#i guess what i’m saying is that he’s perfect for me

[kashverse]

this has been in my head since forever but imagine coworkers to lovers with sukuna😖 early morning shifts at a cafe and just chatting❤️

some lore on kunamama and kunapapa :)

sometimes, you like to think back to the day you met sukuna—way before he became the king of the corporate world, when he was just a regular (if not slightly terrifying) desk employee at some company. and isn’t it kinda silly how you were his boss back then? back when he didn’t wear custom-tailored suits that cost more than rent, when his hair wasn’t styled to perfection, and when his schedule wasn’t packed with cutthroat business deals and world domination. he was still an asshole, of course.

but he was your favorite asshole.

because despite his reputation for ripping apart anyone who made a mistake, he was the only one who ever told you when you were incorrect—without being rude about it. which was ironic, because if it had been anyone else, he would’ve dragged them through the mud.

he also remembered you liked your drinks disgustingly sweet, so sweet that even the vending machine’s sugary abominations weren’t enough. so what did sukuna do? he started keeping sugar packets in his drawer for you. did he ever admit to doing it because he cared? hell no. "what, you think i wanna deal with you whining about your coffee tasting like actual coffee?" he scoffed the first time he handed you one. “keep your blood sugar levels up and your energy higher so i don’t have to carry the team.” meanwhile, other people who put one too many sugars in their drinks?

"congratulations, dumbass, you’ve made syrup."

sometimes, you wouldn’t even realize when a normal work call would transition into a yap session that lasted hours, the two of you sprawled on your respective couches at home, phones balanced precariously on your faces. so when sukuna finally had enough of the rat race and decided to form his own company, he came to you first.

"quit your job and work for me," he demanded.

you blinked. "excuse me?"

"i’m leaving this shithole and starting my own company," he said, arms crossed. “and i need someone who isn’t a dumbass running things with me. plus, i already have a sugar supplier—wouldn’t wanna lose that.” 

you laughed. "so this is you begging?"

"it’s me stating facts," he grumbled. "but if you need the extra motivation—" he dramatically fell to his knees, hands clasped together. 

"please, my dear, wonderful boss, do me the honor of joining me in my noble pursuit of capitalism and world domination."

"…you look so stupid right now."

"yeah, yeah, so is that a yes?"

how could you say no? you loved him.

so you did. and now, five years later, you’re married, running a massive company, and you have a little babykuna who thinks you and sukuna hung the moon. so whenever babykuna asks, "how did you and papa meet?", you always recount this story with fondness. and sukuna? he always interrupts at the sugar packet part. "i wasn’t being nice," he argues every time. "i was investing in company efficiency."

babykuna blinks. "so… you were investing in mama?"

sukuna pauses. and you? you smile.

"yeah," you tease. "guess you’ve always had a good eye for business."

[goldfades]

HOTTEST COUPLE IN THE ROOM ───JB⁹

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.5k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested! -> "Joe x Dallas cowboy cheerleader reader"

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | reader is kinda perceived as bitchy, and not a cookie-cutter dcc. lots of a banter, leads to relationship.

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | my new fav thing EVER

The bass shakes the floor beneath your heels, the scent of top-shelf liquor and expensive cologne thick in the air. The postgame party is exactly what you expected—too many people, too much noise, and a lingering sense of competition that doesn’t quite fade even after the game’s final whistle. Cowboys and Bengals players mix like oil and water, good-natured jabs tossed between sips of whiskey, the occasional laugh laced with something sharper.

You don’t want to be here.

But when the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders make an appearance, it’s not optional. It’s PR. It’s “team camaraderie.” It’s smiling through gritted teeth while some dude in a suit with more money than personality tells you how impressive it is that you can do a perfect high kick in full glam.

You adjust the hem of your dress, shifting against the leather couch tucked in the VIP section. It’s not that you’re bad at playing the part. You just don’t fit the mold the way you’re supposed to. The other girls—prim, polished, always camera-ready—glide through the room like they were born for this. You, on the other hand, are already toeing the line of “too much.” Too opinionated, too unpredictable, too unwilling to be anything other than exactly who you are.

And yet, you’re still here. Because when you dance, they shut up about the rest.

“Didn’t think you’d actually show,” a voice drawls beside you, cutting through the music.

Your gaze shifts, locking onto the last person you expected to seek you out tonight. Joe Burrow.

His suit jacket is slung over his arm, the sleeves of his crisp white button-down rolled up just enough to give him that effortlessly put-together look. He’s got that half-smirk that’s made him a social media obsession, and yet there’s something else in his expression—curiosity, maybe. Amusement.

You raise a brow. “Didn’t think you knew who I was.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” His eyes flicker, something sharp and knowing in them. “Hard to miss the cheerleader who doesn’t play by the rules.”

You tilt your head, feigning offense. “I play by the rules.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Nah. You don’t. You just make it look like you do.”

And there it is. The first crack in the game, the unspoken understanding settling between you like a drawn line in the sand.

It should be nothing.

But somehow, it doesn’t feel like nothing.

You lean back against the couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest, the other toying with the rim of the drink you don’t actually want. The ice clinks softly as you swirl it, eyes flicking back to Joe, unimpressed but not entirely disinterested.

“Wow,” you deadpan. “Joe Burrow knows my reputation. I guess I can retire now.”

Joe huffs a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shakes his shoulders. “Just saying, you don’t blend in.”

You lift a brow. “Neither do you.”

His smirk deepens, just a little. “Difference is, I’m supposed to stand out.”

You roll your eyes. “God, you’re worse than I thought.”

Joe blinks, feigning offense. “Worse?”

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, taking him in. “I figured you’d at least let me get a word in before pulling the ‘I’m Joe Burrow’ card.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

The smirk on his face falters just a fraction, like he’s recalculating his approach. He came over here thinking he’d charm you with minimal effort, just like he probably does with every other girl in this room. You can’t blame him. You’re used to guys like him—ones who assume that a few smooth lines and a good jawline will be enough to win you over. It’s exhausting, really.

Joe, to his credit, seems to pick up on it quickly. He shifts his stance, dropping the easy arrogance just a notch, watching you like he’s trying to figure out a new play mid-game.

“So, you don’t like football players,” he guesses.

“I never said that.”

“You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just not easily impressed.”

Joe clicks his tongue, shaking his head like he’s been personally challenged. “Tough crowd.”

You let out a short laugh, finally taking a sip of your drink. The warmth spreads through you, smoothing the edges of your already sharp tongue. “Look, I get it. You’re Joe Cool, media darling, golden boy, future Hall of Famer, blah, blah, blah. But none of that tells me who you actually are.”

Joe’s quiet for a beat, like he wasn’t expecting you to cut through the bullshit so quickly. Most people don’t.

He studies you. “You wanna know who I am?”

“I wanna know if you can hold a conversation that doesn’t involve your highlight reel.”

Joe grins, shaking his head like you’re more trouble than he bargained for—but not the kind he wants to walk away from.

“Alright,” he says, leaning in slightly. “Let’s make it fair. Since you’re so uninterested in my career, how about I ask about yours?”

You narrow your eyes. “Go for it.”

He tilts his head. “You always wanted to be a cheerleader?”

You pause for a fraction of a second. It’s not a bad question, but it’s not the usual small talk either. It’s got an edge to it, like he’s actually curious.

“No,” you admit. “I wanted to be an astronaut.”

Joe snorts. “Serious?”

“As a heart attack.” You smirk. “But apparently, NASA frowns upon people who talk back to their instructors.”

Joe laughs now, really laughs, and it does something to his face—makes it lighter, less perfectly put-together. It’s a nice look on him.

“So, you settled for the next most intense program?” he asks.

“Something like that.” You glance around the room, at the Cowboys players, the other cheerleaders, the high-profile guests all schmoozing and clinking glasses. “DCC is its own version of NASA. Just with more hairspray and stricter calorie counts.”

Joe hums, considering that. “And yet, you don’t seem the type to take orders.”

You shrug. “I don’t. But I’m really, really good at what I do.”

His gaze lingers for half a second too long. “Yeah,” he says, low and thoughtful. “I bet you are.”

There’s something about the way he says it that makes your breath catch for just a second—not because you’re flustered, but because it feels like he actually sees you, past the sequins and forced smiles and PR obligations.

You tap your nails against your glass, breaking whatever was starting to settle between you. “Well, congrats,” you say, all light and teasing again. “You managed to hold a conversation without bringing up your own stats.”

Joe grins, lazy and triumphant. “And?”

You take a slow sip, watching him over the rim of your glass. “You’re not completely insufferable.”

Joe laughs, leaning back into the couch. “I’ll take it.”

The first date wasn’t supposed to happen.

At least, not in your mind.

But Joe had this way of slipping through the cracks of your carefully built walls, catching you off guard in a way that wasn’t annoying, but intriguing. So, when he had looked at you across that crowded party and said, “One drink. No football talk,” you had rolled your eyes, but ultimately, you had agreed.

One drink turned into three. A post-midnight drive through downtown. A completely ridiculous bet over who could name more obscure 90s songs (you won, obviously). And then, somehow, a second date.

And that was the real surprise.

Because by then, you figured you had him pegged. Star quarterback, smooth operator, probably used to women falling over themselves to impress him. But the Joe you saw away from the cameras, when it was just the two of you in a dimly lit hole-in-the-wall bar or sprawled out on his couch, eating takeout straight from the boxes, was different. He was easy in a way that felt familiar, like a song you hadn’t heard in years but still knew all the words to.

And he got you.

Most guys would tense up when you made some sarcastic comment, unsure if they should be amused or offended. Joe just smirked and shot one right back, quick and sharp like one of his passes. The banter was effortless, the chemistry undeniable, but it never felt forced.

It felt like you’d known him forever.

Which was dangerous.

Because you weren’t supposed to like him this much.

But a few months flew by before you could think too hard about it.

One minute, you were rolling your eyes at him in a Dallas bar. The next, you were sneaking glances at your phone in the middle of DCC rehearsals, trying not to smile at whatever nonsense he had just texted you.

Then came the flights.

You found yourself booking tickets to Cincinnati more often than you’d ever expected, trading in your Texas sunsets for the sharp chill of Ohio air, showing up in his city like you belonged there. And the crazy part? It never felt inconvenient. You had never been the type to rearrange your schedule for a guy, but with Joe, it was different. He made the effort too—catching flights to see you between games, showing up unannounced just to grab dinner, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

It should’ve been overwhelming, but it wasn’t.

Because nothing about Joe was ever boring.

You’d expected the excitement in the beginning—the flirty back-and-forth, the teasing, the lingering looks that stretched longer than they should. But what you hadn’t expected was the way he made everything feel lighter. How he made you laugh when you were dead on your feet after an exhausting game day. How he somehow always knew when you needed to talk and when you just needed to sit in comfortable silence.

And yeah, the tension was there. Always.

You weren’t blind, and Joe sure as hell wasn’t either. There were moments—when his hand lingered on your lower back a second too long, when you caught him watching you with that unreadable expression, when he pulled you into a hug that felt like it meant something more.

But neither of you pushed it. Not yet.

For now, it was enough to just exist in whatever this was.

And, for the first time in a long time, you weren’t in any rush to define it.

The New York City skyline stretched high above the venue, lights twinkling like they were in on the secret that tonight was something different.

Joe didn’t hide you.

He hadn’t from the start, really, but there was a difference between showing up for each other in private and standing next to him now, his hand resting low on your back, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your dress like he wanted everyone to see exactly where you belonged.

And you?

You looked good enough to ruin a man’s career.

Your dress was the kind that turned heads—sleek, with just enough edge to remind people that you weren’t the typical quarterback’s girlfriend. Joe wasn’t intimidated by it, wasn’t the type to shrink when his girl demanded attention. No, if anything, he was thriving on it. Walking into the party with you on his arm, chin high, like he knew for a fact that you were the hottest couple in the room.

And you were.

It didn’t matter that the place was full of some of the most famous athletes in the league, that models and influencers and A-listers milled around with expensive drinks in hand—no one looked as good as the two of you together.

Joe left you only once, leaning down to murmur, “Gonna get us a drink, don’t go too far.”

You weren’t worried about being left alone. You’d been in these rooms before, could handle yourself just fine.

But apparently, someone didn’t get the memo.

The moment Joe was out of earshot, a presence settled beside you—too close, too confident.

“Damn, haven’t seen you in a minute.”

You already knew you were going to hate him before you even looked.

And sure enough, when you turned, there he was. A Cowboys player, one you’d interacted with just enough to know he was exactly the type you had no patience for. Cocky in a way that wasn’t charming, self-important in a way that made your skin itch.

You barely had time to open your mouth before he bulldozed on.

“So, what, you finally got tired of playing in the kiddie pool and upgraded?” He grinned, not even waiting for you to respond. “Figured it was only a matter of time. The whole ‘untouchable cheerleader’ thing was getting old.”

You smiled. Smirked, really. Because this? This was amusing.

He thought you were flustered. Thought you were scrambling for a way out.

Like you hadn’t been shutting down men like him since the first time you ever put on that DCC uniform.

“Oh, yeah,” you said, voice smooth as silk. “Joe’s an upgrade, alright.” You tilted your head, eyes dragging over him in an exaggerated once-over. “But considering what I was working with before, it really didn’t take much.”

His smile flickered, but he was too stubborn to let it go. “C’mon, you don’t have to pretend with me. I know you, remember? Back when you were just another Dallas girl trying to play hard to get?”

You actually laughed at that.

Not a fake, polite one. A real one. Because this was just sad.

“Wow,” you mused. “I’ve gotta give it to you, you commit to the bit. Most guys would’ve tapped out by now, but you? You’re still going. That’s dedication.”

His jaw tensed just slightly. “I’m just saying, no need to act all high and mighty. We both know you used to—”

“Used to what?”

Your voice was still sweet, still playful, but the underlying steel was there. And when you took a slow sip of your drink, watching him over the rim, it was clear you were letting him dig his own grave.

Before he could figure out how to claw his way out, a shadow loomed beside you.

Joe.

But not in the swooping, Oh no! My girl is in distress! way.

No, he was calm. Casual. Like he had all the time in the world. His presence alone was enough to shift the energy in the conversation, but you didn’t even acknowledge him yet. You wanted to see just how long it would take for the guy in front of you to realize he’d lost.

Turns out, not long.

Joe didn’t say anything, just leaned slightly against the bar, watching with mild interest. But the weight of his presence alone did something to your uninvited guest—made him shift uncomfortably, made his easy confidence crack just a little.

And that? That was satisfying.

“I was just catching up with your girl,” the Cowboy muttered, backtracking so fast you almost wanted to laugh.

Joe didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah?” He glanced at you, finally acknowledging you with a knowing smirk. “You having fun?”

You took another sip, grinning. “Oh, loads.”

The guy beside you tensed. “I was just—”

“Leaving?” you supplied helpfully.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Joe chuckled, finally handing you the drink he had left to get. “You were having way too much fun with that.”

You shrugged, taking a sip. “Can you blame me?”

He shook his head, draping an arm lazily around your waist, pulling you in just slightly. “Guess not.”

And the night went on.

Just you and Joe. The hottest couple in the room.

[hazymoonlinh]

Special ring

A draft I have saved for a whole month bruh

Pure fluff

(Phainon x reader)

In conclusion, he bites you.

The two of you were sitting under a tree on a quiet evening, the battlefield far behind for now. Phainon leaned back against the trunk, the sun painting golden hues on his face as he looked at you. There was a calmness to the air, a stillness that begged for conversation to fill it.

Out of nowhere, he asked, “What’s your take on marriage? And love?”

You blinked, a little startled by the question. “That’s…random,” you said, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

Phainon chuckled lightly. “Is it? I’m just curious.”

You rested your chin on your knees, the breeze tugging at your hair. “Hm…I don’t know,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “I don’t think I really trust it.”

That response caught his attention. His brows furrowed, his playful demeanor replaced with genuine curiosity. “You don’t trust it? Why’s that?”

You stared at the ground, your fingers idly tracing patterns in the dirt. “Well…because I grew up in an environment where marriage wasn’t about love. It was a transaction. A way to trade power, secure alliances, or gain something. Most of the marriages I saw didn’t have love in them at all.”

Phainon’s expression softened, though there was a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes. He stayed silent, letting you continue.

“It’s like…love wasn’t part of the equation at all.”

You laughed bitterly, the sound hollow in the open air. “So…I guess I just don’t think I’ll ever have love. And I don’t think anyone would ever love me.”

Phainon’s eyes went wide at that. He sat up straighter, his full attention on you now. “Huh? Why would you think that? You could always try, you know that, right?”

You looked away, embarrassed by his sincerity. “I…haizz…I seriously don’t know. Maybe I’m scared.”

“You think you’re unlovable?” he continued, his voice softening. “Well, you’re wrong. If anything, you’re one of the most lovable people I’ve ever met. You’re kind, brave, and—hell, you’ve put yourself on the line for people who don’t even deserve it. You’ve got a heart bigger than most, even if you’re scared to show it.”

Your breath hitched, his words cutting through the doubts you’d carried for so long.

“And as for marriage or love?” he added, his signature grin finally returning. “Well, if you don’t trust it, I’ll just have to convince you otherwise, won’t I?”

You stared at him, stunned by his confidence and warmth. He smirked at your reaction, leaning back against the tree again. “So, what do you say? Give love a chance, duckling?”

For the first time in a long time, you felt a small flicker of hope. You nodded, the tiniest smile tugging at your lips. “Maybe.”

“Good,” Phainon said with a wink. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Phainon’s grin turned mischievous as he took your hands in his, holding them as though they were the most delicate things in the world. You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his mood, and before you could question it, he brought your hand to his lips.

The soft press of his kiss on your knuckles sent a jolt through you, your breath catching. But then—without warning—he popped your ring finger into his mouth.

Your eyes widened as his teeth grazed against your skin, the sensation both strange and electrifying. He bit down just enough to leave a faint mark, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. His playful smirk grew as he pulled your hand back.

“This’ll do it for now,” he murmured, his voice a low hum.

You gawked at him, completely frozen, but he wasn’t done. In one swift motion, he tugged you closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Before I find the perfect ring for you.”

Your brain short-circuited. Words failed you as a deep flush spread across your cheeks. “W-w-what? A ring? What are you talking about? You can’t just—what—Phainon!”

He leaned back, his expression utterly smug as he watched you stumble over your words. “Hmm? Something wrong, duckling? You’re looking a little…red.”

“Red? I’m not—no, you—you can’t just say things like that!” You clutched your hand to your chest, staring at the faint mark he’d left as if it were glowing. “A ring? Are you serious? Are you joking? What does this even mean?!”

Phainon chuckled, reaching out to gently tug at a strand of your hair. “Oh, I’m very serious. But don’t worry—I’ll give you time to process. I wouldn’t want you fainting on me.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, but that only seemed to amuse him further.

“Take your time, love,” he added with a wink. “We’ve got forever.” And he gives you a peck on your cheek.

[kxtsukixoxo]

pro!hero dynamight is known for his explosive nature, fans second guessing if they should really approach the hothead. is it really surprising when you aren’t scared of him?

𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗘𝗦 ᥫ᭡ 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗩 ᥫ᭡ 𝗡𝗘𝗫𝗧

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘:

“goddammit.”

the pro hero never willingly attended meet and greets, he found it a waste of time. he could be out on patrol, or saving someone’s life instead of all this fan consumed ‘bullshit’ as he stated, but his rankings were decreasing faster than anything, and in order to keep his public image somewhat neutral, what’s better than interacting with his fans? 

katsuki handed out plushies to hundreds of kids that gawked at his hero suit, he’d be lying if he didn’t find their giddy smiles adorable, he counted down the seconds til this was over but it seemed to drag on end for hours.

“next!” 

you approached the man, jumping and all. katsuki looked at you confused, how could someone have this much energy? you were so enthusiastic about seeing him, you didn’t quiver or approach him with caution, you weren’t scared.  

“oh my god!! it’s really you!” you squealed as your hands covered your mouth, katsuki didn’t find it annoying, surprisingly. infact he found it cute, which surprised him more than anyone. 

“i have so many questions!!” you rambled away about all his huge rescues, the recent drug bust he helped the police with, fights with villains that not many people knew about. you knew everything about katsukis work, he couldn’t help but smile, finally being recognised for something other than his hotheaded nature or looks. he answered all your questions, in detail as you took down notes, muttering underneath your breath. 

you remind me so much of someone i know 

“h-huh” you stopped writing and looked at him. fuck. he didn’t mean to say that out loud. “it’s nothing, hey you’re holding up the line” 

“oh i didn’t even realise! i’m so sorry, ill get going then” 

“wait-“ katsuki grabbed your arm, realising what he had done, he let go, “how about i give you my number, we can sit down and chat hm?” 

the pro hero you’ve looked up to most of your life, just offered you his number. you’d be a fool to say no! 

“yeah that’s perfect!”

“it was nice meeting you.” 

“yeah, you too” you smiled at the blonde hothead, unable to control your happiness, you waved at him. he picked his hand up and gave you a subtle wave, chuckling at your burst of energy

•••

you waited in anticipation for his text. you figured it’d take awhile for him to text you, he was a busy man right? but to your surprise, he texted you no later than an hour after you left the meet and greet.

[** *** ****] is this the pretty girl who loves to ramble?

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Disrespect.

Player 001 x reader

Masterlist <- comment here to be added to my Taglist

You stood in line waiting for your food. Young il stood quietly behind you, his eyes observing the room.

“Honey, can you stop” you say taking your food from the guard.

“Can I stop what? I didn’t do anything.” He replied.

“I can see you scanning the room. Enough.” You say sharply, “ you’re giving me anxiety.”

“My mistake, darling” you sat down in your bed, stuffing your face hungrily. “Why’re you eating like that?”

“Like what? I’m not doing anything” you mock him.

“Eating like I don’t feed you well enough”

“I’m trapped in this prison” you reply gulping down water like it’s gonna disappear.

“Eat right” he orders. “I’m going to go use the restroom. Behave yourself” within 5 minutes of him being gone a man walked up to you.

“Señorita, excuse me?”

“What?”

“I just wanted to tell you I think you’re gorgeous, and I want you on my squad” he smiles.

“Oh yeah? What’s so good about you?” You snort.

“Look, I can protect you” he tries to appeal to you. “You know me? I’m a legend Thanos” he made a gesture with his hands, smiling cutely.

“Yeah, I’m sure you can” Young il speaks. “Hey, grape head, why don’t you kick rocks?”

“I’m talking to this beautiful señorita over here” Thanos points to you.

“Yeah, you missed my point, I don’t care.” Young il responded.

“Yeah, you missed mine, grandpa”

“I bet this grandpa can still get more pussy than you, tooth pick.” Young il shrugged casually. “Besides, what’s up with your tattoos? What are you, the practice dummy at a tattoo parlor?”

“I’ll have you know they are an artistic choice”

“Artistic? Is the artist in the room with us?” Young il looks around. “You know, I’ve seen you somewhere… aren’t you that idiot that tried chatting up another man’s wife?”

“Uhhhh” Thanos stalled. That was definitely him. “No man, that wasn’t me… that was my uhh twin brother”

“Oh you have a twin, here I thought stupidity used a whole single brain cell, but I guess yours uses 1/4 of it”

“Listen here old man-“

“No you listen to me. String bean. You’re gonna turn around and walk the other way. Before you and I truly do have an issue.” Young il cocks his head back.

“Trying to size me up? Huh?”

“Don’t get loud with me.” Young il said calmly. “I’ll crush your vocal cords and make you disappear from existence. Then you won’t be a legend.” Young il makes a ‘poof’ motion with his hands.

“I’ll still be a legend” Thanos defends.

“Legend of what? Terrible rapping and dumb tattoos? Some legend you are” Young il rolls his eyes. “So look, make this easy” he shoulders him as he walks past Thanos to stand by you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Make what easy?”

“Stay away from my wife, and I won’t cause a scene” he states. “Talk to her again, and I’ll cut your fingers off one by one and force feed them to you” Young il says lowly. Thanos stalled, his brain processing. “Okay, Grape head?”

“Yes that’s perfect” he speed walks away from you.

“You don’t always have to be so rude, you know” you say.

“No no, I do” Young il sighed as he spoke. “Idiots like him exist. They think they’re so cool that they can just hit on Pretty girls. And they don’t consider the fact that she could be married or with someone and all that stuff” he pulls your chin to look at him. “Besides, you’re beautiful, but you’re also my girl” he plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“Your girl?” You squeal. This man has never failed to make your heart skip beats.

Taglist

@christinamadsen @sebbymybaby21 @nakiio5775 @xcinnamonmalfoyx @player279achlys @watasinekoru

[stllmnstr]

something old, something new

hello have a 2.3k drabble about Heeseung still having feelings for his ex heavily inspired by the above behind the scenes no doubt mv pics and based on this anon prompt sent to me:

this was supposed to be short but I got carried away and ended up writing 2.3k on my PHONE in an hour so please excuse any typos 😭

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung loves weddings.

When he admits this to people, which is in and of itself a fairly rare occasion, they assume it’s for all of the usual reasons.

The open bar, the well curated playlist, the free food... After all, those are the typical things men in their mid twenties tend to enjoy. And Heeseung always nods along. Forces a laugh whenever his conversation partner cracks another age old joke about getting a little too tipsy on the dance floor.

Besides, it’s not like he’s immune to baser pleasures. At twenty-five, Heeseung does genuinely enjoy eating well and getting drunk on someone else’s dime.

But if he digs a little deeper, is a little more honest with himself, the real reason he loves weddings so much is the romance of it all.

A white dress thats been agonized over and alternated to perfection. A cake thats been taste-tested and intentionally designed with the lucky couple in mind. A venue that likely cost an arm and a leg, but it’s worth it, because it’s the place where two people get to display the love they have for each other in front of everyone that’s important in their lives.

And Jay, he thinks, has outdone them all. The ballroom Heeseung steps into with perfectly shined shoes is jaw-droppingly gorgeous. Crystal chandeliers bathe the high ceilinged room in soft, warm light that almost glows like candles at dusk.

The aisle separates two generously sized sections of seating from one another. Each table is laid with a crease less cream colored tablecloth and a bouquet of flowers that Heeseung doesn’t want to guess the price of. It’s stunning. It’s perfect.

And Jay, Heeseung’s best friend of thirteen years, deserves nothing less.

Jake seems to agree. Coming to stand next to Heeseung, he jerks his chin towards the door that leads to the neighboring room. “I just heard from a very trustworthy source that the open bar starts at 1 pm sharp,” he grins.

Heeseung has a sneaking suspicious that this trustworthy source is Sunghoon, which means it’s likely to be incorrect. Besides, booze isn’t what he’s here for.

“Hopefully not,” Heeseung nudges Jake’s shoulder, “since no one wants to watch you stumble down the aisle.”

“At least I’m just a groomsman.” Jake shrugs. “You, on the other hand, Mr. Best Man, have to be on your best behavior. Besides, I can handle my alcohol.”

Heeseung’s lips flatten. “I have several videos that prove otherwise.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jake waves his palm. “I’ll be good. I promise. No shots until after the ceremony.”

Heeseung just rolls his eyes. His younger friend might be a little more lax when it comes to conducting himself in public, but Heeseung isn’t actually worried. This is Jay’s wedding, after all. And no matter how much Jake and Sunghoon enjoy a good party, they also know how to take things seriously when it matters.

For a moment, Jake just looks around the room, taking it in like Heeseung had a few minutes prior. Similar actions, different conclusions. Jake doesn’t comment on the lighting or the tablecloths or even the romance. Instead, he says, “I can’t believe Jay’s actually getting married.”

“Yeah,” Heeseung breathes. Jay is the first in their friend group to officially leave bachelor-hood, and it does feel a bit strange to bear witness to. “Me neither.”

Jake is still shaking his head. “And he’s the first one out of all of us. That’s almost weirder. You know, we always thought it would be –”

Remembering himself, Jake lets the sentiment die on his lips.

It doesn’t matter, though. Heeseung already knows what he was going to say.

We always thought it would be you.

Four long years ago, at twenty-one, Heeseung had felt far too young for marriage. But that didn’t stop him from imagining what you’d look like in a white dress. What flavor of wedding cake the two of you would select from the box of samples. What overpriced venue you would decide to officially intertwine your lives in.

It didn’t stop him from tucking away a small, velvet box in the back of his drawer for safekeeping. From fantasizing about kneeling in front of you and finally sliding a gorgeous, sparking ring right where he wanted it to belong.

It didn’t stop him from making promises and plans. Adjustments to his life just to make sure there was always space for you.

But one year later, the box and the ring inside were still tucked away. And the love Heeseung kept safe suddenly had no place to go.

He told his friends it was mutual, that you’d made the decision together. But Heeseung never wanted to let go. Even if a job opportunity meant you had to move across the country. Even if it made no logical sense for him to follow when he was still finishing his degree.

It was circumstances, he explained to his friends, to his family. Not anything either of you did wrong.

But alone, surrounded by the four walls of his bedroom and the overwhelming clamor of his own thoughts, Heeseung just cried. Sobbed. The kind of tears that left him gasping for air and with a throb behind his temple.

Because he knew that he never would have done that to you. He would have turned down the job, would have found a way to make long distance work, would have transferred to another university to be close to you even if it wasn’t logical.

He would have done it, the big romantic gesture that gives the rom-com a happy ending and signals to the production team that it’s time to roll the credits.

But you didn’t. When he suggested long distance, you just sighed. And there were tears in your eyes too, but there was no fight.

So Heeseung, despite every bone in his body screaming at him not to, let you go.

And now, three years later, he’s about to watch his best friend get married and pretend it doesn’t sting. He’s happy for Jay. He is. But the selfish parts of him will always wish he was the one waiting at the end of the aisle instead. For you.

The universe has never made a habit of bending to his desires, though, and he fulfills his role as best man well. The ceremony goes off without a hitch, and Jake is appropriately steady-footed in his role as a groomsman.

The white dress is gorgeous. The cake is delicious. The venue is perfect. Whatever romance is, Jay and his fiancée — no, his wife — have captured it well.

Despite his earlier words, Heeseung makes a home for himself at the aforementioned open bar the second the ceremony is over. Knocking back another swig of whiskey, he appreciates the slight burn. At least it’s in his throat this time, instead of his heart. And at least it’s induced by alcohol instead of misplaced jealousy.

But he must have had one too many drinks, because for a fleeting moment, he swears that the late arrival that makes a hesitant entrance into the reception room is—

No.

There’s no way.

You only knew Jay because you knew Heeseung, and those flowers withered three long years ago. You have no reason to be here now.

But then he hears it, and oh the lurch in his heart hurts just as bad as it did the first time. Because despite the improbability of it all, that’s your voice that floats above the music and exchanged pleasantries with another guest. Even after all the time that’s passed, Heeseung would know it anywhere. Could pick it out of any crowd.

He turns to you slowly, as if he can delay the inevitable just a little longer. As soon as his eyes land on you, he realizes his mistake. He shouldn’t have looked at you at all, should have just slid off the bar stool and ran in the other direction because it still hurts.

You’re three years older, and the time has been good to you. The evening dress you wear hangs from your body in a way that only reminds him of what you look like beneath it, of the way running his hands and his lips and his love over the skin you conceal used to feel like second nature. The way you used to play with his hair with his head in your lap, trading small moments of intimacy after a long day.

It hurts. It aches and it stings and it burns.

He has to get out of here. He has to leave. Now.

Not caring if he’s making a scene, Heeseung stands from the barstool. The only reason he tries to be somewhat discreet is to avoid the heat of your gaze.

All the way to the door on the opposite side of the room, he doesn’t turn back. Not once. On the other side of the door, he lets his body go limp against the solid surface beneath his spine, just for a moment. He exhales a long held breath.

But the air is still stifling, even as he loosens the tie at his neck. Straightening back to his full height, he turns down a short hallway until he arrives at the small outdoor balcony he noticed earlier.

The air outside is cold, at least. Fresh.

On the horizon, the sun spends its last few moments of the day painting the sky in gorgeous, golden hues. Heeseung squints, but he doesn’t look away. Hands wrapped around the bannister that lines the balcony, he sags into himself.

Shoulders hunched, he forces a long inhale into his lungs. And then he releases it. His breath is a pattern he can cling to, something steady that tethers him back to reality. Something to focus on that isn’t the war in his mind.

But peacetime is only an illusion. After a handful of quiet minutes, he hears the door open behind him.

“Oh,” you startle. He knows it’s you, even from just one syllable. “Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was out here already. I’ll just…” Your words trail off into silence, but Heeseung doesn’t hear retreating footsteps, doesn’t hear the door close again. After another stilted moment, what he hears is, “Heeseung?”

Your voice is small. As if you can apologize just by being gentle. As if he’s a wounded animal you don’t want to startle.

And Heeseung, despite himself, does feel a bit like a kitten left out in the rain when he finds it in himself to turn and face you.

The only word he says is your name. His tone is steady, even. More so than he thought he was capable of. But he’s looking at you now too, and his eyes have never been good at hiding secrets.

“I…” You trail off again. You’re at a loss too. “How are you?”

“Don’t do that,” Heeseung shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you retreat immediately. But Heeseung remembers when you used to argue, when you used to fight back. When you valued the strength of your relationship over his wounded pride.

“Don’t be,” Heeseung shakes his head again. “You made your choice, so stick to it. You don’t get to…” He screws his eyes shut for a moment, fist clenching at his side. Opening his eyes again, he matches your gaze. “You don’t get to leave me and then apologize for it.”

Your breath hitches, but you don’t miss a beat. “I meant for intruding,” you tell him. “I was apologizing for disturbing you.”

But you remember how he used to love making space for you in his life. How his plans were your plans and his time alone on a balcony would only be made better if you were there, too.

And you still remember the day you were inspired by a strong bout of spring fever, how you dedicated an entire afternoon to deep cleaning.

You still remember the small, velvet box you found.

You didn’t open it, but you didn’t have to. The small, nondescript container scared you enough. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to marry Heeseung. You already had Pinterest boards full of white dresses and three-tier cakes and stunning venues. Suits that you thought would bring out his best features.

But you’d also just gotten the news of your promotion. Across the country. You didn’t know how to tell him, and you had less of an idea how to leave him.

But you knew you had to. He would follow you, if you let him. You were sure of it. But he was enrolled in the best university for his program, and you watched him fight tooth and nail to earn his spot there.

Heeseung was a bright light, a beacon of good things, and if you were honest with yourself, you felt like his commitment to you was something that only weighed him down.

He was an adult, too. A young one, yes, but a full, grown person all the same. Perfectly capable of making his own decisions, but you took that from him anyway.

And now, three years later, you can still read him like an open book. There’s hurt in his gaze, pain that lingers even now. There’s resentment, too, and you can’t blame him for it.

I still love you, you want to tell him. Because it’s true. Because you do. Because you can see it in his eyes, too.

But you’ve always been better at holding your tongue than him.

Instead, you turn on your heel, planning to exit the way you came.

Fingers around the door handle, the sound of your name stops you.

It sounds like he’s begging, like he’s pleading, and you can’t bear to turn and see the results of your devastation as surely as you hear them.

Instead, you remain motionless. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can.

And then, so faintly it’s almost lost to the wind, he says, “Stay. Please.”

.....

thanks for reading! send me a drabble prompt here if you'd like!

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

“vickie!” eddie practically screams from his kitchen, rage coursing through him as he stares down at the tabloids spread out in front of him on the counter. “get in here! now!”

eddie’s had an issue with his rage lately. well. he’s had an issue with a lot of things, since he got famous, really. but that’s not his problem right now.

his problem is he’s looking down at image after image of himself on the covers of people and us weekly and entertainment tonight being dragged out of last night’s night club by his own security team with blood pouring from his nose. he looks angry. he looks crazed.

just then, a stranger walks into his kitchen.

“who the fuck are you?” he blurts out at the man, who’s wearing a dark green sweater vest over a white t-shirt and tortoise-shell glasses.

“i’m steve,” the weirdo stalker says, smiling brightly. he has surprisingly swoopy hair for an insane fan. “i’m your new assistant.”

“where’s vickie?” eddie asks, rubbing at the sore spot on his nose. thank god it’s not broken.

“you fired her,” steve tells him. “two days ago.”

“i fire her all the time.”

“ok, well… i guess this time it stuck,” steve shrugs. “chrissy hired me.”

“fucking chrissy,” eddie says under his breath, rolling his eyes. he pulls out his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and speed dials chrissy. “chris, what the fuck?” he doesn’t even give her the chance to say hello.

“good morning, eddie. i’m doing really well, how are you?”

“not fucking well, that’s how i am!” eddie practically yells into the receiver. “what the fuck? did you see the pictures? and who the fuck is this guy in my house?”

“yes, eddie, i saw the pictures.” eddie can hear the eye roll in her voice. “we’re handling it. nancy’s already on it with the team. what was the other thing?”

eddie knows she’s fucking with him and that pisses him off even more. “who is this freak in my house wearing a goddamn sweater vest?!” he feels like a blood vessel in his eye is about to pop.

“hey,” steve protests softly from across the kitchen where he’s started to pull shit out of eddie’s fridge. he didn’t even know there was anything in that fridge.

“that’s not a very nice way to talk about your new assistant,” chrissy’s voice comes loud and clear through the phone.

“christina fucking cunningham, you know i have final say on all hiring decisions when it comes to my assistants.” he rubs at his sore nose again.

“you had final say on all hiring decisions until you fired vickie for the thirteenth time and she refused to come back, even with a three hundred percent raise. we’re going in a different direction now.” chrissy sounds entirely too pleased with herself.

“well, i fucking hate him,” eddie grumbles and watches steve to make sure he’s heard him. steve doesn’t even react, just continues doing whatever the fuck he’s doing with the frying pan he’d found in the cabinet.

“you don’t even know him, eddie. give him a chance. anyway, i have to go, i have brunch plans with my very beautiful, very intelligent, perfect fiancée,” chrissy tells him, gloating, before hanging up on him.

eddie wants desperately to throw his phone across the kitchen, but if he breaks this one that would be his fourth phone in three weeks and he couldn’t bear to have to ask this steve person to go buy him a new one. he settles for squeezing it in his hand until it creaks while taking several deep breaths through his nose.

“what are you doing?” he grits out.

“are you always this rude?” steve asks, ignoring his question.

“to weirdo freak strangers showing up in my house unannounced? yes.”

“it’s not unannounced, chrissy wrote it on your calendar.” steve gestures toward the paper calendar hanging on the side of the fridge where chrissy writes his major life events and which eddie mostly just ignores before sliding a plate full of food toward eddie.

“what is this?” eddie sneers.

“it’s an omelette with cheese and mushrooms,” steve replies, smiling. he’s always fucking smiling.

“i’m allergic to… omelettes,” eddie says, just to be a dick.

“no you’re not. you’re allergic to blueberries and dust.” steve doesn’t stop smiling pleasantly.

“did you get access to my medical records? that’s a violation of my… whatever rights.” eddie waves a hand through the air.

“no, i didn’t go look at your medical records, jesus. i’m not a stalker. chrissy told me when she hired me.”

“whatever. i still fucking hate you.”

“okay,” steve shrugs again. “eat your breakfast.”

eddie has every intention of leaving the kitchen, full plate of food and all, but. he is hungry.

so he eats.

and he’s pissed that it’s actually good.

~*~

eddie spends the rest of the day being a general nuisance to steve any time he tries to do his job. when steve answers the phone before handing it to eddie, eddie “accidentally” hangs up on whoever it is on the hand off & makes sure to blame his new assistant when the person finally calls back. when steve has to drive him to his meeting with nancy and the pr team, eddie tries to give him the wrong directions, but steve’s too smart for that. when steve has to do the grocery shopping, he makes steve go to the erewhon all the way across town during rush hour because the one down the street “just doesn’t have the same vibe, steve.”

and all the while, steve just does his job, still smiling, not getting angry at all even though it’s beyond obvious eddie’s being a little shit to him.

which honestly just pisses eddie off more than anything else today.

“here’s some aspirin,” steve says, placing two white pills on the coffee table in front of eddie, along with a mason jar of water. eddie, lounging on his big squishy couch, pulls the ice pack away from his nose, which has started throbbing again. “you didn’t have any glasses.” steve shrugs when he sees eddie’s arched eyebrow looking skeptically at the jar of water. “if you don’t need anything else, i’ll take off for the day.”

it’s past 8pm already, long after steve should have left for the day except that eddie had made him stay to organize his extensive tshirt collection by color, shade, and design before he could even think about going home. it was an emergency, after all.

“i’ll have to check the t-shirt closet first,” eddie replies, before swallowing the aspirin dry. steve shrugs again and rolls his eyes. eddie would say something about his blatant rudeness, but he’s too exhausted.

eddie pulls himself off the couch and makes his way down the hallway to his “t-shirt room.” it’s so stupid, but he has all this space and he’d started collecting the tshirts so long ago. they’re not worth anything, they’re just his wardrobe but… they remind him of wayne and the thrifting they used to do every saturday morning.

the organization eddie had been having steve do was entirely arbitrary. it’s not like eddie plans his outfits. he mostly just pulls whatever out of wherever, unless it’s an event and then he pays someone to do the deciding and dressing for him anyway.

but. steve’s organized the t-shirts by genre and subgenre and then by band alphabetically and finally color. more than eddie had even asked him to do.

eddie had come in here fully prepared to rip steve a new one, but even he can be shocked into appreciation.

steve notices eddie’s silence and grins.

“can i tell you something?” steve says pleasantly and then continues without even letting eddie respond to the question. “i know i look like a nice polite guy next door that moms totally love—it’s the sweater vests, i think.” steve plucks at his top. “and that’s true. i am a nice polite guy and moms do love me. i’m awesome.” his grin widens. “but i got kicked out of my parents house when i was 18 and i lived in my car for a while. i’ve been on my own for seven years. i made a life in LA out of nothing. so you can throw your little temper tantrums and tell me how much you hate me. you can make me go to the erewhon all the way across town and you can make me look incompetent to my colleagues. but i need this job. i’ve worked hard for this job. this job pays more than any other job i’ve ever had combined. and you’re hardly the biggest asshole i’ve ever met. so you can continue trying to make my life miserable—hell, i’ll even give you my dad’s number, you guys can swap ideas!” steve laughs at his own joke before turning serious for the first time all day. “but i’m not vickie. you won’t make me cry. you can’t fire me. i’m not going anywhere.” he claps his hands together. “anyway, i’m gonna take off, since i have plans with my actual friends. but hey, i’ll see you tomorrow, huh?” and he smiles again, giving eddie a small waggle of his fingers, before heading out through the door.

eddie’s still just standing there in the middle of his tshirt room when he hears the front door slam shut.

[bomber-grl]

The Distraction I Needed

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Gn!Reader

Word count: 2,581

-

Damian Wayne stared across the classroom, eyes narrowed, arms crossed, and a faint scowl on his face. He was not happy. Not with the assignment, not with the teacher, and certainly not with the person sitting just two desks away from him.

You.

For months now, you and Damian had been engaged in a bitter academic rivalry. Whether it was the most difficult calculus problem or a history essay on ancient civilizations, you two were constantly battling for the top spot in every class. There were no alliances on the battlefield of academia. No mercy. Just pure, unadulterated competition.

Damian had, of course, figured out your secret identity. It didn’t take a detective to put two and two together. You were his enemy in every way. You were a villain– and that’s not just what he called you in his head. You had an uncanny ability to throw him off his game, whether it was with your sarcastic remarks or... well, that thing you did with your smile. You were his biggest grievance and biggest distraction.

It was infuriating.

“Damian,” you said, tilting your head with a teasing grin. “Struggling with the homework, or just busy being edgy again?”

Damian glared at you from across the room. He could practically hear your thoughts: teasing him, messing with him—like always. You weren’t a truly evil villain, not like the others. You had your own quirky way of causing chaos, and it often involved messing with him. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“I’m not pretending,” Damian muttered under his breath. “I’m just not wasting my time on a distraction that doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, so you admit I’m a distraction?” you shot back, your grin widening. “That’s cute.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You're insufferable."

You laughed, not deterred by his less-than-thorny comments, “Well, you say insufferable, I say irresistible. But hey, we can agree to disagree.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “This is ridiculous.”

“Oh, it’s ridiculous, huh?” You smirked, leaning across your desk to get closer. “Well, if it’s so ridiculous, why do you keep coming back for more?”

His face flushed and his collar suddenly seemed tighter, uncomfortably so. He huffed as he heard you distant laugh, knowing when you had won all too well.

You were a constant thorn in his side, but it wasn’t just the rivalry. You had a way of getting under his skin—flirting, teasing, and constantly making everything more complicated.

Again, Of course, he knew your secret identity. It wasn’t like you were subtle about it, after all. As V/N, you were someone he was supposed to stop. Someone he was supposed to defeat. Someone who, despite your occasional teasing, was still technically his enemy.

But that didn’t make you any less... intriguing.

After class, you sidled up to Damian by his locker, grinning as if you owned the entire hallway.

“You owe me,” you said with a cocky tone, hands on your hips. “You’re always so stiff in class. Must suck having been born with a stick up your ass, so how about I treat you to lunch?”

Damian, fully prepared to shut you down, found himself momentarily distracted by how you were standing there, your expression somehow a perfect mix of playful and dangerous. You were ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him wanted to see where this absurd interaction would lead.

“I’m not paying for your food,” he said flatly, though he didn’t move to walk away.

“A little frugal don't you think? But, I know,” you said, giving him that sly smile. “You’re coming with me, though. It’ll be fun.”

Damian glanced around—he couldn’t just walk away now. Besides, it was... lunch. What harm could it do?

-

The two of you ended up at a small café in town, the kind that you would have never guessed a high-profile heir to Wayne Enterprises would ever be seen in. But there he was, sitting across from you, pretending not to be completely distracted by your presence.

“I’ll have the usual,” you told the waiter, then turned to Damian, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should try something new. A little adventure in your otherwise dull life for once.”

Damian didn’t want to admit it, but... you had a point. He always played everything safe. He might’ve been strict through and through, but his interactions with you were anything but predictable.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, trying to hide the way he was genuinely curious about what you’d pick. “This is stupid.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that,” you teased, leaning back in your chair, completely unbothered. “But we both know you can’t get me out of your head. Not with that look on your face.”

Damian’s eyebrow twitched as he looked away. “I’m not—” He cut himself off, realizing how stupid that sounded. “I’m not thinking about you, In fact, you’re the last thing on my mind.”

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, giving him that look that said you knew exactly what was going on inside his head. “Because it looks to me like you are. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Damian.”

Damian’s grip on his drink tightened. “Stop making everything... complicated.”

“Well, someone has to,” you said, tapping your fingers on the table, seemingly too pleased with the effect you had on him. “It’s too easy to mess with you, Damian. It’s fun. Deny how you feel about me but you can't deny that.”

He didn’t know how to respond. He couldn’t very well admit that he was starting to wonder if you were right. Maybe he did think about you more than he wanted to. Maybe you were starting to get under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to. And maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as indifferent as he liked to think.

-

Later that night, after a very complicated altercation involving the two of you fighting side-by-side against a group of criminals (which neither of you had really expected to happen), Damian found himself alone in his room, staring at the ceiling. Sure, you were technically a villain, stealing candy from babies and all, but you actually teamed up with him for this.

It had been a mess, but a fun one. He had to admit, for a villain, you were... not bad. He thought about how, after taking down the bad guys, you’d playfully ruffled his hair, called him a "stubborn little knight," and teased him for “being too serious.”

It was honestly... kind of endearing.

But that was impossible, right?

He wasn’t supposed to like you. You were a villain. A villain. His father had warned him time and time again about those kinds of entanglements. And yet...

“He still fell for Catwoman,” Damian muttered to himself, staring at the ceiling. Was he really becoming like his father? The thought made him groan in frustration. How could someone like him—someone who was so focused, so serious—even think about you like that?

“Absurd,” he muttered again, slamming his pillow down onto his bed. “I’m just being distracted. That’s all.”

-

The next day, you found him in the hallway again, as if you were always waiting around to throw him off balance.

“Ready for class?” you asked innocently, though the playful smirk tugging at your lips suggested otherwise.

Damian sighed, looking at you with the same exasperated expression as always. But this time, there was something different about the way he stared at you.

He couldn’t explain it. But for once, the rivalry—academic or otherwise—didn’t seem as important as the fact that, maybe, just maybe, he wasn���t as annoyed by you as he liked to pretend.

“Stop doing that,” he grumbled, feeling his face heat up slightly. “You’re distracting.”

You grinned wider, eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint. “I know. But you like it, don’t you?”

Damian froze, his mind spiraling into chaos. He didn’t want to admit it, but... he didn’t have to, did he? The more you teased him, the more he realized just how impossible it all was.

“Ridiculous,” he muttered, turning away before you could see the faintest flicker of a smile on his lips.

And in the back of his mind, despite every bit of logic telling him to keep away, Damian couldn't stop the thought from creeping in:

Maybe, just maybe, this ridiculous rivalry—this ridiculous teasing—wasn’t as bad as he thought.

-

It had been a week since you’d been absent from school. A whole week.

At first, Damian didn’t think much of it. Sure, he had gotten used to your teasing, your constant attempts to throw him off course, and your infuriatingly distracting presence. But no big deal, right? He could handle it. The quiet, the lack of you trying to “distract” him in class... it wasn’t like he needed you there. Not at all.

But as the days went on, something started to feel... off.

Damian found himself staring at his empty desk next to him in class. The seat that usually held you, with your smug little smile and obnoxious comments, was eerily vacant. The whole dynamic of the room felt empty. The lessons, the homework, the constant battle for first place—it was all so boring without you there. He didn’t have to think about your teasing or try to keep his cool around you anymore. And that, strangely enough, was the problem. He missed it.

He missed you. And it bugged the hell out of him.

It wasn’t like he was waiting for you to show up so you could mess with him, but... okay, maybe a little. There was something about your antics, something about how unpredictable and ridiculous you were, that had wormed its way into his heart. He never admitted it, of course, but he was more aware of it than he liked to admit. And now? Now, with you gone, there was a noticeable hole in his routine.

On the seventh day of your absence, as Damian sat at his desk, trying—unsuccessfully—to focus on an assignment, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

He glanced at the screen. Unknown number.

“Hello?” Damian answered, frowning. He didn’t trust random calls, especially when they were so cryptic.

The voice on the other end was distorted, obviously masked. “Damian Wayne. We have someone you care about. You know who they are.” There was a pause, a deep, unsettling breath before the voice continued. “If you want them back, come alone. They’re close, but not for long.”

Damian’s heart skipped. His mind immediately went to you. You were his rival, his annoyance, but—damn it—he cared about you. As much as he hated to admit it, he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

He clenched his jaw. “Where are they?”

“Come find out,” the voice mocked, before hanging up.

Damian’s eyes blazed with fury. He didn’t even hesitate. Grabbing his suit and mask from the nearby closet, he donned the Robin persona, immediately gearing up for what would inevitably be a chaotic rescue mission. He wasn’t going to wait for his father, or Nightwing, or anyone. This was his fight. His responsibility. His problem.

Within minutes, he was in the Batcave, and he went straight for the Batmobile. “Damian, where are you going?” Alfred's Voice rang out, calm and collected as always.

“I’m going alone. I don’t need backup,” Damian shot back, his voice hard and unwavering.

“Master Damian—”

“I said, I don’t need backup, don’t tell anyone else where I’m headed.”

Alfred sighed, but he knew better than to argue. Damian was already out the door before he could stop him.

-

Damian arrived at the location—a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. As he stalked in, his senses went on high alert. There were too many men. Too many voices. Too much noise. But there was no sign of you yet.

“Where are they?” he demanded, voice low, as he threw one of the thugs across the room. The other men scattered, yelling in confusion. He had no patience for this.

One thug tried to come at him with a crowbar. Damian knocked him out with a swift punch to the face. He couldn’t afford to waste time with these idiots. All he cared about was getting to you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of beating up bad guys and tossing them out of the warehouse toward the police, he spotted you, tied to a chair in the far corner of the room.

You looked beat up—bruises covering your face, your clothes torn. But you were still conscious, still... you.

“Damian…” You smiled weakly, your voice still laced with that same mischievous tone. “Well, well. If it isn’t my knight in shining armor.”

Damian’s chest tightened. “Can you stand?” he asked, trying to hide how worried he was.

You chuckled softly, even though it sounded strained. “Well, it’s not every day I get rescued by a charming vigilante. This is definitely a new look for you, Robin.” You smirked, clearly trying to make light of the situation.

Damian was fuming, both angry at the situation and relieved you were still alive. “Don’t make jokes,” he muttered, quickly cutting the ropes that bound you. “You look like you’ve been through hell, don’t torture me now as payback.”

“I’m fine,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there was a flicker of gratitude in your voice. “I’ve had worse. I had to stitch a cut across my entire stomach once–”

“Stop being so difficult,” Damian snapped, not even trying to hide the concern in his tone as he helped you to your feet. “You’re lucky I even came for you.”

“Oh, don’t sound so upset, my little knight,” you teased, winking at him despite your battered state. “It’s not like I didn’t enjoy the attention.”

Damian scowled. “You’re insufferable.”

“Only for you,” you replied with a playful grin, ignoring how wobbly your legs were. “Come on, admit it. You’ve missed me.”

Damian’s face flushed, and he quickly averted his eyes. “No, I haven’t.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, clearly enjoying making him squirm. “You’ve probably been lonely without me. Bet the whole school feels empty without my sparkling presence.”

He shot you a look that could kill. “I’m not answering that.”

You laughed, clearly amused by the whole situation. But it wasn’t lost on you that Damian’s icy exterior was starting to crack, just a little.

As the two of you walked out of the warehouse together, Damian’s mind was whirling. His usual irritation toward you was clouded by something else—something much more complicated that he wasn’t willing to acknowledge.

Once you were safely away from the scene, in a more neutral space to talk, you couldn’t resist one last jab.

“So, how’s the whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ thing working out for you, Mr. ‘I’m so edgy, and oh did I mention that I’m a lone wolf’?” you asked with a smirk.

Damian shook his head, his voice low and tinged with frustration. “You’re impossible.”

But, deep down, he couldn’t help but feel... relieved that you were safe.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me that like a million times” You grinned up at him, your usual playful attitude as strong as ever. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, would you?”

Damian just muttered something under his breath, refusing to admit anything, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

You were insufferable. And yet, somehow, you’d wormed your way into his heart.

[runninriot]

The End Of Maybe

written for the @steddiebingo card prompt: proposal & @steddielovemonth day 1

rated: T | wc: 1.223 | tags: established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort, self-doubt, declarations of love, marriage proposal | also on ao3

 

   “Do you ever regret it?” Eddie asks quietly, eyes locked on the ceiling while his fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the skin of Steve’s back.

   “Regret what?”

Steve’s head is resting on Eddie’s chest, basking in the comfort of their shared body heat, still on his come down from an overdose of love-infused ecstasy. Enjoying his boyfriend’s closeness while his mind is happily drifting. Was drifting, until now. Now he’s alert, can sense the shift in Eddie’s mood, the gloomy aura suddenly surrounding him.

Eddie still hasn’t turned his gaze away from where it is fixed on nothing but white paint, stays unmoving even when Steve lifts his head to look at him.

   “Baby? Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

For how talkative Eddie usually is, Steve has long since learned that his boyfriend can be eerily quiet when something is eating away at him. When he’s trying to come up with solutions on his own instead of sharing the burden. Over time, they’ve found a way to meet in the middle – with Steve giving Eddie the space and time he needs to sort through his thoughts and Eddie keeping his promise not to shut Steve out, to share what’s gnawing at him eventually.

   “I mean,” Eddie starts, finally looking down to find Steve’s eyes, shifting so that they’re lying side by side, face to face. Still close despite the emotional distance Steve can feel like a physical wall between them.

   “Do you sometimes regret choosing this over- something else?”

He’s being vague on purpose, not even trying to elaborate what he means and Steve knows why, understands what he’s saying either way. They had this conversation before, once, and ended up in a big fight, maybe their biggest one yet. Because at the time, it had felt like Eddie was trying to push him away, trying to talk him into something he didn’t want out of unfounded fear of Steve changing his mind one day. Having a hard time believing that he chose this life, not despite but because of what it would mean for his future.

For Steve, this has never been temporary; he’s always been all in. Wants to spend the rest of his days with Eddie, through the good and the bad and everything.

   “Never,” Steve finally says, keeping his voice soft but making sure the message is clear, “I want this and nothing else. I love our life with everything we have. I love you. You know that, right?”

Without waiting for an answer, Steve leans in for a kiss, a firm press of lips to emphasise his words.

He knows it’s just a little bump in the road, just Eddie being in his head – it happens every now and then, it’s okay, nothing to really worry about. But still, Steve hates to see Eddie sad.

   “I know you do, I just- I don’t know.”

Eddie sighs, buys himself time by stealing another tender kiss from his boyfriend, and Steve lets him get away with it.

   “Where’s this coming from, baby? Did I do or say something that made you think I’ve changed my mind?”

   “No! No, you did nothing, I- I guess I’m just scared.”

With one hand, Steve cups the side of Eddie’s face, thumb gently stroking over his cheekbone, not saying anything but patiently waiting for him to go on.

   “I know you love me, that’s not what I’m worried about. I just sometimes wonder if it’s truly worth giving up so many of your dreams for this. For me.”

Steve knows what Eddie is referring to, even without him having to spell it out. It is true, there had been a time where Steve’s biggest dream was to have a wife and kids, a whole bunch of them, living a quiet small-town life with his picture-perfect family.

But that was before Eddie came along. Before he fell heart over head in love with a wonderful young man, with the prettiest smile and dark brown eyes that make him weak, still, after all those years. Sure, he’d be lying if he said he never asked himself that same question, wondering if being with Eddie was worth facing all the battles they had to fight. If loving Eddie was worth letting go of the future he’d always thought he wanted for himself.

But the answer is still the same as it has been for over 6 years now – yes. A thousand times yes. Because the truth is, he didn’t give up a dream, he created a new one. With Eddie at the centre of everything, he’s built a life that is better than anything he could’ve imagined.

Nothing compares to being loved by Eddie, and nothing could ever make this relationship any more perfect. Except maybe…

He shoots up so sudden it startles Eddie, who reluctantly obeys when Steve beckons him to sit.

   “What-”

Steve doesn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence, presses the tip of his finger against Eddie’s lips to shut him up – not to be rude; he just needs him to listen to what he has to say before he loses his courage.

   “You’re it for me, okay? You are everything I need to be happy and I- I want to grow old with you, want to spend the rest of my life with you. You are all I want, now and forever.”

Steve swallows roughly, has to take a few deep breaths, can already feel the burning of tears in his eyes.

Robin will lose her mind. Will probably also give him a lot of shit for doing it like this, here, in the isolated cocoon of their bedroom rather than making it the big, pompous surprise they always joked about in secret. When they talked about the hypothetical maybe of Steve proposing one day.

Truth is, Steve has been thinking about it a lot in the past, about asking Eddie to take this next big step with him. Not for the sake of making at least one of his younger self’s dreams a reality, but because he wants to be Eddie’s in every way possible. Is more than willing to give up a name that means nothing to him for one that means love and trust and family.

   “Eddie, baby, will you marry me?”

He waits for the words to sink in, anxiously watching Eddie go through all the stages of understanding what Steve is asking him.

   “Are you-” Realisation.

   “Do you really-” Disbelief.

   “You want to-” Reassurance.

   “Oh my God, yes! YES!” Eddie finally answers with a trembling voice and eyes full of tears.

They’re both shedding tears of joy now, arms wrapped around each other, kissing, and smiling and kissing some more until just kissing is no longer enough. When the need to be closer overcomes them and whispered declarations of love and devotion turn into something a lot more obscene. When their bodies demand to become one in heated passion, euphoric and wild and sweet.

And when they come undone for the second time this night, it feels different in a way, new. Because it’s their first time as soon-to-be husbands. Falling apart together, with all their love carved into a promise to mark the end of maybe and the beginning of forever – no after – just them ‘til the end.

[aspenmissing]

hiii~ could you please write the arcane mains (especially jayvik) with an asexual reader? thank you~~

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀʙꜱᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ɴᴇᴇᴅ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ || 3401 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴏꜰ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴜᴘ?, ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜɪʏᴀ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ~ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴʟʏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

ᴀʟꜱᴏ, ꜰᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ɴᴏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡʜᴀᴛ. ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜱʜᴀᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been patient. More than patient, really. He adored Y/N, cherished every moment with her. From the way she absentmindedly played with his fingers when they held hands to the way she always found the perfect words to comfort him after a stressful day at the Council.

She was his anchor, the one person who made all the chaos bearable.

But he wasn’t oblivious. He noticed things.

They’d been together for a while now, and while Jayce was never one to rush things, a quiet curiosity had begun to settle in the back of his mind. It wasn’t just the absence of intimacy in the way most people defined it—he never minded taking things slow—but there was something unspoken between them. A line Y/N never seemed to want to cross, even when they were wrapped up in each other, bathed in soft candlelight and whispered affections.

Had he done something wrong? Was she simply not ready, or was there something deeper that she wasn’t telling him?

Jayce had tried not to dwell on it too much. He loved her, that much was certain. But the uncertainty was starting to gnaw at him, and he didn’t want to be left in the dark any longer.

So, one evening, when they were curled up together on the couch in their shared home, the fire crackling softly in the hearth, he finally gathered the courage to ask.

"Hey, Y/N?"

His voice was gentle, hesitant. He didn’t want to ruin the moment—didn’t want her to feel cornered—but the words had been sitting on the tip of his tongue for far too long.

Y/N hummed, shifting slightly so she could look at him.

Jayce hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit of his. "I just—" He let out a soft chuckle, trying to ease the weight in his chest. "I guess I've been wondering... is there a reason we haven’t, you know, gone further?"

The moment the words left his mouth, he felt Y/N stiffen slightly against him. It was subtle, but enough for him to notice.

Jayce’s heart clenched. He immediately backtracked. "Not that I’m upset or anything!" he rushed to say, his grip on her hand tightening as if to reassure her. "I just—if it’s me, if I’ve done something wrong, you can tell me. I want to understand."

A silence settled between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. The light from the fire flickered against Y/N’s face, casting shadows that danced across her features as she looked down at her hands, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve.

"Jayce, it’s not you," she finally said, voice quiet but firm. "It’s not anything you’ve done."

Jayce felt a strange mix of relief and confusion at the same time. "Then… what is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for something difficult. "I just... I’m asexual."

The words hung between them for a moment, and Jayce blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to curiosity.

"Asexual?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "What does that mean?"

Y/N hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "It means I don’t experience sexual attraction," she explained carefully. "It’s not that I don’t love you, because I do—so much. But I don’t feel the same kind of... need for intimacy that most people do." She swallowed, watching him closely for his reaction. "It doesn’t mean I don’t want to be close to you, or that I don’t want to share my life with you. It’s just... different for me."

Jayce was silent for a moment, processing her words. And then, he nodded slowly.

"...Oh."

It wasn’t a bad "oh." It wasn’t one of disappointment or rejection. It was an "oh" of understanding—of something clicking into place.

Y/N offered a small, somewhat sad smile, her eyes searching his face for any sign of a reaction she feared. "I get if that’s not what you expected," she murmured. "And if that’s something you need in a relationship, I understand. If—if you want to leave, I won’t hold it against you."

Jayce frowned, his brows knitting together as his chest tightened. "Leave?" He immediately reached out, taking her hands in his, squeezing them gently. "Y/N, I love you. That’s not changing because of this."

She looked at him, uncertainty flickering in her gaze. "Jayce, I don’t want to hold you back from something you might need."

Jayce shook his head. "Y/N, being with you isn’t about that for me. I love you—everything about you. The way you challenge me, the way you make me laugh, the way you make all the stress fade away just by being here." He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. "Being Asexual won't make me love you any less. It just means I understand you more now."

Y/N’s eyes softened, the tension in her shoulders easing. "...Really?"

Jayce let out a chuckle, pressing his forehead against hers. "Of course." His voice was warm, reassuring. "I mean, don’t get me wrong, I was confused for a bit—I thought maybe I was doing something wrong. But now that I know, it’s just... part of who you are. And I love every part of you."

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding, leaning into his touch. "You’re the best, you know that?"

Jayce grinned. "I do try."

She laughed, the weight on her chest finally disappearing. And as Jayce wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, she knew—he wasn’t going anywhere.

He never would.

VIKTOR

Y/N sat at her workbench, fingers absently tracing the worn edge of a blueprint, though she wasn't really reading it. The dim candlelight flickered, casting wavering shadows along the walls of their shared workshop. The quiet hum of the city outside felt distant, drowned beneath the steady thrum of her thoughts.

She needed to tell Viktor.

It had been weighing on her for months, an invisible wall between them that she felt responsible for. Every time she tried to gather the words, shame curled in her throat, swallowing them whole before they could pass her lips. It wasn't as though Viktor had ever pressured her—far from it. He was patient, ever understanding, but that only made the guilt press down on her harder. She felt like she was keeping a secret, a fundamental piece of herself, and the longer she held it in, the more suffocating it became.

Y/N exhaled shakily, gripping the edge of the workbench before pushing herself to stand. She turned, eyes landing on Viktor where he sat by his own desk, scribbling away in his journal. His brow was furrowed in thought, the soft glow of the lamp outlining his sharp features in gold. The sight of him made her heart ache in the best way.

“Viktor,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

He glanced up immediately, always attuned to her voice, to the slightest change in her tone. “Yes, Drahý?” (Dear)

Y/N swallowed hard. “There’s… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Viktor set his pen down, turning his full attention to her. “Of course.” He gestured for her to sit beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, she did.

She wrung her hands in her lap, staring down at them as if they held the answers she sought. “I—” Her throat tightened. She tried again. “I’m asexual.” The words felt foreign leaving her mouth, like they belonged to someone else, someone braver.

A beat of silence passed, and she dared to lift her gaze to meet his. He wasn’t surprised. There was no confusion, no rejection in his expression. If anything, there was something warm in his eyes—something soft.

“I know,” Viktor said gently.

Her breath hitched. “You… you do?”

He smiled, a little sad but mostly fond. “I suspected for some time.” He reached out, his fingers brushing over hers with care, an invitation rather than a demand. “You hesitate before touch. You flinch when people assume intimacy is something expected. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable, so I waited.”

She blinked, stunned. “Waited for what?”

“For you to reach for me first.” His fingers curled around hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “For you to decide what you need, what you want.”

Tears pricked at her eyes. The weight in her chest loosened, something inside her cracking open in relief. “You’re not… disappointed?” she asked, voice unsteady.

“Why would I be?” Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “You are the most brilliant, kind-hearted person I have ever met. My feelings for you are not dependent on physical expectations. I love you, Y/N. As you are.”

A tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it, and Viktor reached up, brushing it away with his thumb. She let out a shaky laugh, leaning into his touch.

“I love you too,” she whispered.

Viktor pulled her close, careful, always careful. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting the warmth of his presence steady her. For the first time in a long time, she felt whole.

And she knew, with unwavering certainty, that she was safe in his hands.

JAYVIK

Jayce had noticed it first—how Y/N would always stop when things got too heated. It wasn’t abrupt or panicked, but there was a moment, a breath, where her body tensed, her hands stilled, and she pulled away with a nervous chuckle or a soft excuse. It had happened enough times that doubt began to creep into his mind. Had he done something wrong? Had Viktor?

He hated the thought. The last thing he ever wanted was to make her uncomfortable.

One evening, after another moment where Y/N had hesitated before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips and retreating to the safety of their bed, Jayce finally voiced his concerns to Viktor. They sat together in Viktor’s study, the dim glow of the Hextech crystal casting long shadows across the walls. Viktor, ever perceptive, had noticed as well—but he had not drawn the same conclusions as Jayce.

“She is happy with us,” Viktor murmured, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the edge of his cane. “I do not believe we have done something wrong, Jayce.”

“Then why does she always stop?” Jayce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to push her, but… I need to understand.”

Viktor hummed in thought, gaze flickering toward the door leading to their shared bedroom. “Perhaps we should ask?”

Jayce blinked, then let out a short, breathy laugh. “You make it sound so easy.”

Viktor gave him a wry smile. “Because it is. We trust her. And she trusts us.”

With a nod, Jayce followed Viktor into the bedroom, where Y/N lay curled beneath the blankets, a book resting open on her lap. She looked up at them as they entered, a small, sleepy smile on her lips. “You two look serious,” she teased, setting the book aside. “Did something happen?”

Jayce hesitated, but Viktor, always the one to cut straight to the heart of things, sat beside her and took her hand. “Y/N, we have noticed… a pattern.”

Her fingers twitched in his grasp, and she glanced between them, wariness creeping into her eyes. “What do you mean?”

Jayce sat on her other side, rubbing the back of his neck. “You always stop when things start to get, well… heated.” He exhaled sharply. “Did we do something? Did I do something? If we made you uncomfortable, please tell us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and she sat up properly, reaching out to take Jayce’s hand in her free one. “No! No, you haven’t done anything wrong.” She glanced away, chewing on her lip before taking a steadying breath. “It’s me.”

Viktor squeezed her hand gently. “Go on, Lásko’.” (Love)

She exhaled slowly, meeting their eyes with quiet resolve. “I’m asexual.”

Jayce and Viktor remained silent, not out of shock, but to give her the space to explain in her own time. She searched their faces for any signs of discomfort or rejection, but all she found was quiet understanding and patience.

“I love you both. So much.” Her voice softened. “But I don’t feel… that kind of attraction. I like being close, I like kissing, I love being with you—but when it starts going beyond that, it’s like a wall goes up in my head, and I just… I can’t.”

Jayce’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You should have told us sooner, sweetheart.”

“I was scared,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want you to feel like I didn’t want you. Or that I wasn’t enough.”

Viktor sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “You are more than enough, Lásko.”

Jayce cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over her skin. “We love you, Y/N. You don’t have to prove anything to us.”

She swallowed thickly, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “You’re really okay with this?”

“Of course we are,” Viktor murmured, nudging his forehead against hers.

Jayce grinned, wrapping his arms around both of them and pulling them into a tight embrace. “You’re stuck with us, love. Whether you like it or not.”

A watery laugh escaped her as she melted into their warmth, holding onto them as tightly as they held onto her. “I think I can live with that.”

And as they lay together that night, wrapped in each other’s arms, she knew—with absolute certainty—that she was loved.

VANDER

The Last Drop was quiet that evening, a rare moment of peace in the Undercity. Most of the regulars had already turned in, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their drinks. Vander sat at the bar, his large hands wrapped around a mug of ale, watching Y/N as they moved around the tavern, straightening chairs and wiping down tables.

Vander had always admired Y/N. From the moment they’d stepped into his life, they had been a steady presence—a sharp mind, a warm heart, and a will stronger than steel. He’d never been one for grand speeches, but with Y/N, he’d never needed to be. They understood each other in ways words couldn’t quite capture.

Tonight, though, something lingered between them, an unspoken weight. Y/N had been quieter than usual, their usual lightness subdued. Vander frowned, setting his mug down with a soft clink. “You alright, love?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm.

Y/N paused, fingers tightening around the cloth in their hands before exhaling slowly. “I… there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Vander straightened, nodding. “Of course.” He gestured for them to sit beside him. Y/N hesitated for a moment before slipping onto the stool, their fingers fidgeting with the hem of their sleeve.

“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Y/N began, their voice steady despite the nervous energy in their hands. “About us.”

Vander’s heart gave a small, uncertain lurch, but he forced himself to stay calm. “Alright.”

Y/N took a breath. “I love you, Vander. You mean the world to me. But… I need you to know that I’m asexual.”

The words hung between them for a moment, and Vander saw the way Y/N braced themselves, as if expecting something to break.

He blinked, letting the words settle, rolling them over in his mind. Then, carefully, he reached out, covering Y/N’s restless hands with his own. “Alright,” he said again, softer this time.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes searching. “You… you understand?”

Vander offered a small smile, his thumb brushing over their knuckles. “I won’t pretend I know everything about it. But I don’t need to understand every detail to know what matters.” He squeezed their hand. “You love me. And I love you. That’s enough.”

A breath of relief escaped Y/N, their shoulders easing. “It’s just… I know for some people, that’s a deal-breaker.”

Vander chuckled, shaking his head. “Love, I’m not ‘some people.’” His expression softened. “Being with you, having you beside me—that’s what I care about. Doesn’t matter what shape that takes.”

Y/N stared at him for a moment before a small, genuine smile broke across their face. Vander swore the weight in the room lifted, the tension dissolving like mist under sunlight.

He reached for his ale again, taking a sip before smirking. “Though I gotta admit, I was worried for a second there. Thought you were about to tell me you were leaving me for someone else.”

Y/N laughed, shaking their head. “No chance.”

“Good,” Vander murmured, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to their forehead. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

And just like that, the night felt a little warmer, the quiet a little kinder. Vander didn’t need to understand everything to know what was important—Y/N was his, and he was theirs. Nothing else mattered.

SILCO

The dim glow of The Last Drop’s lanterns cast flickering shadows across the room, the usual hum of the bar distant in the background. Silco sat across from Y/N in his office, his sharp gaze softened, though his fingers still toyed with a cigar he had yet to light. The revelation had settled between them like a delicate thread—fragile, but not broken.

He had always prided himself on being a man who understood people, who could read between the lines and predict their motives. But this? This was uncharted waters.

“Asexual,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. The word sat foreign on his tongue, not in a distasteful way, but in a way that demanded understanding. Y/N sat calmly, her expression unreadable, though he knew her well enough to notice the slight tension in her shoulders. Not from fear—but anticipation. Waiting for his reaction.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the desk. “And this means…?”

She let out a breath, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the wooden surface between them. “It means I don’t experience sexual attraction. Or at least, not in the way most people do.” Her voice was steady, but he saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I love you, Silco. That hasn’t changed. But… that part of relationships? It’s never been something I’ve needed.”

Silco watched her, expression unreadable. Then, after a long pause, he reached across the desk and took her hand in his. A rare gesture of intimacy from him. His thumb ran slow, deliberate circles over her knuckles, grounding, thoughtful.

“I see,” he murmured. He wasn’t angry. Not disappointed. No, if anything, he felt—what was the word? Protective? No, that didn’t quite fit. Devoted? That was closer. He had given up everything for power, had built himself into something to be feared, respected. And yet, here she was, someone who had demanded nothing of him but to simply be. And she was looking at him now, searching for something—acceptance, reassurance.

A smirk ghosted the corner of his lips. “You think I’d love you any less?”

Y/N blinked. “I don’t know.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re a fool, then.”

Her lips twitched into a reluctant smile, and he squeezed her hand. “Tell me,” he continued, voice softer now, careful, “what can I do to make things… comfortable for you?”

Y/N swallowed, surprised by the question. She had prepared for resistance, maybe frustration. But this? This quiet, considerate patience? It nearly undid her.

“You already are,” she admitted, squeezing his hand back. “Just knowing you don’t see me differently—that’s enough.”

Silco studied her, then stood, rounding the desk with slow, deliberate steps. He cupped her face with both hands, his thumbs brushing just beneath her eyes, tracing the warmth of her skin. His touch was always precise, never wasted, and now it spoke volumes where words might fail.

“You are mine, my dear,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. “That hasn’t changed. Nor will it.”

A weight she hadn’t realised she was carrying lifted from her chest. Y/N exhaled softly, closing her eyes, leaning into the certainty of his touch. And in that moment, with the low hum of Zaun beneath them, she knew that love—real love—had never been defined by the expectations of others.

And neither were they.

[shineon3]

hi friend! we had a fire drill today, so for a prompt: fire alarm goes off in the middle of the night in a building and everyone is in various states of undress, but this one person is butt naked wrapped in a blanket meet-sort-of-cute? (if maxiel, i'd say daniel is butt naked but up to you!)

Hi lovely ❤️ Thank you for the prompt!! Here's a little maxiel meet cute for you ^^

There’s a completely naked guy standing in front of him, and Max can’t stop starring. 

Well. Not completely naked. The guy is wearing what looks like either waaay too short shorts, or boxers, and he has a blanket wrapped around him. Max himself is in a somewhat similar level of undress, wearing only his pyjama pants with a blanket draped over his shoulders and clutching Jimmy and Sassy’s carriers in each hand. They had just gotten evacuated from their building because of a fire alarm going off. It was around three a.m already and Max just wanted to go back to bed, at this point. 

And then, the naked guy turns around and gives him a blinding smile, and Max wants to stay out there forever, if that means staring at this angel some more. He’s breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous. His hair is adorably messy, some curls falling over his eyes. God, his eyes. They’re a mesmerizing mix of hazel and golden honey, and Max wishes he could drown in it. And he hasn’t even gotten started on the dude’s plush, lovely, kissable looking lips! If it wasn’t for the cold keeping him alert and awake, Max would’ve thought he was dreaming, and would’ve probably done something insane like ask his probably neighbour to marry him.

After a moment, Max realises the guy is shivering a lot, and is barely able to stay still. Which, fair, it is awfully  windy, and the dude is mostly naked. It does gives Max the perfect opportunity to strike a conversation, though, and he goes for it, throwing, somewhat literally, caution to the wind.

“Here,” He sets his cats’ carriers on the ground and hands the blanket he was holding onto to the brunette. “You look like you need it more than me.”

The guy beams at him, smile so wide it could split his face, and Max is suddenly wrestling the need to kiss him till sunrise.

“Thanks, mate! I’m definitely not built for the cold, fuck,” The brunette wraps Max’s blanket around him, over the one already on his body, and Max mourns the loss of the little stripes of perfect golden skin he could see peeking earlier. “Weird way to meet, but eh,” He shrugs, easy. “I’m Daniel.”

Embarrassingly, Max can feel his whole face flush, and he prays to whatever deity listening to him that it’s not too obvious. 

“I’m- yeah, I guess it’s weird, uhm…,” He stammers, stumbling over his words and embarrassing himself further. “I’m M-Max…” 

“Nice to meetcha, Maxy!” Daniel shuffles closer to him, blinding smile still stretching his lips. “Would ya be interested in some coffee later, maybe?” 

Max, bent over to pick up Jimmy and Sassy from the ground, stumbles and almost falls face flat on the floor. He has a feeling his cats are mocking him, the little shits. He straightens up, trying to give the brunette a smile. It feels weird, but good weird, and Max hasn’t felt that way in a long, long while. 

“I’d love to, Daniel.”

Danyul.

Such a pretty name for such a gorgeous person. 

Max will do his best to keep him around.

[omegastation]

Here comes my review (mostly writing & lore) of the Mass Effect Official Cocktail Book. I also included a list of all characters named with all page numbers related to their mentions.

I’m including this for our Andromeda Appreciation Week because the last part of the book is Andromeda-related :)

Introduction:

Cassandra Reeder is the recipe developer and Jim Festante is the writer.

The book is written by two writers in-universe. The first one is an asari calling herself “Ambree T’Sia” who is a lot like Gossip Girl (“you won’t guess and I’ll never tell” is an actual line in the book). We have to guess her identity but she doesn’t mind spreading a lot of stories about people and their drinks. 

The second writer is an angara called Roa who decided to add recipes to T’Sia’s existing ones, but more adapted to the Andromeda Galaxy. Roa dreams of a better world for everyone. He’s friend with Dutch and Anan from the Vortex.

Each writer presents drinks based on locations: bars and spots in the two galaxies. There also some snacks recipes as well.

Review: 

It’s hard for me to say anything about the recipes, though I will say it seems like there are different ingredients so a bit of everything for everyone. The difficulty can be adjusted: I thought some drinks looked really complicated to make (and some use other drinks in the books as base), but if you want to do a simple cocktail/mocktail, there are at least 10 good options.

Some recipes are directly named after characters or inspired by characters, so it might be fun to try some based on your favs. 

One drink seems weird to me, and that’s the N7 Shooter (mostly because of the mix of ingredients). If you try it, tell me what you think. 

Regarding American measurement: if you want to be precise, I would wait for a translation. Otherwise, I would get a cup and google some stuff before making it.

The drinks I'll try at some point, in a mocktail version only:

Tuchanka Sunset - 22

Perfection - 54

Tupari Blast - 61

Denorian Beer Granita - 64

Tequila Se’lai - 70

Shadowbrokertini - 74

The Mindfish - 83

Calibration Cooler - 95

Pink Marble - 130

Marljeh - 142

Kadara Sunrise - 143

So that’s pretty much it for the food & drinks, sorry!

My review is more about the lore and the writing.

I found the witty tone enjoyable. I like that there’s a distinction between how T’Sia writes and how Roa writes at the end of the book. T’Sia gossips a lot but there’s no malice. Roa is very earnest and seems quite adorable to me.

You’ll see I wrote down all the characters named and the pages, sometimes it says something about the writer, sometimes not.  A good example: Samantha is mentioned 5 times by T’Sia. She finds her charming and young, and mostly links her to drinks and other people (a full EDI/Traynor-like drink is in there). Meanwhile, Drack is mentioned 4 times, Vetra 3 times, but Roa has an entire page about how fascinated he is by Vetra.

Regarding what we learn, lore-wise: not a whole lot. It mostly plays on what we already know. 

What we do learn has to do with some characters. Without being too spoilery, it’s very light and fun for the most part - like Joker and Steve having a challenge, Vega seducing T’Sia, characters loving specific drinks (like Traynor), etc. Some characters (like Kaidan and Miranda) are sharing their woes or backstory. Roa, in the later part of the book, talks a lot about Dutch and their meeting is very very cute.

My favorite anecdote is that Liam’s movie night spreads to the Nexus and becomes a tradition :)

Some characters are very absent while others are more present. I would say it’s logical in a way, but it’s one thing to be aware of. If you’re a fan of Jaal, there are no mentions in the book. Though, like I said, a mention doesn’t always mean a lot: Peebee is mentioned once but we learn nothing new.  I also found it a bit sad that Ashley is not in the book. Obviously, I’m happy to have Kaidan there, but Ashley would have been a wonderful character for fun anecdotes here.

Characters named and pages:

Note: if you find that I forgot a mention, drop me a DM. I’ll add the page and/or character!

Joker - 12, 98

Sel Vass - 14

Solem Dal’serah - 21

Karin Chakwas - 25

Padok Wiks and and Urp - 26

Wrex - 26, 65, 106

Aria - 19, 27

Oleg Petrovsky - 27

James Vega -29, 46, 112

Shepard - 33, 30, 41, 93

Garrus - 37, 38, 95

Samantha - 42, 43, 73, 97, 106

Kaidan - 49, 106, 116

Miranda - 54

Kasumi - 55

Doran - 59, 60, 61

Grunt - 66

Fist - 69

Anderson - 71

Elijah Khan - 81, 88

Emily Wong - 93

Jack - 94

EDI - 97, 106, 

Steve - 98, 120

Tali - 101

Aethyta - 51, 57, 106

Dutch smith - 123, 126, 127, 131, 156

Anan T’Mari - 123, 127, 131, 156

Ryder - 123, 128, 133, 135

Drack - 133, 134, 137, 152

Umi Henon - 133, 134, 135, 138

Vetra - 137, 144, 154

Peebee - 137

Sloane - 138

Lexi - 138

Khan Dagher - 141, 143, 147

Kesh - 150

Suvi - 154

Buxil - 156

Niilj - 156

[just1cefor4ll]

—You’re the type of person they write rock songs about

modern!au Viktor x fem!reader warning. swearing, might be OOC, not proof read

part four || part five || part six

‘Ooh love, ooh lover boy

What’re you doing tonight? Ooh, hey boy.’

——————————————————————————

[powpow] y/n.

[powpow] y/n I KNOW YOU’RE STILL HERE.

[powpow] ANSWER ME YOU COWARD.

[ekk0stime] they’re definitely just lying there, staring at their screen, kicking their feet or some shit.

[ishaq] yeah, probably overthinking a two word message.

[truly.y/n] I ACTUALLY HATE YOU ALL.

[powpow] no u don’t <3

[ekk0stime] soooooo when’s the second date?

[ishaq] “second” implying y/n considers tonight a first date LMAO.

[powpow] THAT’S SO TRUE WAIT.

[truly.y/n] I AM NEVER SPEAKING TO ANY OF YOU AGAIN.

[powpow] oh, so you’ll just talk to Viktor instead? got it.

[ekk0stime] they walked right into that one.

[ishaq] perfect example of self-sabotage.

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. This was a mistake. Responding was a mistake. Having friends was a mistake.

Your phone buzzed again—another message from Viktor.

[vik.tor222] You should rest. Big night and all.

[vik.tor222] Goodnight, rockstar.

Your stomach flipped, heat creeping up your neck.

[truly.y/n] goodnight, vik :)

You turned off your phone and threw it onto your nightstand, rolling onto your side with a groan.

Your friends were.. annoying— but you were all like siblings, hence the mutual bullying.

The next morning, you woke up to exactly 53 new messages in the group chat. You stared at the notification in pure dread before finally tapping on it.

[powpow] GOOD MORNING STARSHINE THE EARTH SAYS HELLOOOOO

[powpow] u guys think y/n dreamt about viktor last night wrong answers only

[ekk0stime] absolutely not who do u think she is?

[ishaq] hell no— she knows a viktor? who the hell is he

[powpow] LMAOOAOA Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY

[powpow] HELLO????

[powpow] I KNOW UR AWAKE.

[ekk0stime] what if viktor was their first thought when they woke up too.

[ishaq] oh, they definitely checked their phone hoping for another text from him.

[powpow] AWWW THAT’S SO CUTE

You groaned, rubbing your hands down your face. These people were your friends—allegedly.

[truly.y/n] you guys need hobbies.

[powpow] we do. it’s bullying u.

[ekk0stime] it’s a full-time job actually.

[ishaq] benefits are great.

You were about to fire back something equally stupid when a private message popped up.

Viktor.

[vik.tor222] Morning, rockstar. :)

You blinked at the screen, suddenly feeling way too aware of yourself. Why was that the first thing you saw today? And why did it make your stomach do a weird little flip?

[truly.y/n] morning, viktor!!

Your group chat was still blowing up, but you ignored it. Instead, you stared at your phone, waiting to see if Viktor would say anything else.

And then—

[vik.tor222] Are you free tonight?

Your brain short-circuited.

You glanced at Viktor's message one last time before typing back.

[truly.y/n] I actually have plans tonight. Band sleepover

You waited for his response, but it was a little too long for your liking, and you started second-guessing yourself. Was that a weird thing to say? Should you have said something else?

Before you could overthink too much, his message came through.

[vik.tor222] Sounds like a fun time. I hope everything goes smoothly tonight.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you quickly typed back.

[truly.y/n] Thanks! It’ll be good, I’m sure.——————————————————————————You tossed your phone on your bed and grabbed a jacket, already hearing the excitement building outside your room. Powder, Ekko, and Isha were probably already messing around— making the other people in your block feel like kicking their asses.

As you left your room, the sounds of your bandmates filled the air, laughter echoing from outside your dorm

“Finally,” Powder called out as soon as she saw you, waving bowling tickets in the air. “We thought you were ditching us or something.”

“Right, I’m ready to go, come on— i’ll be driving so help yourself to whatever you want when we get there.” You said, plopping down into the drivers seat before driving off, radio on blast as you started your 15 minute journey to the game center.

Soon laughter filled the air as everyone tried to outdo each other with strikes, spares, and ridiculous celebratory dances after each turn. “Watch and learn, I’m about to get a strike,” Powder declared, only to knock down just three pins. You laughed, offering her a playful round of applause.

Isha made a dramatic bow after her perfect strike. "I’m the undisputed champion of this group." She signed, putting a peace sign before sitting down at the booth to eat some of the chips you bought. Ekko rolled his eyes after knocking down a solid seven pins. "Don't forget, I'm also winning in the high score department." As the game continued, you found yourself enjoying the distractions. It was good to have moments like this, to just not think too much about everything.

By the time the game ended, everyone was feeling a bit more relaxed, though the chatter about Viktor never quite stopped.

As you all packed up to leave the bowling alley, Powder was grinning. “I think we should have a rematch next week, but I’ll let you all catch up to my skills first.” Ekko raised an eyebrow. "Catch up? You just got lucky." "Uh-huh," Powder teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I’m basically the bowling queen." Isha gave you a look as you all walked out to the car. "So, is this the night we hear about your secret texts with Viktor? Or are they still off-limits?" Powder asked, throwing an arm over your shoulder. You groaned. "Can we please talk about something else for once?" "Not a chance," Ekko chimed in, “You know we’re all dying to hear how you really feel about him." You threw your hands up in mock surrender. "Fine. I’ll tell you everything, but later.” Everyone agreed— but you did earn a few groans before continuing your night.

When you finally made it to Ekko’s dorm, you were relieved to have a chance to relax. As everyone filed in, you grabbed snacks and drinks and settled on the couch. “Alright,” Ekko said, popping open a soda and leaning back. “Movie time” You groaned dramatically, “But you always pick the worst rom-coms ever, let Isha pick she always picks the good shit.” Ekko flips you off, grumbling before sitting down on the coach.

After a few moments of silence once the movie credits came rolling in, Powder leaned in with that recognisable mischievous grin. “Alright, no more dancing around it. Tell us what Viktor said. I need the full rundown.”

You sighed, feeling the weight of their anticipation, but you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. You knew you wouldn’t get out of this without giving them some details. Isha leaned forward, her eyes wide with excitement. “We promise, no freakouts. Just the details.” She signed and sat right next to you, throwing her legs over your lap to scoot closer so she could see your phone screen which contained all the messages they’ve been dying to see.

You let them scroll through the messages, earning some dramatic gasps and ‘no way’s’ as they handed you the phone back. Of course, Powder spoke up first; “Yeah that’s definitely not a ‘we’re just friends’ type of message.” She said, pointing out several of the messages she deemed fit to that description— Ekko and Isha agreeing. You tried to brush it off, but your heart fluttered at the memory of his words. “It’s just polite. Nothing more.”

“Sure,” Ekko chimed in, raising an eyebrow. “I definitely text my friends good morning texts, ask to meet her alone without her very close group of friends, ask if she’s free the day after that and give her cute little nicknames.” He said very obviously with sarcasm laced in his voice.

The room went quiet for a second. Isha was the first to say something, her expression filled with intrigue. “Hold up. So, he asked if you were free tonight? Like, right now?” “Yeah, but I told him I had plans,” you said, looking at them sheepishly. “I have this sleepover with you guys, so I couldn’t—” you gestured toward them, “—ditch you.”

Powder raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, fair, I’d be mad if you ditched us for Viktor. But still... that’s.. something.” You groaned and sank back into the couch, realizing you’d just confirmed all their suspicions. “I don’t know, alright? It’s not that deep. He’s just... being nice.” Ekko shook his head, smiling. “Nah, that’s more than being nice. He’s interested. You’d be crazy to think otherwise.” Isha nodded, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Yeah, he’s not texting you like that unless he really wants you.”

“Ugh,” you groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Why do you guys have to make this such a big deal?” Powder laughed, slinging an arm around you. “Because, Y/N, it’s adorable and we’re here for it. Also, you’re totally not fooling us. There’s definitely something going on.” You shook your head but couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your face. Maybe they were right. Maybe there was something more to all of this. But you weren’t ready to dive into that just yet.

“Alright, enough about Viktor,” you said, sitting up straight. “Let’s just focus on having fun tonight, yeah? No more talking about him.” “Sure, sure,” Powder said with a grin. “But tomorrow you need to text him— and let us help you out. You’ve been warned.” You laughed, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as your friends went back to teasing you in the most ridiculous ways. For tonight, though, you were content. You had your friends, a whole sleepover ahead of you, and the feeling of something new and exciting with Viktor still lingering in the back of your mind. You were okay with that—at least for now.

Viktor sat back in his chair, working on an essay the professor handed out two days ago. He let his friends tag along to the library with him so he had some sort of company— and partially because Jayce practically begged to come with.

Vi leaned forward with a grin that Viktor knew was both teasing and knowing. “Come on, Viktor. What’s going on with you and Y/N? There’s definitely some sparks between you too.” He carefully avoided her gaze, taking a long sip of his coffee, as if it would ground him. “There’s nothing going on. We’re just—getting to know each other.” The words felt rehearsed even as they left his mouth. Jayce raised an eyebrow, his attention now fully on Viktor. “You sure? You’ve been acting differently. You’ve never really been one for.. opening up to people.” Viktor remained calm, though his pulse quickened. "I’m still me, Jayce," he said, his voice a little too smooth. "Nothing’s changed."

Mel, who had been watching him quietly, folded her arms and spoke in a voice that was always direct. “You’re not fooling anyone, Viktor. Something’s different. I can tell by the way you’ve been acting around her.”

Viktor’s eyes flickered to her, his usual composure slipping just slightly. “I don’t think you understand,” he replied softly, his tone serious. “I’m not looking for anything complicated. I’m just.. not ready to go down that road. Not yet.”

“Alright. I won’t pressure you. But you’ve got to admit... there’s something there.” Vi said with a awkward smile, sensing the slight tension of the topic. Viktor didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, the conversation seemed to lull. He couldn’t really ignore the way Y/N made him feel—how she’d slipped into his life so effortlessly, how easy it was to be around her. But it was still too new. They’d known each other for less than a month. It felt too soon to even consider anything beyond what it was now.

Finally, after a long pause, Viktor sighed and set his coffee down, his fingers gripping the edge of the table with a tension that betrayed his calm exterior. “Fine,” he said, his voice lower now, quieter. “I do feel something. I won’t deny it.” He hesitated before continuing, his tone thoughtful, almost guarded. “But it’s too soon. We’ve barely known each other for a month. I’m not ready to rush into anything.”

The room fell quiet, the others processing his admission. Vi gave him a knowing look, but she didn’t press him further.

Mel spoke up after a bit, her tone more measured than usual. “It’s understandable, Viktor. Sometimes the timing just isn’t right. But don’t let fear of moving too fast hold you back, either. Whatever happens, happens. Just don’t shut yourself off completely.”Viktor nodded, the weight of their words settling on him. “I’m not shutting myself off,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, almost to himself. “I just don’t want to move too fast. I need time to figure things out.” Jayce leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. “Hey, at least you’re being honest with yourself. That’s a start.” Viktor gave a slight smile but didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his attention to the books in front of him, the conversation lingering in the air between them.

For now, he’d keep his feelings close. But somewhere deep down, he knew that whatever happened with Y/N, it wouldn’t be so easily ignored.

© just1cefor4ll— I don’t consent to my writing being reposted to other platforms or fed into AI. Translating it is also strictly prohibited. 🚫

taglist: @skullmvncher @startingtoloveyou @lolixsstuff @astarionapologist @erica2024

[oceanjoker]

ZED STORIES

Chapter 1 "Emergency Broadcast"

Summary: The exact date of the initial outbreak is unknown. The military quickly set up an "exclusion zone" around Louisville before it managed to spread further, the military established a blockade surrounding the infected areas of Muldraugh, Riverside, West Point, and Rosewood, dubbed the Knox Exclusion Zone. 9 days has passed ever since all of this started, these were the end of times, there was no hope for survival...

   The garage smelled like gasoline and rust, and there was a faint hum from the generator in the corner cutting through the silence. Marcel adjusted the knob on the improvised radio transmitter. It was a mess of wires and duct tape holding it together like everything else in his life over the past days. A flickering lantern on the workbench cast long shadows across the walls, bouncing off stacks of canned food and water jugs. The garage door, reinforced with planks and scraps of metal, creaked softly in the wind, its strength untested but unyielding for now. He took a deep breath and pressed the transmission button.

“Good afternoon survivors! I am your host BasicallyIdoWrk, and it’s been 9 days since whole hell broke loose! crazy how time flies, no matter how shitty they are, and if you’re hearing this. Congrats! you are alive and you made it this far, give yourself a pat on the back”

He stopped for a moment to clap near the microphone, but as soon as he was going to continue, Scotty entered the garage, his lab coat was very dirty and worn out but it still stood out in the dark environment. He didn’t say anything, just crouched near the generator doing his daily check up to make sure it is working properly. Marcel turned back to the microphone:

“Anyways, I’m in one of the five houses from the gated community of Rosewood. It's not perfect but we got some fences to keep us safe, we got food, clean water and even electricity thanks to my lovely friend Scotty”

“You’re welcome!” Scotty called across the garage.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that he is a bad cook, so if you’re nearby, come by for a taste of burned canned soup. Or, you know, just say hi. Zombies not invited tho” 

Scotty rolled his eyes but chuckled. "At least I’m cooking, Mr. ‘I’ll just eat chips again.’"

Outside, the streets of Rosewood were quiet, the only sounds being the occasional groans of the undead and the soft rustling of the wind. the two had already gotten used to this sound. But they knew that danger was always there…

"Think anyone’s actually listening to your little comedy show bud?"

Marcel slightly moved the microphone away and placed one of his hands in front of it. "I don’t know. Maybe. But even if nobody hears it, it keeps me sane. It keeps us sane." he whispered.

“Fair enough” Scotty said as he turned back to check on the generator.

Marcel brought the microphone back, but static sounds began to echo through the garage. Scotty looked at the small, rudimentary radio on the table.

The static continued for a few seconds that seemed like hours, but then it stopped, and a voice came through the radio.

"This is addressed to those unaffected by the second wave of the Infection. The disease will not spread to you as it has to others, but through fluid contact, by which I mean bites, It surely will. The time has come to bear arms against this threat. They may be your family, They may be your friends. DO NOT hesitate to pull the trigger. These are dark days, but as a nation we can and will prevail. You have not been forgotten.”

“Oh this again, It’s been a whole week and guess what? we are still in here, trapped in this shithole YOU provoked” 

Scotty said, completely frustrated. He was obviously tired of his new routine and soon continued with the generator maintenance procedure. “And guess what? Earlier a helicopter flew by. You flew right past us while we waved like idiots!, So what’s the fucking point of this message?”

“Hey at least the zombies that were following its sound headed to the north with it,I wouldn’t want to deal with that many zombies,” Marcel said as he stretched out in the chair. “And now they are far away”

“We will come for you. General John McGrew, Out."

The static returned, permeating Marcel’s ears. Pushing the radio equipment away, Marcel slowly laid his head on the table and hid his face with his hoodie, soon beginning to think.

He was safe. His shelter was completely barricaded. He was hydrated and fed. But what now? He hadn’t found anyone other than Scotty, who seemed to be slowly losing hope. He had been trying to contact other survivors for a week, and for all he knew, all his friends could be dead. It was only a matter of time before all his resources ran out. There was no sign of help. There was no way the world he once knew would return to what it was before…

These were the end times. There was no hope of survival…

Scotty tried to reach for his shoulder to comfort him but was interrupted by loud grunts from outside. Marcel then grabbed his sword, tightening his grip. He motioned for Scotty to keep quiet.

Then they heard it- A human scream

He stood, his heart pounding. “Someone’s out there.” Marcel said

“Who 's screaming? don’t they know the zombies are heavily attracted by sounds?!” Scotty whispered

“I don’t know but can’t you see? We are NOT THE ONLY ONES!” Marcel said with a bit of hope

“Could be a trap.” Scotty muttered while grabbing a golf club

Marcel stepped to the garage door, carefully peering through a narrow gap in the barricade. What he saw made his stomach twist. Two figures were limping down the street, illuminated by the fading sunlight. One of them, a man, was carrying another man who was missing his right leg below the knee. The stump was wrapped in a bandage soaked with blood, the red staining the asphalt beneath him as they stumbled forward. Behind them, a horde of at least fifteen zombies shambled in pursuit, their guttural moans growing louder.

“We need to help them” Marcel said looking back at Scotty

Scotty hesitated. “If we let them in, the horde will come down on us. The barricade won’t hold against that many.”

“We can’t just leave them. If we don’t help, they’ll die.” Marcel looked at Scotty with a look of determination.

“Fine. But we do this smartly, or we’re all dead.” Scotty sighed

Marcel nodded and they opened the garage door enough to get out. He slipped out into the streets, crouching low as he darted toward the edge of the street. Scotty followed close behind

“Hey!” Marcel hissed as loudly as he dared, waving his arms to get the survivors’ attention. The man’s head snapped toward him and he could finally see his face a metallic texture, a shining red eye and then he realised.

“Brian?!” The word left his mouth before he even realized he had spoken it.

The figure froze. recognition flashed across his worn features. Then, in a voice hoarse from exhaustion but unmistakably his, he responded:

“Marcel?! How the hell are you alive?!”

“Over here! Come on! we can chat about this later” Marcel yelled as he pointed to the garage

Brian adjusted his grip on the injured man, dragging him towards the open garage door. Marcel rushed forward to help them, throwing the man’s arm over his shoulder to help. and as he looked, he recognized that the man was none other than Nogla

Marcel carried Nogla through the house's gate and into the garage. Brian followed, Scotty pushed two zombies away before slamming the garage door shut behind him.

“Help me put some weight here!” he yelled.

Marcel lowered Nogla onto a pile of blankets in the corner and rushed to Scotty’s side. Together, they shoved a heavy shelf against the gate as the first zombies slammed against it from the other side. The metal rattled violently, but the barricade held for now.

Breathing heavily, Marcel turned back to his friends. Brian was kneeling beside the injured Nogla, his hands pressed against his bleeding stump.

“Scotty!” Marcel called, his voice sharp.

“I’m on it!” Scotty grabbed the first-aid kit from the workbench and knelt beside Nogla, his movements swift and precise. He unwrapped the soaked bandage, grimacing at the raw, mangled flesh beneath. he looked away for a few seconds but knew he had to do the job

“This isn’t great,” he muttered. “He’s lost a lot of blood, and we don’t have the supplies for this. I can try to stop the bleeding, but...”

Marcel crouched beside him. “What do you need?”

“Something to cauterize the wound,” Scotty said. “A fire, a hot blade, something. If we don’t stop the bleeding now, he’s not going to make it.”

Marcel stood and scanned the garage, his eyes landing on a propane torch that Scotty had been using to sterilize tools. He grabbed it and handed it to him.

“This will work,” Scotty said, already flicking the igniter. The torch roared to life, the blue flame casting harsh shadows across the garage.

As Scotty prepared to cauterize the wound, the sound of the horde pounding against the barricade grew louder. Marcel glanced toward the door, his grip tightening on the sword.

“I need ten minutes, maybe less if you can keep those biters off us!”

“Is there another exit here? I can hold them down and buy us time” Brian said as he grabbed a metal pipe

“There are way too many zombies you won’t make it ali-” Marcel's protest is soon interrupted as soon as he notices Brian pointing at the robotic part of his face

“Oh…Ooooooooooooh…that makes sense.” Marcel muttered “Well, there’s a door that leads to the backyard but…I’m going with you, there’s no way i’ll leave you alone on this” 

both of them made their way to the backyard, there was a brief moment of silent:

“I’ll be honest,” Marcel said, breaking the tense silence. “I thought you were dead.”

Brian’s red eye glowed faintly as he turned to Marcel. “Likewise. But here we are. Fancy reunion, don’t you think?”

As they approached the horde, Marcel yelled getting the zombies attention away from the garage door and he surged forward, his sword slicing clean through the neck of the nearest zombie. “First kill is mine!” he called out, adrenaline pumping.

Brian followed, swinging his pipe. The first hit sent a zombie flying into a concrete wall with a sickening crunch. “Two!” he counted.

“I missed this,” Marcel admitted, kicking a crawler back before driving his sword through its skull.

“Missed what? Killing zombies or me carrying you?” Brian quipped, impaling a rotting torso against a metal pole.

“A bit of both” Marcel laughed, narrowly dodging a grab from behind. “Plus you never carried me”

The horde kept coming, and the two friends didn’t falter. Marcel vaulted over a car hood, decapitating a zombie mid-leap, while Terroriser ripped the jaw clean off another before stomping it into the ground.

“That’s eight!” Marcel yelled, sweat dripping down his face.

“Eleven, twelve” Brian corrected, swinging his pipe like a baseball bat to take out two more.

“I wasn’t counting yours!” Marcel shot back, grinning.

“Oh wow thanks…It's good to know that you consider me so much” Brian responds in a sarcastic tone

meanwhile in the garage, Scotty worked quickly

“This is gonna hurt, but it’ll save your life,” Scotty muttered, turning to Nogla.

Nogla looked at him, his expression stricken. “Just do it man. Do it fast for God’s sake!”

Scotty took the torch and moved to Nogla’s leg, his hands steady as he positioned the flame near the wound. Nogla’s body twitched slightly in response to the heat, his entire body going rigid as the flame touched his flesh. The smell of searing skin filled the air, and the blood flow slowed as the flesh sealed. Nogla screamed through clenched teeth but the sound was drowned out by the chaos of the fight outside.

“We’re almost done!” Scotty shouted, his voice strained. “Just hold them off!”

Marcel and Brian exchanged a glance, a mix of exhaustion and determination in their eyes. They faintly heard Scotty’s words and they turned back to the remaining zombies, their movements growing more savage as the last few zombies staggered toward them.

Marcel’s sword cleaved through three at once, and Terroriser smashed the final two into the pavement. The street fell silent, save for the sound of their heavy breathing.

“That’s fifteen,” Marcel said, leaning on his sword tired. “Wow i’m that good at slaying zombies"

Scotty finished tying off Nogla’s wound and said “Are you guys done playing? I don’t hear anymore zombies”

“For now,” Marcel said, sheathing his sword. He turned to Brian and clapped him on the shoulder. “Good to see you again, man. Really.”

They entered the house again, making sure it was locked as the night falls, they quickly make their way to the garage where they see Scotty and Nogla who was very weak

“He needs to rest, could any of you carefully put him in one of the bedrooms upstairs?”

Marcel raised a hand weakly. “Hard pass. I just killed, like, a hundred zombies.”

“Fifteen” Brian corrected as he leaned against the wall, the metal pipe resting on his shoulder.

“Whatever. Feels like a hundred,” Marcel shot back, waving him off.

Brian sighed, his glowing eye narrowing as he stepped forward. “Fine. I’ve got him. I will take the damsel in distress to her bed”

With almost no effort, Terroriser lifted Nogla like he weighed nothing. Nogla groaned dramatically. “Oi! Go easy on me, ya muppet! I’ve already lost a leg!”

“Quit whining, or I’ll drop you,” Brian replied, his tone deadpan as he went up the creaky stairs. Nogla muttered something unintelligible, but for Nogla that was pretty normal and a good sign that he was ok, but the sound of his voice faded as Brian carried him to the bedroom.

Downstairs, Marcel sat on the ground leaning his back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as Scotty sat at his side, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Man I can’t believe out of all the people we found them” Marcel said, breaking the silence. “We finally found some people of our crew”

Scotty shook his head, chuckling bitterly. “I didn’t even know they were alive. I’m surprised to see them”

Scotty smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “ I mean, Now that makes us four. We’ve got a shot. But…” he looked down “Do you think the others are still out there?”

Marcel kept looking at the ceiling

“I don’t know, It’s hard to say…But this is why I still do the transmissions, If we keep trying to look for them, we can find them, or maybe they can find us”

“Just hope not as zombies” Scotty jokes

Brian’s heavy footsteps then echoed down the stairs, and he appeared in the doorway, his glowing eye scanning the room. 

“He finally fell asleep,” he said, leaning against the wall. “After complaining about everything instead of thanking me that he is alive”

“Good.” Scotty said, standing up. “Because tomorrow, we start figuring out what’s next. If there’s even a chance that some of the crew’s alive, we'll find them.”

“So since when are you a doctor Scotty? What did I miss ever since the Knox event started?” Brian asked

“Oh, I’m not a doctor. a real doctor could’ve done better, I just use this for style ya know” Scotty responds while brushing some dust off his lab coat.

"Could’ve fooled me!" Brian gestured at the old bandages and the pile of bloody rags on the ground "You just saved Nogla’s life like it was no big deal. What’s next? Brain surgery?!"

Marcel Chuckled. "He’s just been reading medicine books nonstop since the TV broke."

Brian blinked. "Wait, what?"

Marcel grinned

"Yeah. Back when the power went out and we lost the TV, Scotty needed something to do. So, while I was building this little radio station he started raiding libraries and bookstores for medical books. I’m talking anatomy, first aid, surgery, you name it."

"Figured someone had to know how to handle this stuff. Can’t exactly call 911 anymore." Scotty chuckled

Brian threw his hands up. "Unbelievable. I’ve been out there dodging zombies and scavenging, and you’ve been sitting here reading?"

"But hey, thanks to Scotty and his newfound doctor skills, Nogla’s not a zombie food. I say that’s a win."

"It’s not like I’m good at this. I’m just doing…what I can."

Marcel stood up "Alright, we saved Nogla. He’s not turning into zombie food anytime soon. But now what?"

Brian furrowed his eyebrow. "What do you mean ‘now what’? We bunker down, keep quiet, and let him heal. right?"

Scotty shook his head "We can’t just sit here. We’re low on medical stuff, and Nogla’s gonna need more than just rest. If we leave his leg as it is, he’s screwed. Infection, immobility... he’ll be a sitting duck."

"Great," Brian muttered, rubbing his face. "So what are you suggesting?"

Marcel leaned forward, his tone unusually serious. "We need to hit a clinic. We find antibiotics, painkillers, and something we can use as a prosthetic for Nogla’s leg. Hell, even crutches would be a step up from him crawling around."

Brian blinked at him. "You want to go to a clinic? Every survivor in the area probably hit it already, and if they didn’t, you can bet the dead did! It’s in the center of Rosewood! there’s a lot of zombies out there"

Scotty shrugged. "Got a better idea?"

Brian opened his mouth to retort, then shut it. He sighed, leaning back against the wall. "No, I don’t. Damn it."

Marcel stood, cracking his knuckles. "Alright, then it’s settled. Tomorrow morning, we gear up and head out. Scotty you stay here and keep an eye on Nogla we’ll be back as soon as possible”

Scotty exhaled, shaking his head. “You’ll have to be careful. Too many open streets, too many blind spots. If the horde’s anywhere near that place, we’ll be in trouble.”

"Don’t worry, Scotty. Brian and I have this under control. Quick in, quick out, just like every bad heist movie."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Except instead of security guards, we’re dealing with zombies. Great plan."

"Same principle, fewer rules," Marcel quipped.

“Alright, just... be careful, okay? The Rosewood Medical Isn't far, it's in that strip mall nearby, but it’s still dangerous. If you see a horde, don’t play hero. Get what you need and get out."

Marcel gave him a mock salute. "Yes, sir, Captain Cautious."

Brian pointed a finger at him. "He’s not wrong, Marcel. Don’t do anything stupid."

"Stupid? Me?" Marcel grinned "I’m the king of smart decisions."

Scotty and Brian exchanged a look, neither of them convinced.

The three of them shared a quiet laugh, their tension easing for a moment. Outside, the occasional groan of a wandering zombie reminded them of the world waiting beyond their barricades.

As the others headed upstairs to sleep, Scotty went back to the garage and sat at the workbench, pouring over the military notes by lantern light. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something important hidden in the documents and books he’d found while scavenging a nearby military outpost. Inside were fragments of data, mentions of a vaccine, well not a cure, but something that could lead to one if he searches more

"If there’s even a chance this could help," he whispered to himself, "it’s worth the sleepless nights."

The quiet of the night was broken only by the faint rustle of papers and the distant groan of a lone zombie wandering the street and for some snoring upstairs.

[thatonesonicfanfictionwriter]

shadow x reader idea

What If reader works for black doom without knowing his connections to shadow and shadow finds out with leads to a fight of misunderstanding

(Btw reader works for black doom to get the chance to kill bad people)

“Betrayal Where it Hurts Most”

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Reader

Requested: Yes (by an anon).

Description: You didn’t want to work for Black Doom. But it was like a symbiotic relationship; you killed bad people, and the Black Arms were fed. But a certain hedgehog wasn’t very happy about that fact.

Notes: Ough, more angst-ish stuff…Guess that means I’m doing a good job each time I write it, though, if you guys keep requesting it! Hope you enjoy!

(Reader will be gender-neutral.)

(Not proof-read/beta-read.)

– – – – – – – – – – – –

This was supposed to be an easy job.

Go in, kill the murderer, get out.

That was your life at this point.

Well…at least in secret.

You didn’t want anyone to find out.

But life was never fair, was it?

As you reach the destination point, the body in hand, you drop it off. Luckily, not a drop of blood is on you, just the way you (and your boss) likes it.

“AH, WELCOME BACK, MORTAL,” your boss, Black Doom, says. “NO ONE FOLLOWED YOU HERE, CORRECT?”

“Correct. I’m the only one here,” you say.

“PERFECT,” he says. “KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. I’LL INFORM YOU WHEN ANOTHER MISSION ARRIVES.”

Black Doom takes the body with one of his hands and he disappears with it.

You let out a sigh.

“You’re doing this to survive, [Name],” you mutter to yourself. “Getting to kill bad people is just a plus.”

You turn around to head home, only to find a familiar black-and-red hedgehog staring at you, a pissed off expression on his face, adorned by a scowl.

“Care to explain, [Name]?” Shadow asks, venom in his voice.

“Look, Shadow, I-” you start.

“Oh, I’d love to hear why you’re working with the one who wants nothing more than to destroy this world and keep me as his mindless servant,” Shadow spats, cutting you off. “You better have a good explanation.”

“Him and I have…an agreement,” you mutter. “I complete missions, specifically killing evil people, for him, and he doesn’t kill me.”

“And how long have you been doing this?” he asks.

“About a year now,” you tell him. “He showed up out of nowhere, nearly killed me, and then decided to spare me, so now I work for him.”

Shadow lets out a sigh.

“I wish you would have told me sooner,” Shadow says. “Look. I’m still upset at you-”

“Rightfully so,” you say.

“Let me finish,” Shadow says. “I’m still upset at you, but I can help you. You won’t have to do his bidding any longer. Not on my watch.”

“Thank you, Shadow,” you mutter. “I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“Yet you’re getting it anyway,” Shadow says.

You were grateful he was in your life.

[stellarfire]

good morning y’all !! now that i’ve had time to sleep on the crossover… oh my god ?? and i mean that in the best way possible. this was everything to me omg

although there were some things i lowkey wish we could’ve seen (i.e., more kelly and voight tension, potential my miracle parallel with stellaride), not getting them honestly didn’t take away at all from how much i loved this? more thoughts below the cut bc i got very rambly (and spoilers i guess ??)

starting with stellaride bc they’re my lovelies, obsessed with literally all their scenes. the intro? perfection. stella telling kelly to be careful without knowing she would be the one in the most danger the whole time? o w. “stella kidd, report back right now”? O W. and the more i think about it, the more i’m almost kinda glad we didn’t get the my miracle parallel? i mean sure, the absolute emotional gut punch would’ve done wonders, but there’s something that feels so much more intrinsically them about refusing to say goodbye to each other (namely stella refusing) and instead maintaining that fierce hope that everything would sort itself out and they’d be back together. on top of that, their little reunion with kelly being like “let’s get out of here tonight” like YES please go on that goddamn vacation now you two deserve to go to cancún something awful. what we did get may not be as heavy of a punch, per se, but at least to me, it hit all the same, and my god was i a lowkey mess hearing kelly’s message to stella being what she told him that morning😭 “we gotta make the time” what if i collapse huh then what

i think this has the potential, judging by the promo as well as this article, to be such a good segue into them finally getting into the real deep conversations and i’m really curious to see how it plays out over the rest of the season. i know some people think there could be a “but…” to this, but even if there is, i don’t think it will be as major of one people might worry it could be. that said, will it be an easy path? definitely not. i know we’re about to get some semblance of drama before the end of the season (and i’m prepared)😭 but all things considered, we’re heading in the overall right direction !!

secondly, plouch. oh my god plouch. i haven’t gotten more emotional watching this show in so long than i did last night watching those two. mouch talking to trudy before she went under for surgery? nobody touch me i’m STILL recovering from that one😭 christian stolte the actor that you are WOW, he put 200% into that and it SHOWS

thank GOD tho she lived holy SHIT i was fucking petrified ripley and lenox were gonna come out and say she didn’t make it omg

just as i predicted too, burzek gave me emotional damage !! ruzek refusing to say goodbye and being insistent he would be home for dinner ?? letting mak pick it ?? the way kim literally BOOKED IT to him at the end and he picked her up ?? i can’t stop watching that it’s so so perfect😭

stella and ruzek was such an incredible duo too, i need more of them asap actually. the way they balanced each other out and relied on each other and just worked so seamlessly as a team by the end of it, despite not being super familiar with each other? SO GOOD

what stella did to duffy when he had her at gunpoint??? first off i’m stunned that happened i wasn’t expecting that shit literally at all and god was i living in fear for a few moments there. but secondly, i’m floored omg, STELLA KIDD THE WOMAN YOU ARE. we all knew how badass she was before this, but that was something else. i think i just fell in love with her all over again but i digress

also one last thing, pascal’s reaction to stella not answering ?? i could go on and on about kelly’s obviously but pascal’s honestly caught me by surprise considering how frequently they’ve butt heads this entire season. the genuine concern ?? OUCH. there’s hope for them yet !! seeing that side of him, even if brief, was a good emotional punch. that mf truly does fascinate me as a character. will be thinking about that entire sequence for a while

i won’t keep yapping; i think all of that about sums up what i can manage cohesively LMAO. was this crossover perfect? no, but you truly can see just how much love and care and effort went into this entire thing from everyone involved. and i think as much as i do love the infection crossover, i gotta say, i think this one takes it as number one for me. i will be watching all three episodes so many more times

one chicago my beloved <3