#it just doesn’t make sense. logically speaking

[martybaker]

There was only one couch

Tfw you cannot find the jayvik fic you crave so you write it yourself 🙃

I also gotta preface this with - Does it even make sense that they would have microwaves in Piltover? Do they have electricity? My quick search didn’t yield any decisive results so if you know pls lmk. Also, I don’t really know if Jayce is making any sense talking about them but in my defense, he is sleep deprived (and I am dumb and didn’t put any real research into this, sorryy)

—————————

They’ve been stuck at this problem for hours, any potential paths they managed to come up with immediately shattering after but a couple pokes of logic aimed to test the solidity of their foundations. Like bubbles popped by a child’s finger. Like heated corn kernels. Like dreams of making a difference-

Viktor’s too tired to think in metaphors.

He drops the pencil and swivels in his chair, facing Jayce who’s already draped across their shabby sofa, long legs sticking out from one end, head inclined on the armrest on the side closer to Viktor.

“What if we…err, try to like, microwave it, but I don’t mean like an actual microwave,” he waves his hands in the air as he talks, as if that would help illustrate his train of thought, “but like a device, a - an oven, that could create vibrations and …uhhh, direct the particles? Fuck, I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.”

Viktor chuckles. He doesn’t know why he does, it’s not even particularly funny, the exhaustion must have erased any common sense of his that was left. Yet it’s…comforting to see that same exhaustion mirrored in Jayce. The same dark circles, the same bone deep tiredness weighing him down, the same look of frustration after they’ve been hitting dead ends and running in circles. It’s a shared exhaustion, just like the hard work is shared. Probably should have called it a night hours ago. They both direly need the rest.

“Ovens and microwaves? That would be your hunger speaking, I’m afraid,” Viktor says, reaching for his cane, grinding his teeth to gather the energy to push himself up onto his feet.

“Nah, m’not hungry,” Jayce mumbles. “We had those sandwiches for lunch. Or was it dinner? What time is it even?”

“Too late by all accounts,” Viktor says, taking the few steps towards the couch. He looks at Jayce, who seems glued to the couch and likely is planning to spend the night there. Viktor looks towards the door, but hesitates. The idea of the track across campus to his lodgings really doesn’t sound appealing.

It’s not even that far, the university tried to accommodate Viktor’s needs as best as they could and gave him a room on the ground floor, plus the building is the closest housing to the Engineering department’s laboratories. And yet, today it feels miles away. Damn his leg, damn all the stairs, and damn his hubris for yet again pushing his body beyond its limits, knowing fully well it will backfire ten folds and render him even more useless in the morning.

Jayce notices his hesitation, damn his partner’s bright mind too. He can read Viktor too well, he guesses the reason for his histation despite Viktor’s lack of complaining.

“Oh, do you wanna sleep here? I’ll head home, no problem,” he suggests way too readily, already hoisting himself up onto his elbows.

Viktor tsks and pushes against Jayce’s chest, pushing him back down into the couch.

“Stay,” he hisses. Jayce lives off campus, it would take him much longer to get home. Viktor’s not about to kick him out. And he doesn’t care for compassion either.

Jayce knows this, yet the man cannot help but be kind and caring, and though it irritates Viktor when it's aimed at him, it is also a quality of Jayce’s that he admires. He’s kind to everyone. Meets everyone halfway. Though at times they push too far, and Jayce lets them. Too kind for his own good.

Viktor shakes his head, trying to clean it, the stacked up piles of thoughts seem to have all spilled inside his brain and are rattling around. Rest. He needs to rest.

He looks at Jayce, who is still lying down on the couch, hands raised as if in surrender, big doe eyes staring at Viktor. Was Viktor too cross with him just now? He’s unable to determine. He pats Jayce’s knee in an attempt to smooth over his own prickly temperament.

“I just…I need to take a moment. Before I head out,” he tries. He hopes Jayce won’t insist. He is too tired to come up with reasonable arguments. He doesn’t wanna fight.

But Jayce doesn’t fight, he nods, then he bites his lip and opens his arms.

Hmm.

Viktor considers.

The couch is clearly too small for one grown man, let alone two.

Still it would be more comfortable than the chair.

And Viktor’s not averse to touch. Despite perhaps coming off as such. To everyone, except for Jayce.

It is true that he doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, especially unexpectedly. But he is human and just like for anyone else, there are moments when he would welcome touch. Moments when he finds it comforting. And Jayce is a very tactile person. He didn’t hold back from putting a hand on Viktor’s shoulder the very first day they met, and he hasn’t stopped since. There was a moment near the beginning of their partnership when someone pointed out Viktor’s (alleged) aversion to touch and Jayce panicked, apologizing profusely for making him uncomfortable, and it took days for Viktor to convince him he really didn’t mind. Because that was the truth, Viktor didn’t mind. Not when it was Jayce.

Of course cuddling on the couch was an entirely different matter.

They’ve never done that before, however, Viktor wasn’t a stranger to the comfort of a warm body next to his either.

From cuddling with his parents for warmth as a kid in one too small bed, to seeking the pleasures of a lover to relieve stress, the warmth of a body next to his was undoubtedly beneficial.

And he and Jayce are friends. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

And so Viktor slowly drops his cane to the floor and lowers one of his knees to the couch, trying to figure out how to arrange himself next to Jayce.

Jayce tries to help but it takes some maneuvering, what with Viktor’s leg and their sleep deprived brains, there are a couple of winces and pointy elbows and just way too many limbs, an “Oof” from Jayce when he earns a knee to his stomach, but eventually Viktor finds himself situated with his back against the back of the couch, his head on Jayce’s chest, right leg on top.

It’s…it’s warm.

It’s nice.

It’s not a big deal.

“Okay?” Jayce checks.

Viktor hums. He can hear Jayce’s heartbeat, feel his breath on his forehead. Smell the musk, the odor of an unshowered body, but he has no right to complain, they both haven’t showered for however many hours or days they’ve been locked in here.

Jayce’s heartbeat and breathing slows, but Viktor cannot slow his racing thoughts. He can feel every point of contact where their bodies are touching. He can feel Jayce’s muscular chest moving under his hand. Jayce’s right hand briefly pets Viktor’s hair before it settles on top of his shoulders. Viktor fights against the urge to burrow closer, to inhale Jayce’s smell, to tug his hand back into Viktor’s hair.

Stupid sleep deprived brain. Viktor could have figured such close proximity to a warm body would reduce him to animal instincts. He can only be glad he’s way too sleepy for his nether parts to react as well.

Jayce feels his restlessness. How could he not, pressed so close.

“Viktor,” he whispers, warm breath tickling Viktor’s forehead and despite himself Viktor exhales and melts against that strong chest even more. “You can rest, V, I’ll wake you in a couple of minutes and walk you home.”

My ass you will, Viktor thinks, we’re both gonna fall asleep here, your right side will be completely numb and my back will be killing me tomorrow. He’ll barely be able to stand. But he’s too tired and too comfortable to say any of that now. It’s a Tomorrow Viktor’s problem anyways. This Viktor burrow’s closer against Jayce’s chest, letting all his worries and all the problems fade, falling into the sweet embrace of sleep.

[mangoisms]

WAIT A SECOND. just saw something. remember when i was wondering if people knew what batarangs were. because i constantly wonder about the level of knowledge ppl have in-universe in gotham. WELL

i didn’t even realize it when i read this issue but. PRESUMABLY. it IS because they’re at a party and she thinks he’s just ‘dressed’ as robin. so people do know that batarangs are. well. called batarangs. right?????

sorry i just saw this posted again on instagram and it BARELY hit me. ok. wow. it was for a thing in ck that i ultimately solved by having him call it that. but. that’s not necessary. apparently. well.

(also this page and the few after are so funny to me. this entire thing. bc bart and kon step in and then he gets mad 😭)

[animangalover-writes]

Time for another dream i had, this time about zutara.

This one is a lot shorter, but essentially I had a dream where kataras whole family(which seemed to have more members then in the show) all live in the fire nation, hiding the fact that they're water tribe(rather, they were water tribe).

Katara is in some sort of relationship with zuko. It's unclear if she's his wife, his girlfriend, or his mistress, but its not hidden. People know about her and her relationship with him.

(Putting the rest under a cut so I don't clog up the feed lol)

If she was his mistress it's kinda held in that way that kings had other women they'd sleep with along with their queen and it was just an accepted, albeit kinda shitty, thing to do.

Anyway, katara is also pregnant, which was kind of an underlying "plot point" and would return home to her family every day to check on them.

It's revealed here that katara is basically the only reason her family is doing pretty well for themselves. Her relationship with zuko means that they have enough to get by. It's also noted that her whole family(katara, sokka, their dad, their grandma, and some made up new family members) all live in one house. So its clear they're still kind of struggling.

It's also revealed, through a conversation with her grandma, that the only otehr reason katara is with zuko, is because it was part of a bigger plan. She and her family are part of a resistance against the fire nation, and when they realized zuko liked katara, wanted her to infiltrate and pretend to be in love with him.

The plan had clearly gone on longer then anticipated, for whatever reason, and katara is conflicted because she actually does have feelings for him now, not fo mention she's pregnant with his child.

There's a "scene" either at the beginning or after this reveal that shows zuko in a meeting with other fire nation officials, including his father and sister, and that either he was against one of their plans but is ignored or his plan gets shut down(I don't remember which). Katara always sits in on these meetings with him, and afterwards, as everyone is getting up to leave, she leans her forehead against his and whispers that everything will be alright. This is why we can tell she truly does care about him, to some degree. But it's also a moment showing potential manipulation, like shes pretending to care. It's supposed to be a little of both, she needs him to trust her but she does still love him.

After all of this, we cut to a scene in a forest/swamp. This part is kind of blurry in my head, but basically, it's a secret meeting. Katara is dressed similarly to the painted lady, her and a few other resistance members, including Sokka, Suki, and Hakoda, are planning an ambush on Zuko and his family, who are supposed to travel down a path nearby. Katara is a key part of this plan, as she's the only waterbender, and she knows this. She nods along to everything regarding the plan and she goes over important points herself as well. But as everyone else continues talking, katara is having doubts. She loves Zuko. She's about to have his child. She cares for him. But she needs to free the world from the fire nations clutches as well. She doesn't want to kill Zuko, but she has to in order to help others. She's hesitating.

They continue with the plan anyway, and through the foliage that katara and the others are hiding in, we see a carriage making its way down the path. Zuko and his family(or at least his father) are in there.

Everyone is getting ready to fight, to jump out and attack. We see a close up shot of Katara, conflicted. She's still not sure if she can go through with this, if she can kill Zuko.

And then I woke up.

[shima-draws]

I just finished Skypeia AGHHHFJHHHH it was so GOOD

[sttoru]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐋𝐃-𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘 !

⟣ sypnosis. you were curious if your boyfriend would pass a ‘loyalty test’ that you’ve seen on social media and you decide to see for yourself, only to discover something much more . . . heartwarming.

⟣ tags. gojo satoru x female reader. mostly tooth rotting fluff. talks about cheating / a sprinkle of trust issues from reader. the rest is satoru just being lovesick.

⟣ note. uhhhh… idk just a random idea i got at three am on a saturday night after being woken up from a nightmare >_< enjoy .

you don’t think satoru would actually ever cheat on you. your curiosity just got the best of you when you saw that one girl do a ‘loyalty test’ on her boyfriend. it was quite simple—testing if your partner would hand you their phone without being suspiciously defensive.

therefore you walked into satoru’s room and spotted him laying on his side, his back facing the door. he didn’t have any earphones in so you could hear the sounds of a movie playing on the phone he held in his hands.

he seemed so peaceful and content that you were already feeling bad for disturbing him with your silly test. you moved to sit on the edge of the bed and cleared your throat, making your presence known as if the sorcerer hadn’t sensed it moments ago.

“are you cheating on me?”

blunt and straight to the point.

satoru pauses the show on his phone and looks at you like you had said the most outrageous thing there is (to him, you really did). he drops the device on the bed and turns his body to face yours; “well—hello to you too, baby.”

he runs a hand through his hair before sitting up against the headboard with a raised brow, one hand cautiously reaching out for you. satoru was thinking about all the things he has said or done previously that could’ve possibly make you think he was screwing around behind your back. his mind worked fast, though he couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

“answer my question please, ‘toru.” you mumble, feeling slightly guilty for doing this to your lover. you could see the confusion plastered on his face.

“no, i am not.” satoru shakes his head whilst holding your hand in his, thumb brushing against the back of it, “what makes you think that?”

you weren’t about to say ‘oh nevermind then! just a dumb thing that i saw on tiktok’—no, there was still one thing left to do. even if you’re so super sure that your boyfriend was hiding nothing from you. maybe there was an one in a million chance that your intuition was wrong. or maybe it’s just your underlying trust issues speaking.

“uhh, just wanted.. to check.. i guess?” you clear your throat and take a deep inhale before putting your hand out to satoru, palm up.

the white-haired sorcerer looks from your hand to you, and back. he doesn’t know what that indicated, so he takes a simple guess; satoru places his chin on your palm, giving you an amused kind of grin. you raise an eyebrow as he rests his head on your hand—which wasn’t what you wanted to gain from your gesture.

but you couldn’t blame him. it was cute that that was the first thing he thought of doing.

“you’re always welcome to check. got nothin’ to hide anyway.” he shrugs, not offended by your accusation in the slightest. you see the way his blue eyes look up at you—in a way that shows his pure, unadulterated adoration for you.

you nod and scratch satoru under his chin, to which he smiles and closes his eyes, enjoying the tingling touch, “then can i .. look through your phone?”

without an ounce of hesitation, he had placed his phone unlocked in your hand. satoru doesn’t care much about privacy anyway—you’re his girlfriend, you’re the only one allowed to know every single thing about him, “of course, baby.”

your eyes land on the screen and your jaw drops as you see his home screen; a picture of you up close, sleeping with your cheek squished against his arm, own hands resting near your head and . . . is that drool trickling down your chin?

“oops, sorry, you were too cute not to take a picture of.” satoru chuckles as he sees your reaction. he lays back on his side, elbow propped on the pillow with his head resting against his hand—watching you go through his phone with a relaxed look.

you roll your eyes playfully before starting your search. your finger swiped across the screen and landed on the messenger app satoru uses. you click on it and scroll through his chats, but don’t find anything out of the ordinary. he recently talked to you, his first year students, nanami and shoko.

you curiously tap on his chat with shoko and don’t read anything interesting at first glance. you scroll up and take note of how satoru was the one who kept most of the conversation going. shoko’s replies were much shorter and curt—straight to the point.

but then your eyes land on a conversation from two weeks ago. satoru had showed shoko a bunch of selfies you had sent him that same day. he was telling her how ‘cute’ and ‘pretty’ you were, practically bragging about you being his girl.

you scroll up some more and see that he’s done the same many times before; sending shoko pictures of you and kind of rambling to her about how beautiful you are.

shoko—being the good friend she is—indulged into his little lovesick ramblings and agreed with every thing satoru said—even complimenting your looks herself. you begun to get embarrassed at this unexpected revelation.

when going through more of his chats with other people, you realise how much satoru loves to talk about you. you couldn’t possibly count the many times satoru had refused invitations from his students or other friends simply because he wanted to hang out with you instead.

you discovered that he even skipped two or three important meetings at the school to go spend the day with you—nanami scolding him via text each time he did so.

“damn..” you murmur and glance up at your lover after closing his messaging app. satoru was staring right back at you with the biggest grin you’ve ever seen on him.

he wasn’t embarrassed about you reading some of those cheesy and sappy texts at all. in fact, he was happy. he wants you to know how much he loves you (as if he doesn’t show you exactly that every day of the week).

“go on, sweets.” satoru nods towards his phone, encouraging you to continue your inspection. your eyes dart back towards the screen and you shyly swipe and scroll some more, eventually ending up in his gallery.

the first things you noticed: two albums dedicated to you. all were filled with hundreds of pictures of you (and him). one was named ‘my love,’ the other ‘me&my love’ — both with a heart at the end. scrolling through them, you noticed many images you hadn’t even realised were ever taken.

many of those pictures were also favourited in his gallery.

you nibble on your bottom lip and leave the gallery app even more flustered than before. you aimlessly click around some more on his phone. what really surprised you most was that you were named in his reminder app.

there were tons—all added in one long list. some were so pure that you couldn’t contain the slight tears in your eyes;

‘bring gf gifts’, ‘remind gf that she’s amazing’, ‘bring gf lunch’, ‘send gf daily selfie’, ‘daily cuddles w gf (if she wants)’, ‘give gf big smooch (important!)’, ‘check up on gf when away on business’, — satoru doesn’t actually need to have those reminders on his phone. his mind is so full of you that he’ll automatically remember to do everything, almost on autopilot. he just has those there for… well, just in case he somehow ends up forgetting.

you lock his phone after seeing enough and give it back to your lover. you wordlessly crawl over to him on the bed and snuggle up to his body, head resting on his chest.

“sorry.” you quietly apologise. you knew he wasn’t hiding anything, but the fact that you still went ahead and tried out that ‘loyalty test’ on someone as loyal and loving as satoru makes your heart ache a bit. especially after discovering just how smitten he’s with you.

“dunno why you’re apologising—but please don’t.” satoru whispers and rubs your back in a soothing manner, kissing the top of your head and smiling against your scalp afterwards, “it’s fiiine.”

he’s entertained by the reactions to your discoveries, even if those are but mere indications to the actual unending and undying love he holds for you in his heart.

you lift your head up and look at satoru. your bottom lip stuck out, corners of your mouth twitching slightly whilst your eyes started to get a bit glassy. you really felt bad—yet you also felt appreciated on the other hand. if you didn’t go through with your curious idea, you wouldn’t have gotten to know about any of this.

“aww, my sweet, sweet girl.” satoru coos and places two kisses right below each eye, tapping your nose with a grin. he adores the way you look and if it wasn’t for his self control, he’d have nibbled on those cheeks of yours out of playful aggression.

it’s then that satoru remembers one of his daily tasks; one he hadn’t properly done today.

you were caught off guard once more as satoru’s lips crashed down onto yours—no warning given whatsoever. his big hands held onto your cheeks, thumb rubbing the skin there whilst his glossy lips moved against yours in a gentle yet much sloppy way.

“there,” the white-haired man hums in content as he pulls away, giggling once he sees a bit of his saliva coat your mouth. he wipes it away with his thumb, “your smooch of the day.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at the exaggerated cringy way satoru said the latter—your boyfriend laughing right alongside you afterwards.

satoru wasn’t done with you, however. he had many other daily tasks that were yet to be fulfilled.

[caelivir]

hidden lights | rayne ames

— synopsis. reading rayne ames is impossible. that's why you don't get why he offers to take you out on a date after you've been stood up again.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. modern au, you and rayne are roommates, fluff, you’re so oblivious it hurts, rayne's most likely ooc towards the end but we do it for plot,

— warnings. one kys thrown in at the end but it’s not in a serious manner

— word count. 3.2k

— notes. in honor of triple liner rayne being animated. i have quite literally been waiting to see it animated for years. also hi.

you can never tell what rayne ames is thinking. he wears the same cold, uninterested glare on his face at all times of the day. he never speaks unless spoken to, never lets you know when he leaves the apartment, never does anything to show that he actually has emotions.

you're asked on the daily how you survive rooming with him, and in all honesty, it's really not that bad. he does his half of the chores, and he doesn't leave his shit all over the apartment. really, the guy's only problem is his lack of emotion. it drives you up the wall.

finn says not to take it to personally during the one day he visited his brother. apparently, he's like that with everyone, but he's still a good guy. it just takes time.

you would like to believe that, but rayne makes that extremely difficult to believe when he looks like he wants to kill every person who so happens to exist in his direction.

so naturally, seeing him so angered after finding out that you've been stood up is surprising. it's an even bigger shock when he offers to take you out on a date instead.

you don't know what compels you to agree. even if you hadn't accepted his offer, something tells you that rayne would've found a way to get you to leave with him so there's no use in trying to deny him in this matter.

that's why you allow him to drive all the way to marchétte street, where a night market is being held in full swing. the road has all sorts of stalls lined up one after the other, ranging from foods to clothes. but because the marchétte night market is ridiculously popular, the place is packed to the brim with people.

rayne offers his hand once he notices that you're daunted by the crowds. you stare at him with surprise. when you don't make a move to accept this action, rayne huffs before grabbing your hand. he interlocks his fingers with yours and drags you into marchétte street's traffic.

the first thing you note is that rayne's hands are surprisingly warm and soft. for someone so incapable of talking, his touch is strangely reassuring.

he drags you to a vendor selling takoyaki. and even as he orders, rayne doesn’t let go of your hand.

“what do you want?” he says into your ear so that he doesn’t have to yell over all the noise. the feeling of his breath fanning over your skin sends shivers down your spin. it's maddening.

“oh. uh-” your eyes quickly scan over the menu, and you blurt out the first item that you read. out of habit you reach for your wallet, but rayne is quick to shut you down.

“absolutely not.” he grumbles, letting your hand drop to your side so he can pull out his cash. rayne hands the amount to the girl at the register, and she hands back his change that he drops into the tip jar.

“thanks.” you say quietly, still so flustered about the entire situation.

rayne only studies you before humming in acknowledgement. “come on.” he guides his hand to your upper back, moving you out the way so you can wait on the side for your orders.

it’s during this time you really look at rayne as if that would provide you with the answers you need to understand him. you try to wrap your head around it. you draft up every possible explanation, but none of them seem to make sense.

unless… it couldn’t be… does rayne like you? you shake your head, dismissing the thought as soon as it crosses your mind. no, that’s absurd, the furthest thing from logical. this is rayne ames we’re talking about. in the five months that you’ve been living together, you two have never had a solid conversation. how could he ever like someone he’s barely talked to?

you're about to confront rayne about his intentions until your number order is called, and all the courage you built up crumbles away as rayne leaves you to go pick up your takoyaki.

still, whatever his reasons for doing this may be, this is a rare opportunity to come by, and that means that maybe rayne doesn't have to continue being a stranger. maybe you can get under those layers and find that good guy finn said was there.

"i never knew marchétte had a night market." you say, breaking the silence as the two of you walk side by side through the market.

"i didn't either." rayne admits, poking his fork into one of the octopus balls, and shoving the whole thing into his mouth.

"what?" your face scrunches in disbelief. "then how'd you find out?"

"i asked finn as we were going down to the garage." your date shares nonchalantly.

you turn to look at rayne with the intent of questioning him further, but the sight of his cheeks bulging with food makes you burst out in a fit of giggles.

"what?" rayne asks, narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip to contain your laughter. your gaze falls on a mixture of crumbs and sauce that sits on the corner of his mouth, only causing you to smile wider.

"you got a little something there." you gesture at his lips. rayne fumbles for a moment, swiping his fingers around various sections of his mouth, somehow only cleaning half of the mess up.

you shake your head, still grinning up at him. he tenses when your thumb grazes the edges of his lips. you can feel his eyes staring deep into you, and you have to ignore the way it makes your stomach flip.

"all done." you whisper, wiping the remainders on the napkin in your hand.

rayne doesn't say anything regarding what occurred, only urging you to follow him further down marchétte street.

you swear that you see the tips of his ears go red, and something about that makes you all fuzzy inside.

as the night progresses, you and rayne abide your time by visiting stalls. well, it's more like you choose which ones interest you the most, and rayne follows behind. you comment on certain items that look nice; sometimes, you ask for your roommate's opinions to decide on whether something will be worth your money or not. to your surprise, rayne's advice is solid, and you end up listening to him.

at some point, you convinced him to buy a pair of absurdly looking mugs for the apartment. he fought you hard on it, saying that a mug shaped like a fish is extremely inconvenient, but in the end, you won with insistent begging.

when the two of you both got bored of the market, you decide to take rayne to one of your favorite spots in the city.

"the park? really?" rayne gives you a dead stare.

"hey, don't judge." you pout. "i love this place."

"why? no offense, but i don't think parks are all that special."

"i feel like i can take a step back here and just a catch a break from everything," you answer honestly. "sometimes, i sit down and watch people as they live their lives, and something about that is strangely comforting. it makes me want to keep going."

rayne doesn't follow up on your words, but you can tell that he's really considering them, and that brings a smile onto your face.

"plus, i feel like it's a good place for when you want to talk to someone." you grab onto your roommate's wrist. "come on let's go to the swings."

you practically drag rayne to the playground, which is completely deserted, but that's to be expected when it's already 10p.m. no parent would be dumb enough to bring their kid out this late.

you force rayne onto the the swing next to you, and all he does is sit there, unwilling to indulge himself in such a simple joy. annoyed with him, you hop off your own set, coming behind him.

"what are you doing?" rayne whips his head around as your hands plant themselves firmly on his back.

"oh live a little." you huff, mustering up enough strength to push him. the swing rocks forwards and comes back. even as rayne complains and threatens you, you continue to push him, watching as he goes higher and higher. he may be masking it, but you can tell that he's enjoying it.

you finally give up when your arms grow sore and a layer of sweat coats your face. slumping back into the swing beside rayne, you breathe heavily. "man, that was a workout."

"i told you to stop." your date reminds you, shooting you a look.

"you can be honest, rayne. i know you liked it."

"i did not."

"yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that." you wave him off, laughing.

for a minute, neither of you say anything. you're the one who said that the park is a place where you can talk openly with someone, yet there's not a single topic that you can think to bring up.

luckily, rayne swoops in to save it. "can i ask you something?" your half-blonde roommate asks, something more serious laced in his voice. it makes you swallow a lump in your throat. an anxious feeling creeps into your body.

"of course you can."

"why did you bother giving that guy a chance?"

it's easy to know exactly who he's referring to. you shrug. "he's nice and has good energy."

"but he had stood you up two times in the past though. clearly he isn't as nice as you make him out to be. you seriously can't be that dumb to have fallen for it three times."

that statement in itself should get you mad (even though he would be right), but there's something peculiar in what he said that had you ignoring the jab altogether. "how'd you know he stood me up twice before? i never told you that."

at that, rayne freezes, eyes blowing wide open. it's so obvious that he's trying to find an excuse right now, but you push further.

"who told you that, rayne?" you lean closer, watching as his ears turn beet red. you're not even angry with him. it's mostly curiosity making you push him. not to mention that seeing him in a flustered state is entertaining and quite cute.

"max did." your roommate finally admits albeit quietly.

you pull your head back. "max? as in max land? how the hell does he know?"

"your dates happened to be at the restaurant he works at."

"why would he bother telling you that though?" you wonder. "up until tonight, i don't think it concerned you."

"it did though." the half-blonde mumbles, thinking you wouldn't hear, but you do anyway.

"what?" you press.

"forget it." rayne shakes his head, growing irritated.

"no. fuck that.." you seethe, annoyed at his unwillingness to be honest with you. rayne bites his tongue to hold back. you see it. "don't act like this. just tell me, or i swear to god i'll text max right now-"

"it's because i knew that i could treat you better." the words rush out of rayne's mouth as he snaps his head toward you. the fire in his eyes die as he locks his gaze onto you. the harsh emotion written across his features softens. you can feel your own exasperation slipping away like that of a retreating ocean tide. he grimaces in regret, knowing that he didn't mean to let that slip out, but he did anyway. it's out in the open, and now you knew.

surely, you're hearing things wrong. perhaps you're misunderstanding what he just said. how could that be misinterpreted though? it's such a painfully straightforward statement, yet it still doesn't make any sense.

rayne sighs. it's like he can already hear your thoughts and your confusion. the least he can do is clear the air and dump everything onto you while he can. "i didn't expect to feel like this," he begins to explain. "when i moved in, i just assumed you'd be another person i wouldn't pay attention to. i'm sure you know how i am. i don't bother getting to know people, but a lot of people feel the need to force themselves into my life, and shit like that pisses me off. but you didn't do that. you introduced yourself, explained the ground rules of the apartment, and then left me alone."

"so... you like the fact that i leave you alone?" you tilt your head.

"shut up. let me finish."

"okay."

"but yeah, that's part of it. you keep your distance, but you still try to show that you care. you don't do anything groundbreaking. it's just that the small things you do for me got to me. it may sound dumb to you, but it meant a lot to me."

suddenly, you're hit like a train because you know exactly what rayne means. you recall all the times you ensured that there was dinner for him, the times you moved his laundry into the dryer when he forgot to do it himself, and the times you restocked his favorite snacks when they ran out. you hadn't realized that you did any of that. it just came naturally, no hidden meaning behind it.

"oh." you breathe out, blinking.

rayne nods, continuing. you're honestly floored over the fact that he still has more to say. "you don't notice it. at least, i don't think you do, but at some point, i tried doing the same for you. i started paying more attention to you and what you liked and how you liked things done. i did it mostly to pay back your kindness, but over time i continued just 'cause i liked seeing your smile."

you have to process that for a minute, piecing together how certain events lined up until it finally clicks into place. "s-so the island vase-"

"i replace the flowers because you like them fresh."

"the key holder?"

"you always forgot to bring your keys until i installed it."

"when you put on movies-"

"i check your letterboxd and hope that you'll sit and watch them with me."

"when i put on movies-"

"i sit with you because i want to be near you."

your jaw falls open. never in a million years could you have expected this. you thought that rayne could care less about your existence, but the reality was that that was far from the truth. cold, aloof rayne was always doing things for you. all this time, you've been so oblivious.

still, there's more to the story so you stay quiet, letting him get his feelings off of his chest. "to be honest, i was never going to say anything. max tried convincing me to confess on multiple occasions, but i was dead set on letting it pass. i didn't think you liked me in the same way anyway.

"but then you came home today and you told me about your date and i just got so... angry," rayne clenches his fist around the chains of the swing. the whole situation infuriates him every time he thinks about it. "it just wasn't fair. you spent so much time into looking your best just for that asshole to go and waste your effort. you're so beautiful, so kind and understanding, and i fucking hate the fact that he's been taking advantage of that.

"i really wasn't thinking clear when i proposed this date to you, but god after tonight, i'd do it all over again. i wanted you to know what it's like to be with someone who does care about you. i wanted to see you smile. i wanted to hear stories. i want you so badly it's all i can think about sometimes.

"i know this is a lot, and i'm freaking you out right now. i'm sorry but you-"

"rayne." you interrupt with a big smile on your face. he was unaware to the fact that you had got up.

"for fucks sake, can you let me finish? this is already weird enough for me to talk about as is." he rolls his eyes, narrowing his gaze at you, blush splashed across his cheeks. still, without any resistance, you pull him up from his swing by his wrists.

"then don't." you whisper as you pull him in.

and the moment you crash your lips onto rayne's, the world stops. he instantly melts into you, the palms of his hands finding the soft skin on your cheeks. your hands tangle themselves into his hair. his lips are incredibly soft. a faint taste of matcha and sugar syrup dances on his tongue from the boba he drank earlier. a noise of approval vibrates down his throat, and you can't help but smile against his lips.

rayne wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he deepens the kiss. you get what he was talking about earlier. this kiss is all it takes to prove it to you. you feel his affection and desire all at once. every single bone in your body is so aware of how much rayne ames cares about you.

when you finally pull away for air, it's like a smile is permanently tugged onto your lips. rayne trains his eyes onto you, engraining every detail of this moment into his head.

a comfortable silence falls as each of you take your time to catch your breaths. your stare finds its way up, admiring the night sky. there are barely any stars out tonight. no, that part isn't remotely true, not fully anyway, because light pollution drowns out stars and their lights. the reality is that there are billions of stars hanging high out of reach; they just go unseen.

rayne is kinda like that you realize. finn was right. his brother is a good guy. there's a hidden light within him behind all those aloof layers of his. you just have to squint and maybe put on some prescription glasses is order to see it. it's a shame it took you five months to to really acknowledge it. but now that you've finally found a glimpse of it, you'll continue to clear past the fog. you want to know every part of rayne and see his light just as he did with you. you want him to be able to shine at his full brightness with no fear. you'll take rayne ames for all that he is.

"come on," you coo, a lovestruck look in your eyes as you slip your hand into rayne's. "let's go home."

bonus:

rayne: finn, give me a date spot quick finn: are you actually going on a date? rayne: stop asking questions finn: there's a night market on marchétte street. finn: are you seriously going on a date though? finn: hello? finn: rayne. finn: stop leaving me on read. finn: is it (y/n)? finn: it is her, huh? finn: asshole.

delisaster: hey sorry delisaster: can we reschedule for next saturday? y/n: kys y/n: lol sorry that was my bf delisaster: bruh what? delisaster: did you have a bf this whole time? *this message could not be sent* delisaster: did you fucking block me? *this message could not be sent*

[ode2rin]

all my flaws

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument fluff | suggestive themes | established relationship | new boyfriend!rin 

content/warnings. 2k+ wc | characters are in their 20s ! | pro-athlete!rin | making out | narration heavy! | profanity | minimal proofread (me and my word vomit) | it’s like a new installment of this rin

in which: people say new relationships supposedly need a breakthrough fight to level up, but rin swears he would rather go through hell than do this again.

Your first fight as a couple freaked Rin out, even though he appeared stoic during the argument.

In the heat of the moment, Rin abruptly left your apartment, not uttering a word. Instead, he left you with a lingering glance filled with apathy—a look he'd never cast upon you before. His eyes turned void once again, when you were just getting used to it being bright and free.

What began as a simple disagreement, like any other couple's quarrel, escalated into rhetorical questions, accusing tones, and suddenly, it was him against you.

Silently, he rose from his seat, walked to the door, and vanished like a shadow that had never existed. To Rin, it felt like the right thing to do. You can't leave him if he does it first, he convinced himself. A twisted logic, fueled by emotions creeping from his past.

Yet apparently, his logic seems to be in total shambles when mixed and driven by emotions concerning you, because ten minutes later down the road, he wanted nothing more but to turn the car around.

Even so, in Rin’s true self-sabotaging fashion, he refrained. Because he’s awful, selfish, and couldn’t even fix insignificant arguments like a normal person would. Convinced of his own flaws, he believed you shouldn’t be with him— shouldn’t give him that chance after all.

The next thing he knew, the ten minutes he could’ve made to retreat back and apologize turned into 27 hours and 48 minutes of misery, spent in non-speaking terms with you.

It sucks. Everything sucks.

That night, he slept in his own bed. The next day, the in denial and emotionally constipated side of him made himself believe that the expensive yet seemingly useless mattress felt responsible for the raging tension in his shoulders and back. Of course it wasn't because of the absence of your messages or the unfamiliarity of his own bed. Of course, it’s the bed’s fault.

Life isn’t what it used to be. The sun didn't shine properly if it didn't come through the window of your room he spent the night in, his usual protein drink tasted like absolute shit because you didn’t make it for him, and not to mention the lack of cuddles before he gets up in the morning— it was bound to be the worst day of his life ever since you happened.

To make things even worse, he’s disassociating in practice, even missing a goal making everyone stop in their tracks. It was an unusual sight, Itoshi Rin doesn’t miss, after all. 

He was acting so gloomy that Bachira even pointed out how there’s a storm cloud looming over his head. A statement that earned a curt ‘fuck off, bobcut’ from the striker.

Meanwhile, Isagi took a more rational approach of expressing his concern toward his friend’s atypical behavior by taking out his phone and sending you a message.

Isagi: Did something happen between you and Rin? He's being tenfold more insufferable. [1:13 pm] Isagi: Please do something about this. - Chigiri [1:15 pm]

On the receiving end of these messages, you couldn't help but admit to yourself that you felt a peculiar sense of relief, knowing Rin was grappling with the same turmoil after he left.

You'd had your share of arguments before—petty disagreements that were easier to fix due to forced proximity. It was simpler when you were obligated to walk together on the way home from school; otherwise, he would stand in the same spot outside your classroom if you decided to be petty and ignore him. Annoyed but still caring, he insisted on confirming you got home safely, reasoning that your houses were next to each other.

Rin was still hard-headed, much like all these years. A testament to this was his silence over the past 24 hours.

Reading Isagi’s text messages once more, you let out a sigh and made up your mind – you will force him to fix things with you. You will express your displeasure at his abrupt departure, insist he not repeat it if he wants to do this right with you, and convey that it should always be the two of you against any problem.

It might be a blow to your pride to give in first, but it is what the two of you needed. It is what he needed. 

It just happened that you loved that man enough to provide what he needed, despite all flaws.

A day of missing you must have driven him to hallucinate, Rin concludes. You, perched on his couch, delicately peeling oranges and chuckling at a whimsical show on the screen, are just a hallucination.

“You’re home.”

And would you look at that, hallucinations even speak.

From your vantage point, Rin looks like he's seen a ghost greeting him with his unblinking teal orbs and brows slightly arching upwards. You notice the subtle tightening of his grip on the strap of his gym bag as he takes measured steps towards you, as though cautiously approaching a dream he fears might dissipate.

“Rin?” you whisper in confusion. It was meek, barely a whisper of his name, yet it was all that he needed to close the gap between you in mere seconds.

You gape at him from how determined his strides were. Surprise is instantly replaced by warmth as your lover basically throws himself over you for a well-sought embrace the moment you're within his arms’ reach.

You’re real, and you’re here.

And he can’t even begin to tell you how much tension finally left his body with that realization.

“I thought…” he trails off, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

As shallow as one might say, each passing hour of being away from you has fully convinced Rin that it might have been the end to what the two of you had.

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” you whisper softly in his ear, your fingers finding solace in the familiar texture of Rin’s hair, tenderly tracing paths down to his nape. Rin responds with a gentle kiss along the side of your neck, a silent affirmation of his gratitude for the comforting gesture.

Unspoken sentiments hang in the air, but neither of you feels the need to verbalize them just yet. The minutes stretch, and you both savor each other’s warmth that has been sorely missed.

As minutes gracefully slipped away, you initiated the release from his embrace, much to his chagrin. Rin openly displayed his disapproval by gently yet firmly wrapping his arms around you. But you were resolute in your purpose and slightly pushed him back.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, holding his face to look at you.

“No.”

“I’ll make you some food, then. Stay here.”

Before your intentions could take you to the kitchen, Rin pulled you back making you fall back to his lap. “don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But dinner–”

“No.”

“No? You don’t want to eat?”

“No,” he firmly replied, “Later. I want to hold you first.”

You didn’t respond to Rin, and just took it upon yourself to make yourself more accessible for him to hold by facing him while still seated in his lap. The shift in position sent a shiver of anticipation through both of you, and Rin, consumed by the moment, reveled in the exquisite sensation of your body pressed closely against his.

Slowly, his fingers reached the side of your jaw, tracing and guiding you closer to meet him halfway. With closed eyes, you felt his lips approaching, delicately and purposefully, until his lips were a breath away from yours. The distance between your lips diminished as Rin closed in, capturing your mouth in a sweet, lingering surrender. 

Rin’s strong hands explored every inch of you it could reach. You felt his touch on your neck, shoulders, down to your thighs. The teasing fingers paid extra attention to your waist, their grip subtly teasing the hem of your shirt. You melt into him more when you feel said teasing hands slide inside.

He was everywhere— your mind, your body, your very soul. Rin had them well occupied with all of him.

A soft gasp escapes you when he nips the familiar spot on your neck just below your ear, each kiss that follows tracing a path to your collarbones. Another gasp, louder this time, as Rin gently sucked the skin beneath your collarbones, mending the sweet sting with his feather-light kisses.

It was getting harder to think when a feeling of desire ran from your chest down toward your inner thigh from how impossibly hot Rin’s lips were consuming you.

And just when you thought he had had enough of you, Rin’s hand once again cradled your jaw, guiding your gaze to meet his. Shivers danced down your spine as you absorbed the sight of his half-lidded, glossy teal eyes.

“I need you, baby,” he breathed, “please.”

It seemed as though there was a lot to make up for in the past twenty-four hours that he couldn't hold you.

You stirred from your sleep to the sensation of lingering kisses scattered from your forehead down to your jaw.

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, you found your lover gazing at you with those bright and free teal eyes, and you swore you never had a better way to start the day than this.

A smile graced your lips as you prepared to reciprocate the affection, intending to reach for him and plant a kiss on his jaw. However, your gesture was momentarily halted by his unexpected outburst.

“I love you.”

Professing to you used to terrify Rin – it used to knock all the air from his lungs and make the room seem so small. Now, with a few years ahead to gather enough backbone to escape the misery of pining, professing to you— loving you, felt as easy and natural as breathing.

And he hoped, with every beat of his heart against yours, that he would be breathing just fine in the many years to come.

“I love you,” he tells you again. Just for good measure, to ensure you heard him right, and just to make sure you know he does love you.

You heard him well. His words were clear enough, and the rapid beating of his heart against yours was loud enough to attest.

“Say it back, please,” he pleaded against the soft skin of your neck.

“I love you, Rin.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

He offered no verbal response, but a palpable sigh of relief emanated from him. For a man of few words, he sure does need a lot to feel better.

His warm breath lingered on your skin as a brief silence enveloped you both. Then, with a deliberate yet gentle gesture, he gathered both your arms, placing them above his shoulders, and pulled you closer by your thigh, guiding it above his own.

He loved holding you this way. He wasn’t a big believer, but he wondered if this, right here, was the closest he would ever come to heaven.

“But we have to unlearn those bad habits, Rin,” you asserted, your voice carrying a firm resolve, “No more leaving. We will sit through it, and we will talk, baby.”

Rin’s arms around your waist tightened, as if silently acknowledging your words. You knew he was listening— Rin could be hard headed and all, but he always listened. To you, and only you, that is. 

Minutes passed in silent communion, the world outside fading away as you and Rin held each other. Eventually, drowsiness began to cast its gentle veil over your senses. You couldn't tell if Rin had fallen asleep because his face was buried in the curve of your neck, hiding away in your scent. Yet, the soft and steady rhythm of his breath made you think so.

As you closed your eyes, allowing the realm of dreams to envelop you, Rin’s voice, muffled and quiet, broke the silence.

“Are we going to be fine?”

Barely audible, his question carried a hint of hesitation. And perhaps, if you listen a little closer, you could almost hear the 11-year-old Rin behind his lucid words.

Lucky for him, you had known that little boy throughout your life, enough to love him just as he needed, despite all flaws.

“We will be.”

note. hi, my life ain't life-ing lately soooo here !! i hope all of you are fine and having a blast. but if you aren’t, i’m sending you all of my love. we’ll have better days ahead, trust 🤞🏻

[avelera]

I’m curious, how much control do you think Viktor was in in season 2?

I have tried to analyze this but am honestly stumped. Because on one hand it is clearly his intentions and logic being used. Since the beginning he has been wanting to heal people afflicted in Zaun (while it was also to cure his illness I don’t doubt wanting to help those in need was a legitimate motivation). He does immediately go to heal people in Zaun and all the conclusions he jumps to through the season do seem perfectly reasonable for him. He was the type of person who didn’t even conceptualize in season one that something like the hexclaw could be used as a weapon. That and the hexcore showing that he was a pacifist to the point of it being a massive blind spot to danger. So it makes sense being shot by Jayce of all people while in his eyes he was healing people would cause him to go all glorious evolution mode as a natural progression of his arc.

On the other hand he definitely didn’t come back right. The show makes a point to show in season one that the hexcore has some level of physical control over him, and even when going to heal the shimmer addicts he is following Sky’s voice. The writers also confirmed that it indeed was not Sky and was the hexcore manifesting his guilt to push him towards to glorious evolution. And his emotions definitely seem to be muffled and unexpressive. I know this part is joked about a lot but honestly even the fact that he chokes Jayce is surprising because he is consistently characterized as a pacifist to the point of it being a fatal flaw. He doesn’t even commit an act of violence in a show filled with fight scenes until the second to last episode, let alone against Jayce of all people. I think the last thing season one Viktor would do is intentionally cause physical harm to someone, hence why it is only at the part where he is the farthest gone.

Basically if I had to guess I’d say it’s like 50/50 level of control, but you have written some great character analysis so I’m curious what your thoughts are as to how much of season two was Viktor and how much was the Hexcore

Honestly, Anon, I'm wrestling with this on almost a daily basis myself when I write fics. It's definitely not helped by the fact they avoided a lot of exposition in S2 in favor of pacing (the slower pace of S1 allowed for a lot more signposting and exposition of what was going on, I think somewhat to the detriment of S2) and the fact that we don't really get much of Viktor after he stops being the Machine Herald, because to my eyes that's the first time we see the real Viktor all season and it would be nice to get him to express some contrast with what came before (though of course it would ruin the pacing of a perfect moment).

I think you basically nailed all of the points of confusion. I've ever considered tracking all the points where his voice warps for clues, because I think there is something to be gleaned from how and when his voice distorts, but in what direction is also a curious question.

Was saying "affection" kept them together more or less than what Viktor would have said to Jayce? Would he on his own have said love? Or would he, in his infinite shyness, have not dared to mention emotion at all, because Viktor is an expert at pushing those closest to him away and hiding his own emotions? Was that the Hexcore trying to drag Jayce in closer by calling it affection, or push him away before it could gain strength by lowering Viktor saying "love" down to just saying "affection"?

On the other hand, during the Herald's villain monologue at the end in the Astral Plane, his voice is distorted for almost every line except, "This senseless waste," which does feel like a sincere Viktor line, perhaps the only one that is truly him that whole time, including when he said he was pleased to see Jayce, in that horrible mocking tone. Could that not be the Hexcore speaking there?

I'll offer what I think is happening:

In order to chart "What is Hexcore" vs. "What is Viktor" it's less useful to look at Viktor's motives than the Hexcore's.

The Hexore wanted to expand its influence. It wanted to become powerful enough to have its own army and to destroy the civilization around it as other versions of the Hexcore have done throughout history. I believe it reached those goals by posing them as things Viktor, on his own, would want to do like help the needy, thus hiding its ends inside of Viktor's motives.

Note too that people who have dosed up on Shimmer are more susceptible to its molding.

Hence we can assume that the Hexcore, in the guise of Sky, using Viktor's guilt about her and his own failures to help the undercity, guided Viktor down to the Shimmer victim encampment specifically.

Viktor is not a mystic. The most mystical thing he says in S1 is that the Arcane speaks through mages. But the Hexcore is a magical artifact. Something like the Hexcore also destroyed a civilization centuries ago, and the figure in Heimerdinger's memory looks like Viktor when he's cloaked.

So personally, I think we can ascribe any mysticism to the Hexcore's influence too. That means the Cult, for example. Also Viktor's, "You need not suffer anymore," and kind of making them all genuflect to him, feels very OOC and just plain wrong for Viktor.

Whereas Viktor in the Astral Plane feels like real Viktor. Even the fact that when we show his point of view out into the world he is himself in a field of stars, seeing the real world projected in front of him like Plato's Allegory of the Cave gives the impression of imprisonment, like he's looking out through the windows of his own eyes to a shrouded world he can no longer directly touch.

And note, for example, that Sky/the Hexcore doesn't want Viktor to heal Vander. That's all Viktor. I believe the reason is because it doesn't want to run out of energy too quickly.

Basically, I think the Hexcore is stringing Viktor along there as Sky, giving him a little terrarium of stars to play in, while using him as a vessel of assimilation under the guise of healing. These are on both sides, inner and outer, things that Viktor wants to do, so he's seduced. He doesn't fight it.

I also think at a certain point, the Hexcore Viktor gains enough power to be able to impact people who aren't dosed with Shimmer. I think this comes later though, which is why it's not interested in Jayce at first but it is interested in assimilating him later. At that point, again, those motives align with Viktor's own sincere desire to see Jayce again (maybe he's sick of all the hippies in the commune lol) and the Hexcore is happy to get rid of someone who could conceivably stop it.

But note, the Hexcore is still playing along with Viktor. It could forcibly assimilate Jayce, but Viktor wants Jayce to choose his side willingly, so it holds back. In part too because that disappointment is what fuels Viktor to give himself over the Hexcore's goals entirely and ask for Singed's treatment with Apex Shimmer. At that point, as the showrunner noted, it doesn't need the guise of Sky anymore, it doesn't need to string Viktor along anymore. He's bought into the idea of forcibly assimilating the world if he can't get Jayce to join willingly.

I also heard an interesting theory that I'd like to factor in: basically, until he gains access to the Anomaly, Viktor doesn't have the power to strip himself of the Hexcore's influence or overcome it. That's why there's no point in Jayce trying to get through to him sooner, it wouldn't do anything because Viktor would still be trapped in its web.

Once they have the Anomaly, Viktor as an ascended being can strip away the Hexcore's influence. And that's why I lamented that we don't get more of his thoughts in that scene. Because I think an interpretation can be made that the Machine Herald look is just the human form of the Hexcore, using Viktor as a vessel.

Once that outer shell explodes, it really is Viktor again, with all the power of the Anomaly and Jayce's rune at his disposal. Now he and Jayce can work together to reverse the damage, free all the trapped souls from the Hexcore's web, and save the day. But we see that only then Viktor is able to view his own actions as himself, and he's horrified. There I think we get Viktor's one true, sincere reaction to everything that has happened up to that point and confirm that, yes, while the Hexcore interwove its seduction through Viktor's motives, none of this is what Viktor wanted. The ultimate outcome was the Hexcore's goals.

Quick Doylist addition: I also think there's definitely a draft where it's all Viktor getting controlled, but the writers know that can be kind of boring. It's better when characters take action and make choices, rather than being controlled. So I think that's why they settled on a combination of "The Hexcore's end goals, but Viktor's underlying motivations being twisted to support them."

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

[revelboo]

[/slams a request form on your desk like an over zealous court room anime dude]

Mx.Revel, consider this a request of the utmost importance! This request is for none other than your personal favorite cybertronian, whom ever they may be.

Thank you for your time, your honor, I concede.

That’s Wheeljack, buuuut how about an angst ficlet? Was thinking about how utterly ill equipped Shockwave is to deal with emotions other than anger and a scenario where Soundwave is grieving a cassette. Shock wanting to do something for his friend, basically the only Cybertronian that doesn’t find him deeply unsettling, and he doesn’t understand he can’t just replace the cassette with something near the same size. Honestly, I just wanted to do an alternate take with these two. Title is ‘Clumsy Heart’ by The Matches

Clumsy Heart

IDW Shockwave x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Servos of his one hand flexing as the uncomfortable noise in his processor grows, those invasive thoughts and shadows of memory that aren’t his floating to the surface, half seen and hazy. Watching Soundwave cradle the still form of a cassette to himself, the way his servos ghost over that small shape making the chaos worse. Becoming uncomfortable, unable to really understand this grief, but realizing that he should know this. That he hates this. He can repair the frame, but the spark is gone. Senses his friend won’t appreciate it if he resurrects a pale shadow, even if he’s not sure why he knows that.

• Spark aching at the loss, Soundwave is aware of his other cassettes echoing his pain. Of Shockwave lingering nearby, head tipped to study him like his grief is something foreign and fascinating. “Leave me,” he says, servos gently touching that little face. Had they looked for him at the end? Knowing he’d be there in time to save them like he always is. All of them trusting without question that he’ll protect them. And he’d failed. Feels like coming apart, losing something so dear to him, a part of him. Finally, Shockwave drifts away, leaving him to grieve with his surviving cassettes.

• Leaving the base, trying to get rid of that tangling, unpleasant feeling of dissonance, Shockwave tips his head up to the night sky. Trying to understand. Wanting to. Can’t bring back the cassette, but he can find a replacement. Something similar. If it’s the loss of a small symbiote he cares for that is paining Soundwave, maybe another small thing he can care for will ease that grief? Doesn’t know, can’t really understand why he grieves at the loss. Everything dies. It’s inevitable. And it’s illogical to mourn the inevitable. Striding into the night, he ponders replacements. Something that can speak with him like a cassette. Something small and alive. One of the little, organic natives would do.

• Breath fogging in the morning air, you check the rifle. Exhausted after being up all night finding every single photo he’s in and cutting out his face. Taping those hateful little visages all over his Xbox, all his games, those stupid baseball cards and then lining them up for execution on the lawn. A petty bit of satisfaction as you line up the first shot and fire. For the bra hanging on the back of a kitchen chair. A game disc explodes in jagged shards. For those slutty lace panties on your kitchen counter. The cards aren’t as satisfying, just scattering. For that bitch in your bed and the look on his face when you’d come home early because work was slow. Slowly, picking targets and destroying them since you can’t go after him, he’s not worth it. The crap he’d left when you’d grabbed the rifle and chased him and her naked out of your house last night? Fair game.

• Is this a valid course of action? It seems logical. If something has been lost and is causing a problem, replacing it should resolve the issue. Aware that it might be a bit more nuanced than that, because of emotions he can’t grasp, he moves through the woods outside the base. It’s a sound theory and it can’t make things worse to try. Probably. That, too, eludes him. An answer that relies on emotion.

• Reloading the rifle, you hear a branch crack and come crashing down in the woods behind you. Making you flinch and nearly drop the gun. It’d been windy the day before, a branch must have broken. Turning toward the sound, your mouth falls open as a giant steps out of the woods, a single red optic finding you, antenna flicking up. “Acceptable,” it growls as the fine hair at your nape prickles. Opening fire on it as it strides your way, completely unfazed. Dropping the rifle to run, you scream as it bends and snags you in a giant hand.

• Still weighed down by grief even after laying the cassette to rest, Soundwave’s head lifts at the sound of screaming. Of terror and pain that goes right through so soon after his own loss. Freezing as he spots Shockwave entering his quarters and his attention drops to the small form wriggling like mad in his grip. Speechless as the scientist drops the human on the desk and the tiny creature lunges to their feet and runs, only to stop short as they hit the edge and realize how high up it is. Can feel the chaos and fear in their mind, that panic so bright and hurtful. “A replacement,” Shockwave says, gesturing at the terrified thing with his cannon. Like it’s as simple as that. Like a human can replace his cassette. That people are interchangeable. Turning away from the edge, terrified eyes look up at him and that fear nearly cripples him. You can’t replace what he’s lost, but you do need him. Hates Shockwave right then and those frightened eyes.

Next

[myseungsunglove]

First Pitch | Ksm

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x reader 

Warnings: angsty, wrapped in fluff

Word Count:  1.2k

𖠫Summary: Seungmin struggles to understand why his fiance can’t be by his side on one of the most important days of his life. 

✎A/N✎: This has just been floating around in my head since Seungmin threw his first pitch. It’s nothing special, but I’m kind of in love with it. Hope someone out there likes it, if any of you remember that I actually write since it’s been over a month. hides in shame 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「©  April 11, 2024 by myseungsunglove」

You sit in the car on the drive to the stadium and the mood is somber. Seungmin is nervous about throwing the first pitch of the game between the All Korea team and the LA Dodgers, a team that he has always admired. 

Couple that with the fact that you aren't allowed to be there with him during one of the biggest moments of his life and you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. Seungmin had wanted you by his side for the first pitch and the company had given the both of you a resounding no. You understood why, and at the end of the day, you believe that Seungmin did too, but it didn’t mean that he was happy about it. 

“Explain it to me one more time,” he mutters, interlacing his long fingers with yours as he glares at the back of the manager's head. “Like I’m five.” You know the anger isn’t necessarily directed at your manager, but when Seungmin has his mind set on something that seems logical to him, he just can’t let it go. He is stubborn that way.

The manager sighs audibly from the front seat, his shoulders rising and falling visibly as he turns to face the two of you. 

“Seungmin, we’ve gone over this many times,” he responds patiently, avoiding the discussion altogether. 

“So go over it again,” Seungmin snaps. 

“Seung,” you whisper beside him, squeezing his hand gently. He doesn’t look at you. 

“Please,” he adds for your benefit. 

The manager blinks slowly at him, empathy coupled with patience etched on his face. 

“Y/n would be the only member of SKZ that is here with you when everyone else’s schedules are too busy,” your manager starts. "Frankly, her schedule is too busy to even be here as long as she is."

“Y/n is the only member of SKZ that I’m engaged to, so it makes sense that she’s here,” Seungmin retorts. “I fail to see the issue.” 

The manager sighs heavily. 

“You are well aware that the public doesn’t know that. They don’t even know you’re together. If she is the only one to show up at your first pitch, people will talk. Everyone will speculate. They already do and this will just add fuel to the fire.”

“Let them talk,” Seungmin says with a shrug, his brow set. He’s nothing if not determined. 

“Minnie,” you whisper beside him. His attention is pulled away from the manager, his frustrated puppy eyes turning on you like a weapon. “If I’m the only one here, if people start to talk, this event, this huge opportunity for you becomes about us and what we are. It’s no longer about this awesome opportunity that you are getting,” you tell him. "If even one of the guys could have come too, maybe it would be different, but you know we're preparing for the fanmeeting and a comeback. There is no time." You squeeze his hand gently. "But I made time."

He scowls at you, but it’s soft, as he considers your argument.

“I know,” he relents, looking down at your clasped hands, rubbing over the top of your hand gently. His cheeks puff out in frustration and he blows all the air from them before he speaks again. “But I need you there,” he whines. 

It isn't often that Seungmin admits that he needs anyone. His confession makes your heart clench in your chest. You’ve never seen him this nervous before. Not even when he proposed to you. 

With your free hand, you gently place your palm against his cheek and lift his face so that you are eye to eye. 

“I love you more than the air I breathe, Kim Seungmin,” you tell him. 

He leans in and kisses you. It’s soft and slow, his hands parting from yours so that he can grab your waist and pull you into his arms. When he pulls away a little breathless, you speak again. 

“And I will be there,” you assure him. Your manager turns around to look at you, a slightly concerned look on his face. You scowl back at him, a look that tells him you’ve got this under control and to chill out. “I won’t be right beside you, but I've got a seat right behind the catcher. I’ll have the best seat in the house. I’ll be able to see your pretty face and the best opening pitch anyone has ever seen,” you tell him. 

His forehead falls against yours with a sigh. 

“You’ll arrange for me to meet y/n before the game starts to say goodbye before she heads back to the company? After I’ve thrown the pitch?” he asks. The question directed at your manager. 

“We already have,” he says. 

Seungmin’s big brown boba eyes meet yours and they have softened from the start of the conversation. 

“Okay,” he says, resigned, his hands dancing along your thighs nervously like he still has more to say. “Can I have a minute with my fiancé?” he asks. It's not really a question. You realize that the car has parked in a garage at the stadium. You're in a corner away from prying eyes. With tinted windows, no one would know there was anyone in the car. “Alone,” he emphasizes with a small possessive growl. You can’t help the smirk that slips onto your face. 

Without any pushback, the manager and the driver get out of the car and walk a respectable distance away. 

Seungmin wastes no time pulling you onto his lap so that you are straddling him. You sigh longingly as his hands gently caress your face and pull your lips to his. This kiss is hungry, needy. His soft mouth is insistent as his tongue slips past your lips to taste you. His hands have wandered down your body and up under the back of your shirt, the pads of his fingers dancing along your back as he kisses you breathless. 

“Want to tell them,” he mumbles against your mouth, his breath heavy against your lips. “No more secrets,” he adds, kissing you hard again. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes your throat and the thrill that runs through your body at his words. Seungmin doesn’t want your relationship to be behind closed doors anymore. 

“You want everyone to know?” you ask when you're forced to pull away again, your breath coming in short, quick gasps. 

“Yes,” he answers simply, gazing into your eyes. “I can’t have another big moment like this where you can’t be right there with me,” he confesses. “You’re my everything, Y/N,” he looks at you with glassy boba eyes, the emotions he is feeling threatening to overflow. “I need you.” 

You hold his face in yours and stare into his eyes. 

“We’ll talk to Chan and our manager tonight about how to move forward,” you agree. “Surely they knew this was coming sooner rather than later. We’ve been engaged for nearly six months,” you chuckle softly. 

He smiles brightly at you then and you can’t help but return the gesture. He kisses you quick as you move to get off his lap. 

“Alright, my baseball player Kim Seungmin. You’ve got to get out of here and go show them how kick ass you are,” you tell him, kissing him on the cheek. 

He chuckles shyly, your favorite sound only second to his beautiful voice, as he moves to open the door, his shoulders shaking out his shirt like he does when he gets a little nervous. You love that you can still make him flustered even with a simple compliment.

He holds his hand out for you to grab, pulling you from the car and into his waiting arms where he kisses you once more. 

“One for good luck,” he smiles against your lips. 

“Not that you’ll need it,” you tell him, kissing him slowly. 

“Love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“You better,” you smile up at him. “Cause I’m not going anywhere, Kim Seungmin.”

[happy-beeeps]

Sweat it out

Summary: tav comes down with a nasty flu, and one of her travel companions begins to worry... and maybe realize his feelings

WC: 1.3k

warnings: none i think! idiots in love

f!tav x reader

It’s quiet outside Astarion’s tent as he paces back and forth. Halsin has been inside with you for far too long, and the lack of communication has him worried. How long has it been since he hasn’t ended the night with your words, your breath near his? Weeks, months?

He doesn’t like to think of it. In fact, he’s doing an excellent attempt at thinking about anything else as he paces, and fails to notice the clatter of their camp members walking over to him.

“Chin up soldier, the rest of us seem okay, it probably has nothing to do with her tadpole.”

“Karlach is right,” Gale agrees, “it seems unlikely that the rest of us would be spared the same fate if this truly was connected to our wormy affliction. She will pull through.”

As much as it pains him to admit it, Gale is right. For all logical sense, this should have nothing to do with the mind flayers—but the thought offers little comfort (few things hinging on Gale’s ideas rarely do.) 

It has started this morning, you had remarked how your head felt wrong. You felt wrong. You had ignored it, had soldiered on. As the day progressed, you complained of aches that had not been there, of chills that ran down your arms. Your skin grew pallor, covered in a sheen of sweat. By the end of the night, a cough ragged at your chest, and you could do nothing f else but whimper to yourself. The slightest motion had set tears out of your eyes, your skin burning itself to rid your body of whatever was happening.

Only Halsin, Lae’zel, and Shadowheart accompanied you now, the two healers were working overtime on an attempt to find your ailment, and Lae’zel was not easily persuaded to leave behind one of her dearest friends.

Astarion thinks of the dagger pressed to poor Wyll’s throat when he kindly attempt to guide her towards a spot nearest the fire.

He’s worried about you. This isn’t new, he’s made peace with the reality that he cares for you, he just hasn’t figured out how to say it. Now, he fears the opportunity may be slipping from him.

It’s Halsin’s booming voice that calms his nerves, he and the other two step out from the tent, his grin palpable even from where Astarion is standing. “She’ll be fine. It’s a nasty virus, I’ve given her a brew to aid in the healing, and I’ve created tonics for the rest of us.”

As he passes them out, Shadowheart walks up to Astarion, who is quickly making his way towards your tent. “You… don’t need a tonic. On the account of you being, you know. Not really alive.”

“You’ve got such a way with words, really,” he breathes, but his eyes flicker to the flap of your tent, “so I can go see her?”

Lae’zel speaks up, placing a firm pat on his arm as she walks by, “she’s certainly been asking for you.”

* * * 

You have two clear, feverish trances.

The first is of your mother. A memory that’s not uncommon, one you drift back to anytime you attempt to rest an illness away. Its familiarity brings comfort as you attempt to sweat this bug out, and ignore Halsin and Shadowheart’s proding over your body. 

The other is… newer. One you hadn’t expected. You’re in a secluded section of camp, feet tapping against the water, skin swathed in moonlight. Your wearing nothing other than a long, white shirt, unlaced dangerously along the neck. This is no more than two days ago. 

You follow the memory along, watch from your eyes as you trace circles along your bare thighs, until you look to your side. Astarion is there, eyes swimming with emotion, as he gnaws on his lip.

Memory Astarion reaches out, grabbing your hand, weaving your fingers together. “I’m glad you’ve convinced me to stick around after our escapades, you are entirely addicting.”

Memory you leans against him, pressing your weight against his. His skin is cool, the chill sending tiny bumps along your exposed legs. “I’m glad you’ve decided to humor me, Star.”

You’re mortified when your eyes flutter open, your mouth in the process of muttering his name, to realize he’s here. Next to you. In your tent. As you sweat through probably a third pair of smallclothes.

“You rang?” He’s cheeky when he speaks, but his hand goes to palm your stomach quickly, as if he’s checking to make sure you’re here, you’re still you. The concern is sweet, and it sends an all new kind of flush across your body.

“Feel so sick, Star.” Shit. Is that tiny little voice coming from you?

He moves then, gentler than he’s ever moved before, carefully contorting his body around yours and pressing you against him. In an instant, it’s like a salve to your soul. You’re covered in him—his smell, his weight, his temperature. The chill itself is a whole other soothe to your aches. 

“I know you are darling, but Halsin said you’ll be better soon.”

“Can’t get you sick,” a cough takes your lungs briefly, “who’s gonna pick the locks for us then?”

He laughs, and smooths a few stray hairs out of your face. “I won’t. Officially medically cleared, according to Shadowheart. On the account of my ‘not being alive.’”

You move to nod your head, but the pain makes you stop. Astarion is quick, and he cushions the movement with his hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I hear you were dreaming about me?”

“Maybe. Lots of trances. You know how it goes.”

“Was it particularly scandalous? Is that why my little love is so keen to swear?”

“Don’t have it in me to hit you.”

“You wouldn’t dream of it.”

It’s a calm silence that takes you next, Astarion stroking your hair as you listen to the distant clamor of your friends. You break it, after another moment.

“I remembered my mother.”

You don’t often talk about your family, and he knows this. He moved just slightly so you can see his face, curiosity and warmth covering his eyes. “What was it?”

“When I was little, I got sick, nothing bad but still sick. My mother, she’d rub my hair and sing to me,” you pause to close your eyes, as if you could will her here right now, “she’d go to our kitchens and shoo the cooks out, she’d make me her special soup, and when she brought it to me she’d promise me she’d teach me one day.”

“She sounds lovely.”

“She was. Smart too. She always knew things about me that I didn’t know.”

“Oh, like what?” Astarion’s face shimmers with a laugh and you use the last bit of your strength to attempt a shrug and burrow into his chest.

“She used to tell me she knew I’d end up with someone older. Don’t know if she knew how old.”

After your words, as if in cue, your chest begins its steady rise and fall, and Astarion recognizes the twitch in your fingers. You’re trancing again. Which means he’s stuck with your words and their heavy implications.

Still, with the way your overheating body simmers against his cold touch, he resolved that he doesn’t mind their weight, not at all. In fact, he’d like more of your burden.

You don’t slip out of your trance that night, but feel the briefest ghost of a kiss on your forehead.

When sunlight rolls around, your eyes blink awake. You’re weak, you can feel it, but better. You go to sit up, but realize quickly Astarion’s weight is still against you, one arm cradling your head to his chest, one arm twisted beneath you. 

You’ve never quite felt so comfortable, so held. You don’t remember what you told him last night, don’t remember exactly what he said. Instead, you decided to live in this moment now, and pray to all the gods you’ll get to relive it again soon.

[catguys]

"He's not that bad guys!!!!!" a Postal 1 Dude analysis very long post. apologies.

He’s not a chaotic mess like the rest of them. He was just a regular guy whose life spiraled in the worst way possible.

The thing is, the Dude isn’t portrayed as malicious. He doesn’t actually speak at all in the game, and honestly? That silence says a lot. The promo materials describe him as "quiet" and "nice," which feels important when you think about how much he struggles with social norms. Like the whole "calling a girl he went on one date with his girlfriend" thing. That could be part of his delusions, sure, but it could also be because he doesn’t really get social cues. He just doesn’t connect with people in a typical way. That's one of the reasons I hc him as autistic, he’s quiet, struggles with social stuff. It makes sense.

When everything falls apart he doesn’t even want to be violent. The first thing he thinks of when he’s attacked is to go to the sheriff. That’s not the reaction of someone itching to go on a killing spree, he just wanted someone else to deal with it. But when you’re convinced people are shooting rockets at you, self-defense becomes a pretty logical reaction.

What’s wild is that his whole mindset shifts as the game goes on. At first, it’s just about survival, he’s trying to make it out alive. But then you get to the train station, and he writes in his journal, "If I can get out, I can warn everybody." That’s such a selfless thing to do. He goes from protecting himself to wanting to save everyone, which is a massive contrast to, say, P2, who would probably watch the world burn and laugh about it.

There’s also this weird reluctance to his violence that makes him stand out. In the trailer park, he writes: “There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is.” That line hits because it shows he doesn’t want to kill anyone. He’s genuinely hoping to find normal people instead of fighting. Compare that to the other Dudes, who’ll happily shoot someone for cutting in line.

The ghetto section is even more telling. He straight-up admits he’s scared of getting mugged, which is just… normal guy behavior? And the fact that he calls his journal a "diary" again at that point? It’s like his war mentality cracks under the stress, and you see the real, scared guy underneath. His schizophrenia plays a huge role in everything, amplifying his fear and confusion to a breaking point. He’s not just paranoid, he’s genuinely convinced that the world is out to get him, which drives his actions. The delusions aren’t just background noise, they shape his reality, making him believe he’s the hero in a fight against an invisible threat. The fact that his voice lines are labeled as "demon" in the game settings adds a whole new layer to his character. It’s like the game itself hinting that his inner voice isn’t even his own. Whether it’s a metaphor for his fractured psyche or a literal possession, it reinforces how disconnected he is from himself and how little control he really has.

P1 Dude is just some regular guy who got hit with a string of awful circumstances. He’s trying to do the right thing, but his mental state is shot, and he’s being manipulated by something way bigger than he can understand. He’s not like the other Postal Dudes at all—if anything, he’s probably the most grounded and empathetic character in the franchise.

oh, and RWS literally said he’s “just an average guy having a bad day,” so there’s that. anyway this ended up way longer than I planned but I wanted to get my thoughts out, so um thanks for coming to my ted talk

[amyrahrose]

Content warning: Nanamixreader smut, penetration, missionary, dominant kento!, unprotected sex, pet names, talking her through it, <READER IS BLACK FEMALE CODED>

Author's note: Something that popped in my mind in the middle of the night and first time writing Kento. Slightly proofread, so not too much on me 😅. Honestly this was slightly rushed, so with that being said I do hope you guys still enjoy. And as always thanks for your support! 🤎 18 and under, GET TA STEPPIN!

Nanami likes to think of himself as a reasonable man.

A logical man.

A sensible man. 

But not when it comes to you, oh no. 

He’s a wild man. 

A senseless man. 

A feral man.

You, because of you everything that seems to make sense to Nanami vanishes into thin air. He doesn’t know how to act, how to think, how to speak whenever he’s in your presence. He only knows how to feel, oh and feel he does. 

When he’s holding you.

Caressing you.

 In you. 

Nanami loves it, borderline obsessed. Hell, he is obsessed.

“You like it when I fuck you like this princess? C’mon, tell Daddy how good it feels.” Nanami groans out. He’s ramming his dick in and out of you at an animalistic pace. Mentally recording the sounds of your moans, the squelching of your juices, and the feeling of your walls clamping around his dick whenever he sings praises to you. 

“So good daddy, don’t ever stop, please.” You whine out, tears streaming down your face. 

This. 

This is want makes Nanami’s rationality slip into oblivion. Watching you, studying you and your every move. Learning, perfecting, what it is that makes your brows furrow together in pleasure, what makes the blood rush to your clit and thumps like a drum, what has your whiny voice moaning out his name like a mantra. He’s forever mesmerized at your fucked-out state, the tears that cascade down your face, or the way your lips begin to bruise from how hard you bite down on them, relishing in the feel of his dick kissing your spot over and over again. 

He’s a madman.

“Never. I’ll never stop. This pussy is too good for that.” He whispers in your ear before sucking on the sensitive spot on your neck that’s always getting you to arch your back off the bed.

This is the Nanami you yearned for. Of course you love the level-headed Nanami, but the rough fucking, dirty talking Nanami was who you craved, who you needed to satisfy your hunger.

“Kento, I’m right there. I’m going to cum.” You moan loudly when he takes one of his fingers in between the two of you, pressing down on your clit, drawing figure 8’s on it. 

“Yea, you’re going to come for me babygirl?. Going to make a mess all over this dick? Do it, fucking do it. Let me feel it sweetheart.” Nanami begged, voice raspy and full of need. His relentlessness in drilling his dick deeper inside of you with the pressure of rubbing your clit caused the band in your stomach to snap, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave hitting the shore. 

“That’s it, such a good girl for daddy.” He groans, throwing his head back in pure bliss. Gritting his teeth together as he chased after his own release, the feel of your walls spasming around him was all it took to send him over the edge. 

“Daddy’s going to cum in this pussy, I’m going to fill you up and you’re going to take it like a good girl.” He mumbled dumbly as his dick twitched inside your heat. 

“Fuck.” He dragged out, burying his head into the crook of your neck while his dick was buried inside the depth of your pussy, his release tainting your walls with his thick ropes of cum, leaving no part untouched. 

With ragged breathing, Nanami slowly rose up from you, taking a moment to look over you. It was then that the sun began shining in from the windows, illuminating your deep, rich brown skin with such a glow, Nanami would argue with top scholars that you were a goddess. Your braids tousled around your head like a crown, the rise and fall of your breast trying to regulate your breathing, nipples still swollen as if he just finished teasing them, and the slick of your juices mixed with his cum oozing out of your pussy caused a deep growl to come from him.

“Legs back up, Daddy wants more.”

Nanami liked to think himself a sensible man.

But for you, Nanami loved to think himself a senseless man. 

© 2024 Amyrahrose. Please do not translate, copy, plagiarize, or repost (sharing links is fine 🤎) without my permission. You will only find my entries/content on tumblr!

[checkertrains]

Luci and Adam redesign/my version! 🍎🎸

Here’s the brief explanation n a bit of lore for why i designed them like this! (Warning, it’s basically just me rambling LMAOO)

Lucifer 🍎:

I let him kept the whole angelic aesthetic cause even if he’s a fallen Angel his features didn’t seem to get distorted or turn “demonic” (from what I’ve read anyways), so by that logic he can still be God most beautiful Angel, and it fit too cause Demons are usually more attractive or good looking to lure in people, deceiving people with their good look. He’s also kinda stuck in the past so usually he’ll appear in his heavenly robe or any old school outfits that he deems old enough

Lucifer in my version is more similar to his pilot personality, he’s more king like in this sense! And of course he’s pretty prideful, and is in denial about having Fallen, he still present himself as if he’s a pure Angel and hates having to interact with Sinners, he’s more lenient with hellborns as they are his rightful subjects after all. But yeah, anyone that isn’t him is often meet with nonchalant or cold attitude, he also doesn’t really care about Charlie whole Hotel, he doesn’t support it nor does he hate it. Cause it have nothing to do with him, he does think it’s a little silly and speak to Charlie like she’s still a child essentially. (He still like ducks in my ver heheheh)

Adam 🎸:

I wanted him to have something nature related in his outfit so I gave him some leaf lol, and his fit is changed so that it resembles a priest outfit more than a simple dress, the halo on his neck and hands restricts his powers, like a power dampener (I based them off of Sun Wu Kong headband!), the seraphim uses it to control how he acts, they can also communicate with him through them, commanding him without using too much energy, Words of god kinda thing. These halo can weaken him A LOT like at some point it can even stop him from using powers entirely, it doesn’t hurt him physically. The halo on his head make it so that anyone who look at him will only see a blur, or blurry version of his face

His helmet has three faces, when he’s wearing it he can see from either sides or all of them, it help him counter attacks, his exorcist uniform is just like his normal outfit, just with more gold, the horns on his head emit holy light, stopping any demons n Sinners from looking at him unless they want to lose their sight, he can also use it to gather up energy to shoot out a massive beam that can erase anything in it path. His wings are based on duck wings but more durable, water and blood can’t stick to it which is fantastic for clean up!

[kindaasrikal]

Technically all the ninja have the capabilities to explode. Theoretically speaking.

Kai can literally just light his insides on fire and boom. Kai-boom. He could technically drink gasoline too. Wyldfyre is a mini Kai except she seems much more capable of lighting her entire body on fire without question. Also, fat tissue is apparently flammable.

Nya could theoretically make her blood cells explode. Or she could drink a lot of water. And since our bodies are like 60% or so water already…

Zane was a bomb once and exploded, no explanation needed there. He just has to charge up his heart with enough elemental energy and boom. The custom Zane-bomb. Ready to sacrifice from 9-5 on all working days. Except Fridays. That’s when he has to cook dinner.

Pixal may not be a ninja, but she is a samurai, so she’s included in this. Pixal is Pixal. She probably has a “if bomb is needed, flip this switch” option just in case. Her dad can fix her up again.

Lloyd is Lloyd, no explanation needed there either. He just has to make a really big elemental energy ball thing like he did in the early seasons, surround himself with it, and fling himself at someone.

Jay is a bomb in every sense of the word. Electrical pulses are sent to the brain using the nervous system, so like he could make his head explode too.

Cole is the only exception except if he can make himself a rock suit, who’s to say he can’t make one with dangerous materials that come straight from the ground? Also, he might need Kai and Nya’s help. Something about rocks with moisture being explodable and heat being needed to make them go boom.

Sora has also made a bomb, and she could slowly make herself more robot limbs if the need is ever there and kaboom her way to sacrifice. She could make a bomb suit, except it doesn’t protect her from the bomb, it makes her the bomb.

Euphrasia and Morro could technically fill their lungs with so much air/wind until they explode. Oxygen is also has a small percentage of Air/Wind, and our blood or smth carries a small amount of it too…so can’t they pull a Nya and make their blood explode as well?

Didn’t they also say something is Dragons Rising about the ninja feeling their elements in specific areas? Who’s to say they can’t just charge those areas up and go boom. Like Zane.

Edit: just to clarify, no i am not mentally ill nor unstable it was 4am and i was thinking about avatar the last air bender and how it’s logic can be used in Ninjago. Please guys this post is funny haha not “are you ok????” I imagine them exploding like balloons with a bunch of confetti.