#i can't remember what these are actually called

[here-for-fanart]

JINX REMEMBERS THE TIME LOOPS!

I'm probably gonna get a lot of nay sayers on this, but I don't care. I believe Jinx was fully aware of Ekko rewinding time. Here's why:

We know Jinx is medically enhanced with Shimmer. It has become fully integrated into her system, as we've seen her use it multiple times to move at super fast speeds (especially during a fight).

But it gets even better: She appears to actually glitch through time, when using it. She's THAT fast. Here's a few screenshots that show her partially glitching through time. In a few of them, she almost disappears entirely.

Now, I'm not saying she's physically travelling through time (yet). This isn't teleportation or rewinding; this is simply acceleration. But remember, Ekko himself said he was playing "with inversions on Jayce's acceleration rune", when he discovered the Z-drive. So, Jinx and Ekko's powers are connected, as they are complete opposites of what the other is doing.

So, how does Jinx manage to negate Ekko's travel backwards when she's travelling forward? Well, Shimmer is a substance made for adaptation and survivability during transitions. Hextech (which Ekko's Z-drive and her monkey bomb both use) has been known to have unpredictable results when combined with Shimmer. It's possible the shimmer in her system counteracts the Z-drive naturally, or it adapted to it to prolong Jinx's survivability during the first explosion.

The first time Ekko rewinds Jinx's explosion, she is zipped backwards just like the first time the Z-drive was used. But in the aftermath of this rewind, Jinx looks somewhat confused (indicating she has at least a noticeable case of deja vu, even if she does not fully remember the events).

One might think this is surprise in response to Ekko calling her name. But we know it's not, because she quickly dismisses his presence and goes back to blowing herself up. This is her way of saying, "Okay, my mind is doing a weird thing again but back to business."

NOTE: We don't get to see her initial reaction to the second explosion, but I think the second explosion is where she finally understood something was seriously off.

Because the next time we see her,

She's in experimentation mode. And the fact that she's watching Ekko, means she suspects he's the cause.

If you watch her micro expressions, during the third explosion, you'll see: default curiosity; a narrowing of the eyes, indicating suspicion (right before she pulls the pin); she keeps her eyes open and on Ekko during the explosion and does not blink; then when everything is set back, there's a slight widening of the eyes; her eyebrows raise; then her eyes narrow; before they dart downwards, noticing Ekko's blood and charred state.

[Before you start berating me for "reading too much into it", this is animation. Every single twitch is purposely added.]

After she sees the condition he's in, she knows this is his doing but that he can't keep it up forever. That's why she says "You're too late, Ekko" and goes again. It's too late for talking out her problems anymore. She's just gonna weedle him down, until he gives up.

But then, he says, "It's always a dance with you". Well, now, she's just curious about what the heck THAT means. So, she gives him a second to see if he'll tell her.

That's when Ekko says he's gonna sit there a minute, to see if he can talk an old friend out of blowing them up. And when it's clear he's waiting for her to say something, her mind focuses back on dying. "I'm tired of talking." But! She tries something new again. If he can stop an explosion, maybe he can't stop something else. She falls over the edge.

After this reset, we don't see her expression, but I can only imagine she's thinking through her slowly dwindling options. Then, he says, "Ya know, I learned from someone..." and suddenly, she's back to curiosity. How is Ekko doing it? Is he finally going to tell her?

"No matter what happened in the past, it's never too late to build something new". And that's when she notices the Z-drive and the monkeys. That's not Ekko's style. It's hers.

The next sentence actually doesn't make sense, grammatically, unless you follow it up with the previous sentence. "[It's not too late to build] Someone worth building it for."

And having just been given evidence that there is a good version of her, [There's no good version of me.] one who did fix things [It was something I could fix.], and who made it possible for Ekko to save her [big fat hero], she decides to try one last time.

It's curiosity that keeps her pausing over and over again. Even trapped in depression and suicidal ideation, she's still the girl with a brilliant mind and an inventive spirit.

It's my opinion that Ekko would not have been able to save Jinx, if she was not aware of the time loop situation. It was her curiosity of Ekko's new toy, combined with the realization that she helped build it, that led to her giving life another chance.

Lastly, remember when I said she's not capable of physically travelling through time yet?

Unless Warwick let go of her before the explosion, yes, yes she is. Or at least, she's come as close to it as she's physically able to. Either way, our girl is alive and on her way to a new life.

############################

[Thanks for reading, but don't take this too seriously. It was just some thoughts in my head I needed to get out.]

[moonlight-prose]

“please don’t make me say it if you aren’t going to say it back” with a desperately in love with joel reader would hit so much…

weaved around your finger like yarn

a/n: me writing for joel again?? this has sat in my inbox for over a year and i never meant to actually take this long with it. but i finally figured out how to write this concept. and now i am actually obsessed with the small world of softness i created for these two. this is yes jackson joel, but nothing bad happens ever to him because why would it? it's all fine right?

summary: he never made space in his life for love in the aftermath of destruction. the after of his life he once thought would extend past decades of gray hair, smile lines carved in around his mouth now set in frowns and sneers. but snowfall and alcohol blur the lines for both of you when winter comes to jackson.

word count: 1.6k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, love confessions, heavy makeout sessions, alcohol consumption, tipsy joel, sad joel, laughter at the end of the world, hope.

He can't remember laughing until his stomach hurt. The ache that spilled into his chest, warming his insides with a sun like quality that left him shivering. He can't recall the feel of his cheeks pulled so wide the sensation became a phantom pain seconds after. He knows it happened. He can distinctly recall the jokes, the joy. But the laughter lingers like a ghost at the back of his mind—translucent and gray and distorted enough to feel false.

Alcohol simmers in his stomach with a rueful intent. A malignant aftermath that would hit him in a few hours after two months of attempted sobriety. Ellie insisted, he accepted. Easy enough to say. Difficult to follow through with.

He had his days where whiskey sounded better than the flavor of bacon Tommy would bring him in the early mornings. But the dismay in your eyes helped him hold off, regain his awareness of a world not yet shattered. For once in quite a long time...he finally lived. For you, for Ellie, for Sarah.

He lived to see his hair grow longer and the grays appear more frequently. To drink coffee in the mornings on a porch you were already settled on. To help you fix small things here and there in your cabin next door. He lived for your smile, the light in your eyes. The curve of your lips as they pulled up into bolstering peals of laughter—the furrow in your brow as you frowned from endless frustrations on long hard days.

Joel Miller lived to love you.

He existed to dig his heels in and wait shit out—it's what he was good at, what he knew how to do. But for you he relented quicker than ice on a hot asphalt driveway back home in Texas. His mind became sand that slipped through your giving hands—heart a fluttering mess that sang a tune he could never get right on the guitar stashed in his living room.

Days bloomed into weeks which grew into months. Eventually a year passed and what used to be difficult and awkward to be around people again, felt like breathing the fresh winter air. The jackets he managed to find hung on hooks by the door, a pair of heavy boots beside the small table Tommy crafted him.

The mornings were nice. When hot water hit ground coffee and the aroma plagued his kitchen for hours at a time. The evenings called you towards him—simple cooking skills shared in the confines of a home he pined for you to reside in.

Life was a sliver of peace he never imagined he'd get again. But the hole in his heart never faded, the pain still rang out sharp enough to have him clamping down on the inside of his cheek. And your smile made his stomach ache with a longing deep enough to scar.

Tommy told him to buck up and do something. Ellie called him a fucking idiot.

You...gave no indication you felt the same way. So silent and reserved he would remain.

Your feet slid on icy, fingers gripping tightly to his jacket with a yelp in a quick attempt to save yourself from slamming to the ground. Joel snickered loud and brash and a wash of embarrassment burned under frozen cheeks. Dragging you up, his arm looped tightly around your waist—hand pressed harsh and insistent to the small of your back. You swallowed the butterflies at the sight of his face flushed red—eyes shining from the effect of too much whiskey.

"We were bad tonight," you muttered, breath forming a cloud between your faces.

He grinned—skin buzzing at the close proximity of your form. "Only a little bit."

"You're not supposed to drink Joel."

Leaning in he traded his smile like a secret; you tucked it into your chest with a sharp breath. "I won't tell if you don't, darlin'."

"Joel..."

"C'mon. No one's gettin' in trouble here."

A blade pierced your heart brutally—spilling crimson along pale white snow. Even as Joel remained entirely unaware of how you clung to him. How your body called his name—your mind plagued with thoughts of his being, with images of his smile, with the sound of his raspy voice. He'd never know the way you cherished each moment with him. The mornings tucked away from an unruly world—the nights shared between friends who might one day be more.

Your teeth scraped along the cracked skin of your bottom lip, eyes cast up to the curl of his lips. The words sprang forth faster than you could drag them back. Your chest of secrets unlocked and bared to the man who drowned you in his small flecks of joy. Later you'd blame the alcohol. When the headache ravaged your head and an ache lingered between your thighs.

Later you'd comb over every small glance and breathy word.

"I like spending time with you Joel," you breathed, fingers toying with the front of his leather coat. "I like...um..."

The breath caught in his throat, gaze desperate to catch yours. "Yeah sugar?"

"It's a hard thing to say." Another cloud of your whiskey tinged breath filled the air.

"You can tell me anythin'. You know that right?" Even as hope flared bright and scorching through the width of his chest. "I'll listen."

Hesitation spilled into the night, your voice a soft whisper he barely caught. "Please don't make me say it if you aren't going to say it back."

Oh didn't you know?

Did you not see how his gaze dug beneath the layers of flesh and bone, of tendons and veins that clung to your form? Did you not understand he would take a bullet for you? That he'd bear the wound of a warrior's death to keep you alive? How could you not know that his love stuck to his tongue with a saccharine bitterness he swallowed down like the drugs he once took to numb his mind?

You healed pieces of his soul you never broke. A marred and fucked puzzle that was meant to find a home six feet underground. By his own hand no less. He was destined to die—born to suffer—yet you swathed him wool with the promise of a peaceful life.

A future etched by the hands of love.

"Say it," he pleaded, frozen hand cupping your cheek.

"It's more than just that." The breath you took shot adrenaline down his spine. "I like our mornings. I like our dinners and conversation. And even when you come into town with me. But I...I love..."

The glossy nature of your eyes created by unshed tears that pooled at your waterline dug the knife deep enough to meld it within his heart. You didn't know. You couldn't have. His silence, his hesitation, swallowed every emotion he might have told you—every secret uttered in the shadows of night that told only half his story.

He told you about Sarah. About their life together, about her smile. That in itself felt like a proclamation of love—a key to the heart he thought stopped beating long ago.

"I knew it would freak you out," you muttered, pulling away from his hold.

Only for him to panic. His hand gripped the back of your jacket, pushing you towards him hard enough for your feet to slip again. But your gasp was swallowed by the cold press of his mouth to yours. Lips chapped by the winter air slid against your parted mouth as you froze against his chest. Your hands hung listlessly at your sides. He kissed you tenderly, attempting to wake you from the spell of shock, but to no avail did it bring you back.

"'M sorry." His words were muffled against your chin, forehead pressed to yours and eyes squeezed shut. "I shouldn't have–"

The press of your fingers into his cheeks jolted him back—eyes wide as you dragged him back with a stifled moan. Your mouth found his tongue hot and wet along his bottom lip in a pleading motion he complied to instantly. Stepping forward he fell into you with a deep groan. One that echoed and vibrated right down to your stomach—one you savored with a lick along his back teeth.

Hands cupped your ass with an insistent need to mold you closer, fingers digging into the plush flesh he longed to bite and taste. You tasted like whiskey. You smelled like him. It made him dizzy with want, anxious to lead you back to his porch—to seat you on his kitchen counter in the mornings while the coffee went cold.

"Fuck I wanna take ya home sugar," he grunted, biting at your lower lip with a grin.

Your breathless reply made the hair stand on the back of his neck. "You can."

"No." He shook his head, stealing another kiss with a gritty moan. "Not tonight. 'M gonna do this proper."

"Proper," you smiled, tugging on the longer curls you refused to let him cut. "You're such an old man Miller."

The large breadth of his hand cupped your chin, pushing the cheeks he lightly bit into together. "Won't be sayin' that tomorrow when I ain't got all this fuckin' alcohol in me."

"Yeah?" The droop of your eyelids—the darkened iris now filled with lust—set his teeth on edge. His body hummed with a new buzz he craved since meeting you. "Prove it."

"Oh I will." He grinned sharply, licking his teeth like a wolf waiting to pounce. "Don't you worry 'bout that."

A glimmer in your eyes caught his attention, the grip on your face loosening. "You know I love you right darlin'?"

You smiled—big and bright—and Joel felt another piece of his soul set back into place. "I love you too Joel."

[moons-of-firdaws]

Adding to this as someone who learned about astrology because I hated it, and I pride myself on being an informed hater.

It bothers me when people talk badly about astrology, not because their critiques aren't valid but because they're misinformed.

When we're talking about an astrology that shoves you into 12 boxes and says "cancers are emotional", and believes certain things about you are fundamental and unchangeable and that they know everything about you without actually having to talk to you — we're not critiquing astrology, we're critiquing the New Age movement (the section in your local library that says "new age spirituality"? These are the same thing) which began somewhere around the 1970s. Now this, this is important to critique, call out and pushback against because it is a reactionary and fundamentalist counterculture movement — other markers of the New Age movement are: alternative medicine, the law of attraction (prosperity gospel) and pseudohistory or historical reconstructionism.

This is where you get things like crystal or essential oil healing, low vibrational and high vibrational thoughts ("you attract what you think about, avoid low vibrational thoughts") and Wiccanism being attributed to thousands of years ago and referred to as the first witches or the first religion (Wiccanism emerged in the 1960s).

It is important to understand (and position) this kind of critique against astrology within that framework, because another Hallmark of the New Age movement is the appropriation, misappropriation and bastardization of a variety of complex spiritual systems through a reductionist lense. Different spiritual systems, and different parts of different spiritual systems, are cherry picked, repackaged and simplified into... what I'll be referring to as determinist categories for a lack of a better word (I'm running on 5 hours of sleep and I can't remember the specific word for this, but I know it exists). They did this with astrology, but they also did this with Chakra, with Reiki healing, the Jewish tree of life (and other aspects of Kabbalah) and ATRs (African Traditional Religions) to name a few. This is how you get things like: the divine feminine, twin flames and you need to open your sacral chakra (P.S. Chakras don't "open" or "close", you can't open your Charkra because it doesn't close. P.P.S. also Chakras are a closed practice to certain Hindu and Buddhist sects, and to my knowledge the Hindu sects which do accept converts don't do Chakra — this is very much a "you're either born into it, and in certain sects even if you're born into it you have to be initiated into it first, or you can't practice.") etc. These are all very much rooted in the stereotypical conceptions of spirituality (/spiritual systems) within western cultures. It is important to call this out because the New Age movement and associated notions are dangerous, like all reactionary movements it's peddled towards people who are desperate to offer an easy-fix solution and in some cases it can convince people to forgo life saving treatment in favour of crystal healing (or essential oils, or convince them to ingest toxic crushed crystals, herbs or oils), and this is without unpacking all its racist and antisemitic elements and the harm that it does to marginalized communities. Obviously, the degree of danger differs, to use a more relatable example to bloggers who are likely to be exposed to posts by user batmanisagatewaydrug, think of the difference degrees of danger within puritanism: from "if you ship jaytim you're weird and wrong" to "sexual deviants (queer people, sex workers, kinksters) should be criminalized and also sex outside the institution of marriage is a sin that should be outlawed." See?

Now, let's talk astrology. I'd like to preface with the fact that I won't be talking about Vedic astrology here, with all the associated implications of it being used as an oppressive tool in South Asia, because that is a different context that's not relevant to this conversation; New Age astrology isn't referring to Nakshatras when it makes these statements and generalization and (in mainstream cases) wasn't appropriated from vedic astrology, it is a bastardized form of hellenistic astrology (which was practiced in the Mediterranean and Egypt). Majority of western astrologers practice hellenistic astrology (with a few exceptions that practice a form of mesopotamian astrology or Islamic, or Jewish, astrology) and this will henceforth be referred to as just astrology because it makes things easier for me specifically.

So, astrology, what is it? Not your personality is actually predetermined by space gas at birth. Astrology doesn't draw, nor imply, causal relationships — in layman terms, astrology says, "as above, so below." What this means is that astrology is a spiritual system that is a method of divination (see: coffee cup reading), and the way through which it divines things is by reading the sky and planetary movements (not much to do with stars, I'm afraid) on the basis that the world goes through the same bullshit, and it's easier to look at the sky to draw an inference than it is to do so from the inside — in the exact same way that it is easier to look at a mirror to put on your eyeliner, than it is to figure it out by Proprioception. Basically we use the macrosome as mirror, looking at our cosmic reflection, to figure out the microsome.

But astrology, as a spiritual practice, is very clear that these are inferences. Correlationial inferences. Correlation is NOT causation.

The part we talk about when we go, "I'm a Virgo sun and a Leo moon" are natal charts. Natal charts are essentially a snapshot of the sky, relative to your geographic location, at the moment you were born — and the thing is, it's way more complicated than Virgo sun and Leo moon (that's part of the reason why its bastardization by the New Age movement is an issue, it strips it from a lot of context and makes it easy to make sweeping generalizations). First, there are outer planets (also sometimes referred to as generational planets, these you share with your birth cohort) and inner planets (specific to you) that's because, while the sun changes signs every 28 days, Pluto changes signs every 12-30 years. And that's just zodiac signs, we haven't even gone into Houses (a planet will transition into a sign, and into a house, a Libra moon in the 7th House is different than a Libra moon in the 12th House). Then we go into the fact that, natal charts are a mathematical mapping of planetary positions, relevant to your location at a very specific time, and the angles of these mapped out lines and the patterns they make matter, and what quadrant they're in also matter, because the position of different planets in relation to each other matter (are they opposite or square each other? is it a trine, a sextile, a grand cross? In which of the four quadrants is anything; ascendant, descendant, midheaven, or IC?) and you will have multiple of these patterns in one natal chart.

That's to say, every single natal chart is unique. There are no two natal charts that are the exact same (hence: you can't and shouldn't be make sweeping generalizations about people). Except for cesarean twins that are born, like, 2 minutes apart; a conundrum for natal chart astrology divination (natal chart astrologists will make the argument that identical twins who share 100% of their genes will also be different, this doesn't invalidate natal chart astrology, I'll leave that up to you to work through).

And that's just natal charts. Which isn't even the most practiced, relevant, or salient part of astrology. The primary practice of astrology involves transits. If you've ever heard the phrase, "mercury retrograde", that's a transit (retrograde isn't enough either, is it in Gemini or Virgo? What House is it in currently? Where is it in relation to other planets in antegorate or retrograde?)

Then, if you want to know what relevance a transit has to you... it gets even more complex. You overlay snapshot of the sky currently (and how it's going to move), on top of your natal chart — this also means that your natal chart, or the saliency of different aspects of your natal chart and its relevance to your life isn't static, it changes with time. It breathes with you. This is referred to as horoscopic progression.

The most popular form of horoscopic progression are what we colloquially refer to as "horoscope" (which is a misnomer as that's more of an umbrella but whatever), which, by the way, is not about your sun sign. If you're a Libra sun, you don't read Libra horoscope. You read by your ascendant, which is your sign in 1H (first house), i.e. a Libra sun, Aquarius Ascendant/Rising, should be reading the horoscope for Aquarius and not Libra. Your ascendant also changes every 30mins (actually 2 hours, but it goes by 30s, i.e. the ascendant sign for someone born at 14:00 will be different than the ascendant sign for someone born at 14:30, and will stay the same until 16:30; the minutes it goes by might vary by year, I haven't actually checked that) so if you don't know the exact time of your birth, that's not a part of horoscopes you can glean information from.

And this barely scratches the surface of astrology!

Anyways to conclude, I leave you with this screenshot of Wikipedia on Horoscopes (taken 28/11/2024) because it elaborates on my prev points on horoscope astrology much more clearly than I ever could.

[Image Description: Astrological progression is a part of what is usually called predictive astrology, the claim of astrology to predict or forecast future trends and developments. Most astrologers nowadays regard the term 'prediction' as something of a misnomer, as modern astrology does not claim to directly predict future events as such. Instead it is claimed that an astrological pattern with regard to the future can correspond with any one of a variety of possibilities. What is in fact foretold is the trend of circumstances and the nature of the individual's reaction to the situation. In other words, progressed and transiting movements of the planets indicate phases in the individual's life when the potential shown in the natal chart will be given opportunities for development, whether through favourable or unfavourable circumstances.

In addition all modern astrologers stress the role of free will. It is asserted that astrology does not reveal fate or patterns which are 'written in stone', rather it reveals a person's strengths and weakness, talents and opportunities. The horoscope does not determine the future, but shows the possible paths that lie ahead so that the individual can choose between them. Modern astrologers argue that no planetary aspect brings a fate that cannot be counteracted in some way and some benefit derived from it - what actual events happen are largely dependent upon the freedom of choice of the individual. The role of the astrologer is to create self-knowledge and awareness of the movement of the planets and their meaning, so as to give the individual an improved ability to make reasoned and sensible life choices. In short, modern astrologers do not generally predict actual future events, or claim that the future is mapped out and determined.

End Image Description.]

(P.S. if I've gotten anything wrong and anyone wants to offer corrections to the information presented here, or add on to it, please feel free.)

I also apologize in advance for the very long post that's about to hit my mutuals & followers; I don't know how to put things under a read more tag.

it does still make me insane specifically how many queer people lovingly embrace astrology. I went to a poetry workshop yesterday that was genuinely quite good but also included an option to disclose astrology designations during introductions and so many people broke out some variation of "I'm a [x] sum but I have a [y] placement and it SHOWS" girl no it doesn't. that's meaningless correlation you completely invented the causation

[srslylini]

When I read the text and it said "At the center is Piltover" I genuinely knew everything I had to know about what happened in season 2.

And then he goes and talks about Zaun and the way it's portrayed? What.

"A society of thieves, smugglers and makeshift svengalis"?

The way this immediately tells us all we need to know about his views in this kind of social conflict. Who is the reason Zaun has no other choice, Linke? Why can't they do anything but steal? Why can't they live like the rich people in Piltover, Linke?

It's almost like the people who are rich and privileged, looking down on those who have no other choice, is EXACTLY the problem????

I thought they understood that rich people making themselves feel better, for example by calling (poor) people savages, is not actually the right thing.

In season 1, by the way, they showed the council doing crimes themselves and STILL making themselves feel better than those they deem less. If you remember it, they showed Jayce who was starting to get hated because he stopped the others from doing illegal shit. If you remember, they showed the council corrupting each others votes and fucking doing crimes.

I thought, and now this is totally on me, they fully understood that the privileged people had more than double the amount of blood money than those they deem "bad". I thought they also understood that the privileged people just have all the water in the world to wash the blood off and continue to act as if nothing ever happened.

So that's on me.

"The people of Piltover need to decide: Take back control of its city's underground by violent force and risk a civil war, or let Zauns dangerous evolutionary advances go their way"

eye twitching

I'm not even going there because what the FUCK. Dangerous? Evolutionary? Advances?

But do you know what the writers themself say with this? That they agree with Caitlyn.

They agree with Caitlyn on all, that also means they agree that there is "good ones in Zaun I guess", this means the first 3 episodes weren't actually setting anything up and that also means

"Vi is one of the good ones".

[mochiwonz]

― WE LISTEN AND WE DON'T JUDGE

PAIRING. fem!reader x bf!enhahyungline CONTENT. hyungline (heeseung, jay, jake, sunghoon) headcanons , suggestive :3 , petnames , a little fluff..? NOTE. i find this trend so funny so i had to make this LOL i was actually gonna make a whole fic off of this idea but i'm lazy so...hope u enjoy ˃o˂ ♡

HEESEUNG

"hee, let's do this trend!" you say as you basically shove your phone in his face. he giggles, he found it cute how you always loved doing silly trends with him. but as he continues to watch the video, he's unsure. it's kind-of...TMI? he looks at you and you're cheesing ear to ear, fuck, he can't say no. "okay let's do it" he tells you while pulling you onto his chest. you click record and you both say "we listen and we don't judge" luckily, you end up going first, giving him time to think. however, his thoughts are cut short when he hears you say "i love your nose so much and sometimes i think about sitting on it" he doesn't know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that. he's fucked.

JAY

"princess, have you seen that one trend on tiktok? the-" he asks but you quickly cut him off. "oh my god the we listen and we don't judge one? can we do it?!" you ask excitedly, obviously expectant. you both know he couldn't say no to his princess. unfortunately, maybe he should've said no, just this once. "we listen and we don't judge" you both say. "baby go firstt" you tell him, and he listens. "uhm- okay. when i had a crush on you i used to stalk your insta...?" jay says timidly while looking at you, and he notices a change in your expression when you realize it's your turn. "hm, okay. i screen record your voice on facetime calls so that i can uh...use it later...?" you're blushing a little, realizing you just exposed yourself like crazy. oh well, at least jay is blushing too!

JAKE

it's 2:50 am and you and jake are still awake, watching tiktoks on his bed while cuddling. jake comes across a trend, a familiar trend, and asks if you want to do it with him. of course, you say yes, this trend was so funny and you secretly wanted to do it with jake too! "we listen and we don't judge" you both say, and jake starts off. "when i'm in the shower i lather my body with soap and carve your initials in it" he admits while laughing from his embarrassment. you giggle "that's weird but also kinda cute" jake scoffs playfully "yeah yeah okay, your turn" you think for a little and hah, jake won't be ready for this one. "i had a dream that i gave you a blowjob a year ago and your dick was huge" you look up at jake and he's just staring at you, but next thing you know he's on top of you. you can imagine the rest <3

SUNGHOON

you had sent sunghoon a tiktok of a couple doing the "we listen and don't judge" trend and that had sparked an idea in his head. a few hours later after you arrived to his place, you remembered that you wanted to do that tiktok trend with him. sunghoon was so happy you brought it up- he had basically forgot. "okay hoon, you'll start?" you ask, and he nods. "okay, i get hard when you wear miniskirts." he says with a playful grin plastered onto his beautiful face. he immediately notices the change in your demeanor, and you grin back at him. you straddle his lap and end up catching him off guard. "so my plan with the miniskirts did work. nice!"

pls reblog if you enjoyed !! my other works can be found here

© mochiwonz ― all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[jenoslutie]

bad idea, right? l l.dh

❥ Synopsis: You swear you've moved on, you swear you're happy in your relationship. But why is Donghyuck still on your mind? and why are you in his bed again

❥ Genre: Ex FWB!Donghyuck, Bf!Jeno, angst, smut, ??? with benefits au, she is toxic.

❥ Warnings: disloyalty, blackmailing, suggestive but no actual smut, just a whole lot of shitty behaviour from mc, even more implications to recording during sex jeno x reader, haechan x reader. not a happy ending.

❥ Word count: 3.8K

❥ a/n: hellooo angels <3 so uh, this is part 2 of is it casual!!! i KNOW this is not what u guys wanted but i fear this is how the story went!!! as always, feedback is much appreciated :P !! also THANK U TO @be-my-sunrise and @hanniesbrat for letting me yap to you guys about this odd ass fic LMAO

You hated the fact your boyfriend was roommates with the man that ruined you. You hated walking into your boyfriend’s apartment and seeing his face there, staring back at you as if nothing ever happened. You hated having sex with your boyfriend knowing he could come home at any time and hear you. You hated the fact that he still thought that your boyfriend was your friend and treated him like one. 

Jeno, your boyfriend, has been nothing but the best to you. He comforted you through all the late nights you wanted to spend crying, he held you through every moment you spent crying over that fucker until you realized how much you really like him. No man has ever treated you the way Jeno has. No love has ever compared to the love Jeno has given you and you wouldn't trade it for the word. 

“Jeno, I really don’t want to see him, can you just come over instead?” 

That’s how alot of your nights went, 

baby <3: donghyuck told me i need to move out baby <3: he fucking sucks  baby <3: he said i need to break up with u or leave because he can't stand seeing u around 

you: what the actual fuck  you: i'm so sorry  you: he actually sucks so bad  you: you’re welcome to move in with me in the meantime  you: or however long u want you: i'm so sorry for dragging u into this mess jen you: seriously 

baby <3: it’s not your fault baby  baby <3: we’re in this together. 

“You packing up your shit or what, loverboy?” Donghyuck smirked, leaning against Jeno’s door frame. 

“Use your eyes, Donghyuck.” Jeno scoffed, not sparing him a glance. He continued to pack his stuff into his boxes. 

“Oh, don’t forget to pack your girlfriend’s clothes! In Fact, I might have some in my room too, you want me to bring them to you?” 

“Fuck off, Donghyuck.” 

One thing you know for sure is Donghyuck fucking sucks. If he didn’t make that clear the first time around. You’d say you wish the worst upon him. However, some nights, you get deep in your thoughts and thoughts about your relationship with Donghyuck and you miss it. But one thing never changed, you always had Jeno by your side, every time, without fail. 

“Jeno, what if I never met you?” 

“Where’s this coming from?” He chuckled, pulling you in closer and kissing your head for reassurance. “I’m sure i’d find you one way or another, you're my person” 

It was little things like this that made you fall for him. You truly believe Jeno was the one for you. No one treated you half as good as he did. 

“I never want to leave you, angel. You’re mine forever” You smiled, cuddling closer to Jeno, you smiled to yourself when his scent hit you. He smelled heavenly, like he always did, the same comfort and warmth that drew you into him in the first place making you desire him even more today. 

unknown: hey unknown: i'm sure you know who this is unknown: we need to talk unknown: don’t tell jeno. 

Your heart sank. Donghyuck? It can’t be. 

you: who is this? 

unknown: [attachment: 1 video]  unknown: remember me? 

Your jaw dropped, clicking on the video to see you bent over the sink in a bathroom you could never forget, ever. Your hair a mess, you're deliriously calling yourself ‘his forever’. You fucking hated that he had anything to black mail you with such as this. You hated yourself for giving him that type of power. 

you: donghyuck. you: we have nothing to say to each other  you: dont try to contact me again

unknown: you’d be fine with me sending this to your boyfriend though, right?

Immediately, you called him. He was sick in the head and only got more and more out of hand. 

“Donghyuck, you���re not fucking funny” you spat, venom laced in every word

“Funny? Babe, who said I was trying to be funny?” He chuckled “I’m serious, did you forget your little boyfriend lives right next door?” 

You heard him knock on the wall, screaming out your boyfriend’s name.  “Jeno!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” A faint voice in the back. 

“Fuck off, Donghyuck.” And with that you hung up, falling back onto your bed with a sigh. 

“Jeno stop! They’ll hear us” You giggled, lightly pushing Jeno’s head away from his spot in between your legs. He’d been trying to get you worked up through your clothes the whole time youve been over at his apartment. This was the last week of him living here before he officially moves in with you and you both were ecstatic. Last week you’d have to see his face, last week you’d have to be in constant fear that he’ll overhear you and Jeno having sex and last week you’d have to even think about him.  

“We’re alone, baby” he pinned your arms down with one hand. “Let me eat you out baby, promise you’ll be good?” You gave in, nodding at the promise of Jenos mouth on you. 

“I’ll be good.” 

Jeno was talented with his tongue. His technique was unlike any other. He knew how to have you arching into his touch, begging for more, cumming within seconds. You’d describe him as a walking sex god. His way of having you craving more was unmatched. And you don’t think you’ve ever had anyone quite like that before. Not even Donghyuck. 

“Stop thinking about that fucker” Your boyfriend frowned, he could read you like a book and you genuinely dont know how he does it “He doesnt matter right now, it’s just you and me baby” 

‘I love you, Jeno” 

“I love you more than you can imagine, baby” 

He kissed you hard, taking your mind off anything you’d been thinking of before. All you could think of Jeno’s mouth on yours, kissing you with everything he had. Within a moment, Jeno had you undressed, laying under him in all your naked glory. Smiling your love drunk smile at him. Jeno trailed kisses down your body, all the way down to your pussy. 

“Jeno?” you called out, looking down at him with big, innocent eyes. 

“Yes, baby?” he smiled at you sweetly, starting to trail his tongue along your slit, “Pretty, pretty pussy” he mumbled under his breath. 

“Please fuck me already, I cant wait anymore. I need you in me” You pleaded, knowing your boyfriend would do anything but deny you anything.  

“God, I love you. Anything for you baby” He took no time before hovering over you again, pressing a soft kiss to your mouth. “My angel, all mine.” 

“She’s yours?” A voice suddenly interrupted you, a voice that was all too familiar. Jeno’s body hurriedly covered yours, protecting you from the eyes of the intruder. 

“Donghyuck, get the fuck out” Jeno spat. 

“No, If i remember correctly, she’s mine” 

“I was never yours,” You countered, pulling Jeno onto you closer. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to show you the video? As far as i know, your little boyfriend here still hasn’t seen it” 

You felt Jeno freeze, “What video?” Jeno asked you, looking at you with nothing but confusion in his eyes. 

Donghyuck kissed his teeth, “Oh, guess I shouldn't have brought that up right now. right, Y/N?” 

“Donghyuck, just get the fuck out.” 

Jeno pulled away from you as soon as Donghyuck left. 

“What video?” He repeated, looking into your eyes with the same hurt that you once looked into his with.  “Donghyuck recorded a video of us the last time we fucked, it was at his parents house on christmas, remember? Well, basically in the video he made me say I’m his forever. And he wont stop blackmailing me with it” 

Jeno sighed. “He's blackmailing you?”  

“Yeah, look.” you reached for your phone to find the messages Donghyuck had sent you the other day. You looked away from Jeno, feeling ashamed from the whole situation. Donghyuck apparently lived to humiliate you, never letting you catch a break from his antics. 

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” He hugged you, pulling your naked body against his own. “You could’ve told me sooner, I could’ve dealt with him myself” Tears were threatening to slip from your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by Jeno’s loving words and Donghyuck’s bullshit. 

“But i couldn’t, Jeno” Full on sobbing now, you let the tears fall freely down your cheeks. “I was too scared, he’s insane Jeno” Jeno just hummed, rubbing your back reassuringly. 

“You’re not mad?” You asked 

“It’s not fair of me to be mad, this happened before we were dating, it’s not fair for me to hold that against you.” He smiled, pulling away to look at your red, puffy, tear stained face. “My baby. Not his, I promise I’ll get us out of here as soon as i can” 

donghyuck: i heard u and ur little bf were on a break  donghyuck: i think i have some ways to make your break worthwhile babe

you: i'm not your babe. donghyuck.  you: plus, you’re the reason we’re on break in the first place. you: dont contact me again, please. 

donghyuck: you know you miss me y/n.  donghyuck: don’t you miss the way i made you go crazy?  donghyuck: remember the time in my car? after i caught you kissing that fucking loser chenle? donghyuck: you were on me like you needed me to breathe. you can’t even deny it.  donghyuck: now open the door baby, i’m outside. 

You were quick to open the front door, seeing Donghyuck standing infront of you with that stupid fucking smirk on his face. He knew that was your weakness. He knew he was your weakness. 

“Miss me?” You hated his cocky tone. You hated that you actually opened the door for him. You hated that you actually did miss him. He let out a chuckle at your silence, he knew how to read you like none other. Not even Jeno. 

“C’mon, let me in. You know you want to” You hated yourself for actually stepping aside and allowing him into your house, into your safe space. Memories of the endless nights you spent crying over him in the safety of your own house all blurry. 

“H-Hyuck..”

 “Oh? We’re back to Hyuck now?” 

“Is it bad that I want you to kiss me right now?” Your words were hushed but loud enough for him. 

“Yeah?” You nodded, looking down at your feet, too scared to look at him. “Why don’t you beg for it? Since you like to do that a whole lot hmm?” He smiled when he heard you whimper, inching closer to you slowly until he was close enough to wrap his arms around you. 

“Are you gonna beg or are you gonna make me wait longer?” Immediately, a sob left your lips “Hyuck, please kiss me. I missed your lips on mine so much” 

And without another word, his lips were pressing onto yours with the same intensity you craved, the same intensity that once drew you into him. You swear you almost fell for him again when he cups your face, tilting your head up and deepening the kiss. He began walking, lips still on yours forcing you to walk backwards blindly until suddenly you were falling back onto your couch where he followed suit. 

You pulled away, admiring the honey skinned man above you with a small smile. “I missed this” A soft smile mirrored the one adorning your face. 

“I missed you like crazy, no other girl compared to you”

“Why’d it take you so long to realize?” He paused, staring at you blankly. 

“Just– took me a minute..” with a sigh, he leaned down and kissed you again, trailing his hands under your shirt. Grazing your warm skin with his cold hands, sending chills through your body. 

“You gonna let me fuck you? Remind you how I'm so much better than your little boyfriend?” 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh? Last time I checked you were smitten over that guy” 

You hated where this conversation was going so you tried your best to change the topic, “You’re the one about to fuck me right now no?” 

“Shut u–” He was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. 

Jeno. 

Jeno has given you space for almost a month now. Only sending you messages to check in on you occasionally. All to which you replied positively, ensuring him that you’ll be ready to get back with him soon. In reality though, you were nowhere near getting back with Jeno. You spent nearly every night of the past month in Donghyuck’s bed, either cuddled into him or you under him. Something about the way Donghyuck made you feel was unmatched and you’ll never get sick of saying that. 

You stepped into Donghyuck’s kitchen early in the morning, seeing him in just a pair of grey sweatpants with his back turned towards you. It didn’t take long for the waft of the pancakes he’d been cooking up to reach you. 

You gawked, “You’re making breakfast?” He turned to you, an unimpressed look on his face (though you could see him fighting a smile.) “Does that surprise you?” and you fought the urge to affirm that it does truly surprise you to see him doing something nice for you. 

Instead, you hummed, “No, not really.” With a small smile on your lips, you walked up to Donghyuck who had switched his attention back to the pancakes he had cooking on the stove, wrapping your arms around his bare torso. His skin was soft and warm under your touch. 

“Good morning, angel” He hummed, placing a hand over yours. The two of you swayed in a comfortable silence. This is how times with Donghyuck usually went, quiet and calm until he was suddenly kissing up on you, feeling up on you or begging to be inside you. 

“You wanna sit and wait at the table for me?” You chirped a “sure” and detached from him, making your way over to the dining table, sitting down on your favourite chair. 

baby <3: good morning angel baby <3: can i see you today?  baby <3: i miss you, wanna hear your voice so bad :( 

you: of course you can :)  you: actually, let me just call you right now. you can still come over later tho :P 

It didn't take long for an incoming call from Jeno to come through.  

“Good morning angel” You could hear his smile through the phone. A smile creeping up on your own face just from picturing the beautiful smile adorning his face. “Good morning, handsome” He chuckled, “You sleep well?” 

“You could say that..” You trailed off, thinking of the way you were cuddled into Hyuck last night, the warmth of his body keeping your own body warm. You slept better than you have in a while. 

“I miss sleeping with you” Jeno admits, the pout in his voice too obvious. You frowned, feeling the guilt take over you. 

“You can stay the night tonight if you want” You lowered your voice, hoping Hyuck wouldn’t hear all the way in the kitchen. 

“Oh, no, I still want to give you space! I think i’d be impeding a little if I were to stay the night” 

“I don't think so, you’re welcome to stay” 

You heard him sigh in relief, “Okay then, I’ll come by in a bit.” 

“See you soon, angel.” 

You bid your farewells and that's when you noticed Hyuck walking into the room. “Who was that?” He questioned, setting the two plates of pancakes down. You broke eye contact with him, focusing your  attention onto the pancakes in front of you. 

“I asked you something, you know?” 

“It was Jeno.” 

He hummed, wordlessly digging into his own plate of pancakes. You felt so guilty. This isn’t where you belonged. You belong next to Jeno, in his arms, under him, near him. You belong with Jeno. Someone who treats you like a proper human. But you found yourself running back to Donghyuck and you hated it. Worst part of it all? Donghyuck didn’t even know you and Jeno aren’t officially broken up. You’d been too scared to tell him, too scared of the possibility of losing Donghyuck in your life. So you’d decide it’s best if he doesn’t know your relationship with Jeno. It’s not even like it matters, right?

“What the actual fuck” Jeno gawked, looking down on his phone screen. He’d originally planned for today to be a rest day after the hell of a day he had at work yesterday but his peace was disrupted when suddenly he got a text from his ex roommate. 

donghyuck: hey jeno  donghyuck: its me donghyuck donghyuck: i know you might hate me right now but you might wanna see this.  donghyuck: [attachment: 1 video]  donghyuck: before you come for me, i had no clue you guys weren’t officially broken up at the time of this  donghyuck: im sorry jeno. 

Attached was a video of a girl, naked body on all fours as the person behind the camera (presumingly Donghyuck) pounded into her from behind. The problem? The problem was the girl had the same hair as you, the same body, the same everything as you. Even that little tattoo on your shoulder that read “delicate” in a beautiful cursive font that Jeno had helped pick out. Everything was you. 

jeno: donghyuck.  jeno: thanks for this… i genuinely can't believe it. 

Within a heartbeat, Jeno was pulling up your contact. 

baby <3: hi angel  baby <3: can i come over? i left my hoodie at ur house and i need it

you: sureeee thing!  you: let me know when ur abt to reach <3 

Jeno, furious, hurriedly grabbed his keys and got in his car. He thought after what you’d been through, you’d know how it feels to get your heartbroken like this. He’d expected you of all people to be better than this but no, you had to be the absolute worst of them all. He thought maybe you of all people would keep his heart safe but no, you clearly gave no fucks about him or his heart. 

He managed to calm down by the time he got to your apartment. Breathing in and out before ringing the doorbell. 

“Hi Jen!” You chirped, allowing him in. You were wearing an oversized shirt that exposed your newly tattooed shoulder. The same tattoo that was visible in the video. Jeno’s heart sank the more he looked at you. The girl he once gave his heart, his love, his everything to, is the one who he’s currently dreading speaking to. In other words, he hates you right now. Hate was one word he would’ve never imagined using with you. 

“You okay, love?” you frowned, wrapping your arms around him tightly, pulling him close into you. He hated the innocent look on your face as you peered up into his own. He had a soulless look in his eyes. “I’m fine,” He forced a tight lipped smile, peeling your arms off him. “I’m gonna– uh, grab my clothes.” 

You watched as he walked into your room and went straight for your closet, rummaging through to find his hoodie. 

“Jeno” You started, walking into the room behind him. “What’s wrong? Talk to me baby,” 

Jeno sneered, turning around to look at you with narrowed eyes. “What's wrong Y/N?” His voice raised, he wasn't yelling but it was clear that he was upset. “What’s wrong is while I gave you space to figure out your shit with Donghyuck, you went out and were fucking him. While continuing to lead me on. Isn’t that wrong, Y/N? Don’t you think I deserve any loyalty? Any love in return? While I sat here, impatiently waiting for you to come back to me, you were taking advantage of it and fucking the reason we were on break. Don’t you remember how we met in the first place? All those nights I spent being a shoulder for you to cry on, being there for you every step of the way. Don’t you think I deserve anything?” The hurt in his eyes was more than evident. You looked dumbfounded, eyes wide in shock as you stood frozen. 

“Jeno–” You cut yourself off, at a loss for words. Sighing in defeat, you gave him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I felt so incredibly guilty everytime, but something in me just couldn't stop. I hate myself for doing it and you deserve to hate me for it too but I’m so sorry.” 

“I loved you, Y/N. How do you think it feels when your girlfriend’s ex fling– or whatever he was, texts you randomly, telling you that your girlfriend had been fucking him the whole time you’d been on break? It’s not a great feeling, I’ll tell you that. Oh, and having to see a video of it? Even worse. I’m sorry Y/N but I don’t deserve this. I gave you my everything and you couldn’t even spare me an ounce of loyalty.” 

“Jeno, a-are you leaving me?” He felt like laughing in your face, do you seriously think he’ll stay after this? 

“Genuinely, do you think I’d wanna stay after the fact, Y/N? Honestly, I want nothing to do with you anymore. Consider us done.” He gave you that same, tight lipped smile, gathered his belongings and walked out your bedroom door. 

“Jeno!” You called out, he stopped in his steps, turning to look at you one last time “I’m so sorry, I love you.” Tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“No, you really don't. Goodbye Y/N, don’t contact me again, please, for my sake.” And with that, he walked out your door, leaving you broken and in tears. You had no one to blame but yourself. If you hadn’t let Donghyuck in that day, you would have saved yourself from this mess, you would've still have Jeno in your life and you wouldn't be here, crying in your doorway. 

Filled with rage, you dialled Donghyuck’s number, he picked up on the second ring. 

“Why the fuck wouldn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He spat, you could tell he was angry. “You had me thinking this whole time, you’d broken up but in reality, you were leading on poor Jeno and still fucking me? How do you think that makes either of us feel? I know I did something wrong the first time around but this time? You fucked up, Y/N.” 

“Hyuck liste–” 

“Don’t call me, Y/N.” 

With that, he hung up. Your heart dropped, you felt as if you’d lost it all in the span of under an hour. All that you cared about in life had been ripped out of your hands with no one to blame but yourself. You hated what you’d done, hated what you’d done to these two poor men. Neither of them deserved it, especially Jeno and you had no way of going back in time and fixing it. 

[bratbarzal]

On My Side (NH13)

Pairing: Nico "I think the hockey gods were on my side" Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy

WC: 6k

part of the On Your Side universe

*This is a bonus chapter set after the ending of the overall fic, and can be read as a standalone if you haven't read the fic, but if you want to understand their dynamic and Poppy's personality a little more, you should!!!

Description: 18+ MDNI, Nico comes home to Poppy after scoring his first ever career hat-trick for the Devils. Way more fluff than smut but Nico is down bad as always.

A/N: You're all a bunch of enablers and that's all I have to say on the matter!!! Hope this fills the void while I continue to struggle with chapter ten lmao there is mention of Baby Cheeto in here but no spoilers for her name. Nico calls her Bug as a nickname, like _____-Bug, Chäferli (little bug) or just Bug for short, but it isn't her actual name. I can't use Cheeto forever lmao. I was literally trying to think of a title and remembered he said the words "on my side" WHAT IF I TOLD YOU HE'S A MASTERMIND he's an oys!truther if I ever saw one! Painfully obsessed with Poppy if you ask me. Also the way Cheeto would rock the heck out of this it's so cute I had to share

Nico Hischier likes to think he’s a patient man.

Finally scoring his first career hat-trick after 8 years in the NHL, after 476 games played with the Devils, would be the ultimate testament to that.

Doing so in the first ever game with his daughter in attendance - on home turf, his mother and Poppy holding her up in the family suite during warm-ups in her little Devils teddy sleeper that he can only just make out from down on the ice, but has his rampant heart beating out of his chest all the same - has him thinking that maybe, after all those years, after all those games, the stars had been aligning for him the whole time. 

And it was that sort of patience he had tried to tune into since the end of the second period, when he knew Poppy had left early to try skip traffic and get their little girl home safe for bed.

It’s what he tries to channel in the aftermath of the game, swarmed by reporters in the locker room, trying to remain polite and professional, not rushing them through their questions or giving half-assed answers - knowing he owes a lot more than that to the organisation that has allowed him to get this far. Trying to save just a speck of energy to give when he finally gets home, collapsing into the warm embrace of the girls he knows are waiting patiently for him.

It’s what he holds onto when he has to take a detour on his way home, dropping his mom off at her hotel and trying not to visibly squirm in his seat as she regales him with stories of how his daughter had captured the hearts of everyone she encountered, swallowing down the slight jealousy that he hadn’t been there to see it and clinging to the fact that he had his own success elsewhere in the night - success that played second fiddle in his own mother’s eyes to the experience of sharing her granddaughter’s first ever game with her, an experience he had to endure twice as she called his father from his car, deep chuckles ringing through the speakers as he tried to get a word in edge ways beyond her excitement.

It’s what has him shaking with anticipation as he almost skips down the hall to their apartment, mustering up the rest of his energy to walk into their home without the weight of the world on his shoulders, leaving any doubt, any insecurity, any lingering self-deprecation at the door so he can bask in this moment with the two hearts that are shaped entirely to fit him into them.

And it’s what has him shaking off whatever disappointment tries to creep in when he sees his little girl asleep in Poppy’s arms, knowing whatever tiny part of her he will ever get will always be enough - even if her big, glassy eyes aren’t looking up at him, even if he doesn’t come home to one of those heart-stopping beaming smiles she has started to give to him whenever he enters the room - her being here, sleeping safely in the arms of her beautiful mother, and him getting to come home to whatever version of them he can, is more than he could ever ask for.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the hat-trick hero.” Poppy’s soft voice carries to him as he makes his way over, dropping his bag on the floor and keys on the counter, heading straight to where she is now standing and pressing a kiss to her waiting lips. “Hi, handsome.”

“She didn’t wanna say goodnight to her daddy, huh?” He tries not to sound too dejected - he’s supposed to be on a high, after all - but after half an hour of his mother unintentionally bragging about all the attention she had been giving to her Gromi all night, he can’t help the slight sag of his shoulders - especially knowing that she’s going to be spending the morning with his mom tomorrow, too.

“Sorry, baby, we watched a little of you on the TV and then she got hangry,” Nico finds himself hypnotised by her still figure, enamoured with the way she exudes sheer calmness. The smile that creeps up on his lips seems to do so by muscle memory - a dopey kind of smile he’s probably had plastered on his face since she came into the world kicking and screaming 2 months ago, a smile permanently etched into his features from probably even before that. “I promise I tried to keep her up, she literally fell asleep on my boob.” Poppy whispers, watching with warm, glittery eyes as Nico takes in the sight of his two favourite people in front of him - Poppy already changed into one of his shirts, settled for the night, and his baby girl all cosy in her little teddy bear onesie, pacifier bobbing between her plush little lips.

“Look at her hat,” he pouts, running a finger along the folded seam of the way-too-big beanie Poppy has perched on top of her head, the knit fabric falling just short of her closed eyes. “That’s adorable.”

“Your mom put it on her before we left,” Poppy chuckles lightly, “Wanted to keep it on until you got home, we had to celebrate the hatty properly.” Her brows raise as if gesturing to the bill of the cap on her own head, one of his, he’s sure - no doubt stolen from their closet as soon as she got home.

“My little good luck charm,” he leans down to press a kiss to her cheek before he lifts himself back up and bends toward Poppy, “Gonna have to start coming to all the games.”

“I’ll let you break the news to her when she wakes up,” she hums as he presses his lips to hers, “She has a very low tolerance for everybody telling her to smile and getting all up in her space, been grouchy all night.”

“Just like Mami, huh, bug?”

“Oh, you think you’ve got jokes now?” Poppy scoffs as she steps back, ready to take their daughter to bed.  “Score your first hatty and you think you’re funny?”

“Always been funny, babe,” he smirks, flicking at the cap sat on her head before he takes it off, flipping it to place on top of his own and following her down the hall. “I’ll prove it to you when I get her first laugh.”

“She’ll be laughing at you, not with you.”

“Better than nothing.”

Nico sits on the edge of their bed as Poppy reaches into the crib to retrieve the sleeping bag in there before she lays it down beside him. He does the work unzipping and readying it for her to place their daughter inside while she rocks her still-sleeping body, and the two of them work in tandem to get her inside before zipping her back up, with Nico softly pulling the beanie from her head and watching her fluffy hair fan out in its absence. 

He runs a gentle hand over her head to smooth it down as Poppy lifts her, and leans into where she offers her up for a kiss before she puts her in the crib. Nico watches with a soft smile etched into his features, the familiarity of it all spreading warmth throughout his chest, his favourite part of every day being this - sharing a goodnight routine in the comfortable quiet, the two loves of his life safe and happy within arms reach.

None of it feels new or daunting anymore, just easy - and despite the constant warnings of it not always being this way, Nico just wants to feel it to its fullest extent; sheer happiness and serenity. 

Poppy returns to the front of him, and he instinctively spreads his legs to accommodate her, palms laying flat against his chest and his hands falling to her hips. She just looks at him for a good few seconds, eyes shimmering with admiration, lips tugged between teeth and a head tilted as her expression flickers into something more intense. 

Her hands travel down his arms, wordlessly, until she grasps at his wrists and pulls him to stand, leaning up to press a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “C’mon,” she whispers while her lips are still against his skin, “Wanna celebrate you.”

As if getting to come home to her isn’t celebration enough.

He follows her back through the hall with their hands clasped together, arms stretched between them so he can watch the hem of his shirt ride up against the backs of her soft thighs, and he starts to feel his throat go dry.

He thinks of all those mornings they would spend in the kitchen together in the summer, his shirts a little tighter around her pregnant belly, riding up against her curves and leaving very little to the imagination when she’d wear just his t-shirt and nothing else.

She’s wearing panties now, he can tell, could see the bottom of them peaking out when she’d leaned over to put their daughter in her crib. But he doesn’t mind inching them off, quite likes the slow pace of unwrapping her like a gift - a well-deserved present for all his hard efforts on the ice.

It’s where his fingers find themselves almost immediately when she stops just short of the couch, spinning and practically launching herself into his waiting arms. He can’t help but chuckle as they collide, large arms wrapping around her frame as she melts into him, hands gripping either side of his jaw to pull him down in a clash of teeth and tongues. He palms at her ass as she presses her hips forward, fingers slipping under the hem of her panties and wriggling under them until his knuckles are covered by the fabric, squeezing at the flesh until she groans into his open mouth. 

He feels deft fingers working between them to rid him of his own clothes, clumsily popping open the buttons of his jacket before working their way up his chest, slipping into the arms and helping him shrug it off. The weight of it drops to the floor with a heavy thud, and when her hands return to his chest for the next item of clothing to be removed, she pushes him back with an exaggerated huff.

“Baby, how many layers do you need?”

“You in some kind of rush, or something?” He chuckles, chasing her lips with a crane of his neck, getting a quick kiss in before she pushes him back again with palms laid flat on his broad chest.

“Your daughter has some sort of radar for when we’re within 2 inches of each other,” she says as her hands slide down, the feel of them through the extra layers he has on still present as she travels past the hard ridges of his abdomen. She grasps tight at the bottom of his hoody, and he lends a hand to tugging it up and over his head, throwing that to the floor, too. “We gotta get a move on before she wakes up,”

“My daughter?” He scoffs, removing his undershirt while she’s distracted, relishing the feeling of a heavy gaze on his chest once it’s fully revealed to her hungry eyes. “She’s really given you such a hard time that you’re disowning her?”

“She isn’t letting me have a hard time at all, that’s the problem.” Her hands reach back out seemingly of their own volition, fingers fanning out across his skin as her stare glides down, the weight of it sliding down his skin to the point he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. 

“That was weak for you.” He teases.

“I’m out of practice,” she pouts, closing the distance once more and pressing her lips to the slightly stubbled skin of his jaw, nipping at the flesh as her ministrations travel across his features, his jaw, his neck, the spot just below his ear, where she mutters, “Wanna show you how proud I am of you,”

“Oh yeah?” He asks as she works at the button of his pants, pushing until they pool at his feet and he can kick them off.

“Mmhm,” she moves her kisses back to his waiting lips, “Been waiting to get my hands on you all night.”

“Been waiting to get my hands on you all day,” he mutters back, bending to lift her with hands gripping her ass, “Been thinking about you teasing me in the kitchen this morning,” he starts heading for the couch, mind spinning as she continues kissing him - thinking of all the plans she had been making for the two of them while his mom takes Little Bug out in the morning, finally giving them some much needed, uninterrupted time to themselves. Plans of wasting the morning away between the sheets, sharing showers, having no responsibilities other than paying attention to one another. “Thinking about having you all to myself tomorrow."

“You gonna let me give you a preview?” 

He chuckles as he falls back onto the couch, all grace thrown out the window as they sink into the cushions, her still holding onto him and now straddling his lap, lips stretched into a blissful smile as he looks up at her.

She presses them straight to his, and he can’t bring himself to mind the way their teeth clash at her eagerness, hips grinding down onto his as she settles onto her knees.

He could spend forever kissing her like this, sensual and sloppy, the slight scratch of her nails against the sides of his neck and his grip on her thighs guiding her movements straight onto the aching growth between his legs.

He bucks up to meet her, and their lips part with a wet smack as she groans. 

"Bet you can’t wait for me to shave, eh?” he smiles as he swipes a thumb across the space between her nose and lip, the skin red raw from the scratch of his moustache.

“You know damn well I’d ban you from ever touching a razor again if I could.” She says, breathlessly, slowly thrusting down onto him.

“Tell that to your little red muzzy, you’re giving Luke a run for his money,”

“Hey,” she swats at his chest in feigned outrage, “The kid tried his best!” 

“No more talk about Hughes when you’re sat on my lap,”

“You brought him up!”

“Thought I was getting a preview,” he groans as he shuffles, reaching between them to slip a hand between her legs, tucking his fingers beneath her panties and swiping against her heat. “Jesus, Poppy.”

“Told you I’ve been thinking about you all night,” she pecks at his lips again, raising her hips a little to give him further access to slide his fingers through the almost excessive wetness that’s near enough soaked through her panties. 

He prods at her entrance, two fingers slipping straight in until she’s gasping against his cheek in sheer bliss. His digits move with ease, working his way up to his knuckles as he drinks up her pleasured moans, his chin tilting until their open mouths just press together without kissing, panting against one another as he works her up. 

He pushes the fabric of his shirt up her thighs with his other hand, exposing his handiwork to hungry eyes so he can see the way she glistens between her legs - can see the way his fingers slide in an out of her.

She takes his shirt off, throwing it beside them on the couch so she can see too, looking down for only a moment before she’s throwing her head back.

He’s so hard just watching her that it’s almost painful - straining against the seams of his briefs until they’re tenting beneath her. And she must notice, nimble fingers working him out until he’s thick and hot and heavy in her palm, gripping around him in with her thumb swiping at his tip, hips shuffling until his fingers slip out of her heat and she can move on her knees to hover above his waiting cock. 

He takes a hold of himself while her hands raise to steady herself on his shoulders, and he waits with bated breath as she lowers herself, sinking past her entrance until he’s sheathed entirely, tight, wet walls wrapped around him in a long-awaited embrace.

Their moans fall out in sync, both of them stilling, the only movements between them being the soft rise and fall of panting chests. 

It’s a minute before she starts to rock her hips, leaning back down to distract herself from whatever unease needs to fade away with the press of her lips to his - tongue swiping at his, sucking and nipping at the muscle as she works herself to the point where she can lift herself up a little.

“Fuck me,” he whines out in an elongated groan as she sinks down on him again, tight and slick and warm, and he feels tension in every cell in his body, strung taut to the point where he feels like he could snap entirely in any given moment.

“I’m working on it,” she pouts, “Think I overestimated my talents here,”

“Think you’re very talented,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her jaw as he lays large hands on the dip of her waist, fingers tickling into the arch of her back so her movements are a little smoother, a little more fluid. “So good to me, yeah? Just need a hand.”

He guides her hips into a steady rhythm - up, down, forward, back - until she’s rocking onto him in a mind numbing pace. 

God, he thinks, this is heaven.

It’s been so long since he’s had her like this. Probably all the way back in Switzerland in the summer, and he thinks a lot about this situation mirrors that - trying to stay quiet, trying to feel as much of each other as they possibly can without drawing attention from sleeping parties one room over. 

He remembers thinking, all those months ago, that it wouldn’t be possible to love Poppy any more than he did, then - that he couldn’t possibly feel more for her than he did when he shared that part of his world, and she had embraced it with open arms. She had blended straight into his family, had adapted herself to his routine, had brought new life and colour to what he had always considered vibrant, anyway, but she had changed the meaning of it all.

But she had done the same to life in Jersey. 

Long gone were any feelings of homesickness he used to get - especially around this time of the year. Fully immersed now into his season, summer seeming too far from his reach that he started to forget what home felt like. But not anymore.

Home is Poppy. Home is their baby girl sleeping soundly in the next room. It’s playing one of the greatest games of his career so far, meeting milestones he had been reaching for for so long, standing in the centre of the arena he has built his career in, hearing the rapturous cheers of fans chanting his name, and driving back knowing the love garnered there could never possibly compare to the love waiting for him in his apartment.

He brings her face down with a palm splayed gently across her jaw, fingers reaching back to tickle at the nape of her neck and thumb swiping tenderly at her soft cheekbone, until their mouths collide. He shifts his hips to meet her ministrations, finding a rhythm that has her gasping into his mouth, enough that his tongue can slip past the seam of her lips and press against hers - hot and fervid and eager.

He wonders as the pressure builds if this passion will ever wither. If this need to profess his love for her will ever wain away, if he’ll ever be casual about the way in which she has become the entire centre of his universe.

He hopes not. 

He hopes when he’s 80, he looks over at her and his heart still hammers in his chest. He hopes his mouth struggles to make sense of all the ways in which his brain tries to convey what she means to him - hopes he still stutters around his sentences and feels weak to the very base of his spine at the mere thought of her. 

In fact, he doesn’t hope at all.

He knows he will.

“You feel so good,” Poppy mutters into his mouth, panting against his swollen lips, “I’ve missed this so much.”

“Yeah?” He thrusts up, “You missed being full of me?”

He’s missed this far out look in her eyes, glassed over and almost gone as she nods in response - they haven’t really been able to get to this stage with their quick fumbles and rushed hookups in the last 2 weeks since she got the all clear from her doctor for them to start being intimate again. Sure, they had developed other methods over those first 6 weeks, making good use of hands and mouths in whatever limited time they could find together, but nothing compares to this.

To being attached at every point like they are one.

“You gonna come for me?”

He still remembers her tells, fluttering lashes, trembling thighs, stuttered breaths all combined with the spine tingling way in which she tightens around him, and he manages to time it so they come together, one final burst of energy used to lift his hips just as she sinks down, body slumping into tremors that wrack through the both of them.

He holds her in place for a second, large hands pushing his shirt up her back as he starts to rub circles into her flesh, soothing her back into a softened consciousness - hazy and frazzled but still in tune with every movement he makes. 

Her nose presses into the expanse of his neck, lips pecking at all the sensitive spots she can seek out as they both try to catch their breaths - and he realises she was probably right before, they haven’t had time like this for a while now. 

Still, he’ll take what he can get.

She lifts her hips just enough for him to slip out, and reaches to the small table at the side of the couch where she has miraculously stashed a pack of baby wipes. She takes two out, using one to clean the both of them before she bundles it into the clean one and discards of it back onto the table to be disposed when she eventually gets the feeling back in her legs.

And it’s as soon as Poppy’s legs give way and she collapses into him that they both hear it - a soft wail carrying through the monitor behind the couch. Cries filling the space around them and bursting their bubble with an almighty pop!

“Told you,” Poppy mumbles into his neck, skin sticky with a soft sheen of sweat. “Won’t even let me get a hatty of my own,”

Nico scoffs, snorting out a loud chuckle that shakes where she rests on his chest, and despite her feigned irritation, she feels her cheeks puff out into a soft, unbreakable grin. “Like you’d have lasted 3 rounds.”

“What happened to me being very talented?” She pouts, mustering whatever strength she has left to push herself up, swinging a leg back over and moving to stand, only for him to grasp back at her, pulling her until her back falls into the plush of the couch.

“Talented, Poppy, not super human,” he chuckles, standing from the cushions and tucking himself back into his briefs. “I’ve got her.”

“It’s probably wind, I changed and fed her before she went down.”

He presses one last kiss to Poppy’s head before heavy feet carry him down the hall toward their bedroom, where their daughter’s crib is temporarily positioned until she starts to sleep a little further through the night. He doesn’t bother flicking the light on as he enters, able to follow his muscle memory straight over to where she is without tripping over his own feet, and he lifts her as soon as he can, cooing at her as she cries into his chest.

“I’ve got you, Chäferli,” he mutters as he rocks her gently, large hand completely encompassing where he can feel her back through her sleeping bag. “Daddy’s here,”

He reaches over to shut off the monitor before he ambles over to his and Poppy’s bed, sitting with his daughter still clutched to his chest, little hiccups coming out as his hand tries to work up her wind. 

“Got yourself all worked up, huh?” He asks, so deep into his routine of talking to her about anything and everything that he no longer second guesses it. “My little bug, you’re okay.”

It takes a good few minutes to calm her down, to the point that Nico thinks she might even be hungry and he’ll have to call Poppy in, wiggling a finger between her lips to see if she latches on, but he continues to pat and rub at her back until she burps, and her cries turn into little coos, that turn into soft pants with wide, sparkling eyes staring up at him in wonder. 

He looks down at her in the same way, dark eyes flitting across her every feature. Across the soft but thick head of hair, the crazy long eyelashes, the puffy lips and the little button nose. 

She looks so much like Poppy that he feels his chest ache every time he looks at her - but it’s a good kind of ache, a longing and content kind of ache, that only aches to remind him of everything he stands to lose if he doesn’t work hard enough to keep it.

“Gromi told me you were charming everybody at daddy’s work,” he tells her with a soft smile, the pad of his finger pressing at the tip of her nose. “Says she’s gonna have to show you off around the city on her own tomorrow.”

Tiny fingers reach up to clasp around his, holding on and clutching with a grip he’s sure wasn’t so firm that morning when he had said his goodbyes. 

“Careful, bug,” he tells her, “You hold Papi’s hand too long and he won’t let you go.”

Wide eyes gleam back at him, and he watches in awe as they start to crinkle in the corners. 

He becomes all too aware of the hammering of his heart, and lays her beside him on the bed in fears that the echoing thud of it beating against his chest might disturb her. He curls up beside her, making sure she’s flat as he gets himself comfortable, and just lays there for a good few minutes, watching her as she watches him.

There isn’t a feeling in the world that compares to this, he thinks. He could score a hundred hat-tricks, have a million people chanting his name, and it won’t come close to how adored he feels in this moment, how proud he feels to have played any part in making a little human so perfect and beautiful.

He leans forward, kissing softly at her puffy cheek, careful not to press too hard that she feels the scratch of his moustache, and he relishes the little squeal of what he hopes is delight she gives in return. 

Poppy gives it 20 minutes before she decides to venture through to their bedroom, having cleaned up and busied herself sterilising bottles so they’re ready for Katja to come pick up in the morning. It’s been a rare occurrence lately that Nico has had his one-on-one time with their daughter, him being so busy with training and their trip to Florida - and he wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t fess up to the ways in which it gets him down, but she knows he feels like he’s missing a lot. 

She changes so much day to day - discovers so much about the world around her - and as much as Poppy tries to save things for him to see on his own, tries to find the balance between sharing the little moments she gets with him and letting him experience them for himself, she knows there’s nothing she can do to keep that nagging voice at bay.

He’s always been that way, unable to completely silence the thoughts that tell him no matter what he does, it isn’t enough. 

He’d even done it tonight - his first career hat-trick, him being the first Swiss-born player to score a natural hat-trick, a stadium filled with fans chanting his name, dominating a team the Devils hadn’t beat at home in close to 10 years - and it hadn’t been his best performance. 

She would gladly spend the rest of her life convincing him he’s good enough, she thinks. 

Her and their little Bug being the ones who get to welcome him home after a night like tonight? She doesn’t know what she did in a past life to get the Gods on her side like this, but she’d do it again a thousand times over.

As her feet pad softly down the hall toward their room, she listens out for the soft voice she usually has the pleasure of eavesdropping on when she thinks he doesn’t know she’s hovering on the other side of the door. A soft voice that tells their little girl exaggerated stories from his day about her uncles, about his games, about whatever he got up to while he was away and what he brought back for her from his travels. But this time, it’s quiet - the peaceful kind of quiet that wraps around her like a blanket, tranquil and warming as she pushes the door open and steps into the room.

Nico is curled up on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, and his arm is draped gently over their daughter’s sleeping bag, their faces inches apart as soft snores fall from their parted lips. She inches closer as quiet as she can manage, leaning over them and taking in their similar profiles - the gentle slope of their mirrored noses, dark lashes framing closed eyes that are turning darker to match her daddy’s day by day.

If anyone had told the Poppy of last November that this is where she would be now - that this is where she’d be with Nico - she never in a million years would have believed it. 

He has transformed her life in such little time that she can barely remember the before. Can barely remember a night she fell asleep in any other bed, by any other side, or woke up to anyone else. Can barely remember feeling anything close to this kind of happiness, this kind of content.

It’s like he’s introduced her to a whole new level of feelings. Ones she struggles to describe, like there’s no word in the English language that could possibly convey what he means to her.

Maybe his language has a word for it. Something that she’s never heard before, but just sounds right. Like she knew it somewhere much deeper than her brain allowed her access. She’ll have to ask him, tomorrow - when they finally have a morning to themselves and she can work up the energy to crawl out from under the sheets with him.

A part of her wishes she could take a snapshot of this moment - could send it back in time to the Poppy who never thought this kind of life would ever find her. The Poppy who was drifting, coasting, floating, afraid of landing on her own two feet and having to drag them for the rest of time through unfamiliar territories. The Poppy who pushed down her ever expanding adoration for the man currently cuddled up to their entire life in the bed they share, who convinced herself he could never possibly feel the same way, and wasted years of her life when she could have had this.

But another part of her thinks, what’s the point?

She has him, now. 

She’ll have him forever.

She allows herself to watch for a minute as they take deep breaths in sync, all the post-game tension in Nico’s body long melted away, before she quietly shuffles over to the bathroom to get herself ready for bed. 

She manages to make her way back over in the dark without stumbling, by some miracle, and reaches over to pick her baby girl up without interrupting her sleep, standing beside her crib and rocking her a little just to make sure she’s still fully drifted off - relishing the feeling of soft puffs of air falling into her neck as she cradles her.

Nico must wake at the loss of contact, instincts kicking in immediately when he can no longer feel the little body that had been resting under his protective arm, and when Poppy looks back over, she can see the reflective glint in his eyes as he watches her - soft and adoring and tooth-achingly sweet. 

Instead of putting her down, she bounces gently on her feet back over to Nico’s side of the bed, sitting beside him as he shuffles up, and the two of them just watch their daughter as she sleeps. 

For all the times they have been warned that this bliss is temporary, that it’s just a phase, Poppy can’t see it ending for as long as Nico looks at her like this. Like he has the entire world sat in front of him. 

“She was smiling at me before,” he whispers as he repositions himself, legs spread so that Poppy can sit between them. “Was trying to get her to calm down, and she was just looking straight at me with those big sparkly eyes and she smiled right at me.”

“She was doing it a little when we got home, earlier.” Poppy whispers back, hoping he doesn’t mind her raining on his parade a little to tell this story, “We just caught your interview on TV after the game, and there was this close up of you, and she smiled so big, Nico. She never smiles like that for anybody.”

“That’s ‘cause you snitch on her and tell everyone it’s gas.”

“I don’t want anyone else thinking they’re special.”

“But I am?” He asks, reaching to swipe the back of his finger softly against her cheek, the soft moonlight sifting into the room reflecting off of the ring on his finger, the quick glimmer enough to catch Poppy’s eye, to distract her so much that she can only hum in response, lips curving into a tender smile. 

“Yeah,” she breathes, the tranquility of the room a stark contrast to the way her heart erupts into thunderous applause for him - akin to that of the stadium full of fans earlier that night. Thousands of voices chanting his name, singing his praises, cheering him on for all the glory he brought to their night. He brings that to Poppy, tenfold, every day. “You’re really special.”

He leans over their sleeping daughter to press a loving kiss to Poppy’s lips, careful not to disturb the little angel between them, and Poppy kisses him straight back, fervent but fleeting.

“I’m so proud of you, baby.” she mutters into his mouth, careful not to invest too much of herself into another moment they’ll swiftly get interrupted from. 

“You gonna show me in the morning?” He mumbles back, their lips still touching, noses pressed together, his hand still cradling her face. She nods, and he feels her cheeks round into his palm. “Gonna give me that hatty you promised?”

“Gonna give you whatever you want.”

“Another baby, Frau?”

She scoffs, swallowing down the fizzing feeling at the back of her throat the nickname. 

“Ask me again after your next hat-trick.” 

[spoilmesweetieforficssake]

Hi I really love your writing! Not sure if you are taking any prompts, no worries if not!

I was wondering if you could something with Melissa x reader similar to Janine and Gregory where they both work at the school and maybe the reader is dating someone but they have a moment like the club scene or PECSA weekend.

Hope you're having a good day lovely human!

Not dead! Nor have I given up on writing or filling the prompts I still have to fill! But a weird thing did happen - I went to a hypnotist show with friends thinking I wouldn't be affected... Long story short, I remember the first fifteen minutes of the show. Apparently, I was in the show for the rest of it. So that was a thing. But that's not the weird thing. The hypnotist said that a side effect of his hypnosis is often a better ability to focus, a quieter mind and less anxious thoughts. I have to hand it to the man, his words seem to be true. An unexpected side effect of this for me though is that it turns out the noise and chatter in my mind actually helps me write my fics. Now it's all a bit quiet in there and it's been hard to get the words out. But, that doesn't mean I don't still love writing - so we're pushing through.

I do have a confession though - this story has two prompts noted at the top of it in my drafts and although I can't find any evidence that I've posted it under either prompt, if I have already posted this and somehow have missed it, please let me know and I shall take the duplicate down.

Anyway, enough about me. Enough rambling. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

It would be easier if she wasn’t nice to you. 

If she wasn’t nice to you, she could just be the untouchable, hot as hell, fiery goddess you admired from afar. 

But no.  She let you sit with her and Barb at lunch.  She even brought you lunch after a few conversations had strayed into discussing cooking and favourite recipes during said lunch breaks.

How were you meant to get over your ridiculous crush when she actually gave you the time of day?  When she smiled like that?  When her whole face lit up and she gestured so animatedly when she got caught up talking about something?

And as if that wasn’t enough, how were you ever meant to recover after seeing her so soft with her students?  Going out of her way to open up to them and help them. 

It was ridiculous, though.  You knew that.  What good was ever going to come of it? 

Kid.  That’s what she calls you.  It’s a constant reminder of the age gap between you.  Of the chasm that you feel you can’t even begin to cross when she sees you as some eager little kid.

You’ve always had a thing for older women.  From those early, confused days of watching your on-screen idols, to realising you didn’t want to be them.  You didn’t want to be friends with them.  You just wanted them. 

You want one in particular, but as you look across at her, her red hair ablaze in the sunshine, you force those feelings down once more.  If friendship is what she’s offering you’re not about to beat her with that olive branch.  You’ll deem yourself lucky and move on.

Even if she has ruined you for anyone else. 

*~*

“You know,” drawled Barbara.  “It’s beginning to become a habit.”

“What is?” asked Melissa, turning to face her friend with a frown. 

“Staring at her,” said the older woman, eyebrow raised. 

The red head scoffs.  “As if.  I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but that ain’t it.”

*

It was all said in jest to begin with.  Gentle teasing about a few wayward glances.  That was until Barb started to see her best friend be genuinely nice to you. 

To begin with, she tolerated you.  You weren’t one of the eager little puppies she so often saw when it came to younger new hires.  That much was evident from the start.  You were an old soul.  You carried a different energy. 

One that Melissa apparently appreciated just as much as the view.  Barb stood beside her the red head as they watched over the kids leaving school, keeping an eye on the them as they left for the day, making their way to busses, rides or parents.  Or rather, Barb was keeping watch over the children.  A quick glance at Melissa confirmed that her attention was directed at you where you stood a little way off, chatting happily with a young girl about the book she was waving at you as she waited for her mother to collect her. 

“Girl…”

“Don’t,” sighed Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest. 

That took Barb by surprise.  She had expected the red head to deny it.  “You mean?”

“It’s stupid.  She’s some pretty young thing and I’m…older than I care to admit.”

Turning to look at her friend, her expression sad, the older woman reached out and placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm.  “And?  What’s it called?  A Spring, Winter romance?”

“May, December,” corrected Melissa automatically.  “But same thing.”

“Exactly” said Barb.  “There’s a name for it and everything.  It’s a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” huffed the red head, turning on her heel and heading back into the building.  “It’s stupid and I’ll get over it, just like I do everything else in my life.”

*~*

You’re not sure you’re entirely on board for PECSA. 

Out of school, things are different.  Lines are blurred and you’re seeing a whole different side to your colleagues.  You’re not sure if it’s liberating or terrifying.  And that’s before you add in the factor of the other teachers who have also been set free from the constraints of the classroom and are now loose in the wild.

You’re sure your confusion must show on your face, particularly when at the end of one of the breakout sessions you find yourself caught up in conversation with a striking older woman who teaches at another school across town.

You don’t see Melissa at first, who watches the interaction with interest.  She’s not used to seeing you outside of school, and it takes her back to realise that the woman is flirting with you.  Openly and blatantly flirting with you.  She’s touching your arm, leaning into you.  Smiling and laughing. 

In return, you know you’re blushing something terrible, especially when the woman hands you a page from her notebook with her number scrawled across it.  Watching the woman walk away, throwing you a smile over her shoulder to you, you finally see the red head standing in the doorway where she said she’d meet you so you could head for lunch together.

“She not a bit old for you?” she asks as you approach, your blush still heating your cheeks.

You frown.  “If she looks like that and thinks I’m hot enough to give me her number, they’re the numbers I’m interested in,” you reply, heading in the direction of the lunch buffet. 

Barb overhears the comment, unable not to smirk at your flash of sass.  “Jealous?” she asks, leaning into the red head’s space. 

“Of what?” barks Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you go.  “Oh leave off!” she snarks at the older woman’s raised eyebrow.

*

How the day has gone from serious talks and breakout sessions to cocktails by the pool you’re still trying to wrap your head around.  Adjusting your cover up, you head around the side of the pool, heading for the bar.  You hope the day starts to feel a little bit more normal with a drink in your hand. 

Gazing out over the water, you catch sight of Melissa.  Or rather, you catch sight of a lot more of Melissa than you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing before.  Not looking where you’re walking as your eyes drink in the magnificent view there’s no saving yourself as you step forward and your foot finds water instead of concrete.

“Is that?” Melissa asks incredulously at the dramatic splash that comes from the other side of the pool.  She’s up out of her lounger before Barb can comment and the older teacher can only watch on in amusement as the red head storms off in your direction. 

You pull yourself out of the pool, allowing yourself to perch on the edge as you try your best to ignore the chuckles of those around you who have noticed your mishap. 

“What the fuck happened?”

You look up and of course Melissa is there.  Right there, lit up in the sun like an angel, red hair haloed around her head.  It takes a moment to realise that her eyes are roving over you, and not just your face.  You glance down where your cover up now clings to your skin, almost see through. 

Looking up you see Melissa blink rapidly a few times before offering you a hand.  You reach for her, smiling as she helps pull you to your feet.  “Thanks,” you smile sheepishly.  “I guess I should go change.”

“It’s a pool, you’re allowed to be a little wet,” the red head smirks back at you.  “Besides, we’re this close to the bar now, be rude not to take advantage.”

*

Melissa appears at the bar next to you with a huff, grumbling under her breath.  Her attention is focused on trying to get the attention of the barman.  Mumbling though she is, she’s speaking just loud enough for you to make out what she was saying. 

“He was an ass,” you tell her, watching as her head whipped around, finally realising you were there. 

“What?” she asks with a frown, already tipsy. 

“Your ex,” you enlighten her.  You may not have heard the comment that led to her current dip in mood, or ever have met the man, but you know enough.

Her frown only deepens.  “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“I know he didn’t appreciate what he had and left you,” you offer, ordering a drink when the barman appears in front of you, before turning back to Melissa to ask what she wants.  You find her looking at you oddly, her expression unreadable.  She quickly snaps out of it and barks and order at the bartender.

*

Barb has had more than a few drinks, it would appear as she flags you down to sit with her as you pass her table. 

“Sit, sit,” she smiles, trying to reach for your arm and push the chair out next to her at the same time in an uncoordinated matter. 

Catching her hands, you still her as you slide into the seat beside her to placate her.  Her gaze is a little unfocused, her words edging towards slurred.  You hadn’t quite realised how drunk she was, but then again, looking around the room, it would have been more of a surprise for her to be sober. 

“Don’t call that woman,” she tells you, leaning into your space.

“What woman?” you frown.

“That woman who gave you her number,” says Barbara like it’s obvious. 

You try not to think about the fact that for Barb to know, Melissa must have mentioned it.  That it’s been on her mind enough to mention it to the older woman.  “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“She gave me her number,” you point out.  “I don’t think she would mind.”

Barb shakes her head.  “Not her.  Her,” she says, nodding across the room to where Melissa is standing. 

You cross your arms across your chest.  “What has Melissa got to do with anything?”

Barb raises a single eyebrow, the action still smooth and effective despite her drunkenness and it makes you blush. 

Averting your gaze, you shake your head.  “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you sigh.  “She’s not…She thinks I’m some stupid kid.”

What you don’t see, is Melissa standing close enough behind your chair to catch your words.

*

Somewhere after speaking to Barb you decide that trying to be the sober parent of your little Abbott family just isn’t working.  You’ve lost track of most of them, and honestly, you’ve given up trying to find them.  They’re all adults and can fend for themselves.

You still have eyes on Barb and Melissa though, the former dancing up a storm and the latter apparently winning an ill-advised drinking competition. 

Not that you can judge, of course.  You know you’ve drunk more than you should, feeling pleasantly buzzed from your seat in the corner of the bar.  You should call it a night before you do something you’ll regret, like call the woman Barbara told you not to.  Sober, you wouldn’t.  Drunk, you’re flattered enough and wouldn’t say no to the company. 

With a sigh, you push yourself up out of your seat and head towards the elevators.  Pushing the button, you watch the numbers light up as the lift descends.  You squeak in surprise when a strong pair of hands land on your hips, turning you around as a plump pair of lips meet you own.

“I don’t think you’re some stupid kid.”

You blink slowly a few times, taking in the woman before you.  Melissa.  Melissa Schemmenti just kissed you.  You shouldn’t, but you don’t have it in you to deny yourself the pleasure of feeling her lips against yours once more.  You kiss her back with enthusiasm, not protesting when she backs you into the elevator as it opens and moaning as your back hits the wall of the small metallic box, the weight of Melissa pressed against you. 

You’ve always admired her curves.  Pressed against you they’re a dream. 

The clearing of a throat far to close snaps you out of your living dream and you feel Melissa take a step back, biting her lip as she guiltily throws a glance over her shoulder, registering Barb standing in the elevator, her back to you both as if she hasn’t just witnessed exactly what you were both doing. 

Standing close, you grin at the devious smirk being aimed your way by a certain red head.  There’s a dangerous glimmer of mischief in her eyes.  Smudged lipstick and mussed hair from where you hands couldn’t help but run thought it complete the look.  The woman is a work of art. 

You look up as the elevator doors chime open, realising this is your floor.  Stepping forward, you slip past Barb, who merely raises an eyebrow.  You throw a look back at Melissa, who sways forward as though to follow you, before hesitating. 

The doors slide shut, and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

You miss the dark chuckle Barb lets out as the lift begins to ascend once more.

“What you laughing at?” asks Melissa, scowling.  She’s annoyed with herself for hesitating.  She knows what she wants, and she just let it walk out of the elevator.

“You two think you’re subtle?” the older woman drawls.  “She has more of your lipstick on than you do.”

*

If PECSA was party central the night before, it was hangover central the morning after.  You’re sitting outside on the low wall, sunglasses firmly in place, your phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as you take in the cool morning air. 

“You regret what happened last night?”

You turn to see Melissa, similarly attired.  “What?”

She comes to stand beside the wall on which you’re sat, her gaze wandering anywhere but you as she speaks.  “I came to your room last night.  You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear you,” you admit, watching as her head whips around.  “Too busy throwing up everything I ever drank.”  You feel the blush dusting your cheeks, but continue.  This feels too important to let a little embarrassment stop you.  You take off your sunglasses so she can see your face as you speak,  “I have many regrets about my choices last night, but what happened in the elevator isn’t one of them.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips as she shifts to take a seat next to you.  She slips her own sunglasses off, finally letting you see her eyes.  “Good to know,” she murmurs.  “Me neither.”

You can’t help but smile at that.  You notice her gaze wandering and realise she staring at the phone still clutched in your hand. 

“You planning on using that number you were so interested in yesterday?”

“Honestly?” you ask, seeing the uncertainty in her face as she nods regardless.  “That woman was hot, and while I was more than a little flattered she gave me her number…she isn’t a patch on you.”

Pale cheeks blush adorably pink at your words.  Melissa isn’t used to hearing things like what from you.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you scoff, nudging her shoulder.  “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right?  And you needn’t think I go falling in pools over every pretty woman I see.”

“I really distracted you that badly, huh?” she asks, a little of her confidence returning.

You bump her shoulder with yours once more.  “Shut up.”

A gentle hand moves to cup your cheek, turning you to face her as Melissa presses a gentle kiss to your lips.  “For the record,” she says quietly.  “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid.  I think you’re beautiful.”

You take in a shuddering breath.  It all feels too good to be true.  “What happens at PECSA stays at PECSA?” you ask sadly.

“I’ve never been one for playing by the rules,” she smirks back at you, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to you.  “Come on, we gotta go find Barb.  Reunite her with her shoes, sobriety and sanity.”

You take the hand being offered like a lifeline, grinning as Melissa starts walking, swinging your joined hands between you.  It’s only as you pass through the front doors to the building that her words even register.  “Wait?  Her shoes?”

[anxious-lee]

|| Ridiculous Problems Require Ridiculous Solutions ||

A/N: me going to sleep at night knowing i write OOC tickles for serious media: 😴😴😴

Summary: Jayce refuses to get some sleep, but Viktor might have a way to convince him.

Word count: 1292

---

It's easier to scold someone else's lack of self-care than it is to work on your own.

When Viktor neglects his sleep, Jayce knows exactly what to say every time. "You can't keep overworking your body like this. Sooner or later, you're going to shut down."

But when Jayce neglects his sleep, he finds new ways to rationalize his decision thanks to his sleep-deprived daze. He pretends like he can't see Viktor staring ironically at him from down the table.

Okay, so maybe he was being a bit of a hypocrite. But these were special circumstances! They were expected to present a new Hextech device to the council in a few days, and they were running behind schedule. Jayce had tried to speed things along by putting in a few more hours at his station, but what was supposed to be "a few hours" turned into the entire night.

Viktor, as Jayce expected, was none too pleased. He insisted that they had already done more than was even necessary, and that any more modifications could have been dealt with in the morning. He even had the nerve to parrot Jayce's own lecture back to him.

"If you keep this up, sooner or later your body will shut down."

"Why does that sound so familiar?" Jayce groaned sarcastically. Regardless of his ill-advised choices, this machine still needed finishing, and that was what he was going to do.

He couldn't quite remember getting up out of his chair and making his way over to the toolbox, as the world seemed to blur around him, but a curmudgeonly voice brought him back to the present.

"Jayce, please, what you've done is good enough. Go home and get some sleep."

"Viktor, I'm fine, I'm really fine. I can still work."

"What is it you're reaching for right now?"

Jayce blinked down at where his hand was grabbing... thin air. Dazed, he spun around until he found the tool box on complete opposite end of the table.

Viktor gestured emphatically at the box. "You see? You're not thinking clearly," His voice changed suddenly into a compassionate, almost pleading tone. "You've gone too long without sleep. I'll handle the preparations today, you can go home."

"Vik, I can't just drop this now okay? I'm so close now. I mean think about it, what's more important right now: the amount of sleep I get, or proving our value to the council?"

"I cannot believe you're asking me this" said Viktor, sounding more exhausted than his partner in that moment.

Ignoring him, Jayce staggered to where the toolbox actually was, and grabbed a wrench.

Unfortunately for him, Viktor was not willing to let this go. He gripped Jayce by the arm clutching the wrench.

"Jayce, put it down. I don't want to need to use force." Although it was certainly a threat, they both knew implicitly that Viktor wasn't very cross with Jayce at all. But dammit, he would go to bed.

Jayce chuckled. "Not happening, Vik."

"Ehhhh fine. If that's the way it has to be" Viktor said, with something akin to a smirk in his voice. A smirk that usually meant trouble for Jayce.

A hand suddenly began squeezing up Jayce's side, making the scientist bark in a choke of laughter. It wasn't often that Viktor opted to play dirty like this; only when the situation desperately called for it. He was nothing if not a determined man.

Laughing freely, Jayce remained where he stood. At a new ninety-degree angle, sure, but still standing. If Viktor wanted to take this up a notch, then so would he. He'll laugh until his sides split open, but he is not losing this fight.

"Viktor, whahat the hehehelll!" He giggled.

"I have asked you several times to take a break, but if you want to go about this like a child, then I will treat you like one" Viktor teased.

Jayce could hear the smugness in his voice.

"I'm noHOt givihing IN!"

"How unfortunate for you."

The hand at Jayce's side was now climbing it's way up to his arm. Jayce twisted around every which way he could to try and stall its arrival, but to little success. He would rather die than admit it, but he truly couldn't help giggling even if it wasn't involuntary. The sensation, sparkling its way through his nerves like lightning through tree branches, was just so funny. It was pleasant, in the most unbearable way. He couldn't fully wrap his head around it, and he didn't have time to, because Viktor was still clawing into his armpit.

Jayce wasn't going to take this lying down. He started to pull away from his partner, hoping that Viktor wouldn't persist that much. Maybe moving away would be all it took for this tickly spell to be broken.

But to no such luck. Viktor could see his plan to move before he enacted it. Quick as a flash, he gripped Jayce's arm with his free hand, now effectively pinning him to his side.

"And where do you think you're going?" Viktor asked.

"Lehet mehehe gohoho!"

"You know what it is I want Jayce. I'll keep tickling until you go to bed."

"You cahan't brihihibe me into being healthyhyhyhy!"

"Bribe?"

Oh, fuck.

"Is this a bribe then?" came the voice above him. His voice was like a warm spotlight, exposing him with the softest touch. It was the same tone he got when something truly fascinated him; when his object of study surprised him and heightened his sense of curiosity even more.

Jayce's eyes had shut tight as soon as he realized what he had said, too mortified to dare a look. The tickling had stopped. Of course it did. Why would Viktor keep going after hearing him say something that stupid? He didn't even think it, it just slipped out! But he couldn't say that he was mistaken. Because he was having fun. Goofing off, having Viktor be close to him, playing with him-

Viktor had been quiet for a total of three whole seconds, but to Jayce, it may as well have been twenty. Then came Viktor's voice.

"Well, in that case-" he said, a little too giddy for Jayce's liking.

"Wait, Viktor, I didn't mean it like-"

A hand latched onto his other side, simultaneously pulling him in like an awkward side-hug. The other hand had surrendered the grip on his arm in favor of scratching at his belly. The frantic giggles that left his mouth were not helping to ease the embarrassment of the situation.

"How about this for a deal?" Viktor smiled, a gentle and adoring look in his eyes that Jayce could not appreciate, as his eyes were still clamped shut. "We go home, get relaxed, and I tickle you senseless until you're worn out. Sound fair?"

What didn't sound fair was how flirty he sounded. Jayce's face burned red, and he knew he couldn't hide it. He buried his face into Viktor's chest.

"I'll take that as a yes."

And with that, the tickling stopped. Only for this moment. Viktor's hands now cradled his husband's face, pulling it out from his chest and against his forehead.

"You make me so stupidly weak" he said, pressing a kiss to his nose.

"Which one of us has been laughing themselves stupid for the past five minutes?"

That got a giggle out of Viktor. With a final poke in the side, he grabbed his cane and turned toward the door, with Jayce grabbing their coats behind them.

"You don't think anyone heard us, do you?" Jayce asked nervously.

"Don't worry, Sky's not here today."

From behind the closed door, Sky took that as a sign to leave quickly, and she did so without a sound.

---

I swear I am actually going to write lee!viktor soon trust

[ellouchi]

Jimmy dating headcannons (sfw/gn reader)

Disclaimer: this work contains unhealthy interpersonal practices and elements of abuse.

Side note: this was going to be LONGER and include nsfw but I've decided it's better to divide everything into parts. Finally getting this out because there is a critical shortage of Jimmy x reader works (cries and picks up a pen). Let me know if I missed something or made a mistake.

Enjoy!

— ok starting with the fluff: Jimmy feels too embarrassed to properly hold your hand, like some small shy boy. He will make it seem like you've the one who acts childish of course, holds your hand if you plead enough and only for a minute in public, for a bit more when in private. You can be lucky enough to tag after him holding his sleeve if he feels like it. Jimmy secretly loves to hold your wrist, especially in a tight grip, feeling your pulse beating under your skin (he is like a handcuff).

— Jimmy doesn't say "I love you", not in a usual sense. Instead it's always alternatives like common "You make me feel all warm and stupid inside" and the most rare "You mean a lot to me" spoken in a quiet sincere tone. Unfortunately "I love you"s are reserved for manipulation. He knows it gets people very compliant or/and defenseless. It doesn't do any harm anyway because he's merely speaking the truth. It's actually a litmus test if you love him or not, so be very careful with your words during those moments.

— primarily uses your name or alias you go with instead of pet names. Sometimes, Jimmy would use baby, babe, sweet cheeks (bear with me); dear, darling and love when he's pissed off or he tries to be condescending.

— Jimmy has a preconceived notion that your parents/family wouldn't like him, he has enough self awareness for that. Because of this, he'll try to make it seem like he's better than he is, so you better play along. If your family hates his guts, Jim doubles down, resulting in both parties wagging a war. Doesn't give a fuck about them at all after that disastrous first meeting. However, if somehow you family did take a liking to Jimmy, he's glad....but also puzzled. I think Jim has had shitty childhood, so when he is treated like a proper family member, he's lost. He doesn't want to see your family often because of his complicated feelings, but makes exceptions for the special occasions.

— Jimmy knows and remembers things about you to the points it's both scary and impressive: likes and dislikes, fears, dreams, ambitions etc. On the more positive side, this includes songs, books, movies, comics and anything like that — even if he doesn't like it, he has an understanding of what it is. If you call him out, Jimmy either says he doesn't care (he does, so much actually) or says "Of course I do, you can't shut up about [thing]" (lies).

— Jimmy doesn't have a lot of free time on his hands. If both of you are free, that means you are spending this time with him. No, your plans won't matter if they exclude Jim out of the picture. This involves discouraging you or outright sabotaging you. As per usual, he wouldn't find anything wrong with this kind of behaviour. You should just stop being unreasonable and spend some time with your lover. Look, he even went out of his way to find a movie you two would enjoy watching.

— birthdays with Jimmy are weird (if you could tell from the game). If you look forward to them, so does he; if you don't, well he congratulates you when the day comes and that's about it. It's much worse when the gifts are involved, because Jimmy will actually try to get what you want, and the more expensive it is, the more positive reaction he expects from you. He saved up throughout the year, denied himself pleasures and worked his ass off — if you don't shower him with appreciation and gratitude, he will make a scene about how selfish you are. On your own birthday.

— Jimmy keeps your gifts and trinkets in his drawer (if they small enough). He has some photos of you together, small souvenirs from trips, cute notes you left him — you name it. This habit will get creepy: the things having a lot of sentimental value to you, your trash like discarded perfume bottle and cream tubs, even your underwear. He wouldn't care if you made fun of him, but god forbid you misplace or throw away anything from that drawer.

— Jimmy loves when you rely on him. However, to a degree because this man quickly gets tired of running errands. If he offers to do something it's safe to agree, asking too much will get him worked up so don't overdo. With that said, Jimmy always does small things, like making your preferred beverage during the day, calling to remind you something, doing small chores unprompted, basically covering your bases. It's hard to feel unloved when you are remembered and cared for in that way. Also gives him an ammo for fights in case you forget how much Jimmy does for you.

— Jimmy insists on driving you everywhere (so people would know that you belong to him). Also it means Jim has lots of good punishments at his disposal when you two fight: lock the car from the inside? Leave you somewhere you don't know? Or just not pick you up altogether? Better leave all the arguments for later or don't bring them up at all...

— you are one of few people to see Jimmy's playful side: he just loves to joke around you. He wouldn't like it, but your sense of humour would rub off him greatly. If that wasn't enough this man loves to prank you in small ways: it's childish stuff most of times, like hiding or misplacing an item in your house and playing innocent. Other than that, Jimmy will whistle and catcall you when he sees you and will slap your ass in public when you leave. You are encouraged to prank him in return too, but you will be pranked harder next time. Grins, snickers and snorts a lot but laughs very, very rarely. However, it's one of the most healing things you could experience. Literally restores years to your lifespan.

— Jimmy doesn't like seeing you upset actually. He's not super soft or doting, he will pry the reason for your distress out of you whether you like it or not. If he deems it's unimportant, will tell you to suck it up, maybe even make a sarcastic remark. If it's serious business, he involves himself. Of course half the time it makes your situation worse and him angrier at himself which translates to Jim being angry at you.

— when Jimmy is upset, it's best to wait it out. I headcannon Jimmy used to have terrible anger issues but with years managed to control them to a degree. It doesn't mean he wouldn't lash out on you, his partner, it does get ugly. Him hugging you for comfort is actually more frequent than you would expect. As long as you don't address his tears or say much, Jimmy would calm down with little to no issue. Don't bring it up later too, he won't respond and will pretend it never happened.

— finishing with the reminder that you will be carrying Jimmy's emotional baggage as well as your own if you have any. I hope you have strong and healthy arms and back for that. If you're not careful enough or *cough cough* stay ignorant of Jim's bad influence on you, he will bring you to his level and mold you into who he wants you to be. But it doesn't work one way: in theory, you could "fix" some of his unsavoury outlooks but don't expect too much. After years of blood, sweat and tears it's possible to finally convince him to go to therapist. Praying he would continue on his own wouldn't be enough and you would need to actively encourage Jim to not give up on his mental health treatment. Way to go!

[spuirrelwiththeletterp]

cutely slides in the yap post about their Sans AU that was previously accidently posted and jumps out of a window 😊

I've posted some art of my kid, but haven't given their name(I did) or any other info. I will eventually make a proper info post on them, but for now...

this booger right here is Error Print Sans, or just Print Error (or Error Print)

an absolute feck ton of words under the cut that's me just throwing up my thoughts ⇓

they originally started out as a passing thought that was just Error!Sans but CMYK colors, which evolved into a whole different character who didn't even have anything CMYK going on and I forgot about them for around two or three years until I re-entered my Undertale/UTMV phase recently. seriously disliked the character and the direction I took them in so I decided to start from scratch, took the original CMYK concept, and Print Error was born

am still working out their lore. I have ideas for some events that led to their current state, though how they got into the Anti-Void or why their attire changed after becoming an error is still beyond me

I called them Print Error because inkjet printers use CMYK ink and they're an error (very creative ik) they also feel weird being called just Print but they don't know why

even though I made its design with the CMYK color model in mind, its more CMY than CMYK due to actually not having any black, the way its body works just makes it look like it has black↴

Print Error's being is composed of 3 overlapping color layers (cyan, magenta, yellow) that each depict how much of that magic they have. less saturated colors means less magic left, and running out of all three colors will leave Print Error in a mindless "no color" or "all white" state where they can't use any magic unless they absorb color through physical contact

the alignment of Print Error's layers reflect their mental state. more misaligned layers means more mentally unstable or intense Print Error's emotions. more aligned layers means Print Error is more "there" in their own chaotically fragmented way, but layers rarely ever align too closely...

Their body is not affected by lighting, which means they stick out like a sore thumb with their bright colors and vantablack bones (it's already hard enough to just make the effect, shading them would just be an absolute nightmare 😭)

Print Error's strings are much thicker than a typical error's and come from both its eyes and mouth. Print Error can additionally absorb CMY colors from objects/beings with its strings

Print Error's attacks (bones, gaster/printing error blaster blasts) come in cyan, magenta, and yellow, which all have their own properties, but Print Error can't control what color their attack will be half of the time

Print Error is cold to the touch but has thermoanesthesia, so it doesn't know its a walking ice cube. its confused why others react so weird when coming in physical contact with it

Print Error does not understand social cues and personal space. they're often in a chaotically playful mood, though not always

Print Error is morally grey and can't tell the difference between good and bad, everything is neutral to it... apart from mistakes

Print Error's thoughts are inconsistent, usually jumping from one topic to another, having multiple thoughts at once, or not having any thoughts at all. it usually "lives in the moment", often going with the flow

Print Error's fragmented mind kind of leaves them absent minded most of the time, getting easily distracted and forgetting things like it's nobody's business. though they can often hold their focus if they're intrigued by something

even with a horrible memory, Print Error can remember things at random, though often it's something that it was previously intrigued by, or just something completely random. either way its gonna forget not even 2 seconds later

Print Error deeply believes that any mistake, no matter how small, can be catastrophic, causing them to have a sort of perfectionist mindset. they try to avoid making any mistakes, and punish themself over any mistakes they do make (leaving out details)

if Print Error witnesses someone else make a mistake, there's a chance their mind might not register it, but more often than not, will get seriously exasperated at the person for making a mistake and might even crash out of frustration. not because of the mistake itself, but more so out of fear for the person, though Print Error doesn't recognize the feeling nor reason behind it

though they do heal quicker than usual, it's a double-edged sword as it subconsciously encourages Print Error's more self-destructive behavior

I originally had Print Error have excellent depth perception, until I thought of Print Error seeing everything in the same layered effect others see them in. definitely gonna explore that idea!

there are many more ideas I have for Print Error but I don't know how to "coherently" include them so those are gonna be revealed over time 😉

If anyone wants to ask anything about Print Error, feel free to ask! I would love to answer any questions about them and I got nothing but time!

been stressing over this post for like two weeks and I just set a deadline so I wouldn't tweak things till the heat death of the universe

was heavily inspired by @ossiethegreat's Static Hue/Error!Color post to make my own rant on my own kid, so there might be some similarities cuz I am oh so ✨️creative✨️. link to the post because I absolutely loved reading its ideas and I love Hue

I AM SO SORRY OZ IF YOU DID GET A NOTIFICATION FOR THE UNFINISHED VERSION OF THIS POST THAT WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN I AM SO FRICKING SORRY 😭😭😭

I really tried to explain my thoughts and I feel like I failed in certain areas 😭 I struggle with explaining my ideas and especially the more in-depth ones, so some things might change if I find better ways to explain them

I definitely plan to share more of this gremlin, and especially if more than one person is interested in them!

also found some older drawings of Print Error I made previously but didn't share, so I'm sharing now because I don't think I would have shared these at any point in the future

also a lil lore one 👀 which I like but also don't like

[freakymcnastys]

“we can't be friends” tenya iida x fem!reader

━━ . ˚₊ ꒱ “wait until you like me again”

note: lmk if y’all want a timeskip part 2 (which would be fluff…probably)

content: hope your excited for angst. no fluff...sorry!, academic rivals, reader is kinda like beth harmon, lowkey kinda short ://

EVER SINCE YOU came to U.A it's been a competition between you and Iida from class 1A. Although the school was built and made for turning out the next heroes you didn't want to be a hero. You knew with your quirk that you would only be able to work at a corporation which is why you were in the general studies course.

This is where you met one of your best friends Shinsou. Now this guy was someone you didn't think should be in this course, his quirk was more suited for hero work which is why you've been helping him draft a letter to Principal Nezu to let him transfer into the hero course. It was a longer process then you could've guessed but you felt like you should use your quirk for something. Your quirk was called 'brain' you were basically like a human Google. People found it useful but never good enough for hero work. But at this point in your life you gave up on the pipe dream of being a hero.

You remember the first time you met him like it was yesterday. You were walking with Shinsou. Actually, you were following him more or less to where the front of class 1A's door was and many other students were at. "Hey Shin what's going on?" You asked confused at the vast amount of people. That's where you saw him. The boy with midnight blue hair and square glasses. You had a feeling he didn't know how much of a looker he was.

"Bakugou! Please don't ruin our reputation!" He exclaimed, doing a weird arm chopping motion. Well guess the blonde guys name is Bakugou, yet that didn't seem to catch your interest. You wanted to know the blue haired boys name. You barely noticed your friend talking back to the class until he was walking away. You were going to follow him until you locked eyes with the boy, he even flashed a small smile at you. It was brief but it made your cheeks heat up slightly.

"Come on y/n!" Shinsou called, pulling you back to reality. "Hey what's that guys name?" You questioned him as he raised him brow looking back to the classroom doors. "Who? Four eyes? Why don't you just use your quirk to find out?" You roll your eyes at this suggestion. "You know I don't use my quirk on people or things like that!"

"Ugh his names Iida, I think.." He huffed, pushing his hands into his pockets while walking. "Now was that so hard Hitoshi!" You beamed at him while he jokingly pushed you.

Here you were a few days later at the school library preparing for the upcoming exam. A test everyone in every course needed to take. A test you wanted to place number one on. For tests like these you were required to test with the hero course and specifically 1A which had pro hero eraserhead so you wouldn't be able to cheat on the test. Just a formality but was still such a hassle to leave your class to be in another.

You could say this is where you officially became 'Iida's rival' or so some people in 1A dubbed this little feud between the two of you.

You heard from some of the others in your course that people you should be worried about should be Iida and Momo. The first name rang a bell in your head. Suddenly the little crush you had on this guy shriveled away into the determination of getting number one on this test. Suddenly this guy was now your rival, so when you spotted him at the library an idea hit you. This Iida dudes gotta be like any other guy and a little flirting could maybe break his spirt.

Except he isn't like any other guy and your fugal attempts at flirting completely flew over his head. Well what was plan B? Beat him with your wits of course.

"You know how this works right?" Mr. Aizawa questioned as he walked you from your classroom to his. "Mhm." You retuned not fully paying attention due to the nerves and you trying to remember what you studied before. Aizawa took the hint and let silence engulf the two of you until you got to the classroom. "Take that seat next to Iida--uh Iida raise your hand."

The look on your face must've been priceless since you heard a snort come from the boy with a lighting bolt in his hair. You being sat next to him might've been the worst thing that could've happened. Now you were gonna be distracted because of this--

"Hey sorry could I borrow a pencil?" The boy in front of me whispered to me. "Oh uh sure?" As you were looking around in your pencil case you felt a pair of eyes looking at you and it wasn't the red head in front of you. "Do you mind?" You said, not even looking at Iida, who choked saliva. "What?" He questioned, fixing his glasses.

"Don't play stupid glasses. If you like my face so much why don't ya take a picture." You said sarcastically, before turning back to Kirishima to hand him the pencil. Iida just muttered something before going back to looking at his desk.

Once the test was finished you weren't gonna lie you think you did well (for not using your quirk) and now you had to wait until the bell rung for lunch so you were stuck with class 1A until after lunch.

"Hey you're that girl Iida is always beefing with right?" A girl with pink hair said, walking up to the next you were at. "Oh um yeah! Kinda sucks that's what you guys know me as.." You laugh nervously. Is this seriously how the best hero class knows you as? Well your repuation is out the window now. "No! I'm sure you're super cool! I had heard that from someone in 1B!" She quickly defends herself.

"Oh! Well I'm y/n! It's nice to meet you then!" You push out your hand in front of you to have her gladly accept it. You then learned her name was Mina and then the boy who borrowed your pencil joined the conversation but you felt like the rest of the class was also somewhat listening since you were a stranger in their class. "Hi! I'm Kirishima! What's your quirk?"

There was something about the boys smile that made you feel safe which seemed like a weird thing to think at the time. "It's called brain--I'm basically google!" You joked, smiling, which made them laugh with you. "Then that makes sense why your here." You heard a boy with green hair say. You reconginze him. He's the kid from the entrance exam that comepletly wrecked his arms and legs.

"But hey that just shows how smart you are!" Lighting bolt boy said. Mina just rolled her eyes. "Stop glazing her Denki, she doesn't want you!" This made Denki get red in embarassment but in turn some others snorted and laughed at the two.

"Probably cheated on the others.." You heard from behind you but it was more of a whisper that was accidently louder then intended. "Excuse me..?" You turned around to see Iida was a sour look on his face. He just shrugged.

Although one good thing did come out of that foul confrontation with Iida. After that happened the girl from class 1A, Mina invited you to hangout with her in her dorm. Her instructions were simple yet sketchy. ‘come to room 2c but don’t let anyone see you.’

You had texted Shinsou before you left your dorm just in case someone needed to know where you were going.

Once you got to Mina’s dorm you were met with a whole group of people. Once we all got introduced you finally learned who everyone was. Jirou and Denki were near the tv. Bakugou and Kirishima were by the balcony and Sero was now sitting me and Mina. This had to be one of the most fun hangouts you had been to in a while.

“So if you’re playing poker you could totally win all the time right?” Sero said, sipping his caprison. “Yeah I guess but I don’t use my quirk on people.” Bakugou just scoffed. “Lame!”

“Listen I have good reason! People had like weird shit going on up there alright..” The rest of the night went how you would expect. We ate, played games and eventually had to say our goodbyes. But from then in you would always hangout with what we were dubed (by the rest of your classmates) the bakusquad. Which is a stupid name by the way.

Now that you were hanging out with the “bakusquad” more, you started to become friends either others in the class too. Everyone except Iida. Although something in you wanted to be friends with him, maybe even get closer to him but any attempt was met with resistance so eventually you gave up until one day.

You were sitting on the steps in front of 1A’s dorm since you started to feel a bit claustrophobic with everyone in the common area. You hadn’t realized Iida was standing next to you until he spoke up. “Can I sit here?” He said a lot more politely than he ever has in the past.

After clearing his throat like 100 times out of nervousness Iida started. “I’m sorry for how I acted before—It wasn’t very pleasant and I shouldn’t have said or done what I did.” You could tell how sincere he was so you allowed him to continue without interrupting.

“Can we start over and be friends?” He smiled. God that smile. You remember seeing that smile the first time you ever saw him. You’ve come to love and hate it so much. Which is what possessed you to say what you did.

“We can’t be friends.” You said quietly as your breath appeared in front of you due to the cold air. “what?” He breathed out with furrowed eyebrows.

“You… just cling to your stupid papers and pens because that’s all you seem to care about.” You felt a pit in your stomach start to grow. “I-what? What are you saying?” He asked confused for the upteenth time.

“This is all I have—hell it’s all I’ll need. You can graduate and become a hero but me I have to work hard and leave with good grades so I can work at a big corporation. I just…I can’t be friends with someone who can jeopardize that right now…” You finished, standing up from you spot to have your back face him.

“But I-“ You cut him off by turning around to face him briefly. “It’s okay. I’ll just be waiting for you to like me again…especially after this.”

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant"

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

flings my creation into the unknown

the brain worms have gotten too powerful and I’m simultaneously dying of skystar disease of so have this 1400-ish-word Fucking Thing™ based on @keferon's mecha AU featuring human!starscream as the the little bastard you can't live with but also can't live without, and skyfire/jetfire as the unfortunate victim of Fate Being a Real Bitch Sometimes and accidentally deciding the outcome of the Space Race

"ulchtar" as a name for human!Starscream was borrowed from starscream's early name (and also Skybound)

also i don’t remember if the corporation that produces mechs in this au was ever properly given a name so i just kinda. gave them a generic one lol

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

Ulchtar is a mechanical engineer working on developing spacefaring mecha. He’s climbed through the ranks based on his expertise (and, occasionally by sabotaging other peoples’ work). Nobody really likes working with him; he’s kind of an ass at the best of times. But his experience with these systems makes him a danger if the company ever lets him go. He could sell his knowledge to anyone else in the world, creating new competition in a sector they’ve more-or-less monopolized. This keeps him from being kicked out…up until Mecha-Corp’s first voyage into the stars goes horribly wrong. After the disappearance of Jazz, the fingers are pointed at him, even though—for once in his life—he’s actually not to blame. It’s decided that he’s no longer useful, and he needs to be disposed of.

Ulchtar doesn’t know this, of course. Not until—after being called into a meeting in one of the downstairs labs—the door to go back upstairs locks itself, and he hears the telltale, unholy screeches of alien beasts around him. The beasts he has helped contain for years.

“…shit. Shit shit shit shit shitshitshitshitshit—”

He starts running. Not upstairs, that’s not an option, but maybe there’s another way out of here. He finds that the door upstairs is locked, but not the way down, and that means there’s still a chance, because if there’s anything the higher-ups here right about, it was the fact that Ulchtar knows way too much.

In a last, desperate attempt to survive (or at least go down swinging) Ulchtar decides to unleash his final gambit. He runs down long-forgotten halls, hurls himself downstairs until he reaches the lowest floor of the facility—a floor where nobody goes. It’s down here that he’ll make his stand and wake up an old “friend.”

The few who know it exists call it the “Sleeping Giant.” Corny name, but it made sense, given it's…well, fucking gigantic, maybe even bigger than Vortex. It was found buried in the Arctic in the mid-1950’s—what looked to be an ancient, alien shuttle, lost under the ice for perhaps millions of years. It was all kept hush-hush, but in secret, its discovery had turned the tides of the Space Race…and when it fell into the hands of what would soon become Mecha-Corp, they quickly learned it was much more than a vessel. It was alive.

Some of the earliest mechs? The huge, bulky ones that never ended up getting mass-produced because it wasn’t economical enough? They owed their design to the Giant. They owed their existence to the many times it had been torn apart and put back together to see how it worked, to the many years it had laid on a table inert, unaware of what humanity had done to it. It was their greatest trade secret.

And the Giant owes its currently-intact state to Ulchtar, who’d thought studying it as a whole was more useful than research on individual parts. Which is the only reason he knows, at least in theory, how to power it on. Hell, he’d even done some refurbishments when nobody was looking. He runs across a table far too big for him, pulling out cables and unlocking restraints. He doesn’t have time for final checks, not with a horde of kaiju bearing down on him. He just has to hope, to scream until he makes the stars hear his name—or he dies trying.

"COME ON!" He shouts. "WAKE UP, YOU OVERSIZED SUNOVA--"

At that moment, the stars respond.

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

He can’t move.

He’s freezing cold.

Is he dead?

How did he get here?

He’s…he was…looking for something, he’s pretty sure. Something very important.

Something so important he’d risk getting trapped under an ice sheet over it.

Who is he? He's not sure.

He wants to go home, but he can’t remember where that’s supposed to be.

Trying to remember hurts too much.

It’s hard to think like this, when he’s so cold and everything hurts and he’s so tired.

He lets himself drift, fluttering in and out of death-dreams that he can barely recall.

Eventually, after he’s lost count of the cycles, something happens. The dim light filtering through the ice gets brighter. Small creatures—the lifeforms of this planet, he thinks—peer down at him, pointing, shouting, but he is too weak to respond.

He has hope, for a brief moment, when he sees the sun again, but those hopes are quickly dashed—once more he’s trapped in walls and ceilings of white and gray. This time, the prison is own body. He’s escaped the glacier, only to find himself paralyzed and comatose. Occasionally he laspses into consciousness just long enough to steal a few kliks of awareness before he falls back into darkness.

At some point, he feels himself revert to ‘bot mode, which is something he'd forgotten he even had until then. He’s vaguely aware that he is being picked apart and put back together by the scavengers, again and again and again. The dull ache of not being whole is the only reason he knows he’s still alive, if this can still be called living.

And then…something changes. Everything goes dark for a very long time. The next time he’s aware of anything, his first realization is that he doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t feel broken. His arms respond when he tries to move.

What?

He sits up, still in something of a daze, taking in the surroundings. It’s a room seemingly sized for mechs, and yet the furniture strewn about is far too small—maybe meant for the scavengers? He has little time to wonder about the whole situation, because he soon hears them—the distant, telltale sounds of Quintessons approaching. He remembers what those are, in a way that’s almost instinctive.

To his right, though, he hears a small screaming noise. A lone organic is shouting something at him almost hysterically, pointing at the entrance before gesturing wildly, and then pointing up at the ceiling. It runs over to a set of controls, pushing at buttons furiously until the ceiling begins to open up. Once again, he sees the sky and feels something like hope.

Then tentacles lash out from behind the entrance, and he remembers this is no time for sentiment. He picks the organic up, deciding to just plop the creature inside his cockpit where’s it’s relatively safe and jump for it. He doesn’t trust the creature, not for a second, but he needs someone to explain what’s going on. Engines flare to life for the first time in millions of years, and he hears horrific screeches as Quintesson flesh is cooked under the heat from his thrusters.

They sail up and up and up until there’s no walls anymore and that feeling of suffocating is gone and it’s warmer than anything he’s felt in millions of cycles and he’s alive.

He lets himself spin a few times in the air. He’s above the clouds and the sun feels like fire on his still-frigid wings but somehow that’s good, it feels right. He wants to just hover here and bask in it forever.

He realizes why the creature is kicking him when gunfire whizzes past his face, followed by a pair of aircraft piloted by the scavengers.

Are the scavengers after him? Or the one he’s holding onto? He’s not really sure, but he also really doesn’t want to find out.

He transforms, looking for any way to shake them off. It becomes a mad, spiraling dance as he tries to avoid getting shot, to mixed results.

He considers the enemy’s design—these aircraft don’t look like they’re meant for spaceflight. Knowing that, he climbs higher and higher, looking to get above these things’ maximum operating altitude. He flinches as a few bullets scratch and tear at him, but doesn’t stop. This eventually pays off, as he sees his pursuers begin to stall out, dropping away behind him.

He hopes his scavenger didn’t get too sick in the cockpit. That’d be a mess to clean up…

…Primus, why am I worrying about that at a time like this? He laughs to himself, though this high up, the air is so thin that it’s barely audible.

He looked down at the planet below—dusk was soon to fall on this side of the world, and he needed to find somewhere to hide.

“…where do I even go from here?”

A knock from the organic, who held up what looked like a tiny datapad with a nervous grin.

Maybe they had an idea?

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

part 2

[midnightbears]

✿ duskbound, afterlight.

#STARRING: cybertronian femme reader & other characters.

#TAGS: fighting. lots of fighting. wounds. mentions of pain. flashbacks. 'alluding' to prostitution.

#NOTES: i actually feel so weird for this chapter because not much happens (in a sense), but i can't stress enough how much i want you to feel the mc as an actual character instead of this just being a romance story, and i'm establishing this not only for you but also for myself! you will need to read the mc's character arcs and individual chapters, even if they're long or you might think are unnecessary. if you don't read them, you're going to miss out on crucial points of the story! character arcs for your mcs are essential! even when they're just y/n! y/n is still a character, and they need a good backstory and moments to flesh them out thoroughly. fanfiction should be made with as much love and care as a 'real' book would need to be. with my usual rant issued, enjoy <3

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You remembered setting down the tiny bundle of belongings you carried, the meager possessions you owned neatly placed on the edge of your new berth, and your new pickaxe and hammer drill. You were still deciding where to put your things when the voice of who would be your new berthroom companion caught you off guard, breaking the silence like a sudden gust of wind.

“You can come out, my love. All is well.”

You had quizzingly looked at her after the words left her mouth, but you grew even more confused when you realized she was not looking your way. Instead, she was looking at the small locker at the end of her berth.

There was a hesitant creak, the metallic sound echoing in the quiet room. A small servo gripped the edge of the locker’s door, trembling slightly, and then a tiny figure peeked out—a sparkling, her frame barely more than a fragile outline against the dim light. She was almost painfully small, her light turquoise plating catching the faint glow in the room. 

“Come here, my light,” Starlight called out gently, extending a servo in a welcoming gesture as she sat at the edge of her berth.

The sparkling hesitated, her optics flicking nervously between you and her carrier. Her whole frame trembled with uncertainty.

You tried to make yourself look smaller, less imposing, feeling your spark crumple and crush with sympathy and curiosity at the existence of such innocence in this hellhole. So many questions and doubts ran through your processor at a speed that even the most talented racers would be jealous of.

Then, with a deep vent that sounded almost like a sigh, the sparkling took a cautious step toward her carrier. And another. And another. Until she was close enough to be scooped up into her arms.

“There you are,” She said with a tender smile, gathering the sparkling to her chest as if she were the most precious thing in the universe. The little one buried her face against her mother's chassis, and you could hear the faint whirr of her tiny cooling fans as she snuggled close, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace. Her servo moved slowly up and down the sparkling’s back. “I’m sorry for scaring you, sweetie. You’re very brave, are you not?”

Suddenly, she looked at you.

“I’m glad they sent another femme, I wasn’t about to take chances with someone who wouldn’t understand what it’s like.” She said. Although her voice was steady and unembellished, an undercurrent of intensity ran through it—tender and fiercely protective, issuing a warning. You could sense that this caution wasn’t aimed at you, but rather at some shadowy threat that lingered just beyond reach. “If they’d sent a mech, I would have thrown him out myself.”

You blinked, taken aback by her straightforwardness. You nodded slowly, trying to keep your expression open and unthreatening. Your voice was a little hesitant, unsure of how to respond to her. “I... I’m glad I’m here too.”

“Good,” she said, a half smile on her lip components, her gaze not wavering. “Then we’ll get along just fine. I’m Starlight, this is Vaportrail... she’s my everything. And I won’t let anything—or anyone—hurt her.”

Her tone now had no softness, only a hard-edged determination that made your spark tighten. This wasn’t a carrier who would let her guard down easily, not for anyone, and certainly not for someone she didn’t trust. But there was a flicker of relief in her optics, a softening around the edges as if admitting that your presence didn’t feel like a threat was a victory all on its own.

Which, in a way, made you very sad.

You opened your dermas, unsure of what to say, but Starlight cut you off with a small smile, her laughing, purple optics seizing you. “Don’t take it personally. I’m just... careful. They don’t make it easy for femmes like us. Especially not for carriers. I’m not about to apologize for doing what I must to keep her safe.”

You nodded quickly. “I—I understand. I don’t want to intrude. I just... I didn’t realize you had a little one here.”

“No, it’s fine,” Starlight said, waving a servo dismissively but not loosening her hold on Vaportrail. “You’re here now, and that’s that. They didn’t exactly ask my opinion before sending you, but... you seem alright.” Her optics scanned you up and down like she was weighing you, judging if you were genuinely trustworthy. Whatever she saw, it made her relax a fraction. “We’ll see how it goes.”

There was a silence that felt heavier than it should, and Vaportrail shifted a little, peeking out from the safety of her carrier’s hold. Her optics were still wide and oscillating, but there was a flicker now, like the spark of a tinderbox, and you managed a tentative smile. It felt awkward and unsure, but it seemed the right move because Vaportrail didn’t look away.

Starlight’s expression softened again, just a little, as she glanced down at her daughter. She leaned in and murmured, “This is…” She looked back up at you precipitously, “Sorry, what’s your name?”

You told her your new designation, the new number of the H branch in Mining Outpost R–02. You’d need to get used to it, but it would be easy enough. The overseer of your branch had already taken to refer to you as simply ‘8’.

Starlight almost grimaced at your words but soon looked down at the sparkling. “This is H-08. She’s going to stay with us for a while.”

The sparkling didn’t respond, but she didn’t hide either, and you took that as a small victory.

Starlight turned her optics towards you, revealing the complexities within her gaze—gentleness intertwined with determination, a fierce sense of protection that nearly felt rebellious. Above all, you noticed a tentative hope. It was delicate, nearly fragile, resembling something seldom relied upon and sustained by pure resolve. It felt like she was challenging you, silently urging you to either validate her doubts or, maybe, to offer her a reason to believe.

“Just make yourself comfortable,” she said with a half-smirk. “But don’t go thinking you’re a guest. You’re part of this now. And if you’ll be here, you’ll do your part to keep her safe, too.”

You nodded, meeting her gaze with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Of course,” you said. “I’ll do my best.”

You didn’t expect to follow Bluey’s advice that well.

Although you still felt anxious, there was one important lesson he ensured you understood, which was the primary reason you were managing to perform mediocrely well in the current match. Five simple words, but ones he made sure to drill into you, even at the cost of hearing him utter the sentence in your dreams.

“Always keep your head cool.”

The arena bore the scars of your prolonged clash—scorched craters, gouges in the walls, and the acrid tang of overheated metal. Across the battered expanse, your opponent circled behind a wall of waste metal. He was tall and bulky, his frame a juggernaut that had already tested your limits more than once. 

A younger you might have faltered by now, let exhaustion or his relentless power shake your resolve. But this wasn’t then. You adjusted your stance, steadying your frame and keeping Bluey’s advice sharp in your processor. This wasn’t over yet.

“Let them think they’ve got the upper hand, then take it from them in one clean swoop.”

Your opponent grinned, baring sharp teeth, his optics gleaming with something dark and eager. He lunged toward you, hurling a heavy swing of his greatsword, too fast and keen for a clean kill.

Good. You could work with that.

You ducked low, slipping just out of reach. He lunged forward, his momentum betraying him as he faltered, thrown off balance for a fleeting moment. The crowd's uproar filled the air, their cheers rising in a mighty wave, drowning out all other sounds. Bright flashes of light erupted around you, glinting off your polished armor and that of your opponent, creating a dazzling display that danced in the periphery of your vision.

“Most mechs here don’t think before they swing. Let them come to you. Half the fight is watching them trip over themselves. They’ll do half the work if you let them.”

You let him close in again, his optics narrowing as he swung, aiming for your helm this time. A broad swing of his arm—you had seen it a dozen times in practice with Bluey by now. You sidestepped and his fist cut through space, too slow to catch you. The warhammer in your grasp seemed to flow into your movements, and you did not even feel its heaviness.

He cursed, stumbling again, his frustration evident as he recovered, his vents heaving. Bluey was right; your opponent wasn’t thinking, only reacting. And now, with him unbalanced, it was time to make your move.

"Think quick, strike quicker. You don’t need to go for a kill shot in friendly matches. Just hit them where it hurts.”

So you did. Darting forward, you aimed low with your weapon, catching him squarely in the side with a swift, well-placed jab to his knee joint. The impact reverberated through your frame, his armor giving way just enough for you to feel the shock of metal against metal. He staggered, his vents hissing in pain, and you took advantage of his faltering balance, pressing forward with another strike to his leg.

His frame buckled, his weight crashing to one knee as he tried and failed to push himself back up. His optics flared with rage as he swiped at you again, desperation taking over, but you were already out of reach, watching his movements with a clear, unclouded gaze.

"A calm mind’s your greatest weapon. Most fights end the second your opponent loses his cool. Hold onto yours, and you’ll outlast them every time.”

You watched as your opponent struggled, rage overtaking his features as he realized his momentum had failed him. He staggered back, clutching his damaged leg, his optics wild, searching for some way to turn the tide. But you were already moving, closing in before he could react. A quick swipe to his shoulder joint sent him stumbling back again, a desperate growl tearing from his vocalizer as his arm dropped, sparking where the wiring had split.

The crowd’s roars escalated, but for once, the noise didn’t faze you. You kept your focus on him, your field of vision narrowing down to this one mech and his dwindling options.

“A hit’s only as strong as the bot that lands it. Don’t go for flashy moves if a simple strike will do the job.”

So you didn’t. You kept it simple and calculated, landing a swift, final blow to his remaining arm joint. His frame shuddered, forced down by the impact as he slumped forward, defeated but still functional, vents whirring unevenly as he struggled to catch his breath.

You took a step back, exhaling as you held your stance, ready to react to any last-ditch effort he might make. But there was nothing—no fight left in him, just the slow, begrudging slump of a mech who knew he’d been bested.

Another one. You’d done it! Shifting your helm toward the other side of the arena, you glimpsed the opening that connected the arena to the Gladiators’ lobby, and you swore that behind the bars, you could see a pair of familiar ochre-pigmented optics looking at you.

Bluey was there too, flashing a cheerful, childish thumbs-up as a wide grin spread across his face. He mimicked a series of playful punches aimed at the air, then broke into applause, cheering you on with boundless enthusiasm. You did not mind it. It actually made you smile.

Just as you turned toward the exit, you were so close to doing so as you began taking the first step; a pair of guards came to haul the mech onto a stretcher, and one of them harshly gripped your shoulder, evoking a grunt from your voicebox.

“You’re not done.”

You wrenched yourself free from his hold but stared at him confusedly, “We were the last ones on the list for today.”

“Not anymore.” The other answered for his partner, staring intensely at you despite his visor. “There’s been a last-minute change for your matches.”

‘Bullway.’ You looked away with irritation in your features (never directed at them), which was answer enough for the pair of guards. They began carrying the wounded gladiator away, fighting the urge to stifle their laughs while the mech deliriously quaked about his pain.

With a languid motion, you allowed your shoulders to roll back, reclaiming your position at the heart of the arena. To entertain the multitude of cybertronians around you, you threw your arms wide above your helm, sending a ripple of exhilaration through the crowd, igniting a cacophony of cheers and shouts.

You gazed at them in mild, calculated satisfaction. In some manner, the audience determined the level of excitement in the fight, and you felt a sense of relief knowing it would be exceptionally some time before you started boring them, even if you felt disgusted by their entertainment.

Suddenly, the other gate opened.

He emerged from the shadows. You’d seen him before, though only in passing. You hadn’t paid much attention to him then; now, it was impossible to look away.

His frame was massive, and his armor was scarred from dozens of battles. The faint glow of his optics burned like embers, and the sharpness of his gaze cut through the haze of dust and noise that filled the arena. His steps were heavy and measured, the kind of stride that wasn’t rushed because it didn’t need to be.

He stopped in the center of the pit, his helm tilting slightly as his optics locked onto you.

“So,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, carrying easily over the noise. “This is what they’ve got for me today?”

You tightened your grip on your warhammer, your digits aching. He was assessing you. You could feel it—a predatory gaze that lingered just long enough for you to start overthinking. Still, you said nothing. Words were a distraction. Both Bluey and Megatronus made points about that.

He seemed to take your silence as an insult. His mouth pulled into a sharp grin that didn’t reach his optics.

“They’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel now, aren’t they?” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain, each word sharp as a dagger. “Sending me, Celsius, some nobody.”

Your helmet shifted slightly, and the question slipped from your dermas before you could rein in your need to make him angry. “Who?”

In an instant, the atmosphere around him transformed dramatically, thickening with an almost electric tension. It surged through him, coiling like a tightly wound spring just moments before it snapped, tight and expectant. The playful mockery that had once danced mischievously in his optics was snuffed out, leaving behind an unsettling void. In its place, a chilling darkness crept in, settling heavily over his features, distorting the lines of his face.

“‘Who?’” he repeated, his voice dropping to a growl. “You don’t know who I am?”

You stared at him, unflinching. “No.”

The crowd caught wind of the exchange, and a wave of laughter rippled through the stands. His frame stiffened, his optics narrowing as the noise grew louder.

“You’re funny,” he said, though his tone suggested he didn’t find it amusing. “That’s good. Keep that up—it’ll make this more entertaining.”

Without warning, he lunged.

For a mech his size, he moved with startling speed, closing the distance between you in a handful of strides. His fist came down like a hammer, a strike meant to pulverize. You twisted away just in time, his blow slamming into the ground with a force that sent tremors up through your stabilizers.

You darted back, your hammer raised defensively as you sized him up.

He was fast, yes, but his movements were heavy, over-committed. He fought like someone who had never needed to think about his strength—who had always relied on brute force to overpower his opponents.

“Stay still!” he barked, his voice sharp with irritation as he swung again, the arc of his arm slicing through the air.

You ducked, letting his momentum carry him past you.

“You’re wasting energy,” you said, the words slipping out before you could think better of it.

His growl was low and guttural, and when he turned back to you, his optics blazed with rage.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, I heard,” he said, his vents heaving. “Let’s see how smart it is when I’m done with you.”

He lunged at you once more, his movements becoming increasingly wild and unrestrained, each swing of his fists wide and erratic. You sidestepped, remembering the footwork Bluey had practically made you memorize. Your opponent wasn’t relying on his tactical knowledge; instead, he was fueled by a burning sense of pride. That pride, however, was proving to be his greatest weakness, as it blinded him to the precision and finesse with which you fought.

“Who trained you?” he sneered, his words cutting through the air like shrapnel. “Or did they just toss you in here to die?”

You didn’t answer. There was no point. Instead, you waited, watching for the next opening.

It came sooner than you expected.

He swung wide again, his arm sweeping out in a broad arc that left his side exposed. You stepped in, driving your hammer into the joint of his leg. The impact sent a jolt up your arms, and his armor buckled under the force. He staggered, a snarl tearing from his vocalizer as he struggled to stay upright.

“You’ll regret that,” he spat, his optics wild with fury.

Once again, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to.

He lunged again, his movements growing sloppier with each passing moment. His rage was blinding him, clouding his judgment. He was making mistakes, and you were ready to exploit them.

You darted around him, landing a blow on his shoulder joint. He cursed, the sound raw and guttural, as his arm dropped, sparking at the connection. His frame trembled with the effort of staying upright, his vents rattling like loose machinery.

“Fight me!” he roared, his voice cracking in frustration. “Stop running and fight me!”

You held your ground, your optics steady as you watched him. “I don’t need to fight you,” you said, your tone calm, almost detached. “You’re beating yourself.”

The words struck him like a physical blow. He froze, his optics wide with disbelief, before the rage returned in full force. He charged blindly, his movements a chaotic blur of desperation and fury.

You stepped aside, his momentum carrying him past you. Then, with one final swing, you brought your hammer down on his remaining shoulder joint.

The impact sent him crashing to the ground, his frame buckling under the weight of his arrogance. He lay there, his vents sputtering, his optics dimming as he struggled to lift himself.

You stood over him, your stance steady, your frame casting a shadow over his.

He looked up at you, his optics burning with hatred and humiliation.

“Who,” you said, your voice low, broken by your tired breaths between syllables, “are you supposed to be again?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Then, like a thunderclap, the crowd erupted. Their cheers and jeers mingled in a cacophony that reverberated through the arena walls, their voices rising in a frenzy. Some shouted your name; others hurled insults at the fallen gladiator. The noise was deafening, but you let it wash over you, standing tall as their energy rippled through the air.

Their way of letting you know: That was an excellent match.

You allowed yourself a glance upward toward the tiered stands. The Overseers’ box loomed above, a dark shape crowded with figures seated in detached luxury. A few of them nodded, the faintest inclinations of approval that barely registered against the clinking of energon cubes and muted laughter from their table.

Most weren’t even watching.

Your optics narrowed as you saw what held their attention. A courier had delivered a tower of tiny energon cubes to their table. One of the bosses reached out, plucking a cube from the precariously stacked pile with the same carelessness as a mech selecting a datapad. Another laughed as the tower wobbled but held its balance.

Your spark twisted violently in your chest.

They weren’t watching. After all the effort, after the pain and adrenaline, the gamble of your life against another’s... you weren’t even worth their attention.

A tower of energon cubes was upstaging you.

A surge of fury swelled in your core, hot and all-consuming. You acted before you could think, your frame moving on instinct alone. With a sharp pull, you wrenched a shoulder plate free from your defeated opponent’s armor, the battered piece of metal groaning as it came loose in your servo.

Then, you hurled the plating across the arena. It sliced through the air, the momentum carrying it in a deadly arc straight toward the Overseers’ box.

The piece struck the energon tower dead-center.

The cubes tumbled spectacularly, scattering across their table and clattering to the floor. Shouts of alarm erupted as some of the bosses scrambled back, some leaping from their seats as the impact sent their delicate drinks and datapads spilling across their laps.

The crowd gasped, the collective intake of air almost louder than their earlier cheers. A shocked silence fell over the pit, stretching taut and electric as every optic turned to you.

For a moment, you simply stood there, your plating heaving as the heat of your anger coursed through you. Then, you inclined the upper part of your frame—just a fraction, the gesture somewhere between mockery and defiance. Your optics locked onto the Overseers as if daring them to look away again.

When you finally turned, you saw that the arena gates had opened at some point, the path to the exit yawning before you. You walked toward it without hesitation, without awaiting dismissal, your pedsteps echoing in the stunned silence that followed you.

Behind you, the crowd erupted louder than before, their voices carrying an amalgamation of shock, awe, and delight. They weren’t just watching now—they were riveted.

An excellent match, indeed.

But as you crossed the threshold into the dim corridors beyond the pit, the noise faded into the distance, and you could feel the weight of the Overseers’ glares pressing against your back. For the first time, you were sure they were paying attention.

Good. Let them.

[call-me-copycat]

Michi…. Shinsou’s hero name… how are we feeling?? It’s okay but def not what I expected 😭

Leaks for those unaware:

Ok, being a huge MHA fan once I saw an update about Shinso I nearly cried on instinct but now some time has passed I'm able to think about it more

It doesn't seem too bad for a hero name? There's worse after all: Tail Man, Sugar Man, Invisible Girl, Grape Juice, etc

Still, I like to think we as a fandom have grown close to the conjectured name MindJack for him so it's certainly a little unfamiliar

That being said, while I do wish his hero name had something to do a little more with his quirk, I do like the name NightHide (it's cheesy but so are most of the Hero names - look at All Might's!)

It fits the same pattern Horikoshi goes through when he's made most of the other Hero names, which I like because it fits Shinso in just a little more (so nice seeing him not sticking out anymore but now a part of the group)

It also makes sense in hindsight that his hero name doesn't allude to his quirk because the whole point of his quirk is depending on others not knowing what it is

That's why I'm a little confused that he seems to be a Pro Hero instead of an Underground Hero? I feel that with a quirk like his he might be better suited for the Underground life (most would speculate based on his similarities to Aizawa after all)

Maybe he wanted to forge his own path? Maybe he just likes being part of the group? Aizawa only really had Hizashi and Nemuri growing as a hero, so he might've been better suited for the loneliness that came with being an underground hero. Shinso throughout the series seems to always be surrounded by people, so he's probably more used to it than solitude like Aizawa (just speculation)

That being said I definitely liked the Shinso cameo, it made my day (because most of the leaks seemed to bring lots of pain to me ૮( ̳ т ̫ т ̳ )ა)

I might share the rest of the leaks I got from Twitter actually, this is very exciting for me (very exhausting too)

That being said, look at him in the back!

I really hope he kept his original Hero outfit we saw in the anime because I thought that looked fantastic, so that's why I'm a little worried about people talking about how his outfit looks more like Aizawa's (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠)

As much as I like the Aizawa - Shinso dynamic, I want to see Shinso grow! I want to see him carve out his own path in life!

I'm always happy to get Shinso content at this point so I can't be too picky, that being said it's not a bad name at all! (´∇｀)

Edit:

I feel the need to point out in Japanese it'll sound a little different than when it's spoken in English

In English, "Night" and "Hide" sound a little similar, only due to the middle "I"

In Japanese, "Night" will be said similar to "Nai-to" (high to low pitch) and hide will be "hai-do" (since this is also high to low pitch, the D is sharper and sounds similar to the T in "to" in "Nai-to")

It just sounds a little more uniform in Japanese, so I kind of understand why more people are put off by it in standard English

It's an okay name, not bad, and I think it actually fits Horikoshi's habits when it comes to Hero names -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

"SunEater"

"EraserHead"

"All Might"

"Red Riot"

"BackDraft"

Combining 2 English words into 1 typically (obviously with exceptions like "Ingenium" or "Tsukuyomi")

"EdgeShot"

"Loud Cloud"

Overall he's just one to come up with quick, cheesy, partial English names for his characters - I think we've gotten so used to calling these people by their hero names that we forget how odd they must sound to outsiders (I remember thinking "Eraserhead" was a weird name for awhile as a kid actually) (⁠๑⁠¯⁠◡⁠¯⁠๑⁠)

[ylge]

"One Step Closer, Hands Intertwined"

A short #bamkhun Ballroom Dancer AU fanfiction by me

Happy birthday to our beautiful lightbearer, Khun Aguero Agnis!

***

The sound of waltz music filled the studio that afternoon. The sound of steps and squeaking shoes echoed in sync with the tempo. Two pairs of hands interwined, swaying softly in sync with the body's motions, accompanied by dim lighting and the orange glow of the sun peeking through the window.

"You are getting better."

That one sentence made Bam turn to his partner. He found Khun smiling at him.

"Thank you." He replied simply, returning the smile.

Today was supposed to be his and Endorsi's schedule to practice their waltz dance before their competition in two weeks. But instead, she sprained her foot during gym class this afternoon, making her unable to walk let alone dance.

Bam still remembered how angry Yuri had been with him—why not Endorsi?—when she found out what had happened to his dancing partner.

He could've practiced on his own without Endorsi, but it still felt different practicing without a partner. Or he could've asked Yuri to be his partner temporarily, but she was also busy with her own training.

"I will be your training partner until Endorsi is recovered."

Then Khun offered.

He had indeed become sort of a 'mentor' to Bam and Endorsi during their training in this studio when Evankhell—who was their original mentor—was not around. He gave a lot of advice and was actually a genius dancer, so it shouldn’t be a problem for him.

"I-is it okay?" Bam asked, somewhat hesitantly.

Khun raised his eyebrows instead, "Of course. You guys have a competition in two weeks, right? If you wait until she can walk again, it'll be a waste of time. Unless—"

Khun leaned towards Bam, making Bam took a step back, "You think I can't be your 'female' partner?"

"T-That's not it, Khun-ssi." Bam put both hands in front of his chest. Though, he slightly confirmed Khun's words inside. They were both males—leaders, so... well, if Bam could be honest, he wasn't too sure if Khun was capable of taking the place of a female partner.

But Bam was wrong; Khun did deserve to be called a genius. Not only was he a great leader, he was also great at taking the partner position. He quickly mastered Bam and Endorsi's routines—maybe it was because he had seen them so often, but it was still amazing! Just thinking about it made Bam's heart fluttered.

Their waltz routine ended with Khun spinning from Bam's arms to his side. They stopped right in front of the studio mirror, slightly out of breath.

Bam watched their reflection in the mirror. Was this the view the judges had seen of them on the dance floor all along?

Then he looked at Khun's figure in the mirror, realizing a few things. He was as tall as Khun now, and when he looked again, even though they were generally the same build, his shoulders were slightly wider than Khun's. He remembered a couple years ago, when Yuri first brought him here, Khun was still a few inches taller than him. Though there was one thing that remained the same about the man beside him...

He was still kind and beautiful.

"Bam?"

Bam jolted, turning to Khun who was now looking at him. There was curiosity in those sapphire irises.

"What's wrong? Is there something wrong with the routine?" he asked, voice soft.

"Uh, no! It's not! It's perfect!" Bam shook his head quickly, feeling embarrassed being caught daydreaming about the man beside him.

"I just think Khun-ssi is really an awesome partner. I'm really grateful to have you as my training partner today." he bashfully continued.

Khun smiled at that, "You're welcome. I'm glad I could help."

Bam felt his heart beat faster at that smile. He almost blurted out, "Then, do you want to be my partner forever?" But he quickly clamped his mouth shut.

"So, are you now thinking of switching Endorsi with me as your partner for the competition?" Khun added, smirking mischievously. Bam panicked and blushed. How could he not? Little did Khun know his words made Bam think that he was reading his mind.

"Just kidding," Khun chuckled, then his gaze softened.

"Alright, which dance is next?" he asked suddenly.

"E-eh, t-tango! Next dance is tango!" Bam stammered, Khun showed amusement at his reaction—Bam sure stuttered a lot today, did dancing with Khun making him that nervous?—and walked towards the music player.

"Your favorite dance, right?" Khun switched the music from waltz to tango—imagining Bam smiling on the dance floor every time his favorite dance started.

Khun turned around, finding Bam already standing right behind him. He tilted his head slightly, meeting his gaze with Bam's golden irises.

Khun extended both his hands and Bam immediately held them firm. Their hands intertwined, bodies pressed together, and the tango music started.

"Shall we start?"

***

Author's note?:

LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

This was actually half written in 2021, I think? Based on a manga/anime called Ballroom e Youkoso! But this AU isn’t quite a BeY AU, maybe we can just call it regular ‘BamKhun ballroom dancer AU’ lol

I don’t have any knowledge in ballroom dancing aside from that series and a few researchs so I want to apologize in advance if there are mistakes in writing this fic :’))

Anyway, there are a few things about this AU I want to write but I can't so I will just dump it here:

1. Bam and Endorsi are dance partners; Bam didn’t have prior experience before Yuri brought him to dance in her (actually Evankhell’s) studio, and Endorsi was a latin dancer (Hatz was her ex-partner) before switching to classic.

2. Khun doesn’t have fixed dancing partner, he’s also inactive from competitive dancing after he split up with his partner/cousin, Maria, in his last year in middle school. But he still practices every week in Evankhell’s studio, and his frequency increases when Bam joined (an excuse to see Bam more)

3. They are like, in 2nd or 3rd year of highschool here

4. Khun was actually what inspired Bam to start ballroom dancing. He once saw Khun in a competition in middle school dancing tango, then fell absolutely in love with how Khun danced (and him eventually). That was why tango is Bam’s favorite dance

5. Khun and Bam are in love with each other (how surprising)