#i kind of can't do anything else. i just can't.

[ja3yun]

On the Roof || S.JY

stranger!jake x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f.rec), cream pie, fingering, marking and biting, sex with a stranger, weirdly fluffy, petnames (princess, baby), mentions of bad relationships with parents, alcohol, comforting, do not have sex with strangers you meet on a roof, not proofread, anything else lmk! w.c: 9.7k synopsis: when you stumble across a boy on your apartment rooftop, you can't help but invite him to stay. a/n: hi! it's me. this is my first work back and honestly, it's not great but i just needed to get back in the swing of things so please be kind. I missed you guys a lot and the time away was exactly what i needed. thank you all for understanding, and i love you unconditionally!

The winter air tickles your senses as you push open the large, unfairly heavy door to your complex’s rooftop. It might be bitter, but it’s welcomed - your body creating unnecessary heat from both the walk up the three flights of stairs and the discomfort of your day. 

Your shift was hard, too hard. Considering it’s a brand new year, you had stupidly thought that people would be a lot nicer to public service workers, yet you were proven wrong. With countless patients’ loved ones screaming down the phone to you, doctors barking demands at you because they see you as lesser than them, and not to mention the one man who decided that spitting in your face was a rational reaction to you politely telling him that he can’t see his grandmother who was in the middle of an operation.

Safe to say, you’ve had better shifts as a hospital receptionist. 

But there was always one place you could count on to take a deep breath and reset. The rooftop. It’s quiet, overlooks the city, and helps you put into perspective that murder is not the answer to your life problems. But sometimes, God, you wish it was…

Gravel crunches beneath your feet as you make your way to the chairs you so perfectly placed underneath the solar-charged fairy lights, which hang half-arsed off the unused 1990 aerials. It’s not really how you would like to decorate the place, if you had it your way, you would have it looking reminiscent of the rooftop from Wish You, the same one you committed to memory as Lee Sang kissed In Soo for the first time. But since you’re not even supposed to have access to this part of the building, you’ll count the pathetic attempt at creating sanctuary as a win. 

The lights guide you to your seat when you see a figure hunched over, one hand holding a beer and the other holding his head. This is not what you were expecting to see. No one comes up here, not past 10pm anyway. There is one neighbour who occupies the premises when he needs a smoke without his wife knowing, but he works the night shift. So this person is new.

“Um,” you begin, clearing your throat ever so softly to alert them of your presence without giving them an acute heart attack. “Hi?”

Their head jolts up from their hand, eyes wide and face shocked. Clearly, they didn’t expect to have company tonight either. 

You focus on the figure in front of you – a boy, no older than yourself – scrutinising his features with a careful eye. As a woman, being vigilant around unfamiliar men has become second nature, an unfortunately ingrained habit of self-preservation you have mastered since before you can remember. So, your mind ticks through the usual checklist: is there a need to run? Are your shoulders getting that deep tingle that crawls up to your jaw? Is your gut making you want to vomit? None of those alarm bells ring. Instead, you’re met with something else entirely - uncertainty, maybe even sympathy.

The boy seems…fine, at least on the surface. No initial gut-wrenching unease claws at your insides. Emboldened by the absence of any red flags, you take another ginger step closer, studying him in detail.

His large, tired brown eyes peer out from behind thick-rimmed glasses, the weight of exhaustion evident. The glasses sit securely on his pretty thick nose. His lips, naturally full and a muted pink, are set in a neutral line, though the light could be softening their actual colour - it’s hard to tell beneath the hood’s shadow. Greasy, near-black hair clings to his forehead, unkempt but thick. 

His outfit doesn’t fare much better to be honest; a mishmash of layers that hints at desperation more than deliberation. Faded grey jeans hang loose and crinkled, clearly worn more than once without a wash. Over a white t-shirt sits a black hoodie, topped off with a jacket far too big for him, the kind of size that suggests it doesn’t belong to him at all. The entire image strikes you in a way that leaves concern pricking all over your chest.

Steeling yourself, you step closer again, your voice soft but firm. “Are you okay?” The question is sincere, meant to come across as a kind gesture - like when you let a cat sniff around your hand before you just go in for the pet. Your eyes meet his, offering as much warmth as you can muster. There’s something about the way he sits, cold and crumpled, that pulls at your humanity.

At first, his expression flickers, betraying something fragile beneath the surface. But it doesn’t last. In an instant, his jaw sets, and his shoulders square in a defensive shift. His cheeks hollow as his tongue presses against them, words unspoken but clearly brewing. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and awkward. 

It’s as if your simple question has poked at a bruise, tender and raw. You’ve touched something buried, and for reasons you can’t yet work out, his reaction irks you. Of all things to take issue with, why this? What on earth had he expected - for you not to ask a very valid question? Perhaps it’s the day you’ve had that’s caused the unnecessary offence on your behalf.

He averts his gaze, the connection between you severed. Instead, he tips back the beer bottle in his hand, his focus shifting to the cityscape below. The quiet glug of liquid slipping down his throat is the only response you get, and it grates against the care you offered.

A flicker of irritation sparks within you. Perhaps it’s the brush-off, or maybe it’s the contradiction in his actions. He’s sitting here in your space, looking like the embodiment of a cry for help, yet recoils at the smallest act of kindness. Still, you don’t back down. Instead, you shift your weight and tilt your head, keeping your tone neutral but unwavering.

“Fine, If you don’t want to talk, that’s sound,” you say, folding your arms against the cold. “But sitting out here, looking like the world’s chewed you up and spat you out…people are going to ask questions like ‘are you okay’ or ‘what’s the matter’. Just saying.” You huff out and follow his gaze to the city. People are having a much better day than you out there, and envy jabs at you.

For a moment, you think he’ll continue ignoring you; his shoulders remain tense, his grip on the bottle firm. But then he sighs, the sound long and weary, like air escaping a deflating balloon, one being pinched and controlled. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, a surprising Australian accent whistling through the wind.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, though the words lack conviction. His eyes remain fixed on the horizon, steadfastly avoiding yours.

“You’re a terrible liar,” you counter, letting a small, dry smile tug at your lips. “And you’re also not allowed up here.”

A tense silence follows, broken only by the chug of a train in the far distance. It’s not exactly comfortable, but neither is it unbearable. You find yourself wondering who he is and what’s brought him to this specific rooftop. 

“You can’t get up here unless you’re a tenant,” you blurt out, trying to get any morsel of information from him. You figure the quicker you find out what he’s doing here, the quicker you can find a solution for him to leave and then have your safe space back to yourself. You might have sympathy for him, clearly having a hard time of life, but so are you - and your comfort outweighs a total stranger who can’t even bother to look your way.

“Okay,” he says bored, sipping his beer again. 

“That’s your invitation to either tell me that you moved in recently, or, your queue to leave because you’re trespassing.” 

“Invitation declined.”

He is so rude, you think to yourself, though you wonder whether you should just call him out for it and at least gain some reaction for him. 

Instead, you park yourself in the seat next to him, huffing as you drop down. “Well I’m not leaving until you do,” you state matter-of-factly, attempting to not let his presence ruin your mood even further. You suppose, if he sits and shuts up, you can at least pretend he isn’t here invading your space.

Though technically, you’re invading his, but you get the idea.

The boy side-eyes you, a small, angry smirk etching onto his cold rosey face. “Yeah? Well, you’re gonna be here for a long fucking time.” He spits his words out, frustration laced within each syllable, though you can tell it’s not directed towards you. The boy is so far in his own head that you begin to realise that any discontentment he might have has less to do with you and your presence, and more to do with the reason he’s hibernating on your rooftop.

So, you sit back, and leave him be. To be honest, you’ve dealt with far worse and crabbier people today, in comparison, this boy is like rainbows and kittens.

Closing your eyes, you let the white noise of the night take over you, infiltrating all your tension and disdain towards the day, and settling you into a comfortable silence. The fairy lights above add a serene atmosphere that you crave after work, the faint lights providing some fake warmth. They were not easy to get up there, but a few falls and tangles later, you realised that all the scrapes and twirls were worth it.

The hooded boy beside you peaks over, finally taking you in as more than an inconvenience. He notices how you breathe in deep, exhaling with a sigh of relief and a cloud of warmth that combats the freezing air. 

It doesn’t take him a minute to realise that you’ve had a bad day too, and a pang of guilt hits him. He’s being unfair to you when you probably just want to relax under the night sky and here he is taking up space. 

He takes up too much space.

Reaching down at his feet, he picks up a bottle of beer from his case, the clinking not even disturbing your quest for serenity. He pokes your thigh with the bottom of the bottle, gaining your attention. When your eyes meet once again, there’s a sorrowful look on his face, the alcohol a form of apology for being an arsehole. It’s an apology you’ll gladly accept. 

“You look like you could use it,” he murmurs, offering a tight smile as he waits for you to take the brown glass bottle.

You wrap your hand around the base and lift it up in thanks. “I could use ten sambucas and a pint of tequila to wash them down,” you snort out a sarcastic chuckle, beginning to unscrew the cap. You need to thank whatever genius decided that bottle openers were too much hassle and gave people a much easier and more practical way to open a bottle of beer. You hope they’re having a good night.

The boy lets out a laugh, short but genuine, raising his own bottle to his lips. “That bad, huh?” he asks, voice muffled slightly by the glass.

“It gets like that,” you shrug, taking a long pull from the bottle, barely savouring the taste, routing around for the effects of calmness that it will bring rather than its pallet. “Comes with working in a hospital.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity momentarily overriding his gloom “Nurse?”

“Receptionist.” You correct him, hissing out as you absorb the alcohol. Beer is not your favourite taste, a Sex on the Beach is much more appealing, but you would down a tank of gasoline if it meant you could get rid of this stress.

He sucks in an empathetic breath, whistling low as he leans back against the seat. “Yeah, you need a gun, not alcohol.”

The comment catches you off guard, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you laugh - really laugh. It bursts out of you, raw and unrestrained, carrying away the weight of the day. Life isn’t inherently awful, but it’s lonely sometimes. Working back shift in the hospital makes it hard to keep friends or any semblance of a social life. The most interaction you get that isn’t disgruntled patients or angry phone calls is on twitter with your online friends, but even then, it’s a rise-and-repeat conversation cycle of ‘for real’ and ‘same’ replies to posts you make about Jang Kyungho when no one is looking. 

Not exactly the deep human connection that people need.

So this, being able to laugh and have a bit of understanding for even a second, is comforting. It almost makes you feel bad for cursing the boy out in your head.

Smiling, you extend a hand to him, “Y/N.”

He hesitates for a fraction of a second before taking it. “Jaeyun,” he replies, offering you a smile in return. It’s faint but sincere, a crack in the armour he’s wearing so tightly.

As he grips your hand in his, you feel the ice-coldness on his skin, a clear indicator that he has been up here for quite some time. Or at least out in the open air. It only makes you more intrigued - and with him being a little slither more open with you, you decide to take the nugget and run with it.

So you talk, and talk, and talk. It feels like forever but it’s actually only two hours. Not a lot is said, but you learn some things about him; hobbies, interests, friends, his favourite TV shows and Films. All surface-level stuff, yet it feels like you’re speaking to an old friend. He learns about you too - the same stuff, with added anecdotes about working in a hospital.

But there is one thing that you are dying to know.

“So,” you begin, twisting your patio chair to face him fully, the legs scraping along the asphalt of the roof. “You can guess I’m here after a bad shift…why are you here?” Your face is expectant, waiting for an answer while you drink your beer.

But Jaeyun’s face is overcome with a flash of rage, partly due to your question, but more the fact that your question made him think about the reason he is here. Though, as quickly as his face shows agitation, it dissipates just as fast. Instead, he opts for an obtuse response. “Just wanted to enjoy the view. That’s all.”

“Couldn’t do that from your own building, no?” you tease lightly, humour softening the prodding tone. But your persistence nudges too close to something real. “Oh... did your girlfriend kick you out?” The words tumble out before you can stop them, too sharp and intrusive.

Unfortunately, it’s a habit of yours to be so nosey that it comes off inconsiderate or produces ill-timed questions. In this instance, it’s both.

His grip tightens on the neck of the bottle. The knuckles whiten, the tension visible. For a moment, he studies the label, reading the same ingredients over and over as if they hold the secret to life's greatest mystery - what happened on that fishing trip in Gavin and Stacey.

“My parents did. Yeah.” His confession is sharp, devoid of emotion

Your stomach drops. “Oh...” It’s all you manage, guilt prickling at the edges of your thoughts. You’re so stupid for poking Y/N! You inwardly scold yourself. Obviously, this issue is so much bigger than you can process. Still, your mouth will continue to flap around. 

“Yep.” He pops the p with bitter precision, his tone teetering on the edge of sarcasm. “Apparently, I need to ‘get my act together.’” He says with accompanying quotation marks from his fingers.

“As in?”

“As in I need to be their perfect little boy and follow in my brother’s footsteps - be a lawyer.” The words fall flat, heavy with resentment.

Nodding along, the pieces form enough for you to make your own solid conclusions. “And I guess you don’t want that?”

“Fuck no.” Jaeyun scoffs out a bitter laugh. “I’m more likely to need a lawyer than be one.”

“Ohhh a bad boy huh?” you wiggle your brows, trying to interject some semblance of humour into the moment while sussing him out, to lighten his load even just a smidge. You can’t begin to imagine what his parents said or did to him once he rejected their concept of a perfect life, and you don’t really want him to dwell on it right now either.

He laughs despite himself, a quiet sound that momentarily lightens his expression. “Maybe.” It’s a noncommittal answer, but he seems content to let you spin your own version of events.

Honestly, he is not bad in any shape or form. But when he says he would need a lawyer rather than being one, he means that that career is so absurd that even a goody too shoes like him is more likely to get in trouble before he stands in a suit.

He just wants to live his life without this great expectation, without people demanding he ‘do better’ when he knows he is doing just fine; he’s in a great University, studying music and production, and has a decent part-time job at the record store, which isn’t loads of money, but enough for him to pay his mum and dad digs and still have a life outside their constraints. He’s doing fine, or so he believes.

But fine isn’t enough for his parents. Their love towards their own son is tied to the weight of their expectations, ones he can’t - or won’t - carry.

“So they just…kicked you out?” you ask carefully, noting the sorrow in his features as he turns the events of the past few months in his head. Sympathy creeps back into your chest, any lingering annoyance dissipating along with the last sips of your beer.

“Yeah,” he confirms, sighing and shrugging. “It’s fine.”

“Are you staying with friends or…” You don’t finish the question because you’re scared of the answer; the dishevelled clothes and hair are enough to semi-confirm.

Jaeyun looks up, his gaze catching the glimmer of the fairy lights, their soft glow reflected in his dark irises. “I was, until a few days ago. You can only couch-hop for so long before people start to feel like you’re intruding.”

He holds no malice towards his friends, no bitterness in his tone, and honestly, his best friend Sunghoon said he could stay for as long as it took him to save up for an apartment of his own. But he doesn’t want to take advantage of his kindness, the boy already doing more for him than most would have. Even Jay, his other friend, offered to loan him the money for the first month's rent on a flat uptown. 

But Jaeyun’s pride wouldn’t allow him to take advantage of their kindness. He would manage on his own, no matter how hard it got.

Seeing the pity in your eyes, he waves his hand to brush off your concern. “It’s fine, I’ve scraped up enough money to get rent now. I just need to find a place,” he smiles softly, appreciative of your sympathy even if he doesn’t want it. “I’ll be fine. I’m going looking tomorrow.”

There’s a sense of relief that his words bring you. Although his predicament isn’t ideal right now, it looks like it could be on the turnaround, and for that, you’re thankful.

“If it’s only for one night, do you want my couch?” The offer spills out before you can stop it, surprising even yourself.

Jaeyun laughs heartedly, eyebrows knitting in disbelief and amusement. “You’re fucking stupid.”

“Huh?!” you exclaim in shock. It’s not really the response you were expecting. A yes? Sure. A no? Absolutely. But an insult to punctuate your act of kindness was a curveball.

Sitting up straight, he places his beer on the ground, an amused smile softening his features. “I’m a random man you’ve known for a couple of hours. I could do anything to you in your own home, and you don’t seem the slightest bit worried about that.”

Okay, maybe he has a massive point. You don’t know him and he could literally attack you at any moment. And considering earlier you had to assess him before approaching, it shows that you do have the common sense not to let him stay with you.

But he poses no threat, none whatsoever. He’s just a boy in a fucked up situation, and your kind heart can’t see him freeze; god knows how many nights he’s been out. He’s already reminiscent of Jack Dawson turning into a block of iced body parts.

“Well, you won’t right?” You throw the question back to him. “I mean, to be honest, I’ve let men in my bed for a lot less than a tiny conversation and a beer.” 

As soon as the words tumble out of your mouth, your cheeks flush to match his cold ones, neck tingling in embarrassment. You’ve just confessed that your standards are abysmally low - you’ve slept with men who didn’t even have the decency to buy you a drink nevermind learn your name.

Jaeyun stifles a laugh, rubbing at his eye. “For your pride, I’ll pretend you didn’t say that.” The smile on his face is so beautiful that you’re caught off guard a little. Now you wish he was one of the men you let roll around on top of you for a compliment and a ride home.

His expression shifts, returning to a more serious note, though the smile lingers. “Seriously, Y/N. Thank you for the offer, but I only have” - he glances at his watch - “six hours before sunrise anyway.”

“Seriously, it’s no trouble-”

“I’m serious too,” he interrupts gently, slouching back into his seat. “You should go in. It’s cold, and after the day you’ve had, you need sleep.”

“I-”

“Y/N.” His tone is firm but not unkind. “I’m fine. Go. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

His refusal stings in a strange way, the rejection of your kindness more personal than it should feel. But you know better than to argue with someone so resolute. It never ends well. So, with a resigned nod, you down the last of your beer and stand.

“Okay,” you reply, setting the empty bottle aside. “I’m in 4A if you change your mind. I can grab some blankets? Pillows?”

Jaeyun places a hand over his heart, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Thank you, Y/N. Truly. But I promise I’ll survive.”

And so, you leave him there, your heart tugging at you to insist, to argue, to make him take shelter in your tiny flat. But your feet keep moving, respecting his wishes.

As you reach the door, you glance back one last time, the words caught in your throat. You just hope he’ll be okay.

_____

The rain lashes, jolting you awake. It’s not the pretty white noise rain that you enjoy, it sounds like hundreds of tiny little pebbles being pelted at your window. Strange. It was forecast as clear skies until at least Tuesday. 

You blink groggily, groaning at the interruption. You can’t have been asleep for more than two hours - if that. Begrudged, you turn your back to the outside, shielding yourself from the rain that cannot attack you. Yet, an unsettling feeling stews in the bottom of your stomach, the kind that makes your heart beat faster and your mouth gain moisture.

It’s not uncommon for you to have random spouts of anxiety, all your life you’ve suffered from it, but this isn’t your typical ‘my brain is going to bring up that one time I peed myself in primary 2 and had to be sent home’ anxiety. This is something more.

Fuck.

Jaeyun.

The thought hits you like a bolt of lightning and your body moves before your mind can catch up. You fling off your pastel pink duvet, slide your feet into your beloved fuzzy slippers, and throw on a housecoat to cover your half-naked form. If you had the right mindset and not half asleep and half in panic, you would have grabbed a rain jacket and some trainers instead.

Thought, without thinking about your own state, the chilly air cuts at your skin as you make your way to the roof. The rain, now mixed with hail, pelts down hard, each sting enhancing your concern. Your eyes roam around near the seated area, one of your hands shielding your eyes from the brutal hailstones, each one nipping your hand in anger. 

"Jaeyun?" you shout, your voice cutting through the storm, only to be drowned out by the constant rain. You get closer to the seats and see nothing. Panic overwhelms you, hot and stifling. "Are you still here?"

As you spin around, your eyes finally land on him. He’s slumped up against the rooftop enclosure which acts as a headboard to an uncomfortable concrete bed. His jacket and hoodie are doing as much to protect him as a candyfloss blanket, each soaked through and clinging to his skin. How can he sleep like this? It makes you wonder if he lied about just how long he had stopped couch-crashing and living out in the open.

Quickly, you drop to your knees beside him, ignoring the puddle that entrenchs your legs, and place your hand on his shoulder as you shake him awake. “Jaeyun?” you bellow, loud enough for him to startle awake and instantly put a guard up.

“Huh?” he mumbles, voice thick with confusion.

“Come on, I’m not leaving you up here,” you inform. This time, it isn’t a question but a demand. You have too much compassion to willingly leave him up here any longer.

Jaeyun’s eyes squint through his water-splattered glasses as he takes in your figure. “Y/N? What the fuck are you doing? You’re soaked,” he states the obvious, yet oblivious to his own state. “Go back inside.”

“Not without you,” you fire back. “Grab your things.”

“But-”

“Either that or I stay up here with you,” you cut him off, voice firm though only kindness shines through.

You can see the conflict in his face, his concern for your drenched state outweighing his stubbornness. He sighs, defeated, and finally nods. “Fine.”

If there is one thing Jaeyun hates to be is a burden, but it seems no matter what happens, he will inconvenience you in some way - might as well choose the drier option.

Standing upright, you extend a hand, offering him some help up, but he refuses. Instead, he grabs the duffle beside him and clumsily gets up, following you down and into your apartment.

As soon as he walks into the warmth, his bones leap with excitement and his shoulders relax in contentment. You flick on the lights which allows him a better view of your personal space. And it is exactly how he imagined it.

Your walls are covered in art and photos of you and your friends, lyric posters from bands he has never even heard of, and a shrine to TO1 in the corner. It’s cosy, lived in, and he feels a massive pang of envy. 

“You can use my shower,” you say while subconsciously tidying up, removing the cups and wine glasses that have piled on the coffee table. “Luckily for you, I like wearing guy’s clothes on my period so I’ll see what I can find to fit you.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’ll just, dry off with a towel or something, No Stress.” He doesn’t like the fuss but he can’t deny he doesn’t feel a little fuzzy as you make space for him. 

Scoffing, you turn around with a perplexed look on your face. “A towel? Jaeyun, you’re soaked to the bone. You need a shower and then you can have a towel, okay?” 

A grateful grin adorns the boy’s face as he takes his shoes off. “Okay. Thank you, Y/N. Seriously.” Jaeyun nods, clutching his damp duffle as he trudges towards the bathroom. 

You point out the way, adding a quick, “Towels are on the rack, and there’s shampoo, soap, and more in there. Just use whatever you need, okay?” 

With another muttered thank you, he waddles to your bathroom, suddenly enthralled with how the night has panned out. It’s been a while since he had a decent shower, and the ones in the Uni’s lockeroom are made more for a quick wash down than a deep cleanse.

As he disappears into the bathroom, you let out a sigh, glancing around your apartment. It isn’t a mess by your standards, but you suddenly feel self-conscious about the clutter. Usually, when people are up, it’s those who are either only making their way to your bedroom or those who do not care and have known you long enough to understand that you like a bit of mess.

A messy home is a home loved.

The sound of running water echoes from the bathroom, and you take the moment to rummage through your wardrobe. You pull out a pair of joggies and an oversized hoodie that has seen you coming every cycle for the past three years. You can’t get much more comfort than these. They’ll be a bit loose on his slim frame, but they’re warm and dry.

Speaking of which, you glance down at your own rain-soaked state, grimacing. The slippers squelch faintly with each step, and the damp housecoat clings unpleasantly to your skin. Without hesitation, you pull out a baggy t-shirt and some old pyjama shorts, slipping into them after quickly drying off your hair with a towel that’s close by. It’s not inherently clean, but it serves its purpose, so that’s good for now.

Satisfied, you place the clothes Jaeyun will borrow on the sofa before heading to the kitchen. The kettle hums to life as the storm outside continues its symphony, the hail getting more dangerous and cutthroat. A hot cup of tea feels like just the thing to chase away the chill, after all, there’s little problems in life that a good cuppa can’t fix.

Just as you reach for the tea bags, the creak of the bathroom door pulls your attention.

Jaeyun steps out, his damp hair falling messily over his forehead, droplets of water glistening on his skin. A towel sits promiscuously low on his hips, and despite yourself, your gaze trails downward. The delicate silver chain around his neck catches the light, the cross pendant resting at eye level with his pretty brown nipples. Your eyes wander further, taking in the faint definition of his toned abs, the subtle dip hinting at a v-line. And his cock is outlined perfectly to give you an idea of his size and width but you can tell it still doesn’t do him justice. 

You realise with a jolt that your mouth is slightly open, and the train of your thoughts is taking a decidedly inappropriate detour. Heat rushes to your cheeks as your mind conjures up scenarios you’d never admit aloud. A pang of guilt follows swiftly - this boy has been through hell, and he’s come to you for solace, not to be gawked at.

“Sorry,” Jaeyun says, breaking the spell. His voice is soft, a mix of embarrassment and strange pride, as he catches your lingering stare. “I’ll get dressed. I just…didn’t know where the clothes were.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and nod toward the sofa, purposefully keeping your gaze above his shoulders. “Yep, just there. Help yourself. I think they’ll fit.”

As he moves to retrieve the clothes, you busy yourself with literally anything else - studying the ceiling, adjusting the kettle, anything to avoid the moment and stop trying to catch glimpses of his cock. 

You don’t hear the rustling of clothes though, instead, you just hear yourself breathing, which piques your interest. Why isn’t he changing?

Subtly, your eyes glance over to him and then you see it, the look on his face as he stares at the clothes. You’ve had that look before too, the one that comes with the mixed feelings of disbelief, shame, sadness, hope, and every other conflicting emotion that arises when you’re down and out.

“Thanks,” he whispers, “For all of this.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, taking a few small steps forward. But Jaeyun shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“No, really,” he insists. “I…I don’t think I’ve met someone as kind as you in a long time.” His voice breaks on the last word, and he quickly looks away, ashamed of the vulnerability slipping through. 

He has his friends, they are kind and generous much like yourself, but being kicked out of his own family has also shown him the darkest parts of humanity, the ones that he doesn’t let others know that he’s experienced. Truthfully, he’s just a scared boy who needs his family. 

The admission punches through your chest, leaving no room for hesitation. You glide over to him as your arms wrap gently around his shoulders. 

If a cuppa can fix most things, a hug can fix them all.

At first, he stiffens, unsure how to respond, but then he relaxes, his head lowering slightly against you.

“It’s okay,” you murmur softly. “You’re going to be okay. Maybe not right now, but soon.”

Jaeyun’s arms tentatively come up to return the embrace, and for a moment, the storm outside fades into irrelevance. His eyes close and for a change, he believes that it will be fine. This moment isn’t going to last forever, once the morning blooms, he’ll be out of your life and trying to get back on his feet, but he’s thankful for the reassurance and hope right now.

Pulling back slightly, his arms still lingering around you. His eyes, uncertain and yearning, flicker between your face and your lips. Then, without a second thought, he leans in and presses his lips to yours - a fleeting, hesitant kiss that seems to catch even him off guard. 

His lips retract from yours as he draws back, his face flushed with embarrassment and horror. “Sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. Why the fuck would he kiss you without consent when you’ve been so kind towards him? He thinks. His hand twitches at his side, as though unsure whether to retreat or reach out again. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Would it make you feel better?” you interrupt gently, your voice soft but steady.

His brows furrow, confusion flickering across his features. “What?”

“Would it make you feel better?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly. There’s no judgment in your tone, no hesitation. “To kiss me?”

“Really, no, it’s okay-”

This time, you close the distance, your lips capturing his before he can finish the sentence. It’s slow, deliberate, a kiss that tells him you’re here for him despite still being strangers. His initial surprise melts into something deeper, something warmer, as he responds cautiously at first, then with more certainty.

It actually is making him feel better, the human connection, it’s nature's balm.

So he follows your lead, his arms tightening around your waist, holding you impossibly close as his hands splay over your back, covering most of the surface. The way his plump lips move against yours is magnetic, sucking and pulling you into his world. You’ve been kissed more times than you can count - shamelessly to say - but his mouth feels a little different; a little less icky than the others and a lot more like they’re meant to be on yours.

With that feeling charging your bloodstream, your hands fly up to his damp hair, craving to have him on each of your senses. You can’t get enough of him, his taste of beer from the numerous bottles he downed on the roof, the touch of his silky locks that are in need of a haircut, his scent of your strawberry milk body wash mixing in with his own musk, how he sounds when he growls into your mouth, showcasing that he’s just as desperate as you are for this. 

You need him…

Swiftly, your hands trail from his head, down his neck, your nails lightly scratching down his collarbones until you reach the veins just above where you were unabashedly looking not 10 minutes ago. 

Jaeyun pushes your ass against the sofa, bucking up into you, hips deliciously working to place your hand on his cock. God, it feels beautiful, even with the fluffy barrier. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he moans deeply into your mouth, passing the need from himself into you. Your hand grips his covered shaft as you palm him teasingly. “Don’t do this if you don’t want to.” 

Honestly, he doesn’t want to say anything that will make this stop, his body pulsing with the desire to have you wrapped around him. But he also believes in consent, and while you both might be horny-induced 22-year-olds, you’re also strangers. 

Shaking your head adamantly, you grip his dick harder, smiling at the whimper it draws from him. “I want this, Jaeyun.”

“I suppose, men have been in your bed for a lot less, right?” he chuckles into your mouth. And while it could come across as an insult to some -  that he’s essentially throwing back your own slut-shaming dialogue from earlier -  you feel no degradation or malice behind his words. You can tell he’s playful, under all the dreary circumstances. He’s a boy who has light and laughter built into his DNA. 

Maybe it’s delusion, maybe it’s a soul connection, or maybe it’s the fact that you need to bounce on his cock within the next five minutes or you’ll perish that’s clouding your judgment. 

Either one, you let it slide.

So, playfully, you slap his chest and break the kiss. “Keep talking and you won’t get the chance to see my bedroom.”

“That’s okay, I can fuck you here,” he replies quick-witted, suddenly hoisting you up on the back of the couch, the wood and material digging into your ass not uncomfortably. 

You laugh and so does he, looking into each other’s eyes, and it all feels so right. 

Bringing your hand up to his face, you push his hair off of his forehead and reveal his eyes - the light from your living room dancing in his pupils, much like how they had been on the rooftop, but this time, there is an abundance of happiness that adds to the shine. 

“You’re so pretty,” you confess, that no-filter brain coming into full effect once again. Granted, a much better consequence of it. 

A faint, rose blush crawls across the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a bashful grin on his mouth. “Thank you. Personally, I think you’re prettier so…”

“Guess we can be pretty together, huh?”

“Pretty good together you mean?” 

Another laugh jumps out of you and you cup both his cheeks, the warmth of them comforting and worth cherishing. You peck his nose. “I should have known a pretty boy like you would be a charmer.”

He shrugs, kissing your nose back, not bothering to rebut. Instead, his hands guide your legs to wrap around him, hands finding your ass, and he lifts you up. You can’t ignore his cock now semi-hard pressing into you as he bounces you into a comfortable position.

Securing yourself, you circle your arms across his shoulders and kiss him once again, letting him lead you down your hallway, anticipation and greed passing through your breaths and tongues. 

“Which one?” he pants out, squeezing your ass as he does so.

“This one on the right,” you point half-arsed, too lost in the moment to give it a full thought. 

Awkwardly due to your wriggling body, Jaeyun opens the door, trying to view a path to which he can reach your bed without falling over your clutter. Shoes and more lay abandoned over your carpet, creating an obstacle, but one he refuses to lose. 

Jaeyun finally reaches your queen-sized bed and gently places you down, his cock pressing into you even more. 

It’s only then that he realises that along the way from your living room to your bedroom, his towel has fallen down, leaving his exposed cock rubbing against the fabric of shorts. “Jesus fucking christ.”

You look at him and see the pleasure on his face, biting his lips as his eyebrows knit together, rubbing against you again. It makes you giggle, you don’t know why, but he just brings it out of you.

The sound from your lips draws his attention back. “What?” he breathes out heavily, cock thumping with need as he humps you again.

“Maybe you should be inside of me while you thrust - kinda how this whole sex thing works,” you playfully jab, biting your lips together to stop from laughing. But he laughs for you, resting his forehead on your chest and shaking his head in amusement.

“Shut up, I’m just excited.”

“I can see that, yeah.”

It’s easy with him, you’re noticing, like you’ve somehow been in a relationship for years and you’ve just come home from a couples date with your married friends, two bottles of red wine consumed, and adoration palpable in the air. You have two dogs, maybe three if you can get your way, and you are the annoying pair that people hate to hang out with because your love for one another never dwindled, not even after all those years.

Maybe you shouldn’t be fantasising about a life with this random man you met on a roof, but that’s where your brain immediately goes each time you banter or giggle with one another.

He’s different.

Jaeyun stands up, letting you see his cock as he pumps it gently, getting it to full mass. The fact that it’s standing at 5 inches already and still growing causes an ache in your stomach. Fuck, it’s going to feel so good inside of you, your walls are already leaking out for it, staining your pyjama shorts. 

His hands grip your shorts and peel them off, hurriedly throwing them on the floor, only adding to the chaos. Your legs instinctively spread and the juices from your excitement gleam in the moonlight, looking like a ripe fruit just ready to be devoured.

And devoured it will be.

Hoisting you down, Jaeyun positions you at the end of the bed until your ass is almost hanging off, kneeling down between your thighs. Not exactly how you thought the turn of events was going, but you are the furthest from mad at it.

“You look so fucking delicious, Y/N.” Jaeyun’s comment makes you feel exposed but not in a bad way, yet, you still want to hide from him. As your legs try to close, he places his large hands on your thighs, shaking his head. “No, princess, the only way you're shutting your legs right now is if you’re clamping my head between them.”

“Jaeyun…” you whine, both at the petname and his breath ghosting over your hardened clit, making it weep again - much to Jaeyun’s delight.

“I know, princess. You need it, huh?” Jaeyun whispers, kissing up your inner thigh and around the area you crave him most. 

The heat in the room is electric, any cold you both felt from the rain now disappeared from your bones and replaced with scorching intensity. Your hips follow the blow of his breath in search of connection but he simply places a chaste kiss on your clit before pulling away, a smirk on his face as he sees you whimper and squeak.

“You make the prettiest noises when you’re desperate, Y/N,” he gloats, though it’s prideful and not arrogant. He means it, and that’s why he keeps teasing you softly, puckering at your folds and giving you just enough to have you humping the air and arching into him.

“I’m never letting you use my shower again,” you laugh in discontentment, your arm flying across your face as you hide in the comfort of your bicep. 

Jaeyun huffs a laugh, echoing your own amusement before he speaks. “I know, I’m being so mean considering you’ve been so kind, huh? You’re just so cute when you’re like this.”

“I’m about to become a bitch if you don’t do something,” you warn lightly, peaking down to look at him under your arm.

“Well, I better get to it then right?”

And with that, his thick tongue stripes up your folds, gathering and savouring your wetness. Your back arches off the bed and pushes just enough onto him that his nose catches your clit. “Fuck!” you bellow. 

The tip of his tongue searches for your nub, and once it hits the spot and your hands fly to his hair, his lips suction around it, almost making out with it. 

He’s not real you think to yourself. You can’t help the jealousy that rises inside of you as your brain works overtime to imagine just how many girls he has had to go down on for him to be this good at eating you out. If there was ever such a thing as a pussy eating contest, you know he would win hands down because he’s already got you chanting his name, punctuated by profanities. 

“Right there, Jaeyun…fuck…” 

His pride swells and he grows more confident, tongue flicking quickly over your button as he drools over your cunt. It’s safe to say that Jaeyun loves pussy. If he could have it morning, noon, and night, and elevensies, he would without hesitation. Especially yours. The taste of your tang and sweetness is enough to put him in a frenzy, long forgetting about his aching cock and focusing solely on drinking you up.  

He humps the air though, as he always does, resembling a dog in heat as he slabbers and grunts into your cunt. He nibbles at your clit and soothes it with his wet muscle, a smile plastered on his face with each movement - your noises urging him on.

He brings his middle and ring finger to your pulsating hole as it clenches around nothing, deciding to give you some more relief. As he plunges in, you scream out in joy, an open-mouthed smile on your face as coherent words get lost in your throat. You clearly don’t get eaten out as often as you deserve, and that just spurs Jaeyun on more to be the best you’ve ever had.

“So wet for me, princess. Taste so fucking good I want to be here for hours.”

And while that sounds nice in theory, you need him inside of you now. His fingers, thick and beautiful, are nice for now, but that 6-inch, throbbing cock is calling your name. So, you pull him away much to your pussy’s weeping plea for him to keep going, his mouth covered in your slick which is perhaps the most beautiful sight you have ever seen -  and you’ve seen the Northern Lights on a crisp autumn morning. 

His fingers never stop though, just curling inside of you slowly, beckoning your climax still. “What’s wrong?” he asks, concern weaving in his tone.

Sitting up on your elbows, you smile and pant, trying to maintain a steady voice while the tip of his fingers presses against your soft spot inside, jaw slacking each time he holds it for a little longer. “I need your cock so back, Jaeyun. I’m so serious.” The words are desperate and real, shamelessly desperate. 

“You sure you don’t want to cum right now? I can do it.” It’s not like he can’t make you cum over and over again anyway. 

Shaking your head, you sit up, hunching over to cup his face. “Please. I really need you to fuck me.”

A primal desire flickers past Jaeyun’s eyes and a quick nod tells you that he needs it too. His cock jumping for joy at the thought of being enveloped in your tight cunt. So, he withdraws his fingers and licks them clean, pulling on a show as his tongue weaves through his digits, wide eyes looking up at you with sheer longing. It stirs something inside of you, something that suddenly makes you want to grow a cock and have him choke on it. 

But you quickly shake those thoughts, pulling him up by his hair and kissing him deeply. His tongue now tastes of you and you are so glad you love sweet juices and decided that for the past three weeks, cranberry spritz has been your favourite. 

Jaeyun makes quick hands of stripping you of your t-shirt, leaving you both naked and clawing at one another. 

“You got condoms?” he asks between kisses, trailing down your neck as his hands grip your hips so tightly that the skin turns white. 

But you don’t want that. You want to feel him. Raw and unfiltered. Is it stupid? Of course, it is. But some would say letting him inside your home never mind inside your body is already wreckless, so, what’s another reckless abandonment on your list tonight?

“No. No condom, please,” you mumble against his hair as you kiss the top of his head, your conditioner filling your senses.

Jaeyun freezes his mouth and darts up, eyes seeking yours to make sure he heard you right. “Huh?”

“No condom. I’m on the pill,” you stroke his cheek tenderly, “Please, Jaeyun. Do this with me just once, yeah?”

For some reason, that ‘just once’ pangs in the boy’s chest and he hates the feeling more than anything. He doesn’t want this to be once, he wants this to be again, and again, and then some more. Jaeyun isn’t one to believe in fate but considering he chose your flat complex rooftop out of all the others in the city, and it decided to pour down - even though it’s been dry for the past two weeks - which led to you coming to get him and practically drag him into your home; he would say that doesn’t happen by chance. 

Although, instead of getting in his head, he agrees, lust overpowering his responsibility to be safe. “I want it too, so fucking badly,” he leans down, rubbing his leaking cock on your slit, mouth moving to your ear. “I can’t wait to cum inside you, fill you up and make you suck me in.”

Does he know where this confidence came from? Perhaps it was the way you whispered into the air his name over and over again how good you felt while he ate your pretty little cunt, or maybe it's the fact that if this is your only time under him, he will damn make sure you’re thinking about him for the rest of your life.

The heels of your feet move with his ass as he gyrates his hips, allowing his cock to snag on your clit and elicit a hiss from both of you. Your lips messily leave open-mouth kisses over any skin that you can reach; his neck, cheek, lips, forehead, all of it, the feeling of his glistening skin on your lips addicting.

“Please, Jaeyun. Fuck me. Right. Now.”

Your pleading snaps him into full throttle, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance, his bell expanding and contracting as he slips inside of you. Your groans of pleasure harmonise in the winter night, both your bodies connecting fully as he bottoms out slowly, balls meeting your ass as he pushes in to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he whispers, burying his face in your neck, and you lock him in there, fisting his hair and bucking your hips for friction. He fills you up so good you wonder why humans are born empty and not with a permanent cock up their pussy. 

You never want him to leave.

“Move, Yunnie, please.” The tone of your voice doesn’t carry much conviction but portrays your desperation for him. The nickname falling off your cock-drunk tongue much to his happiness. If anyone ever calls him Yunnie again, and it overtakes the way you whimper it out, he will commit murder. Only you can call him that, call him whatever you want, call him by his name, ever again.

Obeying your wishes, he begins to pull back his hips and move them painfully slow back into you, feeling each bump of your walls and how they meld perfectly with the veins of his fat cock. 

While he loves savouring the moment of you taking him in, feeling how your hole adapts to his girth and length, creating way just for him. “Faster, Yunnie. God, please.”

“Asking God to help get what you want is crazy considering it’s me you should be begging,” he chuckles, never increasing his pace. 

“Shut up, please,” you whine out, grabbing his ass and trying to physically move him to speed up.  

“You can ask me to shut up but not beg me to move faster?” he tuts, going even slower, “C’mon, princess. Ask me nicely.”

You want to slap him, a dry laugh coming from your throat as you fight between your pride - telling you never to do as a man says - and your need for him to start jackhammering into you. 

Well, you suppose you can let your pride have a night off for a chance.

“Jaeyun, please, move faster. I’m begging you. Fuck me faster and harder.”

Those sweet yet filthy words send Jaeyun into orbit, and he grants your prayers. With his hands pushing down your hips, he begins to thrust with ferocity, the tip of his cock not punching into your cervix. It’s much more delicious than you ever could have imagined, the way he snaps into your cunt with no restraint, your pussy taking a beating in the best way possible. 

This is heaven.

“Yes, Jaeyun! Yes! Don’t fucking stop, please.” 

And stop he does not. In fact, he lifts your legs over his shoulders and folds you in half, the new angle somehow reaching so deep you can feel him poking your stomach. You have never felt this good in your life. A cock has never made your brain turn to mush or made your hands literally peel the skin from your partner’s back before, yet here you are, chanting incoherent words into his ear and clawing up his shoulder blades.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good, princess. Taking my cock so well.” Jaeyun breathes into your neck, nipping at your skin and he marks you right back. His praise makes you smile, kissing all over his face in appreciation for the pleasure he is giving you right now. “Such a good girl, Y/N.”

You could cum that minute, and he feels how you clench around him, sucking him in further, making him tip his head back and move even faster. He wants you to cum together, and with how good your pussy feels, he isn’t far from it.

“You sure you want me to cum inside?” he asks again, trying to gauge whether you could have changed your mind. But you grip his hair and stare into his eyes. 

“If you don’t, I’ll kick you out back into the rain.”

Jaeyun laughs. Hard. Your threat is meaningless because you clearly would never leave him out there again to drown in the winter hail, but it does get your point across. You don’t just want his cum, you need it. And luckily for you, he is happy to oblige. 

So, with your consent, he works on getting you both to the edge, his right hand coming down to your clit and rubbing it in smooth circles, a juxtaposition to his harsh thrusts. And you begin to see stars, constellations, as you arch your back and wriggle under him. The coil in your tummy burns with the insatiable pull. 

“I’m cumming! Yunnie, I’m cumming,” you warn, happiness filtering the air as you buck your hips and match the rhythm of his shaft penetrating you. “Cum with me. Please, baby.”

Baby

His balls tighten at the petname and groans loudly. “Call me that again.”

“Baby, cum inside me,” you repeat within a moan, forcing your eyes open to lock onto his. “Cum with me.”

And just like that, with the final clench of your walls around him, he spurts his white seed inside of you, a primal roar escaping his lips as each rope coats your canal. You cum with him, his name falling from your lips over and over again as you chant out in hymn. 

“Squeeze it, princess. Take it all like you want.” He validates you without ridicule, a grin of glee etching onto his face as his body shakes with the euphoria he feels. You were right, cumming inside of you is much better than a condom.

After a while, both your hearts begin to slow down and his body collapses onto yours. His lips lazily kiss your sweaty skin on the top of your breast, your fingers threading through his now dry hair, the only wetness coming from persperation. Its intimate, despite the newness of the situation, and you can’t help but plaster a smile on your face.

It feels so right.

And you’re not the only one who believes so.

Jaeyun gathers some strength to lean on his arm, cupping your face as he strokes your cheek. “Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want this to be a one-time thing.” His voice is wavering due to exhaustion, but it’s overshadowed by sincerity. 

Placing your hand over his, you titter slightly, the sound making Jaeyun’s stomach knot and cock pulse inside you once again. “You mean having sex or staying in my house and abusing my shower privileges?”

“Both.” He murmurs earnestly, pinching your cheek. “I also want you to abuse my shower…when I get one.” The last part of that sentence falters slightly, his voice dipping as if suddenly comping back into his reality.

But you won’t let him dwell in it. Instead, you reach up to kiss him gently, lips expressing the reassurance you worry your words might not. And it seems to do the trick because, in an instant, he’s kissing you back with passion, taking each swipe of your tongue against his as confirmation that you want to have this again and see where it goes. 

It could lead to nothing but it could lead to everything.

And he needs to find out.

[motorsportbarbie13]

A Package Deal - Part 4

In which the real world threatens to ruin your happiness.

Warnings: angsttttttttt :) fluff at the end tho!! Pairing: Lando x SingleMom!Reader Word Count: 3.6k words

- A Package Deal - A Package Deal - Part 2 - A Package Deal - Part 3 - Master List

yourusername (private) posted:

yourusername life lately ❤️ BFFSarah omg, someone who loves pizza just as much as Stelly Belly??? >>>yourusername they polished off a large pizza between the two of them. It was a sight to see. >>>land-ho WE WERE HUNGRY. >>>yourusername you bet my six year old she couldn't eat 4 pieces of pizza, sir. >>>land-ho AND SHE PUT DOWN FIVE! Proudest moment of my LIFE. >>>yourusername ��

land-ho (private) posted

land-ho party of three? smoooooth_operator it was good to see you two last night! >>>yourusername dinner was delicious, C!! tell R thank you for all the shopping reccos in Barcelona 🤭 >>>landonorris oh god, my wallet already hurts >>>yourusername well now i'm never going to beat the sugar baby allegations. >>>honeybadger y'all are a walking PR nightmare waiting to happen. kelly_pickme i must meet your two favorite girls soon! bring them to Monaco soon! >>>yourusername 😘 did L give M the lion plushie and princess dress for baby and P? can't wait to meet you all soon!! >>>kelly_pickme yes! P hasn't taken it off and the lion is a hit as well. >>>yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

Miami May, 2025

"Okay, anything else you guys want to talk about before we start filming?" Victor, the team's head of communications, asks on Thursday afternoon.

Victor sits in one of the several conference rooms located in McLaren's hospitality suite surrounded by the rest of the communications team as well as Lando and Oscar. The weekend debrief is wrapping up as he asks one last question.

"Actually, kind of." Lando clears his throat, rubbing his palms on his jeans.

The entire team turns to him then and he feels his face go a bit red. He hadn't really planned on making a big deal of this in front of the team but after his meeting with Zak earlier, he thought he should at least let the comms team in on what he was going to do tonight.

"What's up?" Victor prompts, tucking his iPad under his arm.

"Well, it's more of a 'heads up' kind of thing but Zak thought I should let you guys know that I'm planning on going public with my girlfriend tonight."

Out of the corner of his eye, Lando sees Oscar smirk. He can almost hear the 'well it's about time' teasing he's about to get when they wrap up this meeting.

Victor blinks, casting a sideways glance at Melanie, Lando's main press officer for the weekend. He could tell Victor was reluctant to agree but in all honesty, this wasn't his call and Lando was ready to make that known. "What were you planning on doing?"

Melanie pulls out a notepad to take notes, just in case she's asked about the relationship this weekend.

You were also in Miami this weekend for your second race of the season and the subject had come up last night as you were cuddled up in bed after Lando had posted about you and Stella on his private account for the first time. You had been hesitant at first, not wanting to bring the team or Lando any drama during the race weekend but he had been insistent. While you hadn't been together officially for very long, you spent nearly every spare moment together and Stella had become a huge part of Lando's life too. He was tired of being linked to endless Instagram models and having to hide you away from the public.

Lando shrugs. "Nothing big or anything, just a post of my feed with her, some kind of witty caption."

"She's the one who works in the accounting department?" Melanie asks.

Lando can't help but glare at the woman. She's in her mid-30s with mousey brown hair and wire rimmed glasses. Melanie was kind enough but sometimes Lando wondered if she had any of the media training that was forced on him and Oscar with the kinds of questions she asked him.

"No, she's on the product development team, and she's right over there." Lando tips his chin towards the large glass windows that looks out onto the rest of the hospitality suite where you sit at one of the tables typing away at your laptop.

"Isn't she a single mom?"

Again, Lando glares at Melanie as the rest of the team shifts uncomfortably in their seat. Sure, it was their job to handle any press inquiries that came into the office and sometimes there were personal questions that got asked, but that one was toeing the line of appropriate.

"I don't see why that makes any sort of difference." Oscar surprises everyone by speaking up, his tone a bit colder than usual. "I've worked with her a lot lately, she's a lovely person and wicked smart. Lando's a lucky guy."

"Thanks, mate." Lando murmurs before turning back to Victor. "HR is aware of our relationship and, not that it should matter," Lando looks pointedly at Melanie once again, and is pleased to see her look a bit sheepish as if she's just realized how inappropriate her questions had been. "But Zak is also aware that we're together and has given us his blessing too."

That had been an awkward conversation but Lando admired the McLaren CEO too much to leave him in the dark about something that involved his two employees. He'd scoured the McLaren employee handbook (thankfully there was nothing in it against fraternization of employees, so HR hadn't been a problem either) before approaching Zak first to tell him about the relationship. If there was anyone that Zak Brown loved more than Lando, it was you so of course he had been ecstatic at the news and had immediately given the relationship his full support.

Without waiting for further comment from anyone, Lando gets up and strides out the door, furious at how the ending of the meeting had gone. There were far more problematic WAGs in the paddock and you were a McLaren employee after all, shouldn't you expect the same support from the team as he did? He didn't really understand why it was such a big deal that you were a single mom or technically a coworker.

From your spot in the middle of the hospitality suite you can see when Lando walks out of the conference room, hyper aware of the way his shoulders are hitched up towards his ears, something that only happens when he's upset or stressed.

"Momma!" Your attention is drawn back to your phone where Stella sits on FaceTime before her bath for the evening. You'd been distracted by Lando's sudden shift in mood and had stopped listening to her mid-story.

"Sorry, baby. I'm listening. You and Cora had a good playdate today, yeah?"

Stella prattles on, seemingly satisfied with the half-attention you're now paying her again. But your focus is pulled elsewhere for a moment as you watch a girl you know is on the comms team follow Lando out of the conference room and into his drivers room. You couldn't remember her name but knew that she was working with Lando this weekend as his press officer so it didn't impress you as unusual that she was following him. Maybe something had been said in the meeting and she was going to try to calm him down.

"Momma, can I talk to Lando now?" Stella sighs and you grin. You were beginning to think that your daughter loved Lando a bit more than you the way she constantly asked about him and wanted to see him.

"I think he just walked into a meeting, S but how about we do this. Why don't you go take a bath and by the time you're done, Lando should be finished with his meeting and you can talk to him then."

Stella nods, seemingly happy about the arrangement. You say a quick goodbye before packing up your laptop to go check in on Lando. You were essentially done for the day so you had planned on hanging out with a few of the engineers during their meetings this afternoon before going to dinner with Lando later that night. And then you fully planned on spending the rest of the evening underneath your boyfriend.

You can see the door to Lando's driver's room ajar and you can hear raised voices floating out. Hesitating, you pause with your hand on the door handle. The conversation sounded heated and you didn't want to interrupt. You swear you didn't want to eavesdrop but Lando's shouting didn't leave you much choice.

"What the fuck do you mean the team doesn't want a 'Kelly Piquet 2.0 situation?"

Oh. Oh dear.

You had known Lando was going to tell the team of his plan to hard launch you on his socials tonight and by the sounds of it, it hadn't gone well.

"Lando," The woman, you think her name is Melanie or something, tries to sooth him. "All we're saying is maybe you should think of how this could impact her daughter. When Max and Kelly went public, it was a shit show."

"Yeah, because her father is a racist piece of shit." He spits.

"And she was accused of being a predator!" Melanie fires back. "All I'm saying is that maybe right now isn't the best time to launch a potentially controversial girlfriend."

Your blood goes cold. Controversial? There was nothing in your past that you were ashamed about. No racist relatives. No sex tape scandals or even potentially embarassing photos somewhere out on the internet. You had, all things considered, a pretty wholesome reputation. Everyone at McLaren loved you, as far as you were aware. With the apparent exception of Melanie.

"Controversial? Please, elaborate." Lando's voice goes deadly calm, as if he knows exactly what she's going to say but wants her to say it out loud.

"Lando." Melanie sighs and you take a step back, unsure if you want to hear what she has to say. "She's a young, single mom who got knocked up at nineteen years old." Melanie practically laughs, as if Lando is a complete idiot for not understanding. "There's no way she won't be seen as a gold digger or worse! She's going to be eaten alive on socials. I'm only looking out for her daughter's reputation. Don't be so naive, Norris."

Your fists clench up so tightly, the bite of your nails in your palms pulls you out of a near rage. It takes every ounce of control not to go straight into Lando's room and give that bitch a piece of your mind.

On the other side of the door, Lando swears he sees red and has to take a step away. "This is about your workload, isn't it? You don't want to deal with the awkward questions and the drama? Listen very closely to me, Melanie okay? Because I'm not going to repeat myself." The venom in Lando's voice startles you. "The three of us are a package deal now, do you understand? I am madly in love with that woman out there and her little girl? Her little girl is the center of my world too. I don't give a flying fuck if me being with her means more work for you, that's too fucking bad. If you can't handle it, I'm positive Zak will be happy to replace you. She's here to stay, you are replaceable. Understood?"

Hearing Lando say he loves you and Stella has your world tilting underneath your feet. He'd never said that to you before even though you'd been confident for a while now that he did feel that way. And that you felt the same way.

Melanie's reply is so soft, you don't hear it but moments later, the door flies open so fast you're forced to jump back bit. Melanie's flushed face looks horrified when she sees you standing in the hall. She can't hold eye contact with you for longer than a flicker of a moment before she's dashing down the hall.

Lando stands in the doorway looking horrified that you're standing there. "How much of that did you hear?"

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, your anger at Melanie now replaced with sheer embarrassment. Even if she had been the one to voice it, you were certain Melanie wasn't the only one who was thinking the same thing.

"Everything." You whisper as you look away, brushing at a tear that rolls hotly down your face.

"Goddamnit." Lando swears, shoving a hand through his curls. He hadn't even noticed his door was open after Melanie had followed after him. "Baby..." He reaches for you and you let him pull you to him, his steady warmth a comforting feeling as the panic rises in your chest.

"She's right, you know." You whisper into his chest so softly Lando nearly misses it.

Lando pulls back and the look of desperation on his face nearly breaks your heart. "What are you talking about?"

"The hate we're going to get. I'm going to get. She had a point, you have to admit. I'm a young, single mom dating a millionaire? People are going to think all I'm interested in is your money, just like they did with Kelly."

"Who cares what people think? Who cares what they say about us? The people in our lives that really matter know that's not why you're with me. Isn't that all that matters?"

"Until they start in on Stella. Have you seen some of the things they say about P?"

You were pretty confident you could handle any hate that you got but you knew that the moment you saw any hate towards your little girl, you'd be devastated. It had been something you'd been thinking about since Lando had brought up going public last night but you had been able to brush it aside. It hadn't seemed possible, the worry seeming far away and a little over dramatic but now? Now Melanie's words had anxiety twisting in your stomach.

"That's not going to happen." Lando pulls you deeper into his chest and nuzzles into your neck. He can practically feel you pulling away from him and terror shoots through him.

"You don't know that. Even if it doesn't, do you really want to spend the rest of this relationship constantly defending me? Defending us? That's no way to live, Lando. Melanie was right. I'm controversial and maybe we need to rethink this."

Lando's entire world stops spinning, his breath catching in his throat. "Wh...What? No, baby, no. Please don't do this. Don't pull away. Melanie is being hysterical. Nothing like that is going to happen."

If he had to get on his knees and beg you not to leave him, Lando would do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm not doing anything, I just need a minute to think okay?" You step out of his grasp, instantly missing his touch. You can't even look him in the eye, knowing that if you do you'll crumble. But you can't think of Lando or even yourself right now. "I have to consider what's best for Stella, okay?"

"Don't do this." Lando begs.

"I think I'm going to stay in my own room tonight." You whisper, voice straining with emotion as you barely contain the heartache in your tone.

"Is this the end?" Lando chokes out as he shoves his hands deep in his pockets. He's sure you'd step away if he tried to touch you right now and he knew he wouldn't be able to handle that kind of rejection from you. It felt like his entire world was crumbling around him and the only thing that could right this was you.

Tears stream down your face as you struggle for an answer. "No." You tell him after a moment and the relief that floods Lando's face nearly breaks your heart. "I just need some space to think is all, I promise."

"Can we still have dinner tonight?"

"I think it'd be best if I just spend the evening alone." It hurts, saying those words because you rarely get this much alone time with Lando but you need space so badly your skin begins to itch. You're desperate to get some distance from the paddock and the team and even Lando himself, to right yourself back to the proper head space. You had to consider Stella above your own heart.

If it was possible to die from a broken heart, Lando knew he was about to find out. He lets you go though, watching miserably from the spot he's rooted to on his floor as you back away slowly, almost like you're retreating from a dangerous animal or something.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"

All he can do is nod as he watches you walk out the door for what he hopes isn't the last time.

You're just finishing the last bits of your makeup when there's a knock on your door Friday morning. You were a bit surprised because you knew full well that Lando had a key but the fact that he was nervous to use it after what had happened yesterday tugs at something in your chest.

You had been in the shower when he texted you that morning and the string of texts nearly broke your heart. You hadn't wanted to put him through that kind of pain but you had needed to take a moment to think through what had happened with Melanie and the comms team yesterday.

Slipping the robe Lando had gotten you in Japan a few weeks ago, you pad towards the door to open it. You're stopped completely in your tracks when you swing it open and get a glimpse of Lando in the hallway. He looks absolutely ravaged, like he didn't sleep a single second the night before, eyes red rimmed and puffy.

"Lan..." You whisper, tears instantly flooding your eyes. You reach for him, utterly perplexed suddenly as to why you had felt you needed distance from him.

When he folds you into his arms, the damn finally breaks and you sob into him, the entire previous day's emotions coming to a head. The way you finally feel complete when he's got you in his arms is unlike anything you've ever felt and for a brief moment yesterday, you had forgotten that fact.

When he kisses you, cradling your head in his hands, everything else quiets. The doubts, the fear, the anxiety. It all fades into the background with his lips on yours and you sigh into his mouth. For the first time on 24 hours you feel relieved, like you can actually tackle this issue instead of feeling like you're going to drown in your own thoughts.

Lando tugs you over to the bed, pulling you into his lap as he sits against the headboard. You tuck into his body as close as you can, head folded into that space between his neck and shoulder, drinking in the smell of him: fresh from the shower and slightly spicy from his cologne.

For several minutes, you both just sit there. Lando struggles to contain the relief that is flooding his body. He'd been absolutely miserable last night, eventually working himself into a panic attack at the thought of losing you and Stella. There was such a gaping hole in his soul when he thought about the prospect of you walking away, it scared him to death. He had never planned on falling for you, had resisted it for a bit, trying to convince himself that it was too quick to be feeling the way he did. Last night though? Last night had showed him he was further gone than he had ever expected.

"Did you mean what you said to Melanie yesterday?" You mumble into his neck after a few moments.

"Every word." Lando says without a moment of hesitation. "But is there a specific part you want me to confirm?"

You chuckle, pulling away so you can look him in the face. "The part where you said we're a package deal? That you love love us both?"

Lando brings his hands up to face your frame and you can't help but lean into him. "Of course I meant it. I'd do anything for either of you. I thought we'd established that, baby."

You drop your gaze from his then, somewhat knocked off center by the intensity of his gaze. "I'm sorry I got spooked. I'm just so used to doing this all on my own, no one ever wants to stay."

"Do you remember what I told you the first night we spent together in Bahrain?"

You blink, a small smile playing on your lips for the first time that morning. "You said a lot that night."

Lando rolls his eyes and kisses your temple. "It was after you had fallen asleep and I got up to get a drink of water. When I came back to bed, you curled right into me and said you thought I'd left you. You asked me to never leave you and and I told you I'd never leave you. I didn't mean it for just that night though."

Your heart thunders in your chest. You didn't remember that at all but the fact that he had said those words to you all those months ago. He'd been as far gone for you back then as you had.

"I love you more than words can say." He whispers and all you can do is nod back, emotion choking out your ability to speak for a few moments.

Lando reaches under your chin after a beat, lifting your face so he can see you. "Nobody said this was going to be easy but if we do this together, it'll be okay. You've got to trust me on this, baby. The team is fully supportive, I swear to you. Zak, Andrea, Oscar. Everyone that matters is on our side. I know you're scared and you want to protect Stella but you can't give up on our happiness because of some stupid people on the internet that don't matter."

Pain shoots through you, bright and quick as a lightning bolt as realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Something becomes crystal clear in that moment and you find yourself nodding.

"You're right. I know you are. I want Stella to see me choose myself instead of sacrificing my happiness for some stupid what ifs." It isn't until Lando says what he does that you're able to finally put into words what you've slowly been coming to realize over the last few hours. You'd been scared to admit it, scared that choosing yourself in this meant you were putting Stella second but when Lando tells you that you can't give up your own happiness to protect her, everything clicks into place.

"I want her to know that she can do hard things and choose her own path and if i listen to Melanie all I show her is that the bullies win."

"That's my girl." Lando praises, pulling you into another soul shattering kiss. "I love you." He whispers against your lips.

"Lan..." You pull away suddenly, eyes going wide. "The reason I was outside your driver's room yesterday was because Stella demanded to talk to you before bed and then..." You drop the sentence, the memory of yesterday slicing through you once again. "Do we have time to call her now? She was so mad at me last night when I said you were too busy to talk."

"Don't you ever tell my Stelly Belly I'm too busy to talk to her again." He teases before grabbing his phone. "Is she with Sarah today? They had a half day, didn't they. She was all about going to the cinema with Sarah today last time I talked to her."

The smile that settles on your face is nothing short of brilliant. For the first time in nearly 24 hours, you finally feel settled, like everything had righted itself after being so very briefly run off course. "Lets see if she can talk now before the get to the show."

landonorris posted

789,039 likes liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, BFFSarah, and others landonorris did someone say 'hard launch'? user029 oh she's PRETTY PRETTY yourusername <3 >>>user029 ugh, profile's private but SHE HAS A CHILD??? >>>user2992 if this means we're going to get dad lando content the same yaer we get dad max content, the internet may not survive BFFSarah can i like this more than once!?! <3 user0299 OMG WAIT I saw her in the background of tv shots this weekend except she was in a McLaren team kit. LANDO NOT DATING AN INFLUENCER??? >>>user3422 didn't know he had it in him >>>user000 god, i am such a sucker for a workplace romance trope

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[romantic-misty]

about this kind of posts... I finally have to say smth because I'm annoyed both ways:

(sorry OP, I don't wanna offend you - I wanna offend some sort of ppl)

you shouldn't tell people your (actually human's) basic needs, if you need to beg for bare minimum it's not your fault they don't show effort nor even ask anything because it doesn't cross their mind to do simplest things somehow, they're just egoistic non caring assholes and you repeating yourself won't help much

some ppl can't truly guess some stuff which means they also can not question you on the matter they have no idea about so sure! speak your mind - tell 'em what you like and hopefully they will understand and remember - nobody is a telepath and you should inform others about your thoughts from time to time instead of forcing them to always jump around you or else "they don't give a fuck about you" or smth as it's probably untrue

just because EVERYONE doesn't mean you also have to be like this - if someone is manipulating/forcing you to do things you don't wanna because it's "normal" - believe me, it's not and even if - you have a right to be "weird" so different

not everyone has to say YES forever to something, people have moods and change their mind, remember to explain or at least tell someone you aren't in the mood or changed your mind but also don't forget asking each other if someone is into smth at the current moment unless otherwise specified like "you always can hug me unless I tell you to stop" and such, mistakes and accidental crossing boundaries happen but most important thing are good intention and a lot of discussing, don't break someone's trust constantly proving it wasn't a one time thing

if you weren't assertive enough and someone took advantage of you - don't blame yourself for not saying NO (especially if they were constantly making you feel unsafe to actually stop them or brainwashed you into thinking you want this etc.) - they should check if you're fine with smth and not use the fact you froze and was unsure or didn't have time to set certain boundaries, topis should also continue after certain actions and you can go back to it anytime! no matter what others say - it's never too much for the right person <3

you doing something you hate or what even traumatises you to meet someone's needs because it's compromise... no, it's not - if you're not enough for someone doesn't mean smth is wrong with you - it's probably not a match and that is ok! you will be loved elsewhere by being yourself, if someone cares more about their needs than hurting you with them then they're not a good person (yes, it's mostly about sexual needs) - and no, cheating isn't a proof you didn't give them enough, they can always leave but they're cowards and want to have both :)

if you sh or have depression - don't assume no one gives a shit about you just because they don't question you when you say "I'm fine" - harsh truth - even tho I totally understand why you say that phrase still nobody has to do anything besides accepting it - they might feel like you don't wanna talk about it as it's either personal or you don't trust them enough and maybe just prefer to take your mind out of this as topic is triggering so they won't risk making you feel even worse, say the truth or tell them why you don't wanna talk about certain things because lying to people might make them truly believe you, they have their own issues too they can be occupied with, they can be simply tired and even feel hurt that you don't want to open up to them or show their respect in this way and let you have space - you don't know what's in their mind so if you assume smth about them then think how they feel when you decide to hide the truth from them - as I said, you still have reasons and maybe right to but it doesn't make them immediately evil for not doing more/what you want without you actually TELLING them, I know it's hard and scary and some don't even deserve to know but there are those who truly love you and will understand and will help/support you - you're not a burden! I am aware you don't wanna worry anyone but you can as it's part of being a friend/partner/family and if someone acts like an ass towards you by calling you an attention seeker - they are the problem, not you

silent treatment is manipulation and if you try to show you being offended by that instead of trying to talk things through first you are not good, sorry not sorry

balance is everything but ppl don't wanna meet half way EVER so...

your needs motherfucker do you speak them

[kirammanswifey]

helloo!! can you please write about ‘arcane characters when you get in an argument’? i absolutely love ur writing btw!! 🫶🏻

arguments with arcane characters x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i love when you guys request this kind of interesting dynamics, it's so fun to write about it! also my favorite this time was sevika's, I meannn it was kinda hot and spicy. requests are open ;)

Viktor

The sound of the keys under his hands seems to fill the air, but what resonates most is the silence between the two of you. The room is steeped in an unsettling calm, while he keeps working as if nothing else exists. It’s been days since he last rested, and you know it. His skin is paler than usual, his eyes glassy, as if all the world's exhaustion is about to devour him. The scent of machine oil and metal permeates the room, but what hurts you most is the fragility of his being, the one he insists on ignoring.

Slowly, frustration begins to simmer within you. You love him more than anything in the world, but watching him so neglected, so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even stop to eat, burns you.

You approach him, and suddenly, you can't take it anymore. Your tone isn't raised, but the fury is felt in every word. "Viktor, stop," you murmur, almost pleading. "You’re killing yourself. You haven’t eaten in days, not even slept. Do you know what you're doing? You're letting yourself go. Your body is crying out for help, and you're ignoring it."

He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t react. He keeps working as if your words don't reach him. Frustrated, you step closer. "You can't keep going like this, Viktor! What are you expecting? For someone to come and save you from yourself? This isn't just about your work, it’s about you!"

Finally, he looks up, but his eyes don’t seem to truly see you. Only a shadow of exhaustion. "I do it for them... for the people. The work... my research, it’s all that matters now."

"And you? Don’t you matter?" The anger mixes with something much deeper. Something that has to do with fear. "Your lack of self-love is so evident, Viktor, even I can see it. You're losing yourself in this obsession."

The words come out harsher than you intended. But seeing the flash of pain in his eyes, you realize what you've just said. A lump forms in your throat.

You fall silent, feeling the air grow thick. Guilt quickly invades you, and before you can think, you kneel in front of him. "Forgive me," you whisper, the anger already dissipated, replaced by sincere pain. "I didn't mean to be so harsh. It’s just... I don't want to see you like this, so lost. I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you are what I love most, Viktor."

Your hands tremble as you take his face in yours. "Please, take care of yourself. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to see you like this anymore, fighting alone against everything. Because, to me, you are everything."

Viktor says nothing at first. He just watches you, the conflict in his gaze. Then, as if releasing a sigh he had been holding for too long, he responds softly, "I’ll try... I promise I’ll try."

You look at him with a mix of relief and sadness. Finally, you stand up and take his hand firmly. "Now come with me. I’m going to make your favorite dinner. You need it."

The change in his expression is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. Something in his face softens, and for the first time in a long while, he gives you a faint smile. "You know, that sounds wonderful," he says with a tone that mixes surprise and gratitude.

As you prepare dinner, the atmosphere changes. The tension slowly dissolves, but there’s something else in the air, a silent understanding between you two. After dinner, you look at him with a mischievous smile.

"Viktor," you say, your voice full of complicity. "How many days have you gone without bathing? Because, honestly, I think it’s time you do."

He visibly shifts in discomfort, his face taking on a pink hue. "Honestly... I don’t know," he replies, as if trying to evade the question, looking down. "The truth is, I haven’t had time to think about those things."

Your laugh is soft but teasing. "I think you’ve forgotten a bit about yourself. So, what do you think if after dinner, we take a bath together?"

Viktor blushes even more, but before he can say anything, he has already conceded, and with an exaggerated formality only he can pull off, he responds, "Well... that... that would be very pleasant. If you don’t mind, of course."

The tension from before has transformed into something softer, lighter. You, amused by his so formal response, take his hand and lead him to the bathroom, feeling that, in that moment, all that really matters is that he’s finally willing to take care of himself.

Jinx

The sound of the spark igniting the fuse fills the room. Jinx has a playful smile on her face, but something isn't right. The bomb is making strange noises, as if it's about to fail. The sparkle in her eyes fades for a second, but it's accompanied by a nervous chuckle.

"What's wrong, Jinx?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. The moment feels out of place, and for a moment, you sense that something is very wrong, very out of control. "That... doesn't sound right."

But she just stands there, watching the bomb intently. She doesn't move. The air grows heavy, and suddenly, the bomb makes a terrifying click.

Your eyes widen as you see the timer on the bomb speeding up. A chill grips you, and in an instant, you act on instinct. You leap toward the table, your breath quickening, and deactivate the bomb just before it fully triggers. The explosion is seconds away from ringing in your ears, but you manage to stop it.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you quickly turn to face Jinx. She’s still there, motionless, her eyes fixed on the deactivated bomb, as if hypnotized. She doesn't look scared or relieved, just... empty.

"Why didn't you do anything?" you confront her, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and disbelief. "Why did you just stand there? You could have died, Jinx! We could have both died!"

Jinx stares at the floor, her demeanor shifting in a second. The mockery dissolves, the mask falls, and in its place appears the scared girl she so often hides. "I... just wanted to see what would happen." Her response is soft, trembling, as if she doesn't know how to process what just happened.

Those few seconds of silence feel eternal. The air around you grows heavy, as if the whole world is waiting for something else to explode. And it does. You can't take it anymore. Fury takes over, and you lash out at her.

"What did you want to see, Jinx?" Your voice is harsh, filled with frustration. "Did you want to see us both die because of your stupid curiosity? Is that what you wanted?"

Jinx shrinks, her expression transforming into something so fragile it burns your heart. Her face is filled with regret, but her eyes can't meet yours. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she keeps staring at the floor, feeling small and scolded.

"I didn't mean to... I swear..." she murmurs, almost in a whisper, her words choked by the pain of having gone too far.

Your rage starts to dissipate, replaced by something deeper. An irrational fear, the anguish of watching Jinx destroy herself. You walk toward her, kneel to her level, and gently take her chin, lifting it so she looks at you.

What you see stops you cold. Jinx's nails are deeply embedded in her palms, red marks that have hurt her, as if she wants to punish herself for something. You stare at her intently, the pain reflected in her eyes and her gesture.

Quickly, you take her hands, without saying a word, and kiss them softly, your lips touching the small wounds on her skin. The blood from her hands stains your lips, but you don't care. "You know I hate seeing you destroy yourself," you murmur, your voice broken by the fear you still feel. "Please, Sweets, don't do this to yourself. Don't do this to us."

You stay still, waiting for her reaction. Finally, the door that had closed in her heart opens, and Jinx lets out a deep sob. Tears fall down her face, like an unexpected rain, and her body trembles.

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." Jinx sobs, clutching you tightly. There are no more laughs, no more jokes. Just pure pain. And you hold her with equal intensity, rocking her in your arms, trying to soothe her, to erase the suffering she always carries inside.

"Pain isn't the solution," you whisper, stroking her braided hair, trying to convey all the love you feel for her. "I'll always be here for you, Sweets. You don't have to carry all this alone."

She remains silent for a moment, her sobs calming, but her embrace is still desperate. Finally, after a few seconds, her eyes lift, and with a small smile, she says:

"So... want to make bombs, but in a fun way? With less blood this time!"

The laughter that follows fills the room, and even though you know the battle isn't won, this small step in her recovery gives you renewed hope. Taking her hand, you lead her back to the table with the tools, ready for another night filled with madness... but this time, with a little more care.

Vi

The air in the Undercity feels heavy tonight, a cold that seems to seep into your bones. The sound of metal echoing through the structures, the distant murmurs of shouts and laughter, mix with the echo of your footsteps on the iron bridge that crosses the dark, grimy avenue. You walk in silence, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Suddenly, a drunk, staggering with a vacant stare, approaches you. The stench of alcohol wafts from his breath, and his eyes settle on you in a not-so-friendly way. His rough, hollow laughter resonates in the air, as if nothing he was about to do mattered.

Before you can react, his hands touch your backside without warning, sending a wave of revulsion through you and a shiver down your spine.

A choked scream escapes you, but before you can push him away, you feel Vi’s furious gaze, like a storm about to break loose. The anger on her face is palpable, and not a second later, the drunk is on the ground, receiving blows that thunder like hammers. His face is soon covered in blood, and the sound of fists pounding against his body leaves a disturbing feeling in the air.

Vi doesn’t stop; each punch is more brutal than the last. People in the distance quickly disperse, leaving only the echo of the hits. Your heart races, worry consumes you as you watch Vi unleash her uncontrollable fury.

"Vi, stop!" You lunge toward her, but in the process, one of her fury-fueled punches lands directly on your lip. The immediate pain stuns you, and when you touch your face, your hand is filled with blood. The split lip burns. Vi stops abruptly, looking at her bloodstained knuckles—her own, the drunk’s, and now yours.

She stands frozen, her face, once filled with rage, now shows a look of horror. “Oh, God…” she murmurs, seeing what she has done.

You tremble, not just from the pain in your lip but from the brutality of her actions. You’re not used to violence, not on this magnitude. Fear knots in your chest, and you let out a shaky sigh as you watch Vi, her face now wrecked with guilt.

"I didn’t mean to!" Her voice is broken, as if the guilt is overwhelming her.

“Let’s go home,” you respond coldly, more out of fear than anger, "and when we get there, we’ll talk."

The walk home is silent, the tension hanging between you like a taut string about to snap. When you arrive, you enter the kitchen and quickly tend to your lip, while Vi watches silently, unable to articulate a word.

Once you finish, you turn to her. The air is thick with the weight of what’s unsaid. “Vi…” you begin, your voice soft but firm. “You need to learn to control your anger. This time, you just didn’t hurt someone else. This time, it was me too. Me, the person you love the most. Do you realize that? Do you realize how I felt when your blows landed on me?”

Her eyes fill with tears, and her throat tightens as if she wants to say something, but the words are stuck in her chest. “I’m so sorry… I’m so, so sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

You continue, your words coming out with more pain than you expected. “Sometimes… I’m afraid of you, Vi. Not because of what you might do to others, but because of what you might do to me. I don’t want to live in fear of your rage hurting me. It hurts so much. It hurt so much.”

Vi collapses in front of you, breaking down. Her tears fall one after another, and she throws herself into your arms, holding you in a desperate embrace. “I don’t know why I’m like this… I don’t know how… how to control it. I always have this rage inside, and sometimes I don’t know how to stop it. When it explodes, everything goes to hell, I know…” Her voice cracks as she clings to you. "I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you."

The softness in her tone hits you harder than any punch, and in that moment, you know she understands. "Vi, I… I don’t want you to hurt anymore," you murmur, caressing her back. "I don’t want that rage to control you."

She pulls back slightly, looking into your eyes, her face soaked in tears. “I’m so sorry. I swear it wasn’t my intention… but sometimes…” her words trail off in a sigh.

A small, sad smile forms on your face. “Have you thought about boxing? Maybe it’ll help you release all that. And I’ll go with you! But promise me you won’t use me as a punching bag, okay?" you joke with a smile, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi finally laughs, a laugh that feels like relief. “I promise. Just, please, don’t leave me, okay?”

You approach her, tenderly kissing her, careful to avoid the wound on your lip, and you feel the softness of her lips, the calm that finally settles between you. “I would never leave you, babe,” you whisper as you both embrace, knowing that, even though everything is complicated and painful, there is something between you that always keeps you together.

Caitlyn

The door bursts open, and Caitlyn enters the room with a face marked by a fury that seems to burn inside her. Your eyes lift from where you're sitting, a little surprised by her abrupt entrance, but you quickly see what has been happening.

"I can't believe what I had to hear today," Caitlyn throws out, her voice cold and cutting as she drops her jacket on a chair. "All because of your... damn ideas of justice. Do you have any idea what that means in this place?"

You stand up slowly, the tone of her voice making the air grow denser, heavier. "What happened, Cait?" you ask, though part of you already knows it has something to do with her ideals.

"It's not just what happened, it's what's happening. All the damn time," she responds, walking toward you with contained rage. "You go on and on about doing what's right, without understanding that ‘right’ isn’t always what people in high places think. You think you can change something, but all you're doing is making it worse."

Your heart races, and a spark of frustration rises in your chest. "Make it worse?" you repeat, feeling indignation begin to spill out of you. "Is that what you think? That my actions aren't worth it? You're so blinded by your perfect view of the world that you can't see what's really going on in the streets! Evil isn't just in the ‘high society,’ Caitlyn. It's everywhere."

Caitlyn looks at you with an intensity that almost seems defiant, but also wounded. "I'm not blind, the problem is that I can't understand why you keep going against the whole system. Every time you do, you just feed more chaos. You have to think about the consequences, about the people who can't afford those ideals you're defending like you're some fairy-tale hero. Not everyone can afford that luxury."

"A luxury?" Your voice rises slightly, now stronger. "What you call 'luxury' should be a right. Do you really not understand that people are suffering? That your 'system' is letting all of this crumble just to maintain power? I can't just stand by because you think it's fine because it looks neat from your tower."

Caitlyn steps back, as if your words hit some deep place inside her. "Not everything is as simple as ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ Sometimes things aren’t black or white. Sometimes you have to make concessions to move forward. What you’re doing is just putting yourself in the center, without understanding that there’s more at stake."

The words hang in the air between you two, and the intensity of the argument seems to rise with every exchange. Caitlyn is so convinced of her point of view that you can't help but feel frustrated by the barrier between you.

"What I understand, Caitlyn," you finally say, with a tense calm, "is that sometimes you do more harm by trying to follow the rules than by breaking them. And I know your intentions are good, but I can't stay silent watching you justify the unjustifiable."

Caitlyn closes her eyes for a moment, as if taking a breath to calm herself. When she opens them again, something has changed. It’s not that her anger has disappeared, but she seems more exhausted, as if all this is wearing her down. "I’m not asking you to agree with me. I'm just asking you to understand that sometimes, even if it hurts, decisions aren’t as easy as you see them."

There's a long silence between you, the air thick with discomfort and tension. You both know you're not going to come to an agreement this time, but you also know that won't change what lies between you.

Finally, Caitlyn sighs and sits on the edge of the table, letting the exhaustion take over her. "Sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right, no matter what I try," she murmurs, more to herself than to you. "And you... you make me see everything that's wrong with me."

You move a little closer, calmer but still hurt. "Cait, that's not what I want. What I want is for you to realize you don’t have to carry all of this on your own. You don’t have to keep walking down this path if it doesn't make you happy. I’m here for you, even when we don’t agree."

Caitlyn looks at you, her eyes reflecting some vulnerability, something she doesn't usually show. "I know. I just… I’m scared that I could lose everything I’ve built because... because I don't know when to stop."

You sit next to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You’re not going to lose it, Cait. No matter how much we fight, what matters is that we’re in this together. But you also have to learn to take care of yourself, not just the world."

Caitlyn nods slowly, and for the first time in a long while, a small smile appears on her face, though it’s sad. "I guess sometimes I forget that."

The tension begins to dissipate, although the brush of differences is still there. Deep down, you both know that these kinds of discussions won’t end anytime soon, but you also know that you're both moving forward for something bigger than the disagreement.

Jayce

There was something heavy in the air that night. An uncomfortable silence that hadn't been able to break for the past few days. Despite being in the same house, in the same room, you felt farther away from Jayce than ever. It wasn't just the lack of physical contact, it wasn't just the absence of the small gestures that usually made everything work between you. It was something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without him realizing it.

Finally, you couldn’t hold it any longer. You sat on the bed, staring into the emptiness in front of you, and when he walked in, that feeling of discouragement completely overwhelmed you. Without looking at him, you started.

“Jayce, I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said, your voice quiet but firm. “It’s been days since… since we’ve had anything. And I’m not just talking about sex, I’m talking about everything. I don’t even feel like you desire me anymore.”

Jayce, who had been in his own world as usual, looked up at you, confused by your words. “What are you saying, honey?” Surprise was evident in his voice, but it wasn’t enough to calm the torrent that had been unleashed inside you.

“You don’t get it, do you?” You stood up from the bed, walking towards him, words pouring out like a torrent. “Every day, I feel like I’m just here, fitting into your perfect life. Everything we do, everything we plan, it feels like you’re doing it because you have to. What about what I want, Jayce? What about us?”

Jayce took a step towards you, opening his arms as if he wanted to get closer, but something in your gaze made him stop. “No… I don’t understand. What do you mean by fitting into my perfect life?”

Your breathing quickened. “What I mean is that sometimes, I feel like I’m just an accessory, another piece in the puzzle you’ve been putting together. Like what matters most to you is making everything look right, fitting, but not us. I don’t feel desired, Jayce. I feel empty, like I don’t matter, like I’m just here because I fit into your life, not because you actually want to be with me.”

The pain in your voice was palpable, and although Jayce tried to step closer, you moved away from him. “I’m so tired of feeling like we’re nothing more than two people sharing a space. There’s no passion, no connection… Just the idea of what’s expected of us.”

Jayce looked completely lost, like he never imagined you felt this way. “I can’t believe you’re saying this. You know how important you are to me. But I… I’ve been so focused on work, on everything we need to achieve, that…”

“That what?” you interrupted, unable to keep bearing what felt like a pile of excuses. “That you’re too busy to see what’s right in front of you? I have my own problems too, Jayce. Not everything revolves around your projects, your perfect image. I’m a person too, and my feelings matter too.”

The words hung in the air, between rage and pain. Jayce didn’t say anything, and that only increased the feeling of abandonment you were experiencing. Frustration and sadness took over you more and more. Finally, the silence was broken, but not in the way you expected.

“Honey…” Jayce started, his voice softer now, but still full of confusion. “I didn’t want to make you feel this way. I didn’t realize I was leaving you out. I didn’t want you to feel… unwanted.”

Your eyes filled with tears, the emotional pressure of being unheard for so long finally bursting. “I don’t want to be just another option in your life. I want to be loved, I want to feel desired, I want you to look at me like you’re afraid of losing me. And I don’t feel that from you. I feel like everything we do is a routine, just fulfilling what’s supposed to be.”

Jayce slowly approached, now understanding the gravity of your words. “I… I don’t know how I didn’t see all this. I’m sorry, honey. I really am. I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been so focused on everything else that… I’ve failed you.”

A heavy silence fell between you. You didn’t know what to think, just felt a knot in your stomach, but when Jayce took a step towards you, taking your hands, you couldn’t help but look him in the eyes, searching for some sign that he truly understood how you felt.

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, his tone full of sincerity. “I promise I’ll change, I won’t take you for granted. You’re the most important thing to me, and if I made you feel like you weren’t, it hurts me deeply.”

You looked at him intently, seeing in his eyes the truth of his regret. “I know… but I need you to act instead of just saying it.”

Jayce nodded, a glimpse of a smile appearing on his face as his hands caressed yours. “I will. From now on, you and I… we’re a priority.”

Your heart lightened hearing those words, and when he hugged you, you held him tightly, knowing that the road to healing that disconnection wouldn’t be easy, but at least, finally, there was a beginning. And that promise to rebuild what had been lost was all you needed to start healing.

Ekko

That afternoon, it felt like the tension between you and Ekko was thicker than ever. You had been working together on a project, and the small jokes and dismissive attitudes from Ekko, which you usually let slide, began to affect you more than you expected.

"Wow, did you really think that was a good idea?" Ekko said, his biting tone making the sarcasm leave a bitter taste in his mouth.

Your breath became heavier, and although you tried to ignore it, something inside you snapped. You looked at him, furious, and without thinking twice, dropped the tool you had in your hands. "You know what? I'm leaving."

Ekko looked at you, somewhat surprised by your reaction, but before you could walk away any further, he let out a light laugh, as if nothing was happening. "What's up, got your period or something?"

That was the breaking point.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a lump form in your throat. You turned to him with eyes shining with frustration. "You know what, Ekko? It's because of you. Because sometimes you don't seem to think about what you say, and you don't care how I feel."

Ekko furrowed his brow, trying to understand what you were saying, but before he could speak, you continued venting.

"You make me feel like my problems don't matter, like everything I do isn't up to your standards. Always so... so carefree, like you never have to think about how your words affect me. Have you ever thought about that?" Rage and pain built up in your voice as you spoke, but the words kept pouring out like an avalanche.

And then, without warning, what you hadn’t been able to say before came flooding out. "You know what's the worst? That I feel insecure, Ekko. I feel like I'm not good enough for you, like I'm not smart enough, not attractive enough... Because you never show jealousy, you never show anything. Like you never care. And that makes me doubt myself."

Ekko went silent, looking at your face in surprise, an expression that showed he finally understood what you had just said. The mockery from his previous joke faded, and his face shifted from confusion to deep seriousness.

"I... I didn't know you felt that way," he said finally, his words soft and filled with guilt. "I never meant to make you feel that way. I'm sorry, really. I'm not good at showing what I feel, I've never been."

He slowly approached you, not trying to interrupt the flow of your emotions. "You know, I grew up in a world where showing emotions was seen as weakness. Life never gave me time to process them. Since I was a kid, I was always at war, always on the move, always worried about surviving. But I never wanted that to affect you."

Your eyes softened a little as you listened to his words, and for a moment, the weight of frustration lifted slightly. "I... I didn't want you to think I cared less. It's just that sometimes, I get so caught up in my own stuff that I forget that the people close to me also have feelings. And I don't want you to feel belittled, I don't want you to feel like you're not enough."

There was a tense silence between you both, but something in his tone softened the atmosphere. "I'm sorry, really. It was never my intention to hurt you. You're incredible just as you are, and you make me feel like I can be more, like I can improve."

For a moment, everything seemed to calm down, but Ekko, with a mischievous smile, added, "And if it helps, yeah, I do worry a little when others look at you. But I'm not so good at showing jealousy."

You couldn't help but smile a little, even though you still felt the open wounds. Ekko, seeing this, moved a bit closer and gave you a gentle hug, as if it were a small gesture of comfort you so needed.

"I really care about you. I don't want you to feel insecure. I don't care if you're smarter or not, because what really matters to me is that you're you."

And before you could respond, Ekko joked with his usual playful attitude. "Although, if I ever catch you with someone else, you'd better be ready, because I’m not going to sit still."

You laughed despite everything, feeling the tension slowly disappearing, as if everything you had kept inside had finally found a way out.

"I love you too," you replied, as you hugged him again, knowing that, although the path wouldn’t always be easy, at least you both understood each other a little more.

Silco

Silco's office was shrouded in shadows, barely illuminated by the dim glow of a lamp on his desk. The phone conversation he was having was filled with frustration. "No, that won't work. We need something more decisive, something more substantial," he growled before hanging up with a sharp click that echoed through the wood.

From your position at the door, you could hear every word, feeling the tension in the air. You couldn’t help but intervene. "Maybe you could try..." you began, suggesting a plan you had come up with after hearing his problem.

Silco looked up at you, his cold, calculating eyes locking onto yours. "Shut up. You don't know anything about this," he snapped with disdain, his words cutting through you like a knife.

The coldness in his voice felt like a blow to the chest. Without saying another word, you turned around and stormed out of the office, slamming the door with a force that resonated down the hallway. Frustration burned in your chest as you climbed the stairs to your room.

Surprised by your reaction, Silco followed. Reaching the closed door, he knocked forcefully. "Open the door immediately!" he shouted, his tone a mix of anger and confusion.

"I won't! Go away!" you replied from inside, your voice trembling with both rage and pain. A sound from inside made his heart race. Fearing the worst, he broke down the door without thinking twice.

Inside, he found you packing your things with trembling hands. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his eyes fixed on you, trying to understand the magnitude of your decision.

"I'm done, Silco. Done with you not seeing me as someone capable of helping you, done with you constantly underestimating me," you declared, your voice trembling but resolute. "I’m a human being, just like you, and I can handle matters and plans. I’m not just a decoration in your world."

Silco scoffed, crossing his arms in impatience. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you want me to buy you something? You look hysterical."

That was the breaking point. You turned to face him, your eyes fiery and filled with tears. "Silco, remember where you found me. I was a worker in that horrible brothel, sold by my parents at eleven. I thought that by freeing myself, I would have a voice, that finally someone would see me as an equal. But it’s not like that. You don’t even listen to me."

Silco looked at you, his eyes softening as the weight of your words sank in. He approached you cautiously, his fingers touching your cheek with an unusual tenderness. "It's not personal," he murmured, his voice heavy with regret. "I’ve always been like this, I prefer to work alone. I’ve been through so much to earn respect in the Undercity that sometimes I minimize the opinions of others. But I never meant for you to feel this way, not you."

The wall of pain you had built began to crack under the weight of his words. "I’ll change. From now on, I’ll listen to what you have to say. In fact, tell me that plan you were going to propose earlier."

A pause lingered, but then, with a sigh, he added: "But before that, there’s something more important."

His words echoed in the silence before Silco took you by the waist, pulling you toward him. He kissed you with a passion that overflowed with unspoken apologies, a fire that spoke of promises of change and a renewed understanding between you both.

Mel

The luxurious bedroom was bathed in soft lights that enhanced the golden and ivory tones of the walls. You turned in front of the mirror, admiring how the dress flowed around your body, highlighting your curves and cascading elegantly in a fabric waterfall. The excitement of the night reflected in your eyes, waiting for Mel's approval.

When you stepped out of the dressing room, the smile on your lips quickly faded as you noticed the disapproving expression on her face. Mel looked you up and down, her gaze critical and stern. "Take it off," she ordered in a cold, distant tone. "Put on the one I chose for you."

You frowned, surprised. "Why? What's wrong with this one?"

"It’s not that there's anything wrong with it," she replied, crossing her arms with an air of authority. "It’s just not what I want for you tonight. Change your makeup and hairstyle as well. Something more sophisticated would be better."

The heat rushed to your cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and anger. "Nothing I do is good enough for you, right?" you exclaimed, your eyes sparking with indignation. "It feels like you always have to correct me."

Mel raised an eyebrow, her voice firm and unapologetic. "You should be grateful. I'm helping you make the most of your appearance. I need us to be perfect tonight."

"You mean you need to be perfect," you corrected, unbuckling your heels and throwing them to the floor with a sharp sound. "Because I'm not going anywhere."

Without waiting for a response, you made your way to the terrace, needing fresh air to calm the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside you. The cool breeze caressed your face as you leaned on the railing, trying to hold back tears.

It wasn’t long before Mel appeared behind you, her elegant silhouette illuminated by the moonlight. "Why are you acting like this?" she asked, her voice softer now, but still tinged with confusion.

"Seriously, Mel?" you turned to face her, your voice shaking with frustration. "Nothing I do seems right to you. You always correct me—the way I walk, the way I talk, and now even the color of my lipstick. It’s extreme and stupid."

Mel looked at you with a mix of surprise and reflection, as if your words had struck her for the first time. "I hadn’t thought of it that way," she finally admitted, her voice quieter. "I guess... I’m really hard on myself, and I project it onto others."

You took a deep breath, your eyes still shining with contained emotion. "I don’t want you to be like that with me. I’m not an extension of your standards, Mel."

Silence stretched between you for a moment before Mel took a step forward, enveloping you in a firm, comforting hug. "I’m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. You’re fine just as you are, and I apologize for projecting my insecurities onto you."

You leaned into her, feeling the tension slowly fade. "I understand," you replied softly. "I know you were raised to be perfect. But please, when you feel those things, communicate them in a different way. Don’t impose them."

Mel nodded, her gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and affection. "I will," she promised. "Please, come with me to the party. Without you, I won’t have the strength to go."

You hesitated for a moment, looking at yourself with insecurity. Mel noticed and gently cupped your face in her hands. "That dress looks amazing on you," she said with a warm smile. "It highlights everything I love about you."

Her words and the kiss that followed dispelled any doubt, filling you with renewed confidence as you agreed to accompany her, knowing this time, you would go as yourself, not as a perfected version to satisfy Mel's standards.

Sevika

The apartment door opened slowly, revealing Sevika's figure in the dim light. She walked in with tired steps, the weight of the night reflecting on her shoulders. You, who had been waiting patiently for her return, stood up from the couch with relief, but as you approached to embrace her, something stopped you. A strange scent, sweet and foreign, emanated from her skin, a fragrance that didn’t belong to any perfume you knew her to wear.

Your heart raced as you took a slight step back, your eyes fixed on her. "Who were you with?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm, although a mix of anxiety and distrust began to rise within you.

Sevika looked at you in surprise, not understanding the reason for your unease. "I was at the bar, drinking. My ex joined me, we talked a bit, had a good time." She said it with such casualness that every word pierced you like a poisoned dart.

Anger began to bubble up inside you. "Why are you talking about it so casually?" you spat, feeling your voice start to tremble.

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"You shouldn’t have gone out with your ex!" you exclaimed, frustration coloring your words. "You owe me respect."

Sevika crossed her arms, her gaze hardening. "I do what I want," she replied coldly. "If you don’t trust me, maybe you should leave."

Your eyes widened at her comment. The idea of walking out that door tempted you, but sadness and rage kept you rooted to the ground. "Is that what you want?" you whispered, your voice shaking. "For me to leave?"

Sevika seemed to realize the weight of her words. She took a step toward you, extending her hand as if trying to stop you. "Wait, I didn’t mean that," she murmured, her tone softer, almost pleading. "You know I’m impulsive."

"Of course, impulsive... and nostalgic too," you replied bitterly, your eyes burning with contained pain. "You miss your ex, don’t you? You want to get back together with her?"

She frowned, stepping closer until her hands rested on your shoulders. "What’s your problem?" she asked, her voice low but firm. "Why are you saying all these things?"

The emotions you had kept under control for so long finally exploded. "Because I’ve been cheated on before!" you confessed, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. "I know the patterns when I see them. I don’t want to feel stupid and used again."

The hardness in Sevika’s expression melted away, replaced by deep understanding. Her hands, once firm, slid down your arms in a gesture of comfort. "I’m not those people, you shouldn’t compare me to anyone," she said, her voice firm but full of empathy. "If I didn’t want to be with you, I would tell you. I don’t need to lie to anyone. I love you, only you."

Her sincerity pierced your insecurities, breaking down the wall of fear you had built. Still, doubts lingered. "Then why did you go out with her?" you asked, still needing an explanation.

"Because it was a coincidence," Sevika explained, her gaze sincere. "We ran into each other by chance, and I thought there was nothing wrong with sharing a couple of drinks. But now I see it bothers you, and I don’t want to do anything that makes you feel this way."

Her words resonated within you, slowly calming the internal storm. You nodded, allowing the warmth of her promise to envelop you. "I want to believe in you," you whispered.

Sevika stepped closer, her lips finding yours in a deep kiss, full of promises and silent regrets. When she pulled away, her soft voice broke the trance. "Are you better?" she asked, gently caressing your cheek.

"I'll be better when you take a shower and get that cheap perfume off," you joked, your tone still slightly irritated but with a hint of humor.

Sevika laughed, a low, guttural sound that echoed in the space between you. She pulled you by the waist, drawing you even closer. "Then I’m going to need your help," she whispered in your ear, her voice laden with seduction. "Tonight, I feel especially incapable."

Your smile widened, a spark of mischief lighting your eyes. "I guess I can help with that," you murmured, letting the intimacy of the moment take over, knowing that despite everything, you were in the place you wanted to be: by her side.

[kedreeva]

i have an odd animal husbandry question you seem like you might know the answer to, your comment about stan reminded me - ive been thinking about getting into backyard chickens for a couple years and the thing that makes me hesitate most is hard culling. im confident in my ability to put down an animal thats sick, or infirm, or for food, but for like, temperament? or for poor egg layers? just sticks on me for some reason. i think it would feel like telling them theyre not a good enough chicken for me. how to you process this part of animal husbandry?

This will be a little long, so bear with me.

If you want to keep use animals (animals bred for a purpose, to be used for a purpose instead of kept as a companion), you gotta get good with the idea that they are here for you under the agreement that you will only keep them as long as you need to. When you take them on, you are agreeing that you will release them to whatever their next life holds for them as soon as you do not need (or they've completed) their service. Maybe for some people that's just release to the biological cycle of life, for others maybe there's an eternal rest, for others maybe it's reincarnation. For soft culling that's just moving to the next household. Whatever it is, you are allowing them to pass to it in as humane a way as you can, and ultimately it is the single greatest kindness and gratitude you can show to them, to give them proper care while they are here and allow them to end with little to no pain- something animals outside of our care rarely get. You are thanking them for their service, and letting them go. Worth does not even begin to factor into it.

It is not easy to take a life. It is NEVER easy, regardless of reason, regardless of excuse, regardless of anything. It is ALWAYS heavy, and it will always hurt you. And it should. I am grateful for the weight of taking a life, because it reminds me that it is serious, and reminds me to take the production of life seriously, because at some point any life I cause to come into existence via breeding animals will have to end.

On top of that, some things ARE heath related that do not seem health related. Aggression in domestic animals IS A HEALTH ISSUE. A cock is aggressive because he is stressed about intruders, containment, mating threats, resource guarding, etc. Even with the best of care this can be true, and unfortunately for you both, this means the animal is not suited for domestic keeping. The same goes for animals (in any stripe of use, but particularly private care) that display repetitive stress behaviors from normal, proper captive care (for example, mice that are food chewing are stressed and should be culled from lines where possible because they are not having a good time). You are doing them a disservice to keep them in a stressful situation you cannot change because of their biology. It has nothing to do with not being good enough for you, and everything to do with producing/keeping animals that do not experience that stress in captive care and releasing the rest from duty because they will not be okay in any captive care.

For some issues (poor egg laying, for example) you CAN pet-home culls instead of hard culling. It's harder to do, you will spend time finding people who just want pets that don't intend to breed or don't care, but it can be done. However!! Is the bird just slow at producing eggs because her genetics say that's how fast eggs get produced, or is she producing slowly because there's a health problem that isn't immediately evident? Is her ovary damaged, is her reproductive tract infected, does she have a disorder that prevents her from processing food correctly so she can't get what she needs to produce eggs as fast as normal? Are you setting the bird up for failure (and someone else for heartbreak/money troubles) sending them to a pet home? Is it something which could lead to pain/suffering down the road if she's allowed to continue? Hard to say without spending a lot of money. Are you willing to risk your reputation, if someone takes a surprise illness/genetic issue down the road badly ("Oh THAT breeder sold me a sick/unhealthy bird/bird with bad genetics"), and compromise your ability to find homes for healthy birds down the road?

You are okay with culling a bird for food- there's nothing that says you cannot eat the bad temperaments, the poor egg layers, the one with genetic issues, and so on. And if you can tell early enough that you, personally, can't make use of the meat, there are plenty of folks with other animals that would LOVE feed for those animals. Take yourself down to a local reptile expo, grab the business cards for a few people who have big snake babies (retics, burmese, anaconda, redtail boa, even BP) that say they'd be interested in taking culls, OR look up local bird of prey rescues in your area (or reptile rescues or big cat rescues if there are any) and ask if they'd be interested in culls. There is ALWAYS someone that can use what you can't/won't. You may have to jump through some hoops to donate to some kinds of rescues (health testing for example), but it's an option you can look into if you want to combat the feelings you're talking about.

As a last note- and I am saying this gently and holding your face in both hands: do not anthropomorphize animals in reality.

In YOUR eyes, you are culling them an illness or an injury or for food or for temperament or for poor quality or or or---- it does not matter to the animal why you are culling them. A death is a death, to them. They are here, and then a thing happens, and they are no longer. They do not understand life or death or afterlife or reincarnation or that they are here for a purpose or not a purpose or literally anything you as a human might impose upon them in your head. They live while they are alive, and then they are not. They do not "want to live" in the "avoid death" sense because they do not necessarily understand "death" as a future concept. Instincts that have worked well to preserve life have been encoded in their DNA to one degree or another, they can and do respond to avoid pain, but with little exception (like... maybe elephants and dolphins and a crows and a few others), it's unlikely that they understand the connection between doing those things and being alive/avoiding death.

So while TO YOU it may feel like telling the bird they are not good enough, and TO ME it feels like allowing the bird to move on in peace... the bird doesn't know either way, and honestly the reason hardly matters. It is alive in the present, and one way or another it will not be alive someday, and you are responsible for making sure that the one way under your control is so peaceful or quick that the bird hardly knows it is no longer alive. The bird doesn't care about (and cannot understand) the why of their death, any more than they understand their pain/stress and how it relates medical assistance; it's why animals often freak out, refuse meds, etc. They don't hate the vet or the car or the carrier or anything- they just simply don't understand human stuff and react according to instincts/what they do understand. If you treat an animal like the animal it IS rather than the person you imagine it to be, you will find yourself with a lot better relationship with them during life, and be able to frame their passing a bit better later on.

[b3ach-bunn7]

MORE DAD! TOUYA PLEASEEE I BEGG 🙏🛐 The fic you just posted was so so cuteast one in reading before going to sleep and it's all I can think abt<33

ISN'T SHE LOVELY

Touya's home alone with your daughter and they're baking cookies

noquirk!au, domestic, soso fluffy

same storyline as this fic but u don't need to read it to read this!

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Touya winces as tiny fingers tug at his white hair. He’s slumped against the edge of Zuki’s bed, back bent at an odd angle so his head is low enough for her to reach. Touya thinks she thinks she’s braiding it, but all she’s succeeded in doing is tangling little hair bands and clips in it. In all honesty his body is hurting from the position he’s in, and he’s kind of hungry, but the little giggles coming from above him are squeezing at his heart so badly he’d die here if she asked him to. 

Touya didn’t think he’d ever be a father. He didn’t even think he’d have a relationship that would last long enough for him to even consider children. Touya hooked up with people occasionally, he took girls out to bars. But nothing lasted, nothing until you. You’d been the one to ask him out after countless days of flirting with you in front of the coffee shop counter at your work. You both went to the same university, and one thing led to another, and you were dating, and then you met his family, and then he proposed five years later.

And the day you told Touya you were pregnant? It might’ve been the happiest and most terrifying day of his life. He could see it in your eyes, eyes that knew him too well, the nervousness at how he’d react. And if he’d started crying, that was business between you three and nobody else.

Touya knew his father and he knew the childhood he and his siblings had suffered through. So yes, of course he was terrified. Him? Of all the Todorokis he’s sure he's the least fit for fatherhood. All he could think about was what horrible traits did he pick up from his father? And it kept him up at night, and you let Touya ramble to his heart's content about all his worries, in the middle of the night with your hand holding his. And you reassured him every time that this is how parenting works. Nobody knows how to do it and they’d learn together. It didn’t do much to quell his fears, though.

And then Mitzuki popped out, bright red and screaming his eardrums off, and he fell in love. And when she blinked up at him, with eyes that rivalled his own with how deep and bright their blue was, he cried. Again. And Touya decided when it came to his daughter, he’d learn how to be good at anything.

Except for a hairdresser's customer. Touya winces as Zuki tugs especially hard, and he grabs her two hands in one of his own. 

“Alright, sweetheart. That’s enough.” He says softly.

Her face falls in a pout as he lifts her up, and he nearly relents. But his scalp is hurting and he is sure her baby brain will be distracted by something different soon enough. He lifts her up behind his head, and she giggles, the sound enough to tug a smile onto his face. 

It was your first week off of maternity leave, and your worry at leaving Mitzuki had gone, now distracted with getting back into work. He’d been quite terrified the first day, but he had the hang of it now. Enough.

She babbles incoherently and Touya hums a song he can't remember the name of underneath his breath. He walks them into the kitchen, grabbing a juice box for Zuki and a coke can for him. He glances at their reflection in the shiny door of the fridge, and she looks so much like him. You hadn’t been happy she’d taken his eyes and the weird gene his family harboured that produced bone white hair, but he wasn’t complaining. It was like a mini him. The next ones could look like you.

He drags over the baby chair and sits her down. He pops the straw into the juice box and slides it over to her.

“Alright, Zuki. Your mother says we need to make…”

Touya huffs and squints at the paper in his hand. Of course you’ve printed the recipe in the smallest font possible. He sighs, fumbling around the kitchen for his glasses. He can never keep track of them, and he refuses to wear contacts because ew. Zuki squeezes the juice box, apple juice spurting out the straw and Touya tuts.

“Careful, sweetheart. I don’t wanna bathe you until later.” He says, wiping her cheek with his finger.

God. He’s so sappy with her it makes him cringe. If a fifteen year old, black-haired Touya could see him now.

He finally finds his glasses, pushing them into his face. They’re thin frames you’d bought him for his birthday and you insisted daily that they suit him. He thinks he looks like a nerd with them on, and you tell him that’s what you like about them the most.

“Alright. We’re making snickerdoodles. You ever made snickerdoodles?” Touya glances at Zuki. She throws her straw on the floor.

“Me neither. But your mother is counting on us.”

It seems simple enough. He’s watched you bake before. It can’t be that hard.

“Okay, Zuki. You can be my sous chef.” He picks her up and places her in the middle of the counter, dropping a bowl in her lap. 

Touya grabs a block of butter and sugar. He measures them out, dragging the bowl to the front of the table. He drops the butter in the bowl and Zuki immediately reaches in and grabs it. 

“Fuck- Zuki, drop it.” He grabs her hand, cursing underneath his breath at the iron grip she has on it.

They tussle for a second before he manages to make her let it go, not before half of it is squished between his hands.

“Jesus, why are you so strong?” He mumbles, wiping her hands with a tissue.

Maybe leaving her so close to the bowl wasn’t the best plan. He’ll keep a closer eye. Everything is fine. It’s a workout and a half ‘beating sugar and butter’ together. Whatever the hell that means. He grabs two eggs from the fridge, and Zuki shuffles over.

“Okay. Very carefully.” He sits Zuki in front of him. “Here, hold it with me. And. Tap it against the side of the bowl and. Done.”  

Touya is careful to make sure she doesn’t try to grab the raw eggs. The last thing he needs is to give his daughter salmonella. They crack the other one successfully and Touya quickly mixes it together before she can get her hands on it.

“Okay. Now I need. Vanilla extract. Where the hell is the vanilla extract?” He mutters to himself.

And, of course, in the one second that Touya is shuffling through a cupboard, he feels the hit of batter on his shirt before he hears Zuki’s giggle. When he turns the whisk is in her hand, and Touya winces at the sight of batter splattered against the wall behind him

“Zuki, come on. We’re a team here. My sous chef can’t coat me in fucking batter.” He sighs, tweaking her on the nose. 

He grabs the whisk out of her hand, and puts it to the side. He also slides the bowl away from her because he’s had enough casualties as is. There’s an apron hung up behind the kitchen door. It’s pink and frilly and Touya huffs. Unfortunately, it’s his only protection from his overager assistant

“Does pink suit me? I think it does.” He chucks the apron on.

Touya finally finds the vanilla extract, and the flour. He has to stop Zuki from drinking saidextract as he tries to pour it in the bowl, her little fingers reaching for the bottle. 

“Enough, Zuki.” He pushes her hands away gently. 

God, Touya doesn’t know how you do it. He gets Zuki after she’s been showered and calmed down, the hours before her bedtime where it takes seconds for her to knock out on his chest or easily play with him however she sees fit. But you, with her early morning tears and the feeding (which is very messy by the way), you’re there for the harder things. He admires you for it even more when Zuki decides that the whisk would be better in her mouth than on the table.

Touya decides to hold her on his hip, which is much harder than you make it look, as he measures the flour with his other hand. He’s careful not to drip it on the table too much. He doesn’t think he has it in him to clean anything else.

“Perfect. Three hundred grams seems like a lot, but I’m no baker. Isn’t that right, sous chef?” Zuki squeals as he dusts flour on her nose.

“Okay. And now, we just add this, carefully, and mix.” He clicks the button on the stand mixer and lifts Zuki up, until her feet rest on his face.

“Beautiful girl. So helpful.” He says, kissing her stomach and putting her back on the table.

He sighs. “Now I need to wash up. Shame you can’t help. Wait, don’t touch that-“

And for a baby she has such speed, because Touya can’t reach forward to stop her before she’s leaned across the table and turned up the dial on the mixer. A puff of flour instantly explodes into the air, but mainly all over his face and chest. God bless the apron after all.

Touya’s eyes shut, defeated. He clicks the mixer off.

“Mitzuki. Our snickerdoodles.” He groans.

Zuki fiddles her fingers through the flour dusting the table. God, with a face like that, how can Touya be mad?  

It takes thirty minutes, with Zuki a safe distance away in the high chair, for Touya to clean up the kitchen and fix the cookie dough. He wraps it up in clingfilm and all but throws it into the fridge. He’s sure there’s going to be something wrong with the taste. But these are for his family, so he can’t say he cares too much.

It’s just as he shuts the fridge that the door clicks open and Touya looks up, the relief evident in your face as you walk through. Your voice rings out as you greet them both, and Zuki squeals in his arms at the sight of you walking into the kitchen. You look tired, your movements slow as you drop your bag on the floor and take off your coat. But despite that, you immediately reach for Ziku, then reach up to kiss Touya.

“Hello, my babies.” You coo, kissing her all over her face. 

Touya just watches, face softening as you turn to him. You look at Touya properly then, and it takes all of two seconds before you start laughing. Touya rolls his eyes as you tug at the apron, flour falling onto the floor.

“Oh, my beautiful housewife. How are the cookies?” Touya scowls as you fuss over him, a teasing smile gracing your lips.

“In the fridge. Chilling. Did you know Zuki loves to eat? And just- just grab everything in front of her? Constantly?” He says and you pat his arm, the other holding Zuki on your hip.

“Yes. Trust me.” 

You reach forward and cup his face, fingers tapping the side of his glasses. “You look so cute with these on.” 

“I look like a nerd.”

You nod, kissing his cheek. “I know. I love it.”

Touya’s hand reaches up and covers yours, dusting it with flour. “I could wear them more often.”

“Goodness. What a beg for attention.”

“Oh, fuck off.” 

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gosh this took me so long to write but.... guys i watched we live in time and i yearn for motherhood and a husband so badly it may kill me

is dad touya probably the most far fetched headcanon ever? yes,, this man would never have kids i fim being fr but.. IDC! its called fanFICTION for a reason...

i also forgot to tag my last fic and it did so horribly so guys plz check it out!

anyways i hope u enjoy this because i very much did <3

[olenoidedserratuspilled]

You spent this entire response talking about how, unfortunately, I wouldn't read it and surely I would block you

Because that is genuinely what I expected, and genuinely what the more long-term productive move in your end is.

and then at the end you basically asked me not to respond. Lol.

Yes, because I don't believe this conversation is productive to either of us, especially when you yourself stated that it's besides your original point. Keep reading if you like, but I know you are not going to shift on your stance, and neither am I in mine.

None of the examples you gave are using man-hating as a cover for anything, at least not successfully.

Emphasis on "Not successfully". The notes on all of those posts were full of the OOPs and their defenders arguing how their takes shouldn't be considered racist because they're only targeted men.

But women don't ask people not to complain about cisness or whiteness or wealth, just to stop singling out women and being misogynistic.

And I never said women should not complain about men. Only that the statement that TERFs like men is incorrect (it is), and that there very much are people who use man-hating to excuse actual bigotry to themselves and to their peers (there are).

Everyone else can complain about their oppressors, but women can't, because someone somewhere might use man-hating as a justification for something else.

I never said that. I only pointed out that it's something that happens, that it's something TERFs specifically do, and that it's a reason why the notion that TERFs like men is wrong.

If a woman makes a post about misogyny and singles out Indian men, it might because she's racist or it might be because she lives in India.

I wanna ask you if you saw any of the screenshots I posted and thought "Well, maybe that OOP is part of the racial minority they singled out". I don't think you did, because people talking about a racial minority they're part of tend not to paint them as demons or deserving of violence and death.

TERFs on the other hand, do that, and it is racist to do that. Pointing that out was the point of my post, and nothing else.

There is a long history of women of color being pressured to stay silent about misogyny within their own communities using the reasoning that the community must be united and any negativity will give ammo to racists. This puts women of color in a really difficult situation. It also serves to prevent them from forming solidarity with other women.

That's true, yes. It's also entirely unrelated to anything I said. Women of color are free to speak up against misogyny from men of color as long as they neither A) single them out as being somehow innately worse than white men (like the posts I showed) nor B) paint them as deserving of racially motivated violence for behaviors that aren't exclusive to their race (like the posts I showed).

Man-hating is not a good proxy for other kinds of bigotry.

Sure. It doesn't mean people don't use it as one. All I did was point out that they do.

You focused a lot on whether or not TERFs like men, which was really tangential to the actual point of this post.

Did you read the tags I was responding to? Because I was responding to a tag saying that TERFs like men. I focused on that because that's the statement I was responding to.

"TERFs like men actually" was referring to their eagerness to form relationships with right wing cis men to gain political power.

Right, so you can agree TERFs don't actually like men (especially not POC men), and that saying they do is just factually wrong. If you can agree with that statement, then you agree with my point, because that's the only point I'm making. You're also not the one who wrote those tags, so you don't know what their person meant.

Also, before it finally got taken down, a decent number of the posts on the TERF subreddit were from cis men claiming to be radical feminist allies who the TERFs gleefully and hypocritically pointed to as "one of the good ones" while they bonded over hating trans women.

Again, not remotely related to what I said. If what I posted doesn't count as evidence of TERFs disliking men, why should posts from a dead subreddit count towards evidence of them liking them? Didn't you just say this was just tangentially related to your post? If so, why is not conceding to that point seemingly so important?

TERFs live in the same society as everyone else (unfortunately) and in a society as patriarchal as ours, few people really hate men as much as they think they do.

Cool that you can read TERFs minds I guess, especially when I didn't think there'd be anything to read in there, but in my experience when somebody says something it's because they meant to say it.

Using man-hating as a shield for bigotry doesn't make a lot of sense because man-hating isn't socially accepted just about anywhere. It always gets pushback.

It is in TERF circles, and while TERFs do have many racist tendencies, a lot of them still at least performatively frown upon bold-faced racism that doesn't have "men" attached to it. They use man-hating as a shield for bigotry in the circles where it is socially accepted, and to justify it to themselves. That is the only point I'm making.

And TERFs spend a lot of time with the far right, where hating men is certainly not acceptable.

And they don't use man-hating rhetoric with them. They use it with themselves, with each other and to outsiders that are still receptive to it.

I don't know where you live, but on the anglophone internet man-hating is not generally accepted. And even when you do hear "I hate men," the power dynamics of patriarchy are such that it's just not a real problem.

Notice how I never said it is. That is just not a thing that I said. I only ever said that TERFs, specifically, hate men and use man-hating to excuse their own bigotry. You say you didn't mean to put words in my mouth, but you keep doing just that.

Quite often in hate movements like that, the ideology is a post-hoc justification for the bigotry. So the logic of men oppress women -> trans women are men -> trans women are bad because they oppress [cis] women may be what TERFs say but it's often not an honest representation of their thought process.

It is how they justify their thought process to themselves, to each other and to those they want to recruit, however. That is what I'm describing. That's the point I'm making.

TERFs will even say, disingenuously of course, that it would be fine if trans women would only live as gender non-conforming gay men. It's transness that transphobes despise, the act of existing while trans.

Yes, I'm aware. I've never said that wasn't the case, only that TERFs will use man-hating as a post-hoc justification for their own transphobia.

In general, a post that singles out transmascs is probably not okay, because the relevant part is that they are trans, and being cruel to trans people is… wait for it… transphobic.

Yes it is. It's transphobia that is being rationalized by the people doing it as acceptable because they're singling out men. That's the thing that I said is happening.

but that's an intracommunity issue that I'm honestly not qualified to speak on, because I'm cis. I only bring it up because I've dealt with analogous intracommunity in some communities I am a member of; it's a fairly universal concern but the particulars here are outside my lane.

That's cool, trans men still have to deal with takes like these, though:

These are people using man-hating to excuse their rancid behavior towards trans men. That is exactly the situation I described, and the one you claimed doesn't make sense and doesn't happen. And that you replied to by saying man-hating isn't a real problem - which is not a thing I said at any point, ever. Here or elsewhere.

I am not saying man-hating is a real problem

I am not saying you should not be allowed to do it

What I am saying is this:

A) Bad-faith actors have and continue to use it to excuse actual forms of bigotry. Even if you don't think they count, I've shown proof of it.

B) Whether or not it is relevant to the discussion, the statement of "TERFs like men actually" is just not factually true.

If this is what you wanted to read, I'll gladly say I agree with your original post's point. I simply reblogged to disagree with one person on the tags who said that TERFs like men, because that pure and simply isn't true.

If you're done putting words in my mouth, I do think we should stop talking here, because this is only tangentially related to your original point and fighting each other is a waste of time.

But I know you're not going to read this. And that you're not done putting words in my mouth.

Something I want this website specifically to reflect on! Are you mad at women for talking about men the same way you talk about cishets or neurotypicals? Why?

[lawofangie]

not sure how many times i'll need to keep saying this. so, i am going to break down the law of assumption as much as possible (as much as i have the patience for lol). i need you guys to understand for once and for all. this is simple. manifestation is simple.

the law of assumption is a law that requires you to MAKE ASSUMPTIONS. not to hope, not to wish, not to want. to assume.

and what is an assumption? something you believe to be true without proof. in the context of manifestation, something you believe to be true prior to receiving the proof (your manifestation materializing) in order to receive the proof.

making an assumption is not restricted to just whatever you want to manifest. why? because "manifestation" isn't fundamentally real. it's a word used to describe utilizing assumptions in a conscious way in order to "make something happen" externally.

this means that assuming has no bounds. and it doesn't. if you can assume anything is true, then your belief has no bounds. therefore, you can manifest anything. not just your desires, but things being difficult, things taking time, needing something or else ____.

an assumption is just an assumption. all given meaning aside, it's just an assumption. something you believe to be true, the "without proof" is just used in the context of what we call "manifestation", and manifestation just means the appearance of something. we are making assumptions in order for them to appear. there are no conditions, restrictions, rules, etc. you can believe absolutely anything to be true.

this way of using this ability to assume in order to make something materialize was just given the name "manifestation". its not some magical thing. it's just done in a conscious way and someone chose to give it that name.

but anyway, you are always going to be the one doing the assuming. it is always going to be up to you because nobody outside of you is doing the believing/ assuming here. YOU have to be the one to assume. you can't ask someone else to do it for you. nobody else is physically capable of doing it for you.

trying to ask someone for their input is useless. they're going to be affected by whatever biases you had about them prior anyway (ex: "they're smart" "i have to listen to them" "this person is unreliable"). everything is affected by whatever bias, assumptions, beliefs you have about it/them prior to experiencing them in your reality.

no matter how much you want to, you can't give up the control you have over your reality. you can't look to someone or something for permission, control, etc. all you have is yourself. all you should want is yourself. could you imagine how scary it would be if someone or something else truly dictated the course of your life? you'd be like a sim. that person or thing could literally do whatever they wanted to you. they could choose what you do and don't deserve. they could choose what happens in your life. why would you even want this? why are you so adamant on deciding this is true?

you have to acknowledge the fact that you are willingly or blindly giving up control because you are a coward. you're too scared to take control of your life and accept the truth, so you basically delude yourself into thinking that all these things have some kind of control over you.

it's like you guys never realize that all these conditions have to first be conditions in order for them to be conditions. they don't fundamentally exist.

if something doesn't fundamentally exist, that means it isn't real. it was created by us with something we were given (ex: our ability to communicate using language and creating "rules", and instilling the rules into the minds of others.)

they have no reason to exist if there is nothing to condition. if these things were fundamentally true, you wouldn't need to be conditioned. you wouldn't be able to change your mind, you wouldn't be being told to change your mind and adopt a new way of thinking. you wouldn't have the freedom to choose what you want to believe. you wouldn't need to accept it as true. it would just be true. like how we all know we need oxygen to survive. there's no question about it. it's not drilled into your head. its a proven fact with actual consequences. logic tells you it causes immediate discomfort and can cause fainting, therefore, you need to breathe.

logic doesn't tell you that you aren't in control of your reality. it's just something someone got you to believe. and you'll realize that your beliefs feel so real, that you don't question them, even when you know logically that you're being a little irrational. it's because belief is fundamentally real. it's an ability we all have, that we all use daily.

belief doesn't have feelings or emotions. belief is indifferent. you, the believer, are the one believing and deciding things are true. you, the believer, are the one assigning meanings and feelings to each belief. you, the believer, are the one believing things are true without proof. you, the believer, are the one receiving the proof of whatever you believe (blindly or not).

what is there to believe without you? what is there to condition without you? what meaning is there without you? without you there is nothing. again, this is your life. your human experience. yours. not your mom's, not your teacher's, not your boss's. yours. without you, it doesn't exist. you must be aware of things first in order for them to exist in your reality.

you only have one awareness because you are one person. you are only conscious of being one person. you are only conscious of your own life. you only experience one reality because you have one consciousness. but it is not permanent. you have the freedom of choice to choose a new reality, to be conscious of something new. your imagination does not restrict you to feeling only what is in front of you. if it did, what would be the purpose of imagining anyway? why would you even be mentally capable of imagining?

since only you can be conscious, and since only you can be conscious, we are advising you to take advantage of that and "manifest" what you want. no one and nothing can stop you, again, unless you allow it to. but you'll realize, you always have the choice. we as humans aren't set in one way of thinking. we are human beings with depth, feelings, desires, emotions, goals, dreams, fears, doubts, and competence. we have the ability to take in new information, form new thoughts, and grow. we are perfectly capable of and competent enough to form our own beliefs and assumptions.

and you can't turn off this ability to imagine. you can't stop believing, you can't stop assuming, you can't stop being aware (except for when you're asleep). the "law of assumption" doesn't care about your feelings. the law of assumption isn't a living thing. it's just something that's there, that's a part of life. we just happen to be competent enough to have the choice to consciously use it and to be aware of it. nothing is being taken from you, maybe information is has been withheld from you, but that's about it.

so, what is manifestation? how do i manifest? assume you have it.

yes, i broke down that entire thing just to tell you to just assume, to just decide. why? because that's all there is to it. just assume it is true regardless of what you see. because your external reality is nothing but a mirror. it can't prove anything to you that you haven't already proved to yourself.

all anyone in this community can do (thankfully) is regurgitate the same information in different ways until you guys understand it. the law is simple. "the law" isn't fundamentally real, it's just a title created by someone.

also, please don't misunderstand me here. the law of assumption isn't fake. it works. the "law of assumption", referring to the title, is a "law", but is a concept that was built on, with terms that were created by others. this is just to say that you guys give external things so much power over you just because of some title, some created authority, when in actuality, it isn't fundamentally real. all these terms make it all feel unnatural. the law of assumption isn't an unnatural thing. it's simply making assumptions.

so, if you can follow, what i'm saying is: just because the law of assumption is called "the law of assumption" or mentions an instruction, doesn't mean it's some foreign, scary thing. there isn't any separation. this isn't anything new. don't treat it as something it's not. this is just to remind you, that while you abide by them, they aren't above you. they don't change anything about who you are as a person, there is nothing to fear, nothing to learn, nothing to put on a pedestal. it's just a guideline, if you want to call it that. a step. you should be indifferent to it. treat it as a necessary step and nothing more.

the law of assumption is simple. make an assumption. believe something is true and it will materialize. but don't wait for it, otherwise you aren't assuming it is true. you have to believe even if it doesn't physically look like it's possible. because anything is possible. the law of assumption promises you that it is. you have to have some faith in yourself. if you had to choose to do so, i would say this is something you should spend your time blindly believing.

and you should be grateful that the law is this simple, otherwise, your stress would be caused by something other than you.

[burr-ell]

Bell's Hells gets compared to the Mighty Nein a lot, both in terms of narrative and party comp, but honestly, I think it makes more sense to compare them to Vox Machina. Back in Campaign 1, the deck was stacked against VM for several reasons in succession: the players had to port over from Pathfinder and learn 5e; Beastmaster Ranger sucks absolute ass; their cleric left in the middle of the campaign and was only available sporadically; and then their sorcerer left permanently. But they were able to build their characters to compensate! Scanlan took on the burden of arcane casting, and he, Keyleth, Vex, and later Vax all pulled their weight as healers. Keyleth was a Circle of the Moon druid, which is just a great subclass, and Percy not only had a great build but also took an ASI to give the party a higher INT score to better help with nerd shit. Vex multiclassed to play to more of her strengths when it became clear ranger wasn't going to do much more for her, and Vax's multiclass to paladin made for a formidable combination. It might have been nice if they'd had a wizard or if Pike had been available more often, but they still managed to find ways to work around it, and ultimately Vox Machina is still a really powerful and effective party.

Bell's Hells just...aren't doing any of that. Their party comp is ultimately just the sum of its parts, and not a particularly impressive one. They have a druid and two sorcerers and yet nobody has Teleport or Transport Via Plants (the Staff of Dark Odyssey needs charges and inflicts damage on the user for each charge expended). It was clear from early on that this campaign was going to have a lot of intrigue and conspiracy, but none of the characters had any reason to be invested in the worldbuilding or politics, so instead the party just followed breadcrumbs from lore dump to lore dump—Chetney didn't even get Grim Psychometry until level 10, and neither that nor Orym's knowledge of (mostly Vox Machina's) history were enough to make up for the fact that neither character had a real connection to what they were learning to give any of it real weight, and nobody else tried to make up the difference. Fearne and Laudna's multiclasses are both mechanically kind of a mess—it's not that they're not useful, it's that they're really not getting the kind of use out of their levels that they should be. (Is uncanny dodge worth being level 15 and not having any higher-level druid spells? Is it worth being a mostly-sorcerer multiclass when there's already a full sorcerer in the party?)

It's not that Bell's Hells can't accomplish anything; they very obviously can. It's that the players are making the kinds of choices that they were pretty deftly able to avoid ten years ago with fewer resources and years of experience than they have now, and it makes most of what the Hells do feel pretty designated and phoned-in at the end of the day. And frankly we saw that in last night's episode—they mostly just stumbled into their current party comp, and they mostly just stumbled into one of the dumbest decisions any CR party has ever made.

[axikitksauce]

Okay so-

>There is a large population of anthromorphic animals who don't have any special powers. Sometimes they're mostly just implied, and sometimes we see them. Most of the main characters have weird abilities, but that's kinda just the plot making the important people more important. I think most of them are weird mutants.

>Sonic is just fast, and the chaos emeralds dont seem to have anything to do it. Unless there's some weird obscure prequel I don't know about, his speed is just something he has and we never find out how he got it, so the implication is that he's born with it. However, Sonic ALSO seems to be talented at using the Chaos Emeralds in a way that nobody else is. In sonic 1, he's able to use them by ACCIDENT. In sonic 2 and 3K, he can use all seven to go super, and tails acts as a contrast: he can't go super with the regular chaos emeralds, and needs the extra power of the "super emeralds." Knuckles can, but he comes from a clan whose whole deal is guarding the emeralds. Sonic just seems to be a natural. In SonicAdventure 2, he uses Chaos Control with a counterfeit emerald. That fake chaos emerald was built to give off exactly enough energy to pass as a real one for like five seconds before breaking, and sonic used it to perform one of the longest-distance chaos-control teleports we've seen, having never used chaos control before and basically only seeing shadow use it like twice. SO THERE'S THAT

>Knuckle's clan had prophesies about sonic. There's an ancient mural in one of their temples depicting the final boss fight of Sonic Adventure 2. SO there's also THAT. The same thing happens in Sonic Adventure, with the final boss, Perfect Chaos, being forshadowed by an echidna mural. In this case, though, it's a little less mind blowing - in story, it makes chronological sense for the echidnas to have met chaos, made a mural of it, and then have that mural be ancient by the time chaos meets sonic.

What's interesting is that chaos is ALSO naturally talented at transforming using the Chaos Emeralds. We've technically seen the emeralds used without all seven present just once in sonic 1, but Chaos is the first character we've ever seen get any amount of power out of just one emerald - it's even more impressive that that power is a transformation. I just realised that perfect chaos is ANOTHER Dragon Ball Z Reference. God Dammit.

Chaos' final form is absurdly large and powerful. In terms of size, it's a far more drastic transformation than sonic's ever come close to, but in terms of power, Super Sonic is equal to it. Years later, (but also at the exact same time. it's a time travel thing) Sonic will defeat Perfect Chaos without using any Chaos Emeralds at all. I don't know if there was ever a canon explaination for this power boost. He can just do it now.

Considering that the echidna tribe's purpose was to guard the master emerald, (which not only had Chaos sealed in it for years, but ALSO has the power to give or take energy to and from the other emeralds, while being a giant chaos emerald ITSELF) *GASP FOR BREATH* It seems likely that the purpose of these murals, depicting extremely powerful users of the Chaos Emeralds, would be to remind the Echidnas of why they're doing what they do.

And SHADOW...

...is heavily implied to be based off of the prophecies about sonic.

Doctor Gerald Robotnik wanted to create an "ultimate lifeform," and seems to have come to the conclusion that that meant recreating one of the prophecies from the Echidna's murals.

For a start, we KNOW that we was trying to recreate chaos, because his attempts are enemies in Sonic Adventure 2 and Shadow The Hedgehog. This might also explain why draft 1 of his "ultimate life form" was a big fucking lizard that can kind of use Chaos Control. It's weird to leap from a big lizard to an anthro hedgehog, but it would make sense if he was basing the projects off of the creatures he saw in the echidna's murals.

(Ironically, as eggman's grandfather, he also indirectly "created" one of the other people depicted in those murals. good for him.)

We know that he developed technology to use the Chaos Emeralds as a power source, and the Ultimate Life Form project was basically just the process of converting that technology into an organism. He genetically engineered organs that could allow a living thing to harness the emeralds' power.

(There's even a page from gerald's journal basically reading "man, would a living creature capable of directly controlling chaos emeralds be fucked up or what?" It's funny, but it also implies once again that sonic's ability to use their power IS NOT NORMAL.)

The technology was perfected when he created shadow. Shadow shows up using chaos emeralds in a way nobody else seemingly can. He can use "chaos control" to stop time and/or teleport, and can do it with just one emerald.

At first, it seems like he's much more talented at using the emeralds than sonic is, but as SA2 goes on, it turns out that the only thing really holding sonic back was that he just didn't know that he COULD do anything with the emeralds except for using all seven to transform. Like I mentioned... he just tries chaos control with a FAKE EMERALD and it works. Shadow doesn't even pretend that he isn't impressed by this.

When Sonic and Shadow go Super and team up for the true final boss, Shadow tells sonic during the fight: "I think I've discovered what the Ultimate Life Form is. It might be you!"

This is a... weird line. But it's commonly taken as confirmation that the concept of the ultimate life form was based on the Echidna's prophecies, with Shadow realising that Sonic is the creature from those prophecies, making him the truest realisation of the concept of the "Ultimate Life Form."

He also says that in space. Just sayin words. in space. Making noise. In space. That's odd. There's a possible ending in Shadow The Hedgehog where shadow gets gaslit into thinking he's a robot.

So basically... Sonic is inexplicably fast, but he's ALSO inexplicably the prophecised chosen one who can use the chaos emeralds like nobody else can, and I don't know why! I think nobody does! Shadow was (IMPLICITLY) an imitiation of sonic as he appeared in the prophecies, and was genetically engineered to have comparable skill with the emeralds.

I think I got everything right....

I don't know if shadow has super speed or if they're just roller blades though, sorry.

A lot of this is popular fan speculation and I dont know everything, but this is what i got. When it came to fan theories, I tried my best to present the evidence first and explain how people drew conclusions from it, rather than just say "shadow is an attempt to copy sonic" like it's a straightup fact. But maybe I did that. I dont' know. im eepy. Keep in mind that this is canon to the games, and the comics and cartoons make up their own shit with nobody stopping them. Also, not all the games are canon to each other, and I have no idea where shadow came from in the sonic boom universe. And some games are fully canon but have been retconned through time travel. god help us all.

Can someone with sonic autism explain some lore to me, please?

[soft-beams]

Hellooooooooo

Ok first off I LOVE YOUR WORK THERE SO GOOD AND SO WELL WRITTEN THAT I WANNA EAT THEM TO GAIN POWER

Second I wanna submit a request if that’s ok

An x reader with Vi where the reader is touch repulsed but at the same time touch staved?? How would Vi react to that and how would they as a couple get through it and make reader comfortable with being touched in an affectionate way ?

I have no clue if this makes sense

This is me self reflecting and it shows I’m sorry

If you don’t want to write it I completely get it you don’t have to if you don’t want too.

Thank you

aah thank you so much, lovely!! YOU'RE TOO KIND!!! and this was such an interesting prompt to get, thank you for sending it!! hope you enjoy!

vi notices that you don't like being touched.

she sees how you shy away from her hands, how you can only last in a hug for a second before you need to escape.

it confuses vi in the beginning, makes her wonder if it's her fault somehow. maybe she's too rough, too heavy-handed. maybe you can only tolerate her from a distance; only allowing her to get close for a moment before it's too much.

it hurts; it fucking does.

and it leads to an argument that has both of you screaming at the top of your lungs. she's furious and confused, and you're furious and crying. it doesn’t end until you're storming out of your shared home, disappearing for hours.

you don't come home until it's midnight, and by that point, vi's called everyone that she knows if they've seen you. she's about to go out herself when the front door suddenly opens, revealing a puffy-eyed and sniffling you. you stare at each other for a moment before vi's reaching for you, her own expression crumpling with the weight of her tears.

you allow her to draw you in, only this time you don't pull away. this time, you withstand it until vi's had her fill. until vi's sure that you're alright and safe and home.

one am finds you both on the couch, facing each other as you fidget with your hands. vi watches you carefully, sees how you struggle to form words before you sigh.

"it isn't you," you begin. "it's never been you. it's just something i've struggled with since i was young." you stay quiet for a second. "being touched freaks me out. i don't like being held for too long because it feels like i can't escape. makes me feel vulnerable..." you close your eyes. "that happened once and i just don't want it to happen again."

vi's heart shatters in her chest, millions of pieces raining down on the pit of her stomach. she feels sick; she feels like she wants to throw up. she wants to punch something, scream, hunt down the very bastard who dared laid their hands on you in such a way.

you who is the sweetest, kindest person she's ever known. subjected to be trapped against your will.

vi swallows, feeling tears well up behind her eyes.

"i'm so sorry," she murmurs softly, and you aim a weak smile her way. "i didn't think that—"

you shake your head. "you couldn't have known," you say. "the sad thing is that i love it when you touch me. when you hold my hand or curl your arm around my waist. when you pull me in for a hug...i love all of it." you then pull in a shaky breath. "but my body can't seem to recognise your touch as safe, and it hurt so much because i want to—" your voice chokes up around a sob and vi's flying across the couch, sitting close to comfort but not close enough to startle.

"hey," she soothes. "i love you so much, y'know that? and love goes beyond touching. it's about how we feel towards each other, and that goes above anything else." she takes a gentle hold of your finger, ensuring you can let go if you wish to. "do i love touching you? yes. but do i love you? more than fucking anything. so don't worry about this, okay? whatever you want to do, we'll do it and go at your pace."

at this point, you're freely sobbing now, tears rolling down your cheeks as you take in shuddering breaths. you use your free hand to wipe at your tears, giving a wobbly smile as you say, "how did i get so lucky with you?"

vi huffs a laugh, eyes soft as she squeezes your finger.

"i ask myself that question about you every single day."

[tarotofhope]

You can apply the below observations to both, your vedic and western charts. I'm not generalizing anything or anyone, these are just my random personal observations, don't let it ruin your day or week(for some people).

Note: I've noticed that some people were arguing in the comment section, when I posted part 1 of these astro observations. Please don't do that. If you do not agree, just ignore the post and move on, don't come fighting and arguing in the comment section saying, "We are not like this, we are not like that." I don't understand, those are not fixed opinions, definitions or judgements neither am I pointing out fingers at someone specific, so please do not take it personally. If it is something positive, people always come and accept easily then why not the negative stuff? Astrology is vast and people are complex. So many combinations or placements explain so many things, but it may not apply to everyone. Even I do not resonate with some observations(positive and negative, both) but I do not go bursting out in the comment section. If people won't observe and find common points between placements/signs, then tell me how else would people study astrology? Those observations are not written after just observing 1 or 2 people. If any of your placements are mentioned and you do not resonate with it, then you might have some other placements which make you an exception, don't take it to heart. If you have so much problem then don't read observations, only read tarot.

☾✴ The more Aries/Scorpio/1st House placements you have in the big 6, the more aggressive, assertive, impulsive and impatient you are.

☾✴ Sun conjunct Mars in the 4th House placement will give the native a profession/passion their father won't like and support of, there will be strong resentment and disapproval from his side.

☾✴ Aquarius sun people are misunderstood personalities and they either have a huge friend circle or they like to be alone, nothing in between.

☾✴ Capricorn Sun people are so attracted to the mystical and magnetic scorpios, they love their aura and energy. Same goes with Aries and Scorpios too. Capricorn Sun people also adore kind and generous people.

☾✴ People with dominant earth placements have a stable long term profession and/or more than one property in their name. They mostly leave some legacy behind if they're popular and famous, people respect them a lot and they have many loyal fans and admirers. To mention a few: Elvis Presley, Beyoncé, Michael Jackson, Adele, Ratan Tata, Gurdas Maan, A.R. Rahman.

☾✴ Now, this is very specific, I can't sit still if I don't mention this. When Sagittarius Sun singers and composers break up with someone, they create the biggest hit number after that. That song gets to the top in the charts. For example: Taylor Swift and Miley Cyrus. I love how these natives quickly reach a glow up after a huge blow up, maybe this happens because it hits them hard when they soon realize that their life and peace of mind is much more precious and they shouldn't waste it on someone who's not worth it.

☾✴ Ketu/South Node in the 5th house/7th house, Ketu conjunct Venus/Saturn/Moon will make the native less or not at all interested in having children and/or romantic relationships. These people have their focus on other things in life such as self growth, career, ambition, passion and so on.(If these people have strong martian placements then they would want intimate relationships or marriage but no children.)

☾✴ Leo, Taurus, Capricorn and Aries Sun men have veiny hands and arms.

Love, light, peace & hope to you🌸🍁🌻🌼

Thank you so much for being here. I post PAC & Astrology Observations. Do love and support by reblogging, liking or following.

——————————— ♡ ♡ ♡ ———————————

[bokutosbabe]

hey, for the more than a married couple event, can i request isagi with 🍊🍫?

of course!

an isagi yoichi chocolate covered orange

જ⁀♡⊹｡° all this money can't buy me a time machine

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event !

♡ content — isagi yoichi x gn! reader, ex bf! isagi, gn! reader, pining (isagi) , established relationship, trying to make it work (spoiler: it wont)

♡ synopsis — maybe in another life, you and isagi yoichi would've worked out. he just wonders why it couldn't be this one. and sometimes, you do too.

When you walked into the small apartment assigned to you for the marriage simulation, the last person you expected to see standing there was him.

Isagi Yoichi.

Your breath hitched as his dark blue eyes met yours, widening in recognition. He hadn’t changed much in the past six months—not that you’d expected him to. The same messy hair, the same soft smile, and the same hopeful look that had once made you fall for him.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, shifting his weight.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to stay steady. “Hey.”

The room felt smaller now, suffocating under the weight of everything left unsaid.

It had been six months since you broke up.

The decision hadn’t been easy—not for you, and not for him. But Isagi’s relentless pursuit of his soccer dreams left little room for anything else, including you.

No matter how much he apologized or promised to do better, you always found yourself waiting: waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to text, waiting for him to notice the cracks forming in your relationship.

Until, one day, you couldn’t wait anymore.

The breakup wasn’t explosive or dramatic. It was quiet, like the last flicker of a candle before the flame died out.

He had cried, begging you to stay. You almost did.

But “almost” wasn’t enough.

Now, standing in the apartment with him again, the memories came rushing back.

“This is unexpected,” you said, breaking the silence.

He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Small world, huh?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Let’s just get through this, okay?” you said, your tone sharper than you intended. “It’s only a few weeks.”

He nodded quickly, his expression faltering. “Yeah. Of course.”

The first few days were awkward.

You kept your distance, avoiding unnecessary conversations or eye contact. Isagi seemed to sense your discomfort and gave you space, though you caught him watching you sometimes, his expression unreadable.

The program forced you to interact—cooking meals together, completing tasks designed to “strengthen the bond” between you. It was unbearable at first, the weight of your shared history making every moment feel like a test.

But Isagi was still Isagi.

Still kind, still thoughtful, still determined to make things work, even if this wasn’t real.

And despite your best efforts, the walls you’d built around yourself began to crack.

One night, after a long day of assignments, you found yourselves sitting together on the couch, exhausted.

Isagi leaned back, his head resting against the cushion, eyes half-closed. “Remember when we used to do this?” he murmured, his voice soft.

You stiffened, unsure how to respond.

“After games,” he continued, not waiting for an answer. “I’d come back so tired I could barely move, and you’d just…sit with me. It always made me feel better.”

“Yoichi,” you said quietly, not trusting yourself to say more.

He turned to look at you, his blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t name—regret, maybe, or longing.

“I missed this,” he admitted. “I missed you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?” he asked, sitting up. “It’s the truth.”

“Because it doesn’t change anything,” you said, your voice trembling. “We tried, Yoichi. We tried so hard, and it still wasn’t enough.”

He looked at you, his expression pained. “I could try harder.”

“You always say that,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes.

The silence that followed was deafening.

The first kiss happened a week later.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t even intentional.

You’d been arguing about something trivial—who should clean the dishes, maybe, or what to cook for dinner. The tension boiled over, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours, soft and familiar and wrong.

You pulled away almost immediately, your heart racing.

“That was a mistake,” you said breathlessly.

He nodded, looking just as shaken. “Yeah. A mistake.”

But it happened again.

And again.

Every time, you told yourselves it didn’t mean anything. It was just a slip, a moment of weakness.

But deep down, you knew better.

The final week of the program arrived far too quickly, bringing with it the inevitability of goodbye.

You tried to steel yourself, to remind yourself that this wasn’t real—that it couldn’t be real.

But Isagi made it hard.

He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, his every action a silent plea for you to stay.

On the last night, as you sat together on the couch, the weight of everything unsaid hung heavy in the air.

“I don’t want this to end,” he said quietly, breaking the silence.

You looked at him, your chest aching. “Yoichi…”

“I mean it,” he said, his voice trembling. “I don’t care about the program, or soccer, or anything else. I just want to be with you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “You can’t mean that,” you said, shaking your head. “You love soccer. It’s your dream. I can’t compete with that, and I shouldn’t have to.”

“You’re not a competition,” he said, his voice desperate. “You’re everything. I’ll give it all up if that’s what it takes—”

“Don’t,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “Don’t say that. You’d hate me for it. And I couldn’t live with that.”

His shoulders slumped, his expression crumbling. “So that’s it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You wiped at your tears, forcing yourself to stay strong. “That’s it.”

The next morning, you packed your things in silence.

Isagi didn’t try to stop you. He didn’t say goodbye.

As you walked out of the apartment for the last time, you allowed yourself one final glance back.

He was standing in the doorway, his blue eyes filled with a pain that mirrored your own.

But you turned away, knowing that some dreams were too big to share.

And some loves weren’t meant to last.

10/10 recommend listening to the one that got away acoustic version it makes this so much sadder

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[blueskittlesart]

One of my favourite era of the wild headcanons is that when Link pulled the master sword, he saw flashes of all his previous lives (if you take the era of the wild taking place much later in the timeline at face value lol). Not enough to inherit their memories, mind you, just enough that he was cognizant of his role in the world and that significantly changed his personality from bubbly kid to stoic soldier. Did you have any thoughts on this? I love your botw takes :)

boy do i have a comic for you

ok truthfully i have mixed feelings about this. that comic was an au where the major change is that link is specifically aware of the cycle from a young age, which is the inciting event for alterations to the story. i think that link doesn't necessarily NEED to be aware of the cycle for his actions to make sense. the intense pressure is already there no matter what. his position as the one single soldier who has the power to seal calamity ganon means that his entire life will, no matter what, culminate in him either dying or becoming an untouchable, mythical hero. that alone is, imo, enough to make any kid freak out a little bit. And from a writing standpoint, a lot of the conflict in botw exists specifically due to a LACK of knowledge about what the prophecy and calamity actually are and why the motions they're going through exist in the first place, so i think it's actually kind of out of place in the rest of the story to make link the only exception to this. in canon, his own shortcomings in this regard are a source of anxiety for him, too--he can't hear the voice of the sword, he doesn't have any idea what to expect when the calamity strikes, etc etc. in rare moments of leisure he immediately pulls out that sword and starts swinging it around, because what else can he do but train harder? He has no idea what to expect, so he has to be strong enough to face anything. TLDR i don't think he knew any more than anyone else--if he did, he might have had some idea of how to effectively stop the calamity the first time around.

[sonic-heat]

Hello!! If it is okay could I please request Sonic NSFW headcanons? 🫶🥹

thank you and happy new year!!!

Absolutely! He's my favorite to write about if it wasn't already obvious ✨ happy new year to you too anon!

You didn't specify which sonic so I'm going for normal canon/mainline games sonic!

Side note, this turned into more of an x reader than anything else- still headcanons regardless! That's what I get for not writing in forever...

NSFT under the cut;

⚡Sonic the hedgehog NSFW headcanons⚡

This post uses gender neutral/multi gender options for inclusivity, depending what you're comfortable with!

Warnings: mention of protected sex, praise, masturbation, penetration. Let me know If I missed any!

To start off with; he is a switch. He's pretty adaptable given what circumstances he is in, he's more in it for the other person than himself unless it's a special occasion. Expect him to be in whatever place you want him✨

He is way more sentimental about it than he is casual about sex and intimacy. If his partner is comfortable he will warm them up to the idea if the partner doesn't initiate first. Expect kisses, licks, nibbles, and sensual touches.

In addition to the last bit, he will always ask if what he's doing is okay. He wouldn't want to overstep a boundary. He will never start rough unless you tell him, he will gradually grope, stroke, or touch faster or more roughly as you allow it.

Sonic is generally very safe. he is a risk taker, when it comes to things like kinks or new positions, but he will always make sure proper aftercare is done, the area is comfortable for his partner, and proper protection is on/in. Expect to be treated like a prince/princess!

His favorite things on a partner is probably the chest/butt, either or for him. It's more to grab and touch and if his partner likes it then he's even more inclined to do things with it.

He is NOT quiet. He might start off quiet but oh boy- his voice can be kind of deeper in bed (like sonic frontiers type of deep) but he also has a very whiney and high pitched sound to him when he really gets into it, but it's not grating. He just can't help it if you just feel that good.

Expect is instincts to kick in, what I mean by that is he might lose himself into the feeling and get a bit over his head; he might go faster unexpectedly or too fast for you to keep up with.

Sometimes he might growl during sex. Probably from the werehog stuff still being present...

He's very body positive, any insecurities you have he will give extra kisses and adoration on when having fun with him. He loves to make you flush red and smile from his compliments, it makes him happy to let you know how beautiful/handsome you are.

He probably doesn't initiate as much as you would. He isn't sure when's the right time not to mention he can be awkward with love interests-

On the last note, he actually is very sexually active. He tries not to show it at all, but you might catch him on an off day having to deal with an "issue" the thought of you caused.

The age old question everyone has about sonic....does he keep his shoes and gloves on? Depends, actually. Typically he will take his shoes off but leave the gloves and socks on for comfort reasons, he will take the gloves off if he uses his hands on his partner/himself.

Very verbal. He will tell you he loves you and other affirmations. Sometimes he will teasingly play onto what he's doing/you're doing by saying things like "do you like that?" Or "that's it, that's what you want huh?" With a lower, sultry voice. He will do the same for encouragement, like "you're doing so good at this" or "you're taking this so well". He gives credit where credit is due!

He has sensitive spots behind his ears, on his tail, and between his quills that make him squirm when you touch them. He will jolt and melt into the touch.

Size? Given he's 3'3....I'd argue it's about 4 in. Idk, mobian sizing would be hard to figure out- so I only give an estimate.

He somehow has a large stamina, he can go for like 3 rounds and not feel tired.

He has a fondness for holding onto his partner during it, or wrapping his arms around them. He is mildly protective in his nature, and it adds to the intimacy for him.

He is quite flexible, do with that what you will. He also has no gag reflex (literally canon if you look at the intro to SATBK, he deep throats a chili dog??)

He can also get sappy during the deed, and tell you how he deeply appreciates you and other sentiments, this can also be the opposite end of the stick where he says or does something silly that makes you both laugh and lose focus for a moment.

Not really NSFW but he likes pets and belly rubs, like any creature would. Especially if they're soft and gentle, it'll instantly make him relax and melt.

Hes a big fan of holding your hand(s) while moving against/in you. It feels right to him.

Although he has a fast stamina, it takes him a little bit to recover from reaching his peak.

Oops made this very long oh well

I hope this is sufficient, anon! I might add onto this later if my noggin thinks up anything else, but here you go for now!

Requests are always open, I have a few requests to work on next, see you then! ~🌹

[kurokawaia]

DON'T BE SILLY 彡 Shinazugawa Sanemi

WC; 800+ | TW/CW :: reader is very polite and timid, FEM!Reader, afab, fem!reader x sanemi, emotional distress, mentions of injury, mild language, themes of loneliness and insecurites, reader is called 'wife' + more

⋆·˚ ༘ *𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 : (filled request) But I was wondering, if you are a viable could you do a one shot with either iguro or shinazugawa, where the reader misses them a lot since they go on missions but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to be clingy or anything. Instead they tell someone else (shinobu or mitsuri) who end up telling the guy about and they comfort the reader. - ANON

m.list | demon slayer m.list

Currently, you were at the Butterfly Mansion, trying to enjoy the time you have by yourself but it was really hard to do so, to enjoy it. Not even the sunset, which is beautiful, the soft glow which is about to disappear beneath the trees. No, you can't even enjoy that with the distress in your heart. Your heart aches deeply but you had to push those feelings down, you won't let your tears spill over. You won't cry. 

Sanemi is gone again, off on another dangerous mission, leaving his wife behind. You hate how much you miss him, all the smiles he shares with you, only you, his voice, his hands, how he clings to you like a cat when he wakes up. He haunts you when he's out on a mission. But you can't do anything. 

You didn't want to be that kind of person—the one who begged for attention

So, you kept it to yourself, bottling it up until you felt like you might burst. The words came tumbling out only because of Mitsuri, you can't lie to her shes your best friend, she knows when you're lying.

"I just... I miss him so much," you admitted. "I know it's silly, but I feel like I'm always waiting for him. And I can't even say anything because I don't want to seem clingy or selfish. He has enough to deal with already..."

Mitsuri gasped, her hands flying to her mouth as it dropped in shock. "That's not silly at all!" she said cupping your hands. "Sanemi should know how much you care. You're not selfish for missing someone you love."

"It's not like that! I mean—okay, maybe it is, but I don't want to bother him!"

"I'll handle this for you!" She announces already walking away from you.

Hours then passed until Sanemi finally came home. He was indefinitely tired anyone who saw him could tell that he was. He was about to head into the bath house before Mitsuri popped out in front of him, almost as if she was cornering him from going anywhere else.

"Sanemi!" she began, hands on her hips. "You're such a dummy sometimes, you know that?"

"What are you going on about, Kanroji?"

"It's your wife!" she exclaimed. "She misses you so much and feel too guilty to tell you because they don't want to seem clingy! Can you believe that?"

Sanemi froze. 

She feels what?

He pushed past Mitsuri and slides open the door abruptly to your shared room. Your head perks up to the door, seeing Sanemi standing there and you could see the worried expression on your face which made your heart ache, wondering if he is okay.

Sanemi then suddenly sat down next to the futon, elbows resting on his knees as he gazed down to you, analyzing your pretty face and he could see it, the worry on your face. 

"You missed me?" he asked.

Your eyes widened. "What? No—I mean, yes, but I—" You groaned, burying your face in your pillow. "Mitsuri told you, didn't she?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "She did."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, your embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. But then you felt his hands move around your body, pulling you up into a hug, arms tightly wrapped around you and you feel as if you were going to cry because it's been so long since you've felt safe in his arms.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" he asked softly. "I'm not gonna think you're clingy or whatever crap you've been telling yourself."

"I didn't want to make things harder for you," you muttered. "You're already out there fighting for your life. The last thing you need is me whining about how much I miss you."

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "I go on those missions because I have to, yeah. But you're the reason I come back. Don't ever think for a second that missing me or wanting me around is a burden. Got it?"

Tears pricked your eyes and it wasn't too long before they began to fall and your arms tightly wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him in closer.

"I missed you too, you know," he murmured against your hair.

He rested his chin on top of your head and his heart begins to ssync with yours, this is the first time he has felt at peace for days ever since the mission ended, he doesn't think he will ever feel calm unless he has you in his arms.

"Next time, just tell me, okay? Don't bottle it up. I'm tough, but I'm not so tough I don't want to know how you feel."

You nodded against his chest. "I will. I promise."

"Good," he said. "Because I'm not going anywhere. Cling to me all you want."

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