere to make peoples lives easier is Talia or Tali <- To which I've learned "Tali" is a common short-hand/nickname or name for some in the middle-east (I didn't know, I just mashed up my middle name with my childhood nickname 'T' to get it so my friends would have an easier time transitioning over to my new name and it stuck. I just recently found out from a co-worker who just got back from a trip to the middle east and asked me about it). I'm no longer side-stepping the bullshit, I have noticed a difference in treatment. If people don't know me, and haven't seen me, like when it's over the phone or in email, it takes much longer and I have to be more precise with my wording. In fact, I've noticed it a bit when in person too. Next to my English named co-workers, I am treated by some like I know less and I'm scruitinized a bit more. Now obviously if I was a woman of colour and not off-white canvas, this would be 10-times worse in ways I'm not qualified or experienced to explain or get into. I'll leave that to someone WITH that kind of experience to get into.

I've never mentioned whether my pharmacist is a coloured man or not, and I never will. It's not that it "doesn't matter", every aspect of that man shapes his existence and experience of this life. I'm just not clarifying because the moment I do, I know some of you are going to solely focus on his race and miss the nuance of everything this post is about. It's about transgender positivity, discrimination, humour, and the kind-hearted actions of an incredible man in his journey of immigration. By leaving him faceless, every one of you brings something of yourself to this post. Be it simple joy, or further commentary.

The person who tagged this post is one of many who've accurately pointed out one underlying truth about this post. Not everyone is treated equally in society. This happened in Canada. Do you begin to understand the depths this post goes to with all that I've said here? With what you now know about me? Because I think some of you should now re-read the post again.

A while back my pharmacist saw my deadname on my profile and accidentially called it out, he corrected and deleted my deadname from the system so only my preferred name shows up now. There was a crowd of people behind me, so as he hands over the pills he apologized, in equal tone and volume as when he called my deadname and lied saying it's been a long day and he didn't mean to call out -his own- name. I quietly told him it was fine and he didn't need to do that for my sake.

His response: "No, it's my name now."

I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he's immigrating and in the process he's changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That's why he's now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: "It's mine now. Not yours. I'm taking." His tone indicated that decision is final.

Bro literally deadnamed me once, and has committed to flat out stealing my deadname. It's his now. Legally. Officially. I over heard his co-workers call him by the name.

[bobbyfloyd]

Bob, who once he's comfortable with the dagger squad, won't stop talking about his wife!!!! "Bob, your lunch looks really good." "Thanks, my wife made it! 😊" "Where did you get those socks, Bob?" "oh, I'll have to ask my wife, she got them for me! 😊"

To the point that some of the daggers (mainly Jake, it's only Jake) begin to doubt of this wife's existence.

But then it's family day, and Bob is holding the biggest bouquet imaginable. When the daggers hear a loud "BOBBY!" and see the lady of the hour, Jake promptly shuts the fuck up.

they’re in the canteen when jake decides that there is no way bob could possibly be married. he’s just sat down next to natasha with his perfectly crafted and balanced lunch, and when she points out how good it looks, bob simply beams and says, “my wife made it, as usual.” now, let it be known that natasha is completely aware of your existence, as she’s already met you. but the other daggers haven’t met you. they haven’t even seen a picture of you. and this is why jake decides to call bullshit. in his mind you sound too good to be true. there’s no way you could be real.

“you two ever met baby on board’s wife?” jake asks when javy and rooster sit across from him with their lunches. both men shake their heads. “why do you ask?” bradley replies with the raise of a brow. “i think he’s bullshitting us,” is what jake finally settles on before he takes a bite of his turkey sandwich. javy scoffs. “really? you think bob’s going to all that trouble just to make us think he’s married?” he takes a swig of his water and rolls his eyes.

but jake sticks to his guns. “c’mon, have you ever listened to the way he talks about her? she sounds too good to be true,” he insists. “nobody’s wife is that perfect.” bradley simply shakes his head. “whatever you say, dude. personally, i think dude shows all the signs of a lovesick puppy. i’d be shocked if it came out that he isn’t married.” so jake decides to make a bet with bradley, because he’s that confident in his belief that bob is pulling a fast one on everyone. “fifty says he isn’t married,” jake proposes. bradley doesn’t bother to hide his smirk. “you’re on.”

a few weeks go by and the bet is still going. bob continues to talk about you in that loving way he always does, his eyes shimmering with joy. in jake’s opinion you still sound too good to be true. perhaps it comes from a place of jealousy. jake isn’t married, and he’d never admit it, but part of him is envious that bob floyd has more game that he does. so he’s settled on believing that bob is merely pulling everyone’s legs. that is, until family day rolls around.

bob brings an enormous bouquet of red roses into work that morning. he’s got a bounce in his step. his hair seems to be combed extra neatly (if that was even possible). his cheeks are rosy and his eyes are bright. and jake very quickly realizes that bradley is right. this guy is a lovesick puppy. and then a joyous “bobby!” rings across the campus. and there you are. bright smile lighting up your face, with just as much of a lovesick expression as bob’s. and that’s when jake is forced to eat his words.

when bob sees you, his heart swells in his chest. god, he’ll never get tired of seeing you walk into a room. you take his breath away every time. and now here you are, at his place of work, and he’s holding the bouquet he spent a ridiculous amount of money on (for you, it’s worth every penny), and he feels like the luckiest man on earth. “hey there, darlin’,” he greets as you approach. he leans in to kiss you sweetly before he presents the bouquet to you, at which you giggle in delight. “it’s beautiful, bobby,” you breathe as you take it from him, bringing the flowers to your nose to breathe in the sweet scent.

“guess i should introduce you to the rest of the squad,” he says with that endearingly crooked grin of his. he turns, sliding his arm around your waist, just as natasha approaches with her fiancé, piper. “good to see you again,” nat greets you, pulling you in for a hug before she introduces you to piper. and then, in the background, bradley appears extremely smug as he claps jake on the back. “you owe me fifty bucks, hangman,” he says. but instead of a sarcastic quip, bradley is surprised when jake simply muses “well i’ll be damned. baby on board really is a wife guy after all.”

[aspenmissing]

Hi! If you're up for angst, can I pls request Arcane characters (including Jayvik) with their s/o *nearly* dying from childbirth? Maybe the whole pregnancy was fine, but during the birth their s/o started bleeding out, or an embolism? (Anything complications you think will add to the emotions is fine ^^)

I feel like this would def be an unplanned pregnancy considering the characters, but it wouldn't be an unwelcome one as they love their s/o so much. Also, childbirth causing possible death yet needed to bring life into the world, is such an interesting contrast that the characters would feel so deeply. Esp as their s/o nearly dies during the ordeal.

I love your writing and the way you craft scenarios so throughly for each character ❤️✨ Thank you!!

ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊ��ɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ-ɪꜱʜ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 8428 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅʙɪʀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ). ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ/ɴɪɢʜᴛ! <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains as Jayce sat next to Y/N's bed, watching her sleep. Her pregnancy had been nothing short of perfect. Every doctor’s visit had been smooth, her health had been impeccable, and the baby growing inside her was a constant reminder of the life they were about to bring into the world. They hadn’t planned on having a child so soon, but as the months passed, the excitement and joy they felt grew beyond anything they could have imagined. They spent months preparing, laughing together, and even arguing over names for the baby, but the closer they got to the due date, the more Jayce found himself watching Y/N with a nervous tenderness he couldn’t shake.

He had always been a man of science, of logic, but nothing in his life had ever felt more fragile than this moment. Y/N, the woman he loved, carrying their child, and the realization that the fragile beauty of life could slip away in an instant.

=

The day arrived with the usual excitement. The contractions started slowly, and Y/N smiled, grabbing his hand with a calmness that only made his heart race more. Everything felt normal. Jayce held her hand through every wave, his eyes full of love and admiration, telling her how proud he was of her.

Hours passed. The hospital room was quiet except for the sound of medical staff moving around, checking Y/N, and adjusting monitors. Jayce stood beside her, his heart full of hope, his mind trying to remain calm.

But something changed. The monitors beeped, and suddenly there was urgency in the air. Y/N’s face contorted with pain, and Jayce’s eyes widened as he looked at the doctors.

“What's happening?” he asked, his voice breaking.

The doctor didn’t answer immediately, instead giving instructions to the staff. Y/N reached for his hand again, her grip tight but shaky.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jayce said softly, trying to reassure her even though he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself.

“Jayce,” Y/N whispered, her voice weak and strained. “I love you.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “I love you more.”

But the minutes stretched into hours. Complications set in, and the room was flooded with doctors and nurses. Jayce felt helpless, staring at Y/N, his mind whirling with every possible outcome. The birth of their child—the miracle of life—had suddenly turned into a battle for survival.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the crisis began. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Y/N’s, trying to steady himself. He watched as the medical staff worked frantically, but all he could see was Y/N's pale face, her breathing shallow, her energy fading.

"Come on, Y/N... stay with me," Jayce whispered, brushing a lock of her hair from her forehead. "I can't do this without you."

The world felt like it was crashing down around him, but still, he clung to the thought of their child—of the family they had dreamed of. They had made it through the first hurdle, but something was terribly wrong.

A soft cry broke through the tension. Their baby had arrived.

The doctor handed the newborn to a nurse, who rushed the baby away to be cleaned and examined. Jayce barely even noticed, his eyes fixed on Y/N, who had started to slip in and out of consciousness. He could see the blood seeping onto the sheets, and his heart stopped.

"Jayce," Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

"Hey, you’re going to be okay," Jayce said, his voice raw, his chest tightening. But his gaze was fixed on the staff working quickly around her.

The doctor immediately began to assess the situation. "She’s losing too much blood. We need to stabilize her now!"

His pulse quickened. He had heard the term “postpartum haemorrhage” before, but hearing it in real-time made the ground beneath him feel like it was crumbling. He could feel the heat rising in his body as panic surged through him.

The nurses began moving quickly, one applying pressure to Y/N’s abdomen while another attempted to administer fluids, but Jayce felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot, unable to move from her side.

“Y/N…My life” Jayce whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to catch her fading gaze. “Don’t leave me. Please, stay with me.”

Her hand, once so strong, slipped from his, her fingers slack. The room around them became a blur of movement. The life-saving attempts, the quiet, urgent orders being barked by the doctors—everything felt distant as he fixated on her pale face.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice trembling.

His mind raced, his thoughts swirling into chaos. How could this be happening? Their baby had been born healthy, perfect. How could they be faced with losing Y/N now?

Another cry echoed through the room—the sound of their son. Jayce caught sight of the tiny infant in the nurse’s arms, but his attention was divided, his heart torn between the two most important things in his life.

And then, everything stopped.

A nurse came close to him. "We’re doing everything we can. You need to trust us."

Jayce couldn’t bring himself to speak, his voice a tight knot in his throat. All he could do was stare at Y/N, trying to will her to stay awake, to hang on. It felt like time had stretched to an unbearable length.

He reached for her hand again, desperate.

"Y/N…" he whispered, tears streaking down his face. "You have to wake up. Please. I need you."

=

A full day passed before she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, weak but aware. Jayce let out a shaky breath of relief, his body trembling as he held her hand tightly, his son cradled in his arms. He had spent every minute of the past twenty-four hours at her side, torn between the desperate hope that she would wake up and the overwhelming fear that he could lose her.

"Jayce," she murmured, her voice a whisper, but it was enough. "Our baby... is he okay?"

His heart soared with the sound of her voice. He kissed her forehead, his lips brushing against her skin, gentle and filled with emotion. "Yes, love. He’s perfect. You’re perfect."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at their son, sleeping peacefully in his arms, his tiny hands curled into fists. He couldn’t help but marvel at how fragile and yet how resilient this little life was. He looked at Y/N again, his heart swelling with love for both her and their child.

Y/N’s eyes shifted to the baby in his arms, and her expression softened. Her hand, still weak, reached out slowly, as if it took all her strength just to touch him. Jayce carefully placed their son into her arms, guiding her to cradle him. Her fingers trembled as she held him, but there was a profound tenderness in her touch, and Jayce could see the love already radiating between them.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint sound of the baby’s breath, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors that had kept them on edge for so long. Jayce settled beside her again, his gaze never leaving her face, his heart full of gratitude and relief.

“I was so scared,” Jayce confessed softly, his voice raw. “When you were so still... I didn’t know if I could do this without you.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but full of warmth. “You never had to do it without me. We’re in this together.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the strength he had come to love.

Jayce brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. "I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been my rock. And now we have him...”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked at their son. “Our son,” she whispered, the words filled with awe. “He’s perfect. Just like you said.”

Jayce’s heart clenched at the sight of her, so fragile but so full of love. The worst had passed. The crisis had been a terrifying storm, but it was over now, and they had made it through—together. But even though Y/N was stable, the road to full recovery would still take time. Jayce wasn’t naïve enough to think everything was behind them. There would be moments of doubt, moments of struggle, but they had already proven how strong they were together.

Finally, he pulled away just enough to kiss her softly on the lips, the pressure of the kiss tender and full of meaning. “You did it,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re going to be okay, Y/N. We’re going to be okay.”

A faint smile crossed her face as her eyes softened, her gaze lingering on him. “We did it,” she whispered back, and Jayce’s world was whole again.

The cries of their son filled the room, a sound so pure and full of promise. Jayce glanced at the new-born—his son—and then back to Y/N, the love in his eyes unmistakable. He had never felt more grateful, more connected to her, more determined to protect their family.

And as he held Y/N's hand in his, feeling the warmth return to her skin, he knew, despite everything, their family had made it through the storm. They had survived. Together. And there was nothing they couldn’t face from here on out.

VIKTOR

The room was eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of the machines and the muffled sounds of the bustling hospital outside the door. Viktor sat in the chair beside the bed, his cane resting against his leg, his hands gripping the soft fabric of the baby blanket as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The pregnancy had been perfect. No complications, no scares—just quiet anticipation and soft whispers in the middle of the night. Viktor had spent months preparing, ensuring that Y/N had everything she needed, that their daughter would come into the world without a single worry. He had held Y/N close at night, murmuring reassurances against her hair when she fretted over the future. He had traced circles over the swell of her belly, felt the gentle kicks beneath his fingertips, and imagined the tiny life they had created together. It had been perfect.

But now Y/N was gone—wheeled away in a frantic rush, her blood staining the pristine white sheets.

His hands trembled as he stared at the blanket, the one Y/N had crocheted herself. It was small, meant to swaddle their daughter, but now it felt heavy in his grasp. The weight of everything crashed down on him as the sterile smell of the hospital seeped into his senses.

He hadn’t even gotten to hold her.

Their daughter had been pulled into the world too soon, her first cries cut short as the doctors fought to keep both mother and child alive. There had been too much blood, too many rushed voices speaking words Viktor couldn't process. He had heard the urgency in their voices, the panic, the pleas for more hands, more supplies, more time.

Y/N was dying. The baby was barely clinging on.

And he was powerless.

His grip tightened on the blanket as his chest ached with a pain he couldn't describe. He had fought against fate for so long—against his own body, against time itself—but this? This was a cruelty he hadn't been prepared for.

How could he do this without her? How could he raise a child alone, without Y/N by his side to share in the triumphs and the sleepless nights? The thought of his daughter growing up without her mother, of him being forced to tell her about the woman she would never meet, made his stomach churn with despair.

The door creaked open, and Jayce stepped inside, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving only quiet concern in his expression. He didn’t say anything at first, just took a hesitant step forward before settling in the chair beside Viktor. He looked out of place in the stark hospital room, his broad shoulders tense, his hands clasped together like he was steeling himself for the worst.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Jayce said, his voice softer than Viktor had ever heard it.

Viktor let out a breath, sharp and uneven. “And if it is not enough?”

Jayce didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The uncertainty hung between them, thick and suffocating.

Viktor pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, willing himself to keep his composure, but it was slipping. He wasn’t a praying man—never had been—but in that moment, he would have begged any force in the universe to spare them. To let Y/N come back to him, to let their daughter breathe without struggling, to let them have the future they had planned together.

Just let them live.

The silence stretched, broken only when the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Viktor looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he clutched the blanket even tighter.

Then the door opened again, and a nurse stepped inside. Her scrubs were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her expression was gentle when she looked at Viktor.

“She made it through surgery,” the nurse said quietly. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s stable now. She’ll need time to recover, but she’s alive.”

Viktor felt the breath he had been holding finally escape his lungs, though his chest still ached. His heart pounded in his ears, his body flooded with exhaustion and relief all at once.

“And… the baby?” His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid that if he asked, the answer might break him.

The nurse gave him a small, reassuring smile. “She’s fighting. She’s in the neonatal unit, but she’s strong.”

Strong. Just like her mother.

A choked sound escaped Viktor as he pressed the baby blanket to his face, his fingers curling around the soft yarn. His daughter was alive. Y/N was alive.

Jayce exhaled heavily beside him, clapping a firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “See? They’re fighters. Just like you.”

Viktor let out a watery chuckle, shaking his head. He didn’t feel like a fighter. Right now, he felt fragile, like one wrong move would shatter him entirely. But he would push forward, just as he always had, just as Y/N and their daughter had.

His eyes burned as he whispered, “I want to see them.”

The nurse nodded. “We’ll take you to see your daughter first. Y/N will be moved to recovery soon, and you can see her after.”

Viktor gripped his cane, using it to push himself up from the chair. His legs felt weak, but he forced himself to move, to follow the nurse down the cold hospital corridors. Jayce walked beside him, offering silent support should he need it.

=

The neonatal unit was quiet, bathed in a soft, sterile glow. The rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the air, a constant reminder of the fragile lives housed within the incubators. Viktor's steps were slow as he approached, his breath catching when he caught sight of her—his daughter.

She was so small, impossibly so, wrapped in a cocoon of wires and tubes. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, her delicate fingers curled into fists as if she were already preparing to fight against the world. The nurse beside him spoke, explaining her condition, the treatments they were giving her, but Viktor barely heard any of it.

His fingers brushed against the glass of the incubator, a lump forming in his throat. "She is beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So small… but beautiful."

Jayce stood back, watching but not intruding. This was Viktor’s moment.

Viktor felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He simply stood there, gazing at his daughter—the proof that, despite all the odds, she had survived. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe that they would make it through this. Together.

JAYVIK

Y/N had never expected to be a mother, let alone so soon. When she had first told Viktor and Jayce about the pregnancy, she had been terrified. It wasn’t planned, but the fear had melted the moment she saw the way their eyes softened, the way Viktor’s fingers traced over her stomach with a rare, tender reverence, the way Jayce immediately pulled her into a secure, warm embrace.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jayce had promised, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “Together.”

And together they had. The pregnancy had been as smooth as it could be. No unexpected pains, no complications—just blissful, uninterrupted anticipation as they prepared to meet their children. Jayce had taken on the role of the overprotective guardian, keeping Y/N from straining herself, ensuring she never lifted anything remotely heavy, doting on her in ways that both amused and frustrated her. Viktor, ever the analytical mind, ensured she had everything she needed, meticulously researching prenatal care, adjusting their home to be more comfortable, and making sure she followed a balanced diet.

They painted the nursery together, a soft shade of blue accented by golden stars that Viktor carefully detailed by hand. Jayce had built the crib himself, laughing when Viktor chided him about ensuring the structure was sturdy. They spent late nights together, curled up in bed, whispering about the kind of future their children would have. Would they be scientists? Inventors? Dreamers?

Then, the moment finally arrived.

=

The first cry of their newborn filled the room, a beautiful, piercing sound that had Jayce gasping in relief and Viktor squeezing Y/N’s hand with a soft, breathless, “Má lásko, you did it.” (My love)

A baby boy. Their son.

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as a nurse swiftly took the newborn, cleaning him gently and wrapping him securely in a soft blanket. Once the baby was swaddled, the nurse turned to Jayce, placing the small, warm bundle into his arms. He hesitated for just a moment, staring in awe at the tiny life he now held, before cradling his son protectively against his chest. The baby squirmed slightly, his small face scrunching up as if displeased by the sudden shift in environment. Jayce let out an unsteady laugh, brushing his fingers over their son’s tiny hand, while Viktor sat beside them, his usually composed features completely undone by awe.

But then, something was wrong.

Y/N had barely been able to hold him before a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. Her vision blurred, her body felt too heavy, too cold. The warmth of their son in her arms became distant, almost unreal.

“Something’s not right,” she murmured weakly, her fingers trembling as they clutched Viktor’s sleeve. Panic flickered across his face as he turned to the doctors.

Then, chaos.

The second baby—their second child—was struggling. The doctors moved quickly, a sudden urgency gripping the room. Y/N gasped, her breathing uneven, her fingers slipping from Viktor’s grasp as her body grew limp.

“Her pulse is dropping!” a doctor called out.

“Get her to surgery! Now!” Someone shouted, and before either Jayce or Viktor could react, she was being rushed out of the room. Viktor nearly tripped trying to follow, but a nurse stopped him, a firm hand pressing against his chest.

“Wait—no, I need to—” Viktor tried to argue, his grip tightening on his cane, but the nurse shook her head.

“She’s in critical condition. We need to move now.” And then she was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. The warmth of the moment, the joy of their firstborn, had been ripped away in an instant, replaced by uncertainty and fear.

Jayce sat heavily onto a chair, his hands buried in his hair as he struggled to breathe past the lump in his throat. Viktor stood frozen, eyes fixed on the door she had disappeared through. The hand that still trembled around his cane was the only sign of his distress, but Jayce could see it—could feel the way the weight of helplessness bore down on both of them.

Then, a small sound. A whimper, a tiny hiccup.

The baby.

Jayce forced himself to move, to look down at the small bundle in his arms. Their son squirmed slightly, his little hands curling into fists, his nose scrunching in protest. He was warm, alive, here.

Jayce looked at Viktor, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s strong, Vik. She’s going to make it.”

Viktor swallowed hard, stepping closer to look at their child—at the life Y/N had brought into the world despite the odds. He reached out, brushing the baby’s cheek with a featherlight touch, and for the first time since Y/N was taken away, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Jayce’s shoulder.

“What if she doesn’t?” Viktor’s voice was barely above a whisper, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What if—”

“She will.” Jayce’s grip on the baby tightened slightly, as if grounding himself in that reality. “She has to.”

They sat there in silence, watching their son, both desperately clinging to the hope that Y/N would return to them. That their family would be whole.

And all they could do was wait.

=

Time crawled by, each passing moment stretching unbearably. Every time the door opened, both of them would jolt, hoping for news, only to be met with more silence. Jayce paced the room with their son nestled in his arms, rocking him gently, while Viktor sat still, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios he couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

Then, at long last, the door opened again, and a nurse stepped in.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said softly. “She’s awake, and she’s been asking for you both.”

Jayce exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and lingering anxiety washing over him. Viktor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, gripping his cane tightly as they both moved quickly to follow the nurse.

When they entered the room, Y/N was there, pale and exhausted, but alive. She was propped up against the pillows, her expression weary yet serene as she cradled a tiny bundle in her arms—a daughter. Their daughter.

A weak, but warm smile tugged at her lips as she looked at them. “You took your time,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but teasing.

Jayce let out a shaky laugh, stepping forward and carefully settling on one side of the bed while still holding their son. Viktor took the other side, his fingers brushing gently over her arm, as if to reassure himself that she was truly there.

Jayce wrapped an arm around them all, pulling them into a protective embrace. He pressed a lingering kiss to Y/N’s temple, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Viktor, ever the quieter one, leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Never do that again,” he murmured, his voice strained but filled with nothing but love.

Y/N chuckled softly, shifting slightly so their daughter was nestled more securely in her arms. “I’ll try,” she whispered, exhaustion tugging at her again.

For the first time since this had all begun, they were together. Whole.

And despite everything, it was perfect.

VANDER

The air in the room was heavy with fear, thick and suffocating, mingled with the distinct scent of sweat and iron. The rickety cot creaked under Y/N’s weight as she clutched at the frayed sheets, her body slick with sweat, her breathing ragged and strained. Every moment felt like an eternity as the baby pushed its way into the world—too fast, too violently. There was no time to prepare. There was no time for anything but the agonizing pain that tore through her.

Vander knelt beside her, his strong hand wrapped tightly around hers, his knuckles white from holding on with all the strength he could muster. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his brow furrowed with worry. "You’re doing so well, love," he murmured, though his voice cracked, betraying the fear gnawing at his insides. Every time she screamed, it felt like a blade to his heart. He had fought countless men in the pits, taken hits that left his body battered and bruised, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for watching the woman he loved suffer.

Y/N’s eyes were glazed with pain, and tears streaked down her face. She gripped his hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin as another wave of contractions hit.

“I can’t... Vander, it hurts... It hurts so much,” she cried, her voice raw and hoarse from hours of screaming.

Felicia, who had been tending to Y/N, moved with practiced hands, trying to keep everything calm as she prepared for the birth. Her face was tight with concern, but she was the only one they had who could help. Zaun had no doctors, no advanced medical tools—only a few trusted hands.

"You need to keep going, Y/N," Felicia urged, her voice firm despite the panic underlying it. "Stay with me now."

But all Vander could do was focus on Y/N. He leaned close, his voice low and steady, though it shook. "Please, love. Just a little longer. We’re almost there."

Her body shuddered beneath his touch, the pain flaring up with every contraction. She screamed again, and Vander closed his eyes for a moment, the sound nearly unbearable. It wasn’t just physical pain; it was the terror in her eyes, the helplessness. For a moment, he wondered if this would be the moment he lost her—if this moment would be their last together. His heart raced, and his hands trembled, but he never let go.

Then, finally, Felicia's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "The baby's coming, Vander!"

A shuddering cry filled the room, and Felicia quickly wrapped the baby in cloth. "It’s a girl," she said, forcing a smile, trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy atmosphere. "She’s strong. She’s breathing."

Vander blinked, the words taking a moment to register. His eyes welled with tears as he looked down at the tiny, wriggling thing in Felicia’s arms. He kissed Y/N’s forehead again, his lips trembling. "You hear that, love? We have a little girl."

But as his voice shook with hope, Y/N’s breath hitched. She didn’t respond.

Vander’s heart stopped, his eyes locked onto Y/N’s face. Her body had gone still—too still. Her breath was shallow, ragged, and the blood… there was too much of it. He felt a rush of panic that threatened to consume him.

Felicia’s face drained of colour as she assessed the situation. "She’s losing too much," she muttered, voice tense. "I need more cloth, more pressure. She’s slipping."

Vander’s hands moved to Y/N’s face, his voice breaking. "Y/N? Y/N, stay with me, love." He didn’t know what else to say. He was desperate, willing to beg, to do anything to keep her here with him.

Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, her lips moving in a whisper. "Vander… keep her safe."

He squeezed her hand tighter, trying to hold back the tears. "No," he growled, voice raw. "You tell her yourself, Y/N. You hear me?" He felt the grip of fear close around his throat. "Stay with me."

She gave him a weak smile, her body sagging under the weight of exhaustion and blood loss. Her eyes closed again, and this time, there was no response.

Silence.

For a heart-stopping moment, Vander thought the worst. He thought he had lost her. His breath stopped as a chill ran through him.

Felicia cursed under her breath as she pressed both hands firmly to Y/N’s stomach, working frantically. "She’s still alive," Felicia said, though her voice was strained. "Barely… Vander, we need to stop the bleeding, now!"

Vander’s hands were on autopilot, grabbing whatever fabric he could find, pressing it firmly against Y/N’s body, trying to apply pressure just as Felicia had instructed. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t care. He could feel the panic rising in his chest like an animal clawing at him, but he couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

Minutes felt like hours. Every breath Y/N took seemed to be a battle, a fight against the dark abyss threatening to claim her. But then—finally—a breath. A weak, shuddering breath.

Vander’s eyes widened, his heart pounding with relief. His forehead pressed against Y/N’s, his shoulders shaking as he let out a broken laugh, full of disbelief. "You’re not leaving me that easy, love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not now. Not ever."

Felicia sat back on her heels, exhausted but relieved. She wiped her brow, her face still pale but with a faint trace of relief. "She’s not out of the woods, but… she’s here."

Vander’s tears fell freely as he held Y/N close, brushing her damp hair back from her face, his hands trembling as he placed the tiny bundle in her arms. Their daughter. The little girl who had almost cost them everything. He looked down at her, her tiny fingers curling weakly around his thumb. He traced a finger gently over the soft curve of her cheek, his throat tight.

"She’s got your nose," he murmured to Y/N, pressing another kiss to her sweat-damp hair. "She’s perfect."

And then, impossibly, Y/N’s fingers twitched—barely, but enough.

Vander’s breath caught, his heart swelling with the overwhelming rush of relief. He wrapped his arms around both of them—his love and their child. He kissed her temple once more, pressing a promise into her skin.

"I won’t ever let you go," he whispered, his voice steady now, filled with the depth of his unshakable devotion. "I’ll always protect you. Both of you."

And as the sun began to set outside their little home in Zaun, Vander held onto his family—his heart full, his love steadfast, and their future uncertain, but theirs nonetheless.

SILCO

The low, constant hum of Zaun echoed in the walls of Silco’s private quarters, the tension in the air thick enough to choke anyone within. Y/N lay propped up in the bed, sweat clinging to her skin, her breaths shallow and strained. The dim light from a single lamp flickered weakly against the haze of smoke that filtered in through the slats in the windows. She had always known the risks of childbirth in Zaun—knew that the medical care was nothing compared to Piltover's polished facilities—but nothing could prepare her for the panic that surged through her now. The pain, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that pressed in on her from all sides made her chest tighten.

Her hand gripped the sheets beneath her, fingers trembling as another contraction hit. She let out a sharp breath, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable, coming in waves that ripped through her body with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated.

Beside her, Silco stood, his cold and calculating demeanor stripped away, leaving only a man who was, for the first time in his life, genuinely frightened. His eyes locked on her face, his hand moving to brush her damp hair away from her forehead. His gloved fingers, usually so steady and controlled, were trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.

"Y/N," Silco murmured, his voice hoarse and low. "Look at me."

Y/N’s vision was blurry, her mind clouded by the pain, but she managed to meet his eyes. The intensity of his gaze steadied her, grounding her in the chaos.

"Stay with me, darling," he continued, his voice firm, but underneath the commanding tone, there was a softness that she rarely heard from him. "You’re stronger than this. You can do this."

"I’m... so scared," she whispered, her voice weak and vulnerable in a way Silco had never heard before. "What if something happens to the baby? To me?"

His heart clenched at her words, and though he longed to tell her that everything would be fine, he knew better than to offer empty promises. But his presence was all she had in this moment, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her or their child. He would tear down the world before he let that happen.

The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor from Piltover, a middle-aged woman with stern features and sharp eyes, entered. She was dressed in a sterile white coat, and her hands moved with precision as she approached the bed. Silco barely spared her a glance, his gaze fixed on Y/N as her body trembled beneath the waves of pain.

The doctor moved to assess the situation, but Silco’s attention remained unwavering. His eyes flickered to the doctor once more, but there was a coldness there that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You better do your job, doctor," Silco’s voice was quiet, dangerous, like a serpent coiled and ready to strike. "If anything happens to her, or to my child, I will make sure you regret it."

The doctor didn’t flinch, but Silco’s words were a reminder of the gravity of the situation. He was a man who wielded power not just with wealth and influence, but with fear—and this woman had to know that failure was not an option.

Y/N gasped as another contraction hit, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Silco’s focus snapped back to her, his gloved hand finding hers and holding it tightly.

"Just breathe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Breathe for me, Y/N."

The doctor examined Y/N carefully, making quick, efficient movements. Her brow furrowed as she murmured something about the baby being in a difficult position. The words made Y/N's heart race faster, panic gripping her chest.

“No,” Y/N gasped, her voice tight with fear. “Please, I can’t—”

“Y/N,” Silco interjected, his voice sharp but steady. “Focus on me. Focus on my voice. You’re going to be fine.”

But the doctor’s actions were swift and clinical, each movement calculated. Y/N squeezed Silco’s hand harder, the pain becoming unbearable as another wave of contraction hit her. Her breath was coming in short bursts, her chest heaving with the effort to stay calm. But with every moment that passed, she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down harder and harder.

"Is everything okay?" Silco’s voice was a low growl, his eyes flicking between the doctor and Y/N, demanding answers.

The doctor didn’t respond immediately, her eyes focused entirely on Y/N’s condition. She instructed a nurse to adjust the positioning of Y/N’s legs, her voice firm and professional. But Silco’s presence in the room was impossible to ignore, and the tension radiated from him like an aura. His hand clenched around Y/N’s, his breath coming faster now.

"Doctor," Silco growled, his patience thinning. "I said, is everything okay?"

The doctor looked up at him, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "The baby is in a difficult position," she said, her voice calm but strained. "We need to turn her, but it’s risky."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her mind spinning with terror. “What do you mean, risky? What happens if—”

"Shh," Silco whispered to her, his fingers brushing over her forehead, trying to soothe her. “We’ll be fine. You’ve been through worse. You can do this.”

The doctor moved quickly, making the necessary adjustments. Silco stood by Y/N’s side, his hand still in hers, his presence grounding her in a sea of fear. He didn’t let go, his gaze locked onto hers, trying to offer any comfort he could.

Another hour passed in agonizing silence, the doctor working swiftly to help Y/N through each wave of pain. Silco never left her side, his words soft and reassuring, though beneath the calm surface of his voice, the fear was palpable.

=

Finally, the moment came. With a final, desperate scream, Y/N gave birth to their baby girl. The room was filled with the sound of her first cries—loud, sharp, and full of life. Silco’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at their daughter, a tiny, fragile thing, her small fists clenched in the air as she wailed in protest of the world she had just entered.

"She’s beautiful," Silco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at Y/N.

But just as he turned to give Y/N the smile of relief she deserved, a terrible realization struck him.

Her eyes were closed. Her chest wasn’t moving. The room seemed to go deathly silent as Silco’s eyes locked on her pale, lifeless face.

“No...” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The doctor’s face turned pale as well, her hands moving quickly to assess the situation. “She’s in shock,” the doctor said, her tone suddenly frantic. “We need to stabilize her. Get her breathing again, now.”

Y/N’s body was limp in Silco’s arms, her skin cold and lifeless. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All he could do was hold her, his arms trembling as he pulled her closer.

“Y/N…darling?” Silco’s voice cracked, barely audible as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. His heart pounded in his chest, and every second felt like an eternity. “Please. Don’t do this. Please.”

His voice was desperate now, raw with fear as he rocked her gently in his arms. His hand moved to her chest, feeling for any sign of life, but it was like the world had come to a halt.

And then, like a flicker of hope in the darkness, a faint breath shuddered through Y/N’s body. Her chest rose, just barely, and Silco’s eyes locked on hers as she gasped for air.

A sob broke from him, relief flooding his veins as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, though they were weak and unfocused.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to spill. “I’m not letting you go.”

She reached up weakly, her hand brushing against his cheek, and Silco’s heart shattered at the sight.

"I’m here, Silco," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “I’m not leaving you.”

As he looked down at their daughter—her tiny hands grasping at the air, her cries slowly turning into soft whimpers—Silco knew this moment, this fragile, imperfect moment, would define him forever. He would protect them both with every ounce of his being, and nothing in this world would ever tear them apart.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Silco whispered, his voice full of awe and love. His fingers gently traced Y/N’s face as he held her close, his heart finally steady, for now. "Together, we will make this world our own."

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC)

It was an unusually warm afternoon in Piltover when Y/N sat by the window, her hand gently resting on her swollen belly, feeling the subtle movements of the child growing inside her. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. She smiled faintly, a small flicker of excitement still there, despite everything that had happened.

She had never planned to be in this situation. Pregnancy was supposed to be a shared experience, full of joy, a journey that a couple would embark on together. But instead, she was navigating it alone. The moment she told the father of the child, he vanished. Not a word, not even a glance back. Y/N had been left to face the whirlwind of emotions and responsibility all on her own.

The first few months had been rough. She was overwhelmed by the constant rush of thoughts about how she was going to handle it all, but then Jinx came into the picture. It was unexpected, but somehow, it felt right. Jinx had always been chaotic, unpredictable, but there was a kindness buried deep beneath her wild exterior. She showed up at Y/N’s door one day, a basket full of mismatched baby clothes and snacks in hand, grinning like she’d won some great prize.

“Surprise!” Jinx exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “I’m here to help with your little monster.”

And help she did. Jinx became an unspoken part of Y/N’s life. She never hesitated, always the first to check on Y/N, bringing over food, running errands, and even talking to the baby as though they were already best friends. The moments they shared together were the bright spots in what could have been an incredibly lonely time.

But despite Jinx’s enthusiasm, Y/N knew the truth. She wasn’t sure if she would have survived the emotional toll of her situation without Jinx’s chaotic, but much-needed support.

As the months went by, Y/N’s belly grew, and so did her bond with Jinx. The little one, who they had started calling “Buddy” for lack of a better name, was about to enter the world. The excitement in the air was palpable.

But the birth... that’s when things took a turn.

=

The pain hit suddenly, and Jinx was at Y/N’s side in an instant, her usual wildness replaced with determination. She didn’t know how to handle a birth, but she didn’t let that stop her. She had always been resourceful.

Y/N gripped her hand tightly, her face contorted in pain. The room was buzzing with tension, the medical staff moving quickly around her, and yet Jinx was a rock. Her usual high-pitched voice was quiet, soothing, as she whispered words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, Y/N. Come on, just one more push. I’m right here. Just like we said... You can do this.”

Y/N nodded, trying to stay calm despite the growing panic inside. Something didn’t feel right. Her vision blurred, and her body felt heavy, as though she was being pulled into the deep end of a storm she couldn’t control.

The complications started to escalate quickly. Y/N’s heart began to race erratically, and her breathing became shallow. The doctor’s faces shifted, from calm to concerned, then quickly to urgent. In that moment, Y/N wasn’t sure if she would make it through. The thought of her unborn child, of everything that had happened, flooded her mind.

And then, there was Jinx. Jinx who had seen so much destruction in her life, but still, in this moment, she was fighting to keep her calm for Y/N. She was holding Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, telling her she wasn’t alone.

“Hey... Y/N,” Jinx said, her voice shaky but determined. “Don’t go anywhere. You’ve got a little one to take care of, right? Buddy’s gonna need you. I’ll be here... Just hang on. You’re not gonna leave me. Okay?”

Y/N barely had the strength to nod, but Jinx’s words, despite the chaos around them, were a lifeline. She squeezed her hand once, as though telling Jinx she was going to fight to stay.

The seconds felt like hours, and the minutes stretched on, but slowly, the tension in the room started to ease. Y/N’s heart rate stabilized, the doctors’ movements slowed, and Jinx let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was still there, still holding on, still fighting. The baby was coming. Buddy was coming.

But just as the baby was finally born, Y/N’s heart took another turn. The doctors’ voices became more frantic. Y/N’s body went limp, and the room seemed to spin. She was losing blood fast, and the doctors couldn’t stop it. One of the nurses began shouting for a stretcher.

“Get her stabilized! Now!”

Y/N was carefully wheeled away, leaving Jinx standing at the edge of the room, her mind spiraling into chaos. She hadn’t even realized she was trembling until she found herself staring down at the small bundle in her arms—Buddy. The tiny, squirming baby, who was crying softly, oblivious to the storm that was still raging in the room.

Jinx stared at Buddy, her hands trembling. Her lip quivered as she held the baby closer. Her mind was in turmoil, the weight of the situation crashing down on her.

“Why?!” Jinx suddenly snapped, her voice laced with desperation. “Why is this happening?! Why is it always the babies—why do they make everything worse?!”

Her voice cracked, the harshness of her words cutting through the stillness in the room. She stared down at the baby, her breath shaky and uneven. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/N... she’s... she can’t—she can’t be gone, not like this…”

Buddy’s cries grew louder, more frantic in the tense air, and Jinx’s heart twisted painfully. She trembled, feeling smaller with each passing second. Her grip on Buddy tightened, and the frantic thoughts that swirled in her mind spilled out in a torrent of guilt and anger.

“If you were never born... if none of this had ever happened... Y/N would be fine! She wouldn’t be lying there, fighting for her life because of me. Because of you…” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she choked back a sob, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

Buddy’s cries only grew more intense, a sharp contrast to Jinx’s frenzied breathing. The weight of her words hit her like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, she felt a sickening emptiness, like she was drowning in the guilt that had become too heavy to bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though trying to block out the overwhelming reality of the situation.

Jinx’s arms trembled as she held Buddy close, but her harsh words soon faltered. She felt the soft warmth of the tiny body in her arms and the tender, unrelenting pull of something deep inside her—a connection, fragile yet fierce.

Her hands, shaking, slowly calmed, and she held the baby against her chest, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t mean it... I’m so sorry, little one... I didn’t mean it. You didn’t ask for this... None of this is your fault.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, barely audible over the baby’s cries.

Jinx took a shuddering breath, her body wracked with sobs as she rocked Buddy gently, murmuring apologies. “I don’t know what to do... I don’t know what to do without her...”

As the baby’s cries softened into soft whimpers, Jinx pressed her cheek against Buddy’s head, feeling the weight of her own fear and guilt melt away bit by bit. Slowly, almost instinctively, she whispered promises.

“I’ll take care of you, little one. Just like I’ll take care of Y/N. I won’t leave you. I won’t leave either of you.”

The words felt like a lifeline, one Jinx was grasping with every ounce of her being. She closed her eyes, clinging to the fragile life in her arms and the hope that somehow, she would find a way to hold on to both Y/N and Buddy, no matter what it took.

=

Hours passed in a blur of soft cries, gentle rocking, and quiet murmurs as Jinx held Buddy close. The tiny baby had eventually calmed, his whimpers softening into quiet breaths as he nestled against Jinx’s chest. Her mind was still a storm, turbulent and chaotic, but the feel of the warm, fragile little body in her arms brought a small sense of grounding amidst it all.

She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep herself until she was jolted awake by the soft creak of the door opening. A nurse stood there, her gaze gentle but firm, catching Jinx's attention. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“Ms… If you’re ready, we have a room prepared for you to see Y/N.”

Jinx’s heart stopped for a moment. Y/N... alive?

Her breath caught in her throat, and her wide, shocked eyes flickered down to the baby in her arms. Buddy had fallen asleep too, his tiny hand curled in a loose fist against her chest. Slowly, cautiously, Jinx stood up, her legs stiff from the hours of sitting in the same spot. She held Buddy against her, and the nurse gently guided her down the hall, leading her to a quieter, dimly lit room.

When they entered, the first thing Jinx noticed was the steady beeping of a monitor and the soft rise and fall of Y/N’s chest. She was asleep, pale but alive, the deep lines of exhaustion and pain softened by the gentle relief of rest.

Jinx’s breath hitched in her throat, a fresh wave of emotion crashing through her. She didn’t even realize her legs were moving until she was beside the bed, her gaze fixed on Y/N’s sleeping form.

She carefully sat down beside Y/N, setting Buddy gently between them. The baby shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake, his tiny fingers twitching against the blanket. Jinx’s fingers lightly brushed through Y/N’s hair, a tender touch as she took in the reality of what had happened. Her mind was still reeling, her heart still raw with guilt, but seeing Y/N here, still breathing, still alive, it was almost too much to handle.

A sob bubbled up in Jinx’s chest, but she forced it back, not wanting to disturb the calm around them. She pulled the blanket closer to Y/N, making sure Buddy was tucked safely in between them.

“I... I thought I lost you,” Jinx whispered, her voice barely audible, her throat tight with emotion. She didn’t know if Y/N could hear her, but the words were out, and they felt like a confession she couldn’t keep in any longer.

Jinx leaned forward slowly, her head resting lightly against Y/N’s arm, her eyes closing in exhaustion. “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You promised, remember?” She whispered the words like a prayer, the echo of their shared promises still vivid in her mind.

She closed her eyes, feeling the soft weight of Buddy’s tiny body next to her and the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx allowed herself to breathe. The world was still heavy, and the future uncertain, but for now, the three of them were together.

Jinx curled into Y/N’s side, her arm draping protectively around the baby, her tears quiet and unspoken as she drifted into a light sleep, knowing that no matter what happened, she would stay with both of them, keeping her promises.

[nebulations]

[ID: An Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint comic. Yoo Joonghyuk is holding a Shadow the Hedgehog plushie, and Han Sooyoung squints up at him and asks, "why do you have that." Yoo Joonghyuk says intensely, "It brings me a great sense of joy and comfort. You will respect him." Han Sooyoung, extremely skeptically: ".... ok,"

Kim Dokja and Han Sooyoung both trade looks and think, "of course he likes the edgy one..." Yoo Joonghyuk scowls darkly and says, "You don't understand him. Die." End ID]

ooc but i strongly believe in this

[utilitycaster]

I've seen some people compare Vax's resurrection in C3 to bringing back Molly (later revealed to be Kingsley) in C2E140. How do you think these two scenarios differ and why does one work and the other doesn't? Also, do you think C2 scenario would still work if Taliesin played it like it was in fact Molly that was brought back (as Mighty Nein originally believed) and not Kingsley?

Hi anon,

I mean, you kind of answer it here: Molly wasn't resurrected. Kingsley, a different aspect of the same fragmented soul within that body, was. This isn't bringing back someone who died; it's starting a new life from what was left. It's thematically coherent with the rest of the Nein's stories, both in terms of many of them coming together still getting over a devastating loss or change and becoming someone new in the ashes of that; and with the very specific endings of many of their stories: probably most obviously with Caleb, choosing to leave his parents to their rest and instead building his own life in the model of what he wanted before the Volstrucker training, but also with Beau embracing the Cobalt Soul, Yasha finding new love, Veth and her family restarting their lives in Nicodranas, Jester with a deeply altered but intact relationship with Artagan, Fjord with a new patron, and Caduceus with a renewed grove.

I admit in 2x140 I cheered that nat 1 on resurrection, and the success of the Divine Intervention gave me pause, particularly on the heels of such a fantastic moment between Essek and Fjord after it failed. I went into 2x141 with considerable trepidation, so Taliesin's choice to have Molly remain dead while still making the Divine Intervention mean something was an unexpected joy and some truly excellent storytelling. I do not think it would have worked well had he brought back Molly, though it wouldn't have been quite as egregious as Vax coming back, and I'll talk more about that at the end.

Vax coming back fails on every single level. On a basic level, there is really no mechanical or logical justification for it to happen. There is no attempt from Vox Machina to bring him back as a mortal. There is no reason for him to revert from celestial to mortal (and the fact that he'd already left at the top of the episode really underscores this; I'd still have my other complaints had he still been with Vox Machina at the time of Catatheosis but this really makes no sense); angels of the gods canonically remained such during the first time the gods became mortal. It is not something he asked for, nor Keyleth asked of the Matron. It simply occurs. Then, of course, there is what it means for the characters. What does it say that Keyleth never moved on? What does it say that Vax never gave her the space to do so and now she doesn't have to - particularly in the statements during 4SD that their actions both were somewhat unhealthy and that Vax's inability to let go is what enabled Ludinus's plan to succeed in the first place? What does it say, as this post points out, about Scanlan's choices?

And then there's what it says thematically across the entire decade of storytelling: What does it say about such stories as Orym's or Yasha's, about finding new love after loss? In a narrative where the party was faced with an incredibly difficult choice with far reaching effects (whether or not that narrative was well done, it was a story of choices) what does it say that Vax's conscious choice to become a revenant and have a few more days with the people he loved rather than remain dead was ultimately simply a long inconvenience?

And finally, what does it say about the casts' past statements? I was struck with the grace with which the cast handled the backlash from Molly's death. Liam spoke of the meaning of death in narratives; Ashly Burch shared an incredibly moving essay on the death of her partner at a young age; and the conversation on Talks in which Matt talked about the importance of death was one that at the time I dearly loved. In it, Taliesin pointed out the ephemeral and physical nature of Molly and the concept of that character, and how there was no way to bring back Molly without destroying the entire premise. The reason Molly wouldn't be as much of a failure is because at least it would have been driven by the actions and choices of the Mighty Nein, and that we did not have insight into how Molly felt about his demise.

Because that is the other thing. We've seen Vax multiple times since his death, at Vex and Percy's wedding and at the Malleus Key, and both times he was greatly changed and did not agree to stay. He didn't change his mind; it was changed for him. And in the casts' past statements, Liam has been an advocate (as he was in Molly's death) for the importance of death and tragedy. How does that square with all of what they said then?

It's damning that the only defenses of this decision have been entirely Doylist (when I have both Watsonian and Doylist critiques) - that Happy Endings Are Good. The thing is, Keyleth's story could have been a happy ending, as the Mighty Nein's was despite their loss. It was a choice to have Keyleth never get over it. That is, ultimately, the only choice that was honored. I do understand a desire for a happy ending, but I find this desire for not just a happy ending but a vanishingly narrow and particular one to be childish, self-indulgent, and destabilizing of previous storytelling integrity. The song Tokyo Sunrise always was in a major key, after all.

One thing that came to mind while I wrote this up was something a few people have pointed out about Dragon Age: The Veilguard, which is that it consistently has a message that prioritizing immediate catharsis often feels hollow in the end, and cuts off opportunities for growth and redemption, and the gameplay is consistent with that narrative. It can feel good to punch the First Warden, or to leave the mayor of D'Meta's Crossing to his fate, or imprison Illario, in the moment; but these all ultimately serve as a detriment to your goals. Even fighting or tricking Solas rather than giving him an ending on his own terms, the last choice you can make in a game that ends immediately after, is something many players have reported as feeling unrewarding after a day or two. I do wonder whether this decision, to bring back Vax, felt good in the moment, but will similarly sour and curdle in time.

[csprint]

he wants a baby

jackson wang x f. reader

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more. he’s thought about it early in your relationship, when he truly realized that you’re the one. the one he could start a family with. and when he was sure of it, he was never afraid to share with you how much he wanted this. a baby.

he talked about it a lot with you. it became your regular pillow talk. “you want it too though, right? like, you think about it sometimes?” jackson would ask while holding your back against his chest in bed. his voice always got awfully quiet and soft during those moments compared to his normal tone.

you’d indulge him, tiredly listening or answering him in the best way that wouldn’t make him think having a baby is completely off the table.

he gets so excited, thinking about those things so far ahead. he made sure to promise you that he would take such good care of her. promised he’ll be there to watch her every step. and he was sure to use ‘her’ because he had the deepest feeling that your first child would be a girl.

“of course i do, jackson. it sounds so nice but.. just not right now. it’s not the right time.”

and he’d nod in understanding. your lives were just insanely busy, bringing a child into the relationship while things weren’t slowing down as soon as you’d liked it to, would probably bring more chaos than joy.

“but one day, right? we’ll have a baby one day, won’t we?” he whispered quietly in the darkness of the room, burying his face in your hair.

you pulled apart his hands from where his fingers locked over your stomach and brought it up to your lips, leaving soft kisses on the back of it. “one day.”

but as the weeks turned into months, that one day was never brought up again. after things had finally calmed down a bit, he thought that maybe you’d be the first to bring it up because he didn’t want to seem too desperate, (although he was) but you never did.

jackson silently planned things out to himself. it was going to be nothing but staying home and wasting time together. he even planned the day he was going to propose to you. not exactly in that order.

he was even convinced he was being given signs, just from a simple and innocent encounter with a fan who happened to be a new mother. she wore a white dress and all jackson could think about was what you’d look like in a white dress, post-birth glow.

the fat, rosy cheeked baby sat in her stroller, squealed in utter joy, easily entertained at the childish game jackson had initiated. a smile almost wider than his face came playing onto his lips, entranced and in complete awe of the adorable infant and her baby giggles.

jackson doesn’t think there’s anything he’s ever wanted more.

the night dragged on as it usually did. attending important parties with you because something’s always being celebrated. and then leaving before someone could convince him to take a private plane to another party in a different city.

when you made it back to your hotel room, there was just no way he could keep his hands off of you. kissing all over your face and neck, gripping each part of your body he possibly could and dug his fingertips into your plushy skin.

there was just no way he could stop himself. not when you’re so warm around him, your gasps and whimpers echoing in his ear. not when he’s so balls deep inside of you, his fingers gripping tight on the sheets, making his knuckles turn white.

“tell me when to stop.” he choked out, the vein running down the side of his neck looking prominent.

“w-why?” you didn’t want him to stop and you didn’t know why he’d ask that of you.

“cause if you don’t,” he groaned, hips snapping forward into yours, “i’m afraid i might put a baby in you.” jackson closed his eyes, not sure he wanted to see your reaction, and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

the soft gasp you let out didn’t go unnoticed or the way you clenched around him, making him draw a sharp breath. he tried to get himself to stop, brought his rutting to a minimum but didn’t completely still inside of you because that would have been pure torture.

“okay.”

jackson sweetly whimpered when you tangled your fingers in his hair and gently tugged at it, making his head tilt back up. he looked at you with widened eyes and a slightly parted mouth.

“okay?” he repeated, wanting to be sure that he heard you correctly.

“yeah.” you shrugged. “i want you to put a baby in me.”

he was so blissful, removing himself completely off of your body and burying his face in his hands. you allow him to revel in it. even if he was too loud, putting you both at risk of getting kicked out. even if he was jogging around the room, nakedly, with his fists in the air, as if he’s won a boxing match. you didn’t mind if he basked a little more.

“we’re going to make the fattest, most cutest baby girl, ever.” you felt jackson’s body again, his frame fit like a missing jigsaw piece.

“what makes you so sure it’s going to be a girl?”

“i’ve got a really good sense for these things. trust me. you’re having a girl.”

your heart suddenly got overly emotional. he was so beautiful and you were in complete awe over his certainty. it didn’t take long for your gawking to finish before his lips were feverishly against yours.

he was so desperate, yet so slow, savoring the moment. the feelings that he caused to belly within you were unexplainable.

jackson lowered his mouth to your breast then took the nipple between his lips, pressing lightly with his tongue. you cried out – like your whole body was too hot and you couldn't breathe – bringing up a hand to trace his fingers across your other breast, but if he stopped you felt like you would die. you gripped his bare shoulders, holding on for dear life against the onslaught of sensations.

you gasped as he pushed into you for the second time, amazed by the electricity that rocketed through you. your legs wrapped around his hips of their own accord, seeking a better angle, searching for more. even now, he moved with grace, sliding in and out of you slowly and steadily. only his rapid breath, occasionally coming out in a strangled moan.

it’s pure torture how slow he is sliding into you but feels exquisite. you gently roll against him, moaning as he slowly moves in and out of you. the pace is keeping the orgasm just out of reach, keeping you on edge; desperately clenching around him and pushing your hips into his to increase speed. but jackson’s hands remain firm on your hips, controlling the movements. both of your breathing is heavy, both moaning loudly as the need to find your release hits an all-time high.

going so slow was hard for him as well, though. he couldn’t hold it for long but he also didn’t want to rush it. and he never liked cumming before you did. what kind of man would that make him? had to treat you right.

jackson dropped down to his elbows, leaning on either side of your face as he panted heavily, the foot of your heels digging into the curve at bottom of his spine.

“please, just a little harder…I need more…I can't…take it…oh god, jackson– “

he interrupted you with a hard kiss, hips rutting a little faster now. the rush of pleasure hit you, and your fingers grasped for purchase on his back, needing an anchor. it was almost unbearable, the electricity building where the two of you were joined, tingling down to your toes and making you lightheaded. jackson panted hot air against your neck, your lips, kissing you again and again, and the energy was building and building.

you looked at his face, knowing his was trying to hold on a little longer. maybe the realization had seriously hit him for real, this time. that this was it and he’ll probably be an actual dad like he wanted.

“jackson,” you panted, cupping his face with your hands, fingers wiping the sweaty hairs that stuck to his forehead, “it’s time.” you whispered.

and he nodded and replied, “okay.” his voice weak and strained.

you noticed his movements had grown more erratic, almost frantic, and the low grunt deep in his throat seemed to shudder down your spine and rocket down to where your bodies were joined.

"oh god," you breathed as the sensation overload finally seized you. your chest was tight and your nerves sizzled and your thighs clenched as the pleasure exploded and seeped into every cell of your body. he groaned, his forehead dropping down to your shoulder when your walls fluttered around him.

you fell into the aftershocks when he thrust into you one last time and cried out your name. you felt the rush of fluid inside you and reveled in the feel of his body shuddering in your arms. he trapped you under his heavy weight but the kisses he softly peppered along your neck and collarbone made you forget that it was hard to breathe.

not even mere seconds after, he started moving again, pushing even deeper, a whimper escaping your lips.

“j-jackson?” you stuttered, thighs tensing around his hips.

“one more time,” he grunts as he suddenly began to pound into you heavily even after he had already came, “just to be sure.”

[sunseed-fandump]

I saw your tarot analyses, do you have one for the reading in episode 7, the one Fortune Teller Cookie gives the gang in the inn?

*Cracks knuckles*

Alright, first one is a card everyone recognizes, because it's symbolism was used repeatedly throughout both episodes 7 and 8.

XVI - The Tower. Upright, it represents disaster, destruction, upheaval, trauma, sudden change, and chaos.

"The Tower represents change in the most radical and momentous sense. It is for this reason that the card itself visually looks so unnerving. But it doesn't necessarily have to be truly frightening or ominous. Because at the heart of this card, its message is foundational, groundbreaking change.

The kind of event that the Tower card marks does not have to be something terrible, like a disaster or a great loss. Change itself is a normal part of life that one has to embrace. But it can sometimes strike fear, for it means that we must abandon the truths that we have known prior to this event. The old ways are no longer useful, and you must find another set of beliefs, values and processes to take their place."

Next in the lineup seems to be VI - The Lovers. It stands for love, unions, partnerships, relationships, choices, romance, balance, and unity.

"The primary meaning within the Lovers is harmony, attractiveness, and perfection in a relationship. The trust and the unity that the lovers have gives each of them confidence and strength, empowering the other. The bond that they have created is very strong, and it can indicate that the two are joined in marriage, and other close and intimate relationships.

Another meaning behind the lovers card is the concept of choice - a choice between things that are opposing and mutually exclusive. This could be a dilemma that you need to think about carefully and make the best decision for your situation.

A more personal Lovers meaning that can apply to individuals is the development of your own personal belief systems, regardless of what are the societal norms. This is one of the times when you figure out what you are going to stand for, and what your philosophy in life will truly be. You must start making up your mind about what you find important and unimportant in your life. You should be as true to yourself as you can be, so you will be genuine and authentic to the people who are around you."

Now this last one really stumped me, as the symbolism doesn't seem to be too consistent with common depictions I'm familiar with. Then I remembered that these are Shadow Milk-ified Tarots that are supposed to be ominous looking. And then I also remembered that in some depictions of XIX - The Sun, the sun itself is drawn with a single massive eye. And I highly doubt an emo like Truthless Recluse would have a card depicting a happy sunny day in his deck. So we're going to continue assuming this is supposed to be The Sun. If I wind up being wrong, I'll just make an amendment later.

Upright, The Sun represents happiness, success, optimism, vitality, joy, confidence, happiness, and truth.

"The Sun card represents success, abundance, and radiance. Like the sun itself, it gives strength and vitality to all those that are lucky enough to feel its rays. There is much joy and happiness that is coming to you.

Because of your own personal fulfillment, you provide others with inspiration and joy as well. People are drawn to you because they are capable of seeing the warm and beautiful energy which you bring into their lives. You are also in a position in which you are capable of sharing your qualities as well as achievements with other people. You radiate love and affection towards those you care about the most."

All together, this could be seen as one big summary of PV's arc in this story. His emotional spiral, the choice he has to make between embracing despair or fighting through it, followed by his eventual Awakening. But then, what about what TR wrote while giving this reading?

Despite the optimism of the last card, I think TR - and by extension PV... Doubted himself. After all, when presented with a choice, it's always possible to make the wrong decision. And perhaps he was trying to spare himself the need to even make that choice in the first place with this warning. At this point, the Awakening hadn't happened yet, and TR hadn't seen the final outcome of that choice. He hadn't seen his Awakened self.

He's so very happy at the end that he wound up making the right one.

[sxprot]

Can you please make Dandy x reader (romantic) headcanons? :0

I'm gonna embrace you again and again. Let your tears run free, let out your heart.

-----------------•☆

Author's Note: Sure...But I honestly don't know if it satisfies you. Is that what you wanted to ask...? Dear me, I get confused easily. You could request another if it isn't what you wanted, I will do it as compensation for my mistake.

Tw: bad grammar, ooc ig, ass writing

I hope u like it!! Have a great day too!

Dandy x Toon!reader (gn)

-----------

DANDY

It's no secret that he considers you as his favorite. Nearly everyone could see that from the way he treats you, from the time he gives you medkits, discounts,... You were aware of that, of course. But you never once comment on his behavior toward you, thinking of it as just a normal gesture between friends.

"Oh hello there, friends!" He perked up from the mere sight of you and your friends, returning to his shop.

He grew fond of you when you accepted to be his friend. When he's lonely, it's you who brightens his days up like a miracle. It's you that brings joy into his life.

You two would spend your days playing games, hopping around and being silly. Of course, you two are always close to each other, sticking with each other through thick and thin. It's always you that he would smile at, the charming smile that he would wear when you come in the elevator with your slightly beaten-up form

Despite the others asking why he would treat you differently, he would just smile, blithely saying that they're simply mistaken. Why would he do that? He sees everyone as friends, there are no silly things called favoritism, just them getting the wrong things inside their heads. Such blatant excuses that dare to slip out of his mouth...But actions always speak louder than words.

Although-! Dandy is a bit irritated when he gets ignored. He wants to be patient with you, for you to see that he does want the best for you during the ichor infection. He wants you to be safe, he sees you as a fragile and dainty little thing.

The way his face would twist when he saw you interacting with others, the close distance and the way you seemed so happy...Was he not enough? Supporting and helping you wasn't enough for little you?

And ah-! The flower would flinch when you asked him if he was alright, he simply just grinned and returned to his cheerful personality.

"Yes, I'm fine! How about you?"

But he wishes he could stop you from going. It pains him when he sees the one that he cherishes so much—getting hurt by Twisteds.

At last, Dandy is there in his shop, assisting everyone with items for their chance of survival. He has a glimpse of hope that someday this could end, despite how selfish he deems himself to be, he does want you to be happy along with the others.

Still, he watches everyone go, fending their own lives from the Twisted. He ponders about himself, the one that caused this mess.

Was he the true monster? And should he stay away from you? For the star of the show, he starts to question his choice, doubting if he really wants the best for you besides just putting everyone at risk, on the brim of death every day.

If sacrifice others are for his own happiness, does he really deserve your love? You certainly wouldn't like it when you're all alone with a monster.

(Alright, goodnight. I need rest before starting another request , i dont wanna bat my eyes on this anymore 😭😭💔)

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Can we pleasee have more yandere father stein content??

Yandere Father Stein (2)

The fic it started with | Headcannons

“Are you ready?”

“To kill you after you’ve beaten up my boyfriend for no reason? Very much so!”

“Uh, Professor and (Y/n) the rules for training today is to not seriously hurt each other.”

“...You should make use of the new upgrades I made to your key.”

“Shut it, old man!”

“Alright and start!”

On the level of combat, you’re unique but not all that different from your father

Able to wield your own version of soul force with mechanical upgrades to your actual person

You charge first sending a violent punch in his direction 

Dodging swiftly, he takes the opening to produce a soul force into your back

Maka, Soul, Kid, Kate, Liz, Tsubaki and Black Star cringe having seen this move before 

Fully expecting to hear you scream and writhe like them

But alas you do not instead you take advantage of his pause to latch onto his screw slamming his head into the ground

You don’t wait for him to get out of the crater, folding your palms together and bringing them down

“Soul Strike!” 

A purple flash of light goes out as you slam into his back 

You don’t get another hit in before he’s gotten up again and is running across the desert

Of course, you follow, your fist turning into an open palm, the output of your soul wavelength is immense and everyone watching can tell that this could be fatal for any normal person

Maka tries to intervene but you’re already inches away from stabbing Stein

“(Y/n) wait–!”

Only for it all to stop 

Your eyes dull and mid-lunge you crumble right into Stein’s chest

“Slightly delayed reaction, otherwise good results.”

With ease, he picks up the unconscious you 

Hardly struggling with one hand he puts a cigarette in his mouth and lights it

“What just happened!?”

“I guess this ends in a…win for Stein?”

Kid is the only one who seems to know what happened and he’s very mad about it

“That is foul play! Using whatever ‘upgrades’ you made against them!”

Stein scoffs, “Don’t get upset. They should know better than to let their key get dislodged in a fight.”

He casually walks back into the city leaving the others to get back on their own

Looking down at you, he can’t help but compare it to the memories of your youth

Small and reckless it was always a joy to be able to turn the key in your chest to send you to sleep

Of course he wasn’t the only one who realized this 

“Papa I made friends!”

You used to be so small

“With them over there! They love ma cookin’!”

“Do they?”

“Yup!”

“Figures they are rats. (Y/n)...have you been pulling out the key on your chest lately?”

“Mmm no.”

“I see so you’ve discovered what lying is.”

“What’s lying?”

“What you just did. Tell me where is it?”

“Mmm I don’t know.”

“Well if you don’t want to miss seeing your friends tomorrow better find it. Other wise you’ll be sleeping while I make a new one.”

“I–well…I think I know where it is…wait here!”

As he once again situates you on his operating table the monitor quietly displays your vitals, he wonders how he could be the parent of such a rebel

A monitor rings out, a wall of TVs all for their respective cameras showing 

And on one continuing into the other is the student with black hair and white stripes hopping his fence

“Why is it that even at this age they continue to attract rats? I’ll just have to deal with it...like last time.”

[simplysamiblog]

The weight of a perfect goodbye

Before I even begin sharing my thoughts, I need to make one very important thing clear: I am a firm believer in the theory that Jayce and Viktor survived the ending of Arcane. As far as I’m concerned, they were teleported through time and space and are now slowly, painstakingly rebuilding their lives. Together, of course.

I’ve read dozens of (amazing) fanfics where this is exactly how their story unfolds, and some are so well-written that I honestly consider them canon.

That said.

I’ve seen several discussions online about this very topic:

"The creators confirmed it: they’re dead."

"The creators don’t know anything, they’re alive."

"Accept it, they were disintegrated by the Rune."

And so on.

But here’s what I think (not that it matters to anyone or carries any weight at all):

We can’t completely dismiss or outright reject the idea that, yes, Jayce and Viktor are, unfortunately, dead. At some level, we need to accept it—to believe it.

But let me explain why.

Not out of respect for the creators, the canon, the fandom, or anything like that. But out of love for the story, for the essence of their narrative.

At the risk of sounding cliché, do you really think Arcane would have been just as special if Jayce and Viktor had survived? Can you picture the scene? The protagonists recover, the fog of war and chaos clears, and there they are—Jayce and Viktor—standing atop the Hexgates, smiling. Ah, what a happy ending. What a good ending.

Sure. Nice. Nothing more.

Or imagine if we had gotten something like: "And they remained like brothers forever." Ugh.

It’s cruel, it’s unfair, it’s heartbreaking—

But it’s perfect.

The chain of events (cough) that led to that moment, the sacrifice that sealed their fate—

The relationship between Jayce and Viktor would never have been as impactful otherwise. Personally, I don’t think I fully grasped the depth of their bond until their foreheads rested against each other. In that moment of resignation, of acceptance.

Their story, their magic, was beautiful precisely because it ended right then, in that instant.

Jayce asked Viktor, "Why did you ever give me this?"

He could have let him die in the storm. Or, if he wanted to be more merciful, he could have simply saved him without giving him the Rune—

The world would have been safe. The world would have been saved.

But…

The world wasn’t as important as the moments they shared. Their friendship, their collaboration, their bond.

Viktor couldn’t deny another Viktor those moments. That brief but immense joy. Those years in which he had truly lived.

They were stronger than everything—stronger than everyone—

Even stronger than death.

And that’s why, in a way, their death is precisely what makes them so wonderful.

Call it cliché or a bit of a stretch, but the first comparison that comes to mind is Romeo and Juliet. Would it really be the most famous love story if they hadn’t met their tragic end?

"Happily ever after."

Or—

"Never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo."

Sure, they might have survived, somewhere. And it’s absolutely valid to believe that.

But if not for that ending, for that terrible, heartbreaking moment, how much would we have missed out on? How many incredible fanfictions wouldn’t exist? How many fanarts, how many works of art would we have been unknowingly deprived of?

We’ll never know, and I don’t want to know.

Because what we have is amazing.

So yes, I accept the idea that they’re dead—because it makes the fantasy that they’re alive and in love so much sweeter.

But most of all, it makes their relationship a game of fate, something they built around each other. A perfect circle, an inseparable chain binding them as one.

Pulling them together, pushing them apart—only to bring them back to each other again.

Over and over.

Forever.

[whyse7vn]

OT7

FOR YOU:

“This was long overdue. A fault on all our parts”

Namjoon scans his members awkwardly scattered around his apartment. Jimin sits on the couch in front of the window and so do Taehyung and Hoseok but due to the large gap that Taehyung has left between himself and Jimin Hoseok is left painfully squashed into a corner. Jin sits on the couch opposite the TV in a.. suit? For some reason in contrast to Yoongi who is sat next to him in an all black outfit. You sit on the right next to Yoongi’s feet due to Namjoons lack of seating in his living area while Jungkook stands hovering next to the door clearly ready to leave at any given moment. No one says a word in response to Namjoon’s first statement except Yoongi who lowly scoffs. The room is quiet and everyone avoids eye contact.

Namjoon sighs 

This was going to be long

 so painstakingly long.

“Jungkook, why don’t you sit down?” 

“I’m not sitting on your floor Namjoon” 

“We’re never gonna get any-”

“This wasn’t a good idea. Y/n let’s leav-” 

“Jungkook please just- you don’t have to sit just stand closer you can stand next to y/n just for a bit so we can have a conversation ok?” 

He pokes his cheek with his tongue in annoyance but moves to stand closer to you anyways.

”We’re not staying for long” 

”Isn’t it unfair to be speaking for-”

”Don’t speak to me” Jungkook doesn’t even spare Jimin a glance when he cuts him off. 

Yikes. 

This is all just… yikes. 

Since you’re at an awkward angle to hold his hand right now, you do what you think is the next best thing logically and rub your hand against the back of Jungkook’s leg in half attempt to calm him down and half attempt to remind him why you’re both here. 

Normally any physical affection you throw Jungkook’s way has him jumping for joy and running for the hills but today you are simply met with a quick glance down from the boy in acknowledgment in which his facial features moderately soften before he's back to furrowing his eyebrows his gazed sharp. At least it was something you suppose. 

Silence falls upon the group once more. You turn to face Namjoon. He’s sat on a single seat couch. Deep in thought he looks lost yet… determined. That’s good you guess at least someone is actively trying to fix whatever this is. Well, you hope that’s what he’s trying to do here. He did send a message to the group chat the first message anyone’s sent in weeks to meet at his place at 4 stating ‘This is serious it’s starting to affect work you ALL will be here to talk’ Scary but your 99.9% sure that Namjoon did call you all here for the greater good. Buuut thinking about it you do feel somewhat guilty as much as it most definitely did hurt when Jimin said you were the ‘root of like 95% of our issues as a group’ he wasn’t necessarily wrong per say it’s… a complicated situation  but you do feel as if you should take some… leadership? here. You know, at least try and help Namjoon. You scan the room, no eyes meet yours Jimin’s taken a sudden interest in Joon’s choice of wallpaper, Tae finds joy in picking at the loose string off his hoodie sleeves, Hobi by the looks of it is struggling to breathe still stuffed into the corner, Yoongi now scrolls mindlessly at his phone, Jin sits upright staring intently at the TV that is in fact turned off and Jungkook… his fists clenched and eyes seemingly ready to kill should tell you everything. Ok yeah, there’s no way you’re taking leadership here you’re not even the leader anyways! And this was Namjoons idea so yeah sorry not sorry Joon you are most definitely on your own but fighting or whatever!

…

…

…

Ok.

….

….

….

Yeah no, this isn’t going to work at all. Fuck aright, where should you even start? Maybe you should bring up the conversation you and Jimin had first? Or would it be better to address the Jungkook blowing up part? Maybe it’ll be best to start with the fact that you all haven’t spoken in weeks or maybe you should take the emotional approach and just start with how much you miss them all? Um… ok yeah no the emotional one is looking like your best option right now the easiest one too. Yeah ok sure you’ll go with that one… ok hold on- fuck ok you’re good- no you’re lying why are you so nervous? These are your people your boys it shouldn’t be this hard wh–

“We should probably start with-”

“Why the fuck is Jin in a suit?”  Hoseok’s voice cuts off Namjoon’s “It’s 4pm on a Friday” 

“Listen, I have places to be after this. You know since you’ve all decided to be emotionally constipated, go MIA on every single social media platform and on top of that decline and delay every single piece of group work we have they’ve been working me like a fucking dog”

Woah. 

”Ok first of all Tae you need to move the fuck up bro im dying here and second of all damn? I just wanted to know about the suit…” 

“It’s called being employed. You should try it sometime, all of you right Namjoon?”

Hoseok flashes Jin his middle finger mumbling a barely audible “whatever” under his breath while Taehyung moves the tiniest bit closer to Jimin on the couch.   

”Right! guys we’re behind on a lot of work and we nee—”

“Jin when you say emotionally constipated i fear that statement just can’t be in reference to me…. like at all. I feel like i’ve been shitting recently” 

You all stare at Taehyung dumbfounded. 

He blinks back at you all. 

“The fuck did you just say?” You're surprised to hear Yoongi speak. 

“Like… I've been shitting, emotionally that is, I feel like i’ve laid all my cards out on the table” 

”Your cards being….?” Hoseok asks, face scrunched up in disgust and confusion much like the rest of the faces in the room except Taehyung himself.   

“That I'm in love with y/n? That i would do anything and every-” 

“Anything and everything?” Jungkook steps forward in Taehyung’s direction. Immediately you grab onto the back of Jungkook’s jeans from your sat position in an attempt to hold him back. You know your shallow grip wont don’t much in stopping the man actually get to Taehyung but thankfully after his first step Jungkook doesn’t make any attempt to get closer to the man but you are ready to stand up and block his path all the same. 

“Kook…” You try and soothe. 

“To protect her? To defend her? Don’t make me laugh right now” He ignores you completely. 

You didn’t think it was possible but the tension in the room seems to rise even higher. 

“Love?” Jungkook continues “Jimin called her a slut ninety five percent of all our problems upset her and hurt her and instead of checking up on her, you decided to be best buddies with him the next week? So love? Anything and everything? Protecting her? Yeah fuck you. You have never loved her” 

With that Taehyung is on his feet immediately you instantly follow suit so do Namjoon and Hoseok. Jin and Jimin watch with wide eyes while Yoongi watches seemingly unfazed. 

“What? So I don't blow up the way you think I should have and now all my feelings are invalid? All those built up feelings and moments nothing? Just ‘cuz you didn’t like the way I went about all of this?” 

“Bro come on not like this” Hoseok attempts to stop Taehyung moving any closer to Jungkook.

“Yes Jungkook, ok i admit that i should have been there for her more. I should have and I regret not being there everyday. But in a way i understand why Jimin blew up like that and—”

“Understand? You understand why he called her a slut? Am I hearing that right the man that’s in ‘love’ understands why the girl he’s in ‘love’ with got called a slut? Should I beat the shit out of you know or later?” Jungkook attempts to take another step closer to Taehyung but Namjoon blocks his path. 

“Move” 

“You know i won’t” 

“Move Namjoon” 

“This is not what we’re here for Jungkook” 

“So what the fuck are we here for Namjoon? Please enlighten me. I'm begging you to actually. What are we here for?” 

“To talk. Openly and honestly. To make this work” 

Jungkook laughs at that. Like full body laughs yet you know he finds no humour in Namjoon’s words. 

“This? Did you hear what he said about understanding Jimin?” 

“I’m sure he has a explanation for that” 

“Fuck his explanation” 

“Jungkook you are so fucking selfish it’s unreal” 

Everyone’s eyes snap over to Jimin who now is also standing. 

“Jimin you shou-”Taehyung tries to interrupt.

“He doesn’t know what is like to not be the favourite and he’s never taken how we feel into consideration at all” 

Yoongi raises his eyes at Jimin’s statement. Yours furrow. 

“Do you have any idea how fucking difficult it is to watch everyone bite their tongue just for you?”

“Me?” Jungkook leans forward and you grip the back of his shirt in panic. 

“You have never cared about anyone but yourself when it comes to this” 

“Shut the fuck up” Jungkook tries to move forward your grip tightens unable to do anything else Namjoon now actively pushes Jungkook away from Jimin as Jungkook struggles against him Jimin continues 

“With your feelings for her you’ve only ever acted with you in mind” 

“That not even fucking true and you know that” Jungkook pushes a Namjoon but he doesn’t budge. 

“And I'm so sick of the rest of the guys letting you get away with it all. You fucking live with her Jungkook” 

“And? The fuck is your point?”

“My point is that you’re a piece of-”

“OKAY guys geez…  okay…

what Jimin means is-”

“Hoseok? Don’t tell me you’re on his side”

“There are no sides to this Jungkook. I just.. Look, the whole ‘favourite’ thing I’ll admit i get it for a while even I felt like I wasn't the most… popular romantically with y/n i mean sure she would flirt back on occasion but it seemed that most of her energy was focussed on you. After that I realised I should probably assert myself more and you know ‘fight’ for my place with her right? But then her attention was on Yoongi, Tae started being more vocal,  then Joon beat me to it and then Jin and I felt even more behind. I couldn't keep up or compete with you all. I’m a really good observer, you see? And during all of this  I observed that Jimin felt the same way. Why do you think I said I should talk to him when this all went down? it's ‘cuz he was feeling exactly how i was then”

“That doesn't excuse what he said” “It doesn’t. But emotions are to be processed. And after my talk with Jimin, it's only recently he’s actually verbalised his feelings for Y/n and him feeling… behind. It’s easy to blame others because you’re jealous i went through it and i'm pretty sure all of you have too”

“But that still doesn't excuse what he said”

“Jungkook dude i know that. Are you even listening to what I'm saying right now?”

“Of course he’s not listening. Jimin was right. I'm done holding my tongue for the sake of everyone's feelings, especially his.” Yoongi's loud tone surprises you all. 

“ Okay it’s like we’re going backwards can we just-”

“Namjoon, aren't you sick of being unhappy because of him?” Yoongi interrupts 

“I’m not unhappy bec-”

“You wanted to move in with her. Waayy before he did you looked at places even rehearsed how you were gonna ask her and everything but then he-” 

“I am not unhappy because of Jungkook” 

“You keep telling yourself that” 

“Projectison isn’t a good look you Yoongi” 

“Call it projecting all you want Namjoon but we all know the truth” 

Namjoon rolls his eyes at Yoongi. Your stomach turns. Your thoughts wild. 

Silence.

“I dated Jaehyun to avoid this” The words leave before you can even realise. 

Silence. 

“This unhealthy cycle of jealousy and weirdness around each other. I love you all so fucking much and no not just in a freind way i love all of you i’m the selfish one. At first it was silly the little arguments and empty ended threats you would throw at each other but now it's grown into something real ugly i dated Jaehyun in hopes it would stop. Yes i genuinely liked him i really fucking liked him he was diffrent a good different but i love you all of you in a way i could never love Jaehyun and i think he knew that as well. But even when Jaehyun was here It all just got worse nothing changed you all- i just- i don't know what to do anymore this is just all so much and i know its my fault i shouldn’t of done anything with anyone ever and i- i’m so fucking sorry to all of you i-”

You cut yourself off your mind blank yet swirling with thoughts. 

Silence. 

“You’re crying?” Yoongi breaks it

 “You tell me you regret everything we’ve ever done and you’re crying?”

You bring your hand to your cheek, your face wet, you are crying when did that happen?

“Yoongi what the fuck is wrong with you? she wasn’t talking to just you” Jimin’s quick to argue. 

“And i’m the selfish one? Yeah right.” Jungkook scoffs 

“No you definitely are i kinda get what they were saying now”

“Who the fuck asked you Taehyung?”

“Guys..” You think Hobi speaks your not sure any more your head is swimming with thoughts and tears cloud your vision. 

“This is so childish” 

“Always the same shit from you Namjoon how about you grow some balls and say what you want” 

 “I want you to shut the fuck up how about that?”

“Was that supposed to scare me?”

“HOLY. FUCKING. SHIT”  

Once again silence. 

“You guys are genuinely the most emotionally dense people i’ve met like ever and you know i’ve met a fuck ton of people i’m Kim Seok-fucking-jin. But thats besides the point right now holy fucking shit the woman you’ve all been in love with practically your whole lives just said she loves all of you on fucking valentines day of all days and you’re arguing? The love of our lives is crying right now and your fucking arguing right after she just told you she hates that all you guys do is fucking argue? Are you guys ok? Like genuinely Yoongi your tough love acting isn't fooling anyone pull that fucking stick out your ass, Jimin you have nothing to be jealous of she quite literally said she loves you, Jungkook people will fuck up sometimes we have to learn to forgive and forget also keep that boxing shit in the ring, Namjoon it’s okay to speak up when you want something we wont shoot you, Taehyung just stop talking challenge for 7 years starting now, Hobi you cool as hell, Y/n my sweet baby that can never do wrong ever only that one time you dated he who shall not be named never apologise to these idiots ever i love you to the moon and back and Kim Seokjin you fucking sexy fucking son of a bitch you outdo yourself Every. Single. Time”  

He takes a breath.  “Amen” 

“It’s Valentine's day?”

“I told you not to talk”

“You’re not a feminist what happend to awoman?”

“I told you to stop fucking talking”

“But-”

“Taehyung”

“Seokjin”

“Does anyone have any questions?”

“What happened to you being a femi-”

“No one? Great! Me and Y/n will be leaving now.” Seokjin finally rises from his place on the couch and moves towards Namjoon's front door not before placing his hand in yours and tugging you along “I would say this was a great talk but I wanted to blow my brains out the whole time. See you all on Monday for work! Thank you all. Now my love we have reservations at 7:30 and it’s already 6 so we’re really cutting it fine”

“Wait thats so not fair that's two valentines days in a row you’ve spent with her i'm coming with what the hell” 

You don’t say a word as Jin drags you to Namjoon's front door. Everything's happening so fast it's not like you even have a chance to say anything. You blink and you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Jin’s newest Porsche. You hear Taehyung mumbling to himself in the back. You turn to face Jin in the driver's seat, his gaze already on yours. 

He smiles at you, his eyes warm. 

“They’ll figure it out. I promise you they will, for you they will” 

You don’t say anything in return and he doesn't expect you to. Instead he gives you another warm smile and begins to pull out of Namjoon’s drive. 

You let out a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. 

 for you they will. 

You’re unsure if Jin's statement holds any truth if you're being completely honest but for now you let it bring you comfort. 

for you they will. 

The car is silent for a record breaking 5 seconds until none other than Kim Taehyung breaks it. 

“So like… does this mean I'm a taken man now or what?”

“You’re not supposed to be talking right now”

“And you’re supposed to be a feminist but clearly things change Kim Seokjin get with it”

You giggle at that. 

for you maybe they will. 

—

almost 1 year in the drafts isn’t that crazy if this sucks don’t tell me pls i’ll fr cry

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @earth2ela @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @seokmyballs @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @meowgiz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @iammeandmeisiam @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks @futuristicenemychaos @featjunranghae @jksgirlfrl @yeetedandoboi @stellamalonesolaria @joonsprettygf

[blaqcats-fics]

in thanks for getting me to 100 followers, here’s a crack fic(?) that’s not to be taken literally at all.

Bruce sits at his desk in his office, staring at his bank statement. His face is blank. His eye twitches. He refreshes the page. The number doesn’t change.

BRUCE: Huh. That’s weird. I seem to be missing three million dollars.

He pulls up transaction records. Several suspicious withdrawals appear, labeled:

• “Self-Care Is Not a Crime”

• “Literally Just Vibes”

• “Tax? I Don’t Know Her”

• “For the Greater Good (Don’t Worry About It)”

Bruce sighs. He already knows who did this.

Cut to the living room. Jason is sprawled across the couch in a designer hoodie and ripped jeans, sipping a fancy iced coffee. Damian is sitting nearby, playing with a baby tiger. Dick, Tim, and Duke are casually admiring expensive new gadgets.

Bruce storms in, waving his tablet like an arrest warrant.

BRUCE: Jason!

JASON, without looking up: What’s up, king?

BRUCE: Don’t king me. Where is my money?

JASON: Whoa, okay, first of all, lower your voice. You’re really coming in with some aggressive energy right now. Maybe take a deep breath?

BRUCE: YOU STOLE THREE MILLION DOLLARS!

JASON, gasps: Stole? Bruce. That is a very harmful word. I didn’t steal it. I redirected it.

BRUCE: TO WHERE?!

JASON: Oh, you know. Places.

BRUCE, crossing arms: What places?

JASON, sipping coffee: I feel like you’re attacking me right now, and I don’t think I deserve that.

BRUCE: Jason.

JASON: Fine. I bought Damian a tiger.

BRUCE, blinking: You… what?

DAMIAN, petting the tiger cub: His name is Alexander, and he is perfect.

BRUCE: You can’t just buy a tiger and bring it in here without my permission!

DAMIAN: He also bought me a falcon.

BRUCE: A TIGER AND A FALCON?!

JASON: Oh my god, why are you freaking out? You’re a billionaire. Three million dollars is nothing to you. That’s like, what? The cost of a nice lunch in Gotham?

BRUCE: THAT’S NOT—JASON. YOU CANNOT JUST TAKE MONEY FROM ME.

JASON: Ugh. Fine. I’ll pay you back.

BRUCE: You will?

JASON: Yeah. On an emotional level. By continuing to bring joy into this household.

BRUCE: That is NOT how debt works!

JASON: Sounds like a you problem.

DICK: Yeah, Bruce, you really need to stop stressing.

TIM: You do have a lot of money.

DUKE: And Jason did get us all stuff.

DICK: He got me a custom motorcycle.

TIM: And the rarest coffee blend in the world.

DUKE: I got a brand new gaming PC with a holographic display.

DAMIAN: And my tiger is perfect.

BRUCE: I AM SURROUNDED BY CRIMINALS.

JASON: Okay, whoa. First of all? That is slander. Second, I think we should really take a moment to reflect on why you’re so mad at me when, in reality, you should be mad at the system.

BRUCE: I’m mad at you because you took my money.

JASON: Sounds like internalized capitalism, big guy.

BRUCE: Jason. Transfer the money back.

JASON, checking nails: No.

BRUCE: JASON.

JASON, sipping coffee: Bruce.

BRUCE, gritting teeth: If you do not give me back my money right now, I will personally make sure you never see another dollar again.

JASON, gasps dramatically: Wow. You would financially cut off your own son? Do you hear yourself right now? You’re being really toxic.

BRUCE: I—WHAT—HOW AM I THE BAD GUY HERE?!

JASON, leaning back, smug: Just some food for thought.

Bruce inhales sharply, looks like he’s about to explode, then just… turns and leaves. He’s too tired for this. Jason fist-bumps Damian. The others go back to admiring their new gifts.

Cut to: A Tropical Beach Resort.

Selina, Barbara, Stephanie, and Cass lounge in luxury cabanas, sipping cocktails. They are living their best lives.

SELINA, checking phone: Huh. Bruce texted me, “Jason stole three million dollars.”

BARBARA, shrugging: Sounds like a him problem.

SELINA, grinning: He also just sent “I hate this family.”

CASS, holding up phone: Jason’s new Instagram story says, “justice for me.”

STEPH, sipping drink: You know what? I don’t miss them.

The girls all clink their drinks together as the sun sets.

[aurumacadicus]

Any Tony Valentine’s Day blurbs u can share?

I just saw the funniest TikTok lmao

--

"Sorry we couldn't go to that fancy place you reserved," Steve offered, looking around the Waffle House they'd managed to drag their way to. Mississippi was a long way from New York, though, and even flying in the suit, they wouldn't have made it.

"Well," Tony said around a bite of burger. "I don't really care as long as I get to be with you. Look! I even found flowers!"

Steve turned to smile at the bouquet of hydrangeas. It had little purple and blue flowers that he didn't recognize, and it wasn't the most romantic bunch of flowers he'd ever been given, but Tony had come prancing out of the gas grocery store almost giddy at being able to find any at all, so he loved it even more. He turned back to Tony with a wry smile. "I think you prefer burgers anyway."

"I mean, I like foie gras, too, but there's something to be said about a nice greasy burger after fighting Doom bots in... Sabougla?" Tony added. He reached out to snag a fry from Steve's plate, his own pile already decimated. "The city's safe. The team is safe. We're safe! And I get a burger. Happy Valentine's Day, beloved."

"Happy Valentine's Day, Tony," Steve answered fondly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Natasha and Clint giving him thumbs up, and a waitress began making her way over. He leaned his elbow on the table and leaned in. "Hey, how do you feel about waffles?"

"Are you asking me if I like waffles in the House of Waffles?" Tony asked, looking up at him in confusion. "Are you trying to offend the franchise? Anyway," he added, shrugging. "They have a pecan waffle that I wanna shove in my face for dessert. Maybe if I ask nice, they'll put a heart of chocolate chips on it!"

Steve huffed out a laugh, forcing himself not to grin like an idiot as the waitress stopped at their table. "Well, at least I got the type of waffle right." He motioned at the waitress, who was smiling brightly as she set the plate on the table. "Hopefully this makes up for not having the chocolate chip heart."

"Huh?" Tony blinked at him, then the waitress, before his eyes dropped to the waffle. In the center was the velvet-covered box Steve had been carrying for weeks, trying to find the right time to give it to him. His mouth dropped open, but nothing came out, hand reaching out to carefully turn the plate so he could see the open box better.

"So," Steve said, smiling. "Tony. Will you marry me?"

Tony blinked up at him owlishly. "Steve," he whispered. "I... yes. Absolutely. Obviously."

Steve motioned at Bruce, who started bringing over the triple chocolate pie Steve had ordered, 'either to celebrate or commiserate.' Then he reached out to take the ring from the box and slip it onto Tony's finger. "Thank you, Tony. I'll do my best to make you happy."

Tony blinked again, staring down at the simple gold band. Then his cheeks flushed with heat, joy quieting to humiliation as he blurted out, "I got you jerky for Valentine's Day."

"Well, it's not a competition," Steve began hastily.

"Hey, jerky is expensive these days, and Steve loves it," Clint barked over him. "And he only had to buy the ring once. You're gonna spend more on jerky overall."

"You guys are so romantic," Natasha deadpanned. "Can I have the waffle?"

Tony jerked the plate closer, scowling at her, and snapped, "This is my engagement waffle. Eat the pie."

Steve buried his face in his hands to try and muffle his laugh. He'd have to learn some new waffle recipes for the coming anniversaries.

[cod-thoughts]

You call my bluff, how can I keep this up?

Word count: 1.2k

Relationships: implied GhostPrice

Tags: Very silly, inspired by art, Ghost is very down bad, they arent together yet

Part of a project that has a tiny explanation here. Keep reading under the cut!!

AN: This is a gift for the lovely @gomzdrawfr we barely know each other but i absolutely love your art it always brings me a lot of joy. This particular drawing hasnt left my mind since you've uploaded it and ive been dying to write for it so now i have. Happy valentines day! <33 Hopefully this doesnt freak you out my bad if it does 0_0

Simon Riley prided himself on discipline. A soldier’s mind was supposed to be sharp, focused, unwavering—trained to cut through distractions like a blade through fog.

Unfortunately, Ghost’s mind was none of those things at the moment.

Because right now, all he could think about was lifting his Captain.

It had started as a passing thought, one of those ridiculous notions that flit in and out of consciousness before being dismissed outright. But the problem—the real, pressing issue—was that he didn’t dismiss it. He let it linger. He let it take root.

And now? Now it was a full-blown fantasy.

Price wasn’t even doing anything particularly remarkable. He was just there, standing at the other end of the room, sleeves rolled up, a cigar hanging lazily between his fingers as he pored over mission reports. The bastard didn’t even realise what he was doing, didn’t realise how profoundly, cosmically annoying it was that he looked so unbothered. So effortlessly composed. So fucking liftable.

Ghost flexed his fingers absently. He was pretty sure he could do it. No, scratch that—he knew he could do it. He’d been working out more lately, upping his deadlifts and bench press, and Price wasn’t that much heavier than the weights he’d been throwing around. Maybe a bit more solid in the middle, sure, but Ghost wasn’t about to let that stop him.

His mind supplied a vivid image of how it might go: him stepping up behind Price, arms looping around his waist before hoisting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing. He imagined the startled grunt Price would make, the way his cigar might tumble from his lips in sheer disbelief. Ghost would hold him there, suspended mid-air, feeling triumphant and smug as Price swore up a storm. Maybe even toss him over a shoulder for good measure.

A slow, creeping warmth spread through Ghost’s chest. Fuck, I really wanna do it.

And then the thought—the dangerous, irrational thought—took an even more deranged turn.

What if he just… buried his face in Price’s back? Just thunked his head against him like some oversized cat marking its territory? What if he just took a big inhale too? What if he just filled his lungs up with Price's intoxicating scent?

Ghost had seen videos of big cats rubbing against their handlers, knocking them around with sheer weight alone, and now the mental image of himself doing that to Price was seared into his mind. 

Would Price let him? Probably not. But maybe. If Ghost timed it right. If he made it quick enough, took advantage of Price’s soft spot for him.

Jesus Christ, what’s wrong with me?

He scrubbed a hand down his mask, barely resisting the urge to groan. He was losing his goddamn mind, and the worst part was, he wasn’t even ashamed of it. If anything, he was tempted.

Because it wasn’t just some unhinged urge—it was Price.

It was the way Price carried himself, all rough edges and commanding presence, but with the kind of warmth underneath that Ghost couldn’t look away from. It was the way he laughed, the rare deep rumble of it that made Ghost’s chest go tight. It was the way Price had a habit of standing too close, completely unaware of how much space he actually occupied in Ghost’s head.

It was the way Price had his little habits—how he’d run a hand down his beard when he was thinking, or the way he bounced when he was feeling restless, fingers gripping his vest. The way his accent thickened when he was particularly exasperated, or how his blue eyes sharpened when he was assessing a situation. Ghost could list a dozen things about the man that made his brain short-circuit, and not a single one of them had anything to do with the fact that Price was his superior officer.

He wasn’t just some bloke Ghost wanted to wrestle to the ground for fun. No, it was something worse, something worsebecause it came with an emotion Ghost didn’t quite have a name for but felt deep in his ribs whenever Price clapped a hand on his shoulder or called him ‘Simon.’

Ghost sighed and slouched further into his seat, arms crossed. Maybe if he just stopped looking at him—

“Yer makin’ that face again.”

Ghost stiffened, head snapping up. Price was looking at him now, one brow raised in amusement.

Shit.

“…What face?” Ghost asked, voice carefully neutral.

“The one where you’re plottin’ somethin’ daft.”

Ghost blinked. He was absolutely not making that face. He was making his normal, everyday blank expression. The same one that had struck fear into the hearts of enemy combatants for years. There was no fucking way Price could tell that, just moments ago, Ghost had been contemplating rubbing his head against him like an over-affectionate housecat. 

How he could even read Ghost's expression through the mask had always been a mystery. Price knew him too well, it should scare him but it doesn't, it never has. 

“I’m not plottin’ anything,” Ghost lied.

Price hummed, unconvinced. “Uh-huh.” He turned back to his reports but didn’t drop the smirk. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

Ghost exhaled slowly. Disaster avoided.

And yet—and yet—

The urge still hadn’t left.

No, if anything, it had gotten worse. Because now, in the absence of fantasy, his brain had moved into problem-solving mode. Could he get away with it? Could he pull it off? If he were fast enough, if he caught Price off guard, maybe—

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he needed to accept that this was just who he was now. A man consumed by the overwhelming, irrational desire to manhandle his Captain and fucking nuzzle him. A lost cause.

A complete and total, lost cause that was actively fighting for its life as Price casually stretched, arms rolling back, giving Ghost a perfect view of his broad shoulders and back flexing under the fabric of his shirt.

Ghost’s jaw clenched. His hand curled into a fist.

Get. A. Fucking. Grip.

“Well, whatever it is, just make sure it doesn’t involve me having to clean up any of your messes.” Price’s voice snapped him back to the present.

Ghost barely processed the words. All he could focus on was the fact that, when Price shifted in his seat, his damn jacket rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of his back, displaying all the little moles and freckles and those two distinct dimples in his lower back that look perfect for his fingers to dig into and oh, for fuck's sake.  

Ghost clenched his fists. 

He was going to lose it.

He was actually going to lose it.

He had to get out of here before he did something insane. Like follow through on these godforsaken thoughts.

“Right,” Ghost muttered, pushing himself up from his chair a little too quickly, a little too stiffly. “Gotta… check on something.”

Price barely glanced up. “Mmhm.”

Ghost turned on his heel, marching toward the exit. He needed fresh air. He needed to not be in this room thinking about how catastrophically down bad he was.

As he reached the doorway, he heard Price’s voice again, this time tinged with unmistakable amusement.

“Oi, Ghost.”

Ghost paused but didn’t turn around.

“…If you’re thinkin’ about doin’ whatever it is you’re thinkin’ about doin’—” Price’s smirk was practically audible. “—I’d think about it first.”

Ghost didn’t respond. Just gritted his teeth and forced himself to step outside before he did something really stupid. He couldn’t move until the door shut behind him. He inhaled deeply, exhaled through his nose, and flexed his fingers at his sides.

Maybe, maybe he could let this ridiculous urge go. Maybe he could shove it back into the depths of his mind and act like a normal person.

…Or maybe, just maybe, he was gonna pick the perfect moment to put his theory to the test.

Because one day—one day—he was gonna lift that man.

And no force on earth was going to stop him.

[gearsandhammers]

NOT GOOD WITH WORDS : VIKTOR X M!READER

synopsis : viktor's always been a reserved guy, but you make him feel things he's never felt before. he's cried during sad movies, laughed with jayce, but never has he felt like how he does when he's with you. will he finally do something about it?

warnings / tw : you, viktor, and jayce are academy students , viktor is clueless about love , socially awkward vitkor , grammarly is my beta

pairing : viktor x male reader | m/m (could be m/gn)

author's notes : hiya! okay so the letter written in this fic is actually one i wrote 2 years ago that i legitimately have no recollection of and just found.. i didn't read it through fully and kinda just copy pasted it so hopefully its not dogshit but oh well... valentine's day has always been lonely for me, so i hope this can bring comfort to anyone who's spending val's day alone this year─ but you're not alone. anyways as always have a good read and an amazing day/night! xo, kai

Viktor's only been at the academy for one year, but he's found his place pretty quickly. He and Jayce are thick as thieves, and you've been hanging out with them too, as of late. He tries to hide it, but Viktor has a huge crush on you. At this point, Jayce can't even tell if Viktor has figured it out yet. He knows Viktor hasn't ever been in a relationship, but he has no clue if he's ever had a crush before. Scratch that, he knows he hasn't, the way Viktor acts around you.

Viktor's never been good with talking, but you've read some of his writing, and your jaw dropped. The way he writes, you'd never be able to tell it was Viktor who wrote it. The way he words things so eloquently, how the letters seem to flow from his pen like it's second nature.

Valentine's Day is either the best or worst day of the year for a lot of people. You've collectively decided to just stay in and try not to think about the fact that it's Valentine's Day. You don't expect to get anything, you never have, so your expectations are basically as low as they can be.

So when you open your locker at the end of the day and there's a sealed envelope sitting there on top of your books, you're a little confused. You look around, thinking at first that it's a prank or something. But when you open the letter and start reading it, your heart swells.

· ─ ─ < ⟨ ৻ꪆ ⟩ > ─ ─ ·

Dearest,

I'm not good with words, but for you, I tried. You're the best thing that's happened to me. I sit here with pen in hand, my heart brimming with emotions that have long been confined within the depths of my being. Today, I gather the courage to express the feelings that have blossomed within me, unfurling like a delicate flower under the warmth of the sun. Please bear with me as I pour my heart out onto this page. From the moment our eyes first met, a spark ignited within me, illuminating a path that led straight to you. You may not have noticed, but in those stolen glances and fleeting moments, my heart began to whisper your name.

With every encounter, my admiration for you grew, and soon, admiration blossomed into something deeper and more profound. Your presence in my life is a symphony of joy and wonder. Your smile, so radiant, has the power to dissolve any worries that burden my soul. Your laughter, like a melody, dances in the air and brings warmth to the coldest of days. Your kindness, a beacon of light in a world sometimes dark and unforgiving, has touched my heart in ways I struggle to put into words. In your company, I feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that I have found my missing puzzle piece. Your words, so genuine and filled with wisdom, captivate my mind and nourish my spirit. Your mere presence electrifies the air around us, creating a magnetic force that draws me closer to you, igniting a fire within my soul.

I am enamored by the intricacies that make you who you are—the way your eyes light up when you speak about your passions, the way your voice carries a quelling melody, and the way your touch lingers on my skin long after you're gone. Every facet of your being, every nuance, has etched itself deeply into my heart. It is true that love can be a tumultuous journey, filled with uncertainties and vulnerabilities. Yet, in the face of these uncertainties, I am willing to take the leap, for the thought of a life without your presence feels incomplete and devoid of color. The thought of never having the opportunity to explore the depths of our connection fills me with an ache that reverberates through my very being.

I am not asking for an immediate answer, nor am I expecting you to reciprocate these feelings. Instead, I write this letter as an offering, a testament to the authenticity of my emotions. My intention is to lay bare the truth of my heart, to let you know that you have become an indelible part of my thoughts, my dreams, and my aspirations. Should you ever find it in your heart to explore the possibility of us, I would be honored to embark on this journey of love with you. But if the feelings I express today do not find a place in your own heart, I will still cherish the moments we've shared, and I will forever hold you in the deepest recesses of my soul.

Thank you for inspiring me to open my heart and embrace the vulnerability that accompanies love. You have given me the gift of experiencing a love so profound and beautiful that it has forever changed me. I love you,

~ V ৻ꪆ

· ─ ─ < ⟨ ৻ꪆ ⟩ > ─ ─ ·

Your jaw hangs open, staring at the cursive V at the bottom of the page. Every sentence left your heart a little heavier, small tears welling in your eyes, but you sniffle and wipe them away. You're in shock as you stare at the page, dumbfounded. Your heart rate picks up, and your brain finally registers that you read. Oh, my gods. Oh my gods, what just happened? I need to find Vik─ wait, oh my. I can't do that, I gotta find... wait, no. I need to find Vik.

You gently put the letter back into the envelope and into your bag. You run around the academy, bumping into a few people along the way, but don't stop to apologize. You finally find him after a full 15 minutes, walking out of the academy, books in hand. "Viktor!" you yell, desperately trying to get his attention. He turns, and his face immediately turns bright red. You run towards him, clutching your bag. You run into him, wrapping your arms around his body, and his cane clatters to the ground. "V- Vik.." You gasp, trying to catch your breath.

"I- I'm sorry. I know I ruined everything and I─" he tries to apologize, but he's interrupted by you. You grab his face, making him look at you. You attempt to search his eyes but fail, your eyes too blurry from the tears you tried to hold back. Tears stream down your face, and you try to blink them away so you can see him.

"V, I- oh my gods, Vik. Please don't apologize, please. You didn't ruin anything. I love you too, V. I love you so so so much, Viktor," you pant. Before he even tries to speak again, your lips collide, and you pull him flush against you. The sensations of your body against his makes his whole body react, going tense. After a few moments, he melts into you, his brain finally recognizing that you actually kissed him. Moments pass, and you pull away to breathe.

"Gods, I love you," he says, in between gasps and sobs, tears flowing from his eyes too. He's still sort of in shock, clearly not expecting this sort of reaction or response from you. He presses his forehead to yours, and you hold his hands.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

[doorlesscub00]

The Last Goodbye

Spencer x reader drabble authors note: Hey guys!! This is the first time posting a fic I've written, so please let me know what you think!! all feedback it appreciated and welcomed!! Short write- Less then 500 words, but potential for a second part!! Not proofread either!! The reader isn't mentioned of gender- It's written in second person point of view. Theirs mention of yelling, a bit of toxicity and Spencer out of prison. It is angsty.

He's been more distant lately. You were growing more and more concerned about him. Ever since he got back from prison, he changed. He grew cold. Pushing you away. The constant fights, unable to even hear you. You tried, tried to your last bone in your body... but everyone has their breaking points. 4 years withering away like it was merely a facade.

Here he is. Dismissive and angry. Why is he shouting so loudly and incoherently? You asked him how his day was, and if he was alright, and then the split happened. Spencer is turning into this unrecognizable person, yelling at you for being too invasive, too pushy and nosey. You just wanted to help. And now he is screaming in your face...

Ring... Ring...

He answered the call in two rings, it takes him two calls to answer you. It was like his entire personality shifted... He was kinder, sweeter, understanding... reminds you of the Spencer you once knew... the one you lost.

He looks at you and answers the line... "Yeah I can make it in right now. I don't have anything special going on. Yeah, I know. I'll see you in 20 Emily."

He hung up the phone and spoke coldly, telling you he needed to go back to work, went into the bedroom and grabbed his to-go back, and went straight to the front door and left.

This time would be different, you knew it. You didn't weakly tell him goodbye and to be safe. No. No more of that. You've done it every time he left, but not today. Did he even notice that.? Probably not. He left, and it gives you at least one day to get everything out, at best 12 days. But you wouldn't risk taking your time. Straight to your room and grabbing all of your belongings, throwing them into your car. Questions swarm through your head. Where would you go. What will happen to the thing you can't fit in your car to bring. Would he care you left.? Would he notice your absence when he gets back.. Would he be happy. Maybe try to find you and try to change. Could he change back to the man he once was.. You hope he could go back to Spencer you fell...

Wait! No. Stop thinking about him. You're leaving him to be happier. Free. So then why does it feel like you have a 50 pound weight on your chest. It doesn't matter. You had to do this. You had to leave.. Staying would only make you loose your mind. Be driven to insanity. it's time to hurry. Not another night here. Booking a hotel for the night and going from there would be the safest option. It's already 11:27pm. You threw the rest of the belongings you could carry in your car, leaving quite a bit behind but you needed to prioritize what you took, went back and left your key on his counter and walked out the door..

Looking back one last time, leaving behind all the forgotten laughs, all the petty fights... Your new start begun now. As you started the engine of your car, you started your new chapter in life. A chapter of which you can only go up. Find joy once more. Backing out of his driveway, you knew you could never go back on what you're choosing. And so there you were, dead of night with the street lights to show you the way as you drove away from the empty shell, the once you once considered to be a warm and loving home..

A/n: Okay so I am debating on making a second part to this- or maybe like 2 different endings to the story.? A sad one and a happy one. But let me know what you guys want!! If I should leave it as is, or continue onto it. Anywho, thank you so much for reading my Drabble!! Means the world to me, but for now, goodbye my lovely cubs!! Till next time, have a wonderful day or night!! Better yet, both!!