#something something shared pain is half a pain

[whoistartaglia]

genshin men when you fall asleep on the couch

a/n: tiktok is gone, locked into writing again

alhaitham

alhaitham knew this would happen. even when you insisted that you “wouldn’t fall asleep this time” and told him you would “stay awake the entire time,” alhaitham just knew you’d end up asleep by the second act. and tonight, it’s even earlier than that.

not even a half hour into the movie you’re fully asleep, snoring lightly and—even though you insist that you don’t—drooling ever so slightly.

“[name],” he says, shifting ever so slightly. you’re leaning on him in what he can only guess is an uncomfortable position, but you don’t budge.

“i’m not… asleep…” you murmur, moving slightly, but only to get closer to him. if the lights were on, and if you were awake, you would see him blush slightly. you’ve been dating for a while now, and still this gets to him.

he nudges you and coaxes you again, to no avail. you’ve fallen to dreamland, and it didn’t even take thirty minutes.

alhaitham sighs and clicks off the tv. the movie wasn’t very good anyways; maybe you were right to snooze through it. he turns his attention back to you, and just like all those other nights you’ve fallen asleep on the couch during a movie, he gently lifts you into his arms and carries you back to the bedroom.

“i’m… awake,” you say as he lays you down.

“sure you are,” alhaitham says. “and i’m a cat.”

“are you?” you ask, straightening yourself slightly and opening your eyes.

alhaitham fights the urge to laugh and lets out a quiet chuckle.

“no, of course not.” he watches as you physically relax, your eyes becoming glazed with sleep once more.

“good…” you say, turning over. alhaitham opens his mouth to say something else, but quickly closes it once he realizes your asleep once more.

he sighs and whispers a quiet, “good night, [name],” before getting into bed himself.

tomorrow morning, you’ll tell alhaitham you dreamed of him as a cat and that you jokingly prefer his prickly self as such, and he’ll have to fight the urge to tell you that yes, you indeed drool when you fall asleep once the couch.

neuvillette

neuvillette didn’t know this would happen. of course, he liked it when you waited for him on his especially late nights working, though he never expected nor demanded it. and he was always pleasantly suprised when you were awake to greet him when he got home.

but tonight, on a late night, so late it’s the early morning, he thought you would be sleeping at this hour. and you are… just not where he expected you to be.

when neuvillette opened the door to your shared residence, he was suprised to see you laying on the couch, tucked under a blanket, likely having tried to stay up to wait for his arrival. immediately neuvillette is crouched down next to you, wiping away a rouge strand of your hair from face, gently whispering your name.

“[name]? i’m home now,” he says.

you don’t wake, though. you instead lean towards him, subconsciously wanting to be closer. neuvillette smiles down at you, touched and charmed. even in your sleep you’re able to make him blush like the first day he met you.

but this is no place for you to be sleeping. if you stay here for any longer, you’ll have neck and back pain tomorrow, and neuvillette simply does not want that for you. so he goes to dutifully pick you up, but when he does, you let out a sound of protest.

he adjusts and tries again, to which you murmur in your sleep, “i don’t… want to move…”

“hmm? and why’s that?” neuvillette asks, half amused, half concerned.

you don’t answer for a second, but then reply, “i’m… waiting for my husband… so i can’t move.”

“but he’s here,” neuvillette says. this, unlike his previous message, falls on sleeping, unhearing eyes. he tries again, “[name]…”

“i’m staying… here…” you reply, your face turning cross even in your sleep. neuvillette sighs and realized he won’t be winning this war; you’re much more stubborn in sleep than you are when awake.

so he reigns himself. heads to the bedroom—but not to sleep, oh no. he grabs a blanket, and a pillow, and comes back to the living room. he takes up residence right next you; the cold hard floor is his mattress for tonight. it’s terribly uncomfortable, but his comfort is a cheap price to pay to be close to someone who even in sleep cares for him.

(neuvillette will remind himself this tomorrow morning, when you inevitably accidentally step on him when you wake up.)

childe

childe wanted this to happen. well, no, not really. but that’s what he told you in the midst of a heated fight, and you can’t just take words like those back so easily, now can you?

it started out as what should have been a spat, really. but you and him were both already stressed about others things and a slight disagreement evolved into what is now a not-speaking, not-currently happy, dynamic. at the end of the fight, you proclaimed you were sleeping on the couch, and childe, not believing you, told you to do just that.

so that’s what you did. you marched into your shared bedroom, grabbed only a pillow, and marched past childe, still lingering in the living room, and set up camp on the couch. he scoffed and left the room, thinking you’d be back later, when your and his wrath both died down.

but, as childe reads the clock at 2 am, he realizes that isn’t what’s going to happen. and an hour later at 3 am, childe realizes that really is not what is going to happen.

part of him wants to let you sleep in solitude, if only at vice of his own stubborn streak, but the other half knows better. this other half that cherishes you won’t let him fall asleep like this, when you’re really so upset that you’d rather sleep in another room than be with him.

“[name]?” childe calls as he heads towards the living room. he tries again to no answer. he wonders if you might be giving him the silent treatment, but when he sees you fast asleep on the couch, that particular worry melts away—only to be replaced by a new one seconds later.

you didn’t even grab a blanket. yes you’re asleep and look peaceful now, but childe knows that’s not it. there’s a particular crease between your brows that gives away your state, that your worried and likely cold; childe knows your tells like the back of his own hand.

guilt instantly rushed over him. really, it was just a trivial matter, not even worth this fight. he should have tried to stop you earlier. childe sighs and crouchs down next to you.

“[name]?” he asks again, more gently this time.

you don’t respond, and childe tries one more time, before sighing and standing up. it is this that causes you to stir, makes you reach out towards him with a faint, “don’t go,” mumbled in your sleep.

childe doesn’t listen. he gently redirects yout hands and heads back to the bedroom. your subconscious must detect this, because you’re awake now, albeit drowsy and weary, confused if his presence just now was a dream, a fleeting memory.

that’s the state childe finds you in when he returns, wide eyed and tired and confused, with a blanket in hand. you turn towards him, regaining some of conciousness, but childe gently eases you back down as he drapes the blanket over you. your body relaxes at the new found heat, and you whisper a small, “i’m sorry.”

“me too,” childe says, and knowing you’re both tired and you’re again seconds away from sleep, he continues, “we can talk in the morning. you go back to sleep.”

“you’ll stay?” you ask, sleepiness taking over.

childe nods, meaning it, and that’s enough for you, as you close your eyes. and this time, when you fall back asleep, there’s no crease in your brow, a slight, so slight, smile on your face. and childe keeps his word; you’ll find him asleep in the same kneeling position next to you tomorrow, when the day is fresh, and you can start anew.

[reignpage]

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Synopsis: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you've just watched a horror movie Warnings: cursing, some gory descriptions of movie scenes, mostly fluff and crack, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.2k

Gojo:

He yelps, hands flying. 

“That’s the third jumpscare in five minutes, why do they hate us?”

You laugh, popping some popcorn in your mouth. He’s got the bowl in his lap as you two share a blanket, thighs pressed together, and his arm’s strung at the back of the sofa. Admittedly, you’re sharing a moment that is way too intimate for roommates, but neither of you point it out.

The movie is terrifying. Somehow, everything looks real, and the plot is so captivating you genuinely feel like you’re a character being chased by the slasher. It sets an odd feeling of dread in your stomach. 

Throwing a popcorn in the air, he catches it perfectly and grins at you, expecting praise. You roll your eyes and bury yourself deeper under the blanket. Not even he can distract you from the allure of the horror movie. 

Eventually, the movie ends, and your hands are still shaking. Beside you, Satoru yawns with a stretch, shirt riding up to reveal his hard abs. You poke it. He writhes. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Giggling, you mess up his hair and bid him goodnight. He grumbles complaints but otherwise returns to his room too, a soft smile of his lips as he waves dramatically.

There are lots of shadows in your room. You never noticed it before; it’s all you can see now. Your eyes dart from surface to surface, frantically as if monsters would genuinely pop out. It’s ridiculous. You’re a grown adult. 

Grabbing your phone, you text your roommate. You ask if you can sleep in his room tonight. Through the wall you hear a muffled yell. Something that sounds oddly like, ‘hell yeah’.

Half expecting a flirty message, you’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t tease you too much and says yes. 

You don’t waste any time. 

Rushing to his room, you don’t need to knock because somehow, he senses you and opens the door, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting for my moment to shine,” he admits. “I knew you’d crawl into my bed sooner than later.”

You shove at his chest and roll your eyes at his exaggerated moan of pain. Climbing into bed, you make yourself comfortable, plumping up a pillow. He follows right behind you, jumping on the bed and laughing as you both bounce. 

“Don’t be such a child, Satoru.”

He makes a noise of indignation. “Says the scaredy cat next to me?”

The light’s off and your eyes have adjusted. And despite his presence, you don’t feel safe enough to sleep. There are still shadows and faint noises. You’re painfully aware of every creak, every gust of wind, and every thrum of car engines in the street. 

“Still can’t sleep, roomie?” Satoru whispers. He’s a lot closer than you realise but his warm breath does ease your anxiety a little. 

Shuffling, you turn to face him. “Don’t mention this in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, you throw an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest. He lays deathly still, tense for a second but then relaxes and wraps an arm around you too. 

“I totally will, y’know that, right?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

He lands a wet kiss atop your head and rubs your back, cooing like a mother. With a feminine voice, his final words are, “Sleep well, my little angelkins.”

How your eyes haven’t gotten permanently stuck in a rolling position you don’t know. 

Geto:

Nodding his head, he studies the screen with mild interest. He isn’t really a movie person, but he never passes up these nights with you. Having seen stellar reviews of this new horror movie, you were excited to watch it with Suguru, hoping to see him be startled for once. 

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even wince. 

Unlike you. 

Not much of a talker, he doesn’t reply to your frantic complaints about how the characters need to stop saying ‘let’s split up’. Legs crossed, he drums a finger against his lips, watching you more than the screen, though you don’t notice. 

He can see the way you’re trembling, so very sensitive to every noise and movement. He’s finding this so terribly amusing, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

Once the movie ends, you part ways — Suguru with his hands in his hoodie pockets, humming, and you with your eyes flitting to the doors and windows. 

“Goodnight, pretty,” he says.

You mutter it back. 

As soon as you lock your door, you rush to the window of your room, pulling at it to ensure it’s securely locked. Satisfied, you sit on your bed eyeing the damn thing. What if you loosened it?

You check again, pulling harder and longer this time. It rattles loudly. Your phone pings.

Suguru’s asking what all the noise is. You explain and his replies only set you even more on edge. He reminds you to check under your bed and when you glance down at it you see only darkness in the gap. A gap big enough for a man to hide under.

Just as soon as he gives you the go-ahead, you run to his room, pushing the door open and jumping into bed, knees knocking into his back. He groans and you pat him apologetically. 

“You’re really scared, aren’t you,” he marvels. He’s still wearing his hoodie; it is cold tonight. You clutch it and hold him tightly. His comforting smell eases your nerves, and you let go of the tension in your shoulders just a little. “Don’t worry, pretty. I got you.”

“Thanks, Suguru,” you mumble, eyes flickering shut. 

He sighs, arm winding around his front to hold your hand which rests on his side. “What are friends for?”

Fast asleep already, you don’t hear the bitter tone of his words.

Choso:

Your friend had recommended a movie they said kept them up all night. Thinking you wouldn’t be bothered, you set it up for movie night with Choso. Even if it doesn’t scare you, it will scare him. And that’s even better. 

Very quickly, not even five minutes in, he’s clinging to your side. One hand holds yours, squeezing at every jumpscare whilst the other rests on your bare knee. You’re only wearing shorts, and you knew your roommate would jump at the chance to cop a feel. Well, you don’t mind. 

His fingers press into the fat of your thigh, but he’s not even looking at you. Choso’s genuinely captivated by the movie, gasping and grimacing like he’s a director’s dream audience. Those fingers dance and drum and rise on your leg. You smack it every time he goes too high. 

He pouts when you do.

When the movie finishes, you ruffle his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and he hadn’t tied it up into his typical pigtails. Looking up at you, he gives you puppy eyes and before he can ask, you give him a playful ‘sweet dreams, Choso’ before you disappear into your room. 

Just as the door clicks shut, he texts you. 

He’s practically begging for you to grant him mercy, to come and sleep in his bed. Sighing, you agree, knowing full well his hands will wander. But fine. It’s not like you hate it. 

Walking into his room, you sigh when you see he’s got a lamp on and his duvet is halfway down his body, purposefully, you’re willing to bet, if the fact that he had stripped himself of his shirt is anything to go by. 

“Choso, tell me you didn’t take off your shirt because I was coming.” You sigh, exasperated. 

Lying there with an innocent smile, he blinks up at you. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he totally would, the mischievous little thing. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you climb into bed with him regardless, falling down with a huff. Just as your head hits the pillows, he’s scooping you up and tangling his limbs with yours. Ignoring your groans, he lays his head on your chest, nuzzling there with a contented hum. 

“Goodnight!”

“Don’t ‘goodnight’ me, Choso. Get off,” you demand. 

His reply?

To hold you tighter. 

You can’t fight back so you let him have this victory. Just this once. Even when a hand creeps under your shirt to rest on your ribcage, you don’t say a word. He’s such a pain in the ass but he’s an adorable pain in the ass. 

However, when his hand dares creep up a little higher, you smack your head against his. “Don’t you dare or else I’m going back to my own room.”

He mumbles into your chest, “Meanie.”

Days later, when you bring up his sensitivity to horror movies to his little brother, Yuji, the boy can only look confused, head tilting at you. 

“But my big bro loves horror movies?”

The bastard got you.

Toji:

You scream for the fifth time.

“Oh my god! Why am I seeing his literal intestines?”

Your roommate snorts. “You’ll scream at the drop of a fucking pin.”

He had chosen the vilest snuff film to ever exist on the planet. That’s probably not even an exaggeration. Every scene is full of blood and guts and dead bodies. You feel like you’re going to throw up. He, on the other hand, is laughing like he’s watching a comedy instead. 

“Stop glaring at me. Y’r missing the best bits,” he says. The ‘best bits’ in question is someone getting their head chopped off. Fed up, you excuse yourself. “Oh, come on. ’s not that bad.”

You flip him off. 

Hours later, you know he’s in bed. You are too. But you aren’t anywhere near sleepy. In fact, you’re wide awake. 

You can’t get the sight of pools of blood out of your mind. It’s all you can see. That and brain chunks. You’re definitely going to throw up. Shoving the covers off you text him a complaint. His replies only piss you off further. 

Tomorrow you’re going to hide his car keys. 

Somewhere in the apartment, you hear a clatter. You’re sure of it. There was absolutely a noise. Jolting upright, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without waiting for another sign, you make a run for it, bolting to his room. 

After knocking a couple times, he opens the door with a deadpan look. It screams, ‘are you fucking serious?’

And you are. You absolutely are serious. Seeing that pathetic look on your face, he rolls his eyes with a groan lets you in. 

“How old are ya again?”

Shaking, you swear, “I heard a noise. Like an actual noise.”

“So? If there was a killer, ya totally should do the right thing and sacrifice yourself. For the betterment of me, of course.”

You shove at him. “You’re such a prick.”

He rakes a hand through his hair and it’s only now that you realise, he’s just in boxers. His shoulders are broad, abs and arms flexing with the movement and you feel your mouth water at the trail of hair that disappears into his underwear. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his thick thighs, bare and so muscular. 

“Stop eye-fucking me and get to sleep, brat.”

You stop staring. 

Lying side by side, you look up at the ceiling, hands drumming on your stomach. It’s hard to ignore the warmth he’s emanating and the way his masculine scent is filling your nose. 

“Be honest, Fushiguro.” At the sound of your voice, he groans. “You chose that movie to fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“Go to fucking sleep or I’m kicking your dumb ass out.”

You prod his bicep, mostly for your own benefit. “Just tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

Swatting your hand away, he growls, “No, I fucking didn’t. Happy now?”

You nod and let out a breath, sinking into the mattress and feeling ready to accept sleep. That is, until he opens his big fat mouth and you’re getting riled up all over again. 

“I totally did, actually.”

“I knew it!”

Nanami:

This was your own fault. 

You chose a stupid horror movie just because it was trending. Now, you’re practically on Kento’s lap, burying your face into his neck at even the mildest of scenes. He doesn’t complain. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer another film? It’s not too late to change,” he kindly offers.

Stubbornly, you shake your head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

Pushing his glasses up, he doesn’t fight you. He himself isn’t a fan of horror movies but he isn’t particularly vulnerable to jumpscares. Kento has always been a rational man, after all. He knows the blood is fake, he can tell when a shot is setting up for a plot twist, and he can already tell who will survive in the end. 

Which is why he makes the perfect movie buddy — he grounds you. His firm hand rubs soothingly on your back, muttering against your head when the scary scenes are done, and he even warns you when he senses another one building. 

He’s always so sweet and so supportive, you never dispute it when your friends joke that he’s practically your boyfriend. And sure, you would absolutely love it if he was, but maybe every kind act is just a reflection of who he is, rather than how he feels about you.

The movie ends and you’re left reeling.

“I can’t believe they killed everyone but just that one girl. She did nothing the entire time!”

Kento chuckles, folding up the blanket. “I believe she is, what they call, ‘the final girl’. So, I suppose she’s already served her purpose by existing.”

You offer to tidy up too, but he shoos you away, reminding you that it’s already late and you have lots to do the next day. With an appreciative smile, you give him a goodnight hug like you do every night and return to your room. 

You don’t stay there for long. 

Unable to stop ruminating on it, you text Kento to ask if the front door’s locked. He says it is. It’s his routine to double check and he does it without failure every night, but you just can’t help but worry it isn’t. Eventually, the fear that it might not be locked, or that it somehow became unlocked, won over you. 

There’s no way you’re going to check yourself. You ask Kento if you can sleep in his room and of course he doesn’t say no. 

His bedside lamp is on, and he’s sat up, reading a book. He gives you a warm smile and pats the bed. You’re a little disappointed he’s fully clothed but you keep that to yourself. 

Once beside him, you lie there, staring up at his face. He isn’t the least bit bothered by the terrifying movie; none would be able to tell he even watched one. Nanami Kento is a rock. Solid and unyielding. 

“Just let me finish this chapter and I’ll turn the light off,” he says. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. Read as long as you want. Actually, do you mind reading to me? Your voice is so soothing, and I don’t think I can fall asleep otherwise.”

Gentle eyes fall on you and when something soft passes through his eyes, he smiles faintly, the golden flow of his lamp bringing out his youth. And he begins reading out every word on his page, low voice filling the room. 

You can’t recall if you fell asleep three pages later or two whole chapters later, but you do, movie long forgotten. 

Sukuna:

You’re onto him. 

The devil incarnate picked a stupidly gory horror movie. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, you almost mistook it for satire. But it isn’t. He’s trying to make you crack, to watch you squirm because apparently, he has nothing better to do. 

When the seventh jumpscare comes and you don’t flinch, he scoffs. “You watched this shit before?”

“No,” you say.

With thirty minutes still left, he turns the TV off and grumbles as he disappears into his room, the door slamming particularly loud. You sigh. He is so predictable. Truth is, the movie did scare you a little, but not enough to lose this little game you’ve been playing with him. 

At a leisurely pace, you go over your routine, humming a tune as he texts you. The man is always so angry. He really should get laid or something. Better yet, he should actually murder someone like his nature dictates. Maybe then he’ll get off your ass. 

When he threateningly texts that he’s coming to you, you can only pinch your nose bridge and open the door before he kicks it down. What you see on the other side only gives you a bigger headache — he’s only in boxers, muscular body on show, his tattoos highlighting every ridge. 

He pushes past you and gets himself settled into bed, shoving your plushie off the bed and it rolls by your feet. You pick it up and dust it off, placing it your desk chair instead, knowing he’ll just kick it off, or worse, if you place it back on the bed. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he orders, one arm bent behind his head and the other lying straight across your pillow. 

You roll your eyes and climb in despite his stupid attitude. Trying to move his arm, you fail spectacularly; it doesn’t even move an inch. The thing is heavy as hell and his smug ass face knows it. He grunts though when your head falls onto it with more force than necessary. 

You turn your bedside lamp off. 

Encased in darkness, you can only do your best to ignore his presence, with very little success. He’s more on your side than his and he radiates heat like a furnace. The feeling of his hard body against your sides is doing nothing but distract you from seeking sleep. 

You really shouldn’t let him get away with his shit. 

“You call me the pyscho but you didn’t even blink at all that fucking bullshit,” he snarls, breaking the dull silence.

“It really wasn’t that scary, Sukuna.”

That arm you’re resting on curls, wrapping around your head until you’re being held against his chest in a headlock. He whispers against your ear, squeezing threateningly and growling, “You aren’t scared of me?”

You know you should be. He’s proven time and time again there are no lengths he wouldn’t go to prove a point. You’ve seen firsthand the destruction he can cause, the pain he can inflict, and his devil may care attitude. 

He’s a loose cannon. 

“Just go to sleep, weirdo,” you reply, smacking his forearm. 

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. You feel it rumble under your head, vibrations reaching your own chest and your eyes flutter shut. 

“You’re lucky you’re fucking adorable, you little brat.”

His threats always fall on deaf ears with you; they no longer hold any weight. Not since you’ve seen all the ways he’d go above and beyond for you. In his own freaky way, he’s shown he cares many times. You can’t possibly be scared of someone who feels as soft as he does.

You fall asleep in his arms, a ghost of something soft grazing your cheek.

[ame-in-the-rain]

luis just give him a little kiss on the forehead why dont you

[v6quewrlds]

Joe comforting you after a bad day or week? Just cuddly, clingy, hype man Joe that would do literally anything to make you feel better.

imagine venting to joe.

The evening sun threw a warm glow through the blinds, casting slanted shadows across the living room floor. Feeling the weight of the day's troubles, you tossed your phone onto the couch and sighed.

You craved quiet, darkness, and the solace of your own thoughts. Slipping out of your work clothes, you stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to cascade down your body, hoping it would wash away the day's tension. The steam filled the bathroom, creating a cocoon around you, a brief respite from the outside world. Your eyes closed as you let the water run over your face, imagining each drop carrying away a piece of your stress.

Once clean and in your favorite oversized t-shirt and the baggiest sweatpants you could find, you made your way to the bedroom. The bed looked like heaven, an inviting oasis of comfort that promised relief from the pounding in your head. You slid beneath the cool sheets, your eyes drifting shut as you reached out for Joe's side of the bed, feeling the emptiness where he should have been.

Joe, typically the first one home, was unusually late tonight. Your thoughts swirled with worry as you lay in the quiet emptiness of your shared space. Your phone remained silent, no texts or calls from Joe to explain his delay. Normally, you would be annoyed at the lack of communication, but today you were too drained to bother.

The house was eerily quiet, save for the occasional tick of the clock on the bedside table. Your eyes grew heavy with each passing minute, and you drifted in and out of a light doze, your body craving the deep sleep that eluded you.

It was the sound of the garage door rumbling open that jolted you out of your half-sleep. The thump of Joe's footsteps grew louder as he entered the house, a mix of relief and anxiety washing over you. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear his voice, to feel his presence. The bedroom door creaked slightly as he peeked in, his eyes searching for you in the dimly lit room.

"Babe?" he called out softly, noticing the mound of blankets where you lay. "You okay?"

Your voice was muffled by the fabric as you responded, "No, not really."

Joe's concern grew as he saw your outline under the blankets. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a gentle hand on your back. "What happened today? You didn't text me that you got home," he said, his voice filled with a quiet concern that made your heart ache.

You shifted, rolling onto your back, and pulled the blankets down to reveal your face. "Just a bad week," you whispered, your eyes red-rimmed from exhaustion. "I had to fire Maya today."

Joe's eyebrows furrowed, and he leaned in closer. "Maya? Why?"

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling beneath the blankets. "It was the numbers. She's been making too many mistakes, and it's setting us back." You paused, your voice thick with emotion. "But she's been with me since the beginning. She was like family."

Your eyes searched his, finding solace in the blue depths as he nodded for you to continue. "And my migraines," you continued, your voice cracking slightly. "They're getting worse. I can't think straight."

Joe's face fell. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have picked up dinner, or at least come home earlier."

"I didn't want to bother you." Your voice was small, almost apologetic. "I know you have enough on your plate. And with the game on Sunday, I just…"

Your words trailed off as Joe shook his head. "You could never bother me," he murmured, his hand tugging a stray braid back into your silk scarf. "If you're feeling like shit, I want to know. That's what I'm here for."

You nodded slowly, exhaling a shaky breath.

Joe's expression softened even further. "I'll grab you some water and something for the pain. Be right back."

He disappeared into the hallway, the sound of his footsteps retreating briefly before returning with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers. You propped yourself up on your elbows and took the offered pills with a grateful nod, downing them with a gulp. You watched as Joe carefully placed the glass back on the bedside table and then slid under the covers with you, his body warm and solid against yours.

With an arm around your waist, he pulled you closer, tucking you into his side. You let out a contented sigh as his hand began to trace small, soothing circles on your back, your eyes fluttering closed once more.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎThe Greater Good౨ৎ꣑ৎ

[fem reader] contains: kidnapping, implied sexual assault, weight loss, abandonment pairing: fem reader x billy the kid summary: you broke billy's heart when you left him, but there's more to the story than he thought author’s note: welcome back to angst hehehe Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Muscles aching, limbs hardly able to hold him up, Billy breathed in. The air around the home you shared had to be different than whatever else he was breathing elsewhere. Even the mere idea of your presence settled ease over his joints, a calm raining on him.

He let his horse graze, wandering up the walk. Wildflowers sprouted from the grass leading up to the cabin, blooming in that pretty blue color you loved. Bending, he snapped a few of their stems, imagining how they'd look when he tucked them into your hair. His beautiful girl.

Usually he wouldn't arrive home until the sun was well gone from the sky, but he'd managed an early leave today. When it was just him, he had no reason to come home, let alone when he didn't yet feel like sleeping. You added a purpose to his life, a reason to look at the clock.

Love had been a weakness in his past, something to rid himself of. He'd lived many years avoiding it at all costs, certain being loved by him was the worst debt to ever owe. Bad things happened to the ones he loved. Death, sickness. He saw what love did to his mother when his father met an untimely end.

Any notions flew with you. You and your doe eyes and soft words, showing him that love didn't need to be a fight, a struggle. No, your love was soft. Kind. It was patient, careful and sweet. Everything you were, manifested in a feeling. He'd married you as soon as he could, determined to have you for any semblance of forever.

From the moment he learned of the baby, he was smitten, more than he previously thought possible. The back of his mind told him that the more his love grew, the more dangerous it became, but he brushed it away. For all the good in his world, the bad couldn't possibly measure up.

He'd doted on you hand and foot when you were pregnant, conscious of every ache and pain and change in your body. And when Kat finally came, the joy only multiplied. Your daughter was a spitting image of you, but you insisted her hair was like his. Dark and curly and unruly, a head full of it.

Though there were moments he swore were pure magic, the hardship of new parenthood had painted the past month. Kat was up nearly every hour at night crying over one thing or another, and she hadn't taken to eating the way you had hoped. You had been struggling with her during the day for the past couple of weeks, collapsing in tears at the end of the day and whispering that you didn't know what to do. Billy tried to be supportive as well as he could, taking Kat so you could have a rest, trying to navigate nursing with you.

That was what he was hoping to do tonight. Take the baby off your hands for a little while, maybe coax her to sleep and fix dinner. It'd been so long since you'd had some time just the two of you, since he'd really been able to take care of you. These fantasies drifted through Billy's mind as he arrived at the doorstep.

Pausing, his brow scrunched into a furrow when he picked up on the sound of crying. Billy's footsteps became urgent, and he pushed the door open, the crying getting louder. Removing his hat and hanging it on the hook, he called your name once as he opened the door to the bedroom. You were nowhere to be found.

"Hey, baby," he muttered, tossing the flowers on the dresser and moving toward Kat. She was lying on her back in her cradle, little arms flailing as he reached down for her. Once she was on his chest, her crying began to slow, and he settled a palm on her back, rubbing it gently. "There we go. It's okay, kitty Kat." He kissed her head, taking in a deep breath of her baby smell. "Where's mama, huh?" You were usually so quick to snatch Kat up to be soothed, even if it didn't always work. "Is mama outside?"

He wandered over to the window, peering outside while swaying Kat carefully, trying to lure her back to sleep. You weren't in the back, and he knew for certain you weren't out front.

A dreadful feeling began to settle in his stomach. He walked back into the kitchen as fast as he dared with the baby in his arms, calling your name once more. You wouldn't leave Kat alone like this, especially not when she was crying. He searched the tiny space as if you'd pop up from one of the cabinets or rise from beneath the floorboards.

His heart was beginning to race. Billy said your name again, but it was a whisper. Panic was seizing his heart, squeezing every last bit of light out of it. Frantic, his eyes darted around the room, landing on something resting on the table.

A familiar gold wedding band with a single flower engraved in the top.

Something sank into his chest, spreading like a poison all through his body. There was a tidal wave of confusion washing over his body as he thought back to the last time he'd seen you. This morning, when you'd been woken by Kat.

You'd taken her out of her cradle, pulled your nightdress down to feed her. He remembered bits and pieces. How you'd watched your daughter eat, the softest of smiles playing at your lips. The sun had barely started to come up, light sneaking through the part between the curtains. You were angelic, stunningly beautiful in a way that would have him in worship for the rest of his days.

He'd left you sleepy eyed, lying back down with Kat resting soundly on your chest, with a kiss to your forehead and a promise he'd be back soon. It had been hard to tear away.

And now you were gone.

This wasn't a break in. There was no sign of struggle. No, you'd taken the time to leave the ring right where he'd see it. Even though he knew he wouldn't find it, he went to the front window in search of your horse. Gone.

Emptiness was coursing through his veins in place of blood. Unwittingly, he clasped Kat closer, chasing the air flying out of his lungs. She wiggled, one of her little hands flying to his cheek. The touch brought him back to earth, and he wearily looked around, trying to find a way out of the fog he'd been thrust into.

Gone. You couldn't be gone. No, you wouldn't leave him like this, abandon the life you'd both worked so hard to build. You wouldn't leave Kat.

It was an internal battle. You wouldn't leave him. But the wedding ring was undeniable proof.

Had you been unhappy? Billy's regret swamped his insides, and all he could think of was everything he should have done. You'd been struggling with Kat and he'd known it. He should have worked fewer days, should have held you tighter and told you more often how much he loved you. The way he loved you filled oceans and transcended expression, but he should have tried. To keep you, he would always try.

Dazed, he looked down at Kat, but all he could see was you. Closing his eyes, Billy sank to the ground, back against the wall. He wanted to weep, wanted to run off in every direction until he found you. The way he was feeling, he'd search every corner of the earth until you were found. His instinct was to fight it, to undo what was already done.

His tired eyes opened, catching again on your wedding band, sitting there like an omen. This was the first time he'd seen it apart from your hand in years. Even when you were only engaged, you wore it proudly, a symbol on your finger that announced you were his.

Kat stirred against his chest, and he willed himself to stand, mindlessly taking her back to the bedroom. When he tried to put her back into her cradle, she began to cry, and so he ended up lying back in bed with her, still in his work clothes.

Your side still smelled like you. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he blinked them away quickly, forcing himself to look back at Kat. Her breathing was steady, and he kept a hand on her back, hoping she'd sleep for longer now that he was here. The sun was setting now- he could tell by the way the shadows were facing now. He'd been lying here longer than he thought.

Staring up at the ceiling, Billy felt himself transition into numbness. He tried to imagine tomorrow or the day after, coming up blank. The idea of having to do this by himself was daunting. Not just raising his daughter. Living. Billy shut his eyes, exhaustion swallowing him whole. He'd gone through every emotion possible thinking about you for the past while, but one stood still, nibbling at the edges of his heart.

He missed you.

Pulling off his work gloves, Billy wiped the sweat from his brow and tipped his hat up to squint into the horizon. The sun was still above the horizon, meaning he'd finished right on time. He shoved the gloves into his belt, whistling as he gathered the rest of his tools to take back to the barn.

The property he worked on wasn't rough, but it was just challenging enough to keep him busy. But even if it'd been a ranch on impossible earth, he'd have kept at the job. The pay was good, and the owner was a fair man. Due to the quality of Billy's work, he was able to negotiate the schedule. The rancher had children of his own, and he had a sympathetic ear for Billy's struggle raising a daughter on his own.

He'd known that day he came home that you weren't coming back. The next few months solidified it. Now, at just past a year since the day, you were merely a memory. Something that lingered like a ghost, though he couldn't see it fully.

If it hadn't been for Kat, Billy knew he'd have gone off the deep end. He distracted himself from his grief by throwing himself into loving her. Every second with his baby girl was a gift, and he constantly marveled at everything she was.

She still had trouble getting to sleep, but once she did, she was out for the entire night. He'd stood her up, holding her hands so she could take her first steps. Her first word was 'mama', which had broken his heart, but her second was 'daddy'. She looked like you more and more each day.

This wasn't the life he'd imagined when he held her for the first time. But it was his. Him and Kat against the world.

Setting his tools in their proper place, Billy's mind wandered to tonight. Kat was up at the house, being watched by the rancher's kind wife. He'd swing by and pick her up and ride on home to make dinner. Then maybe they'd go for a walk to the wildflower field. Kat loved to watch the butterflies.

Climbing the steps to the porch, he tipped his hat up when he saw the rancher sitting on the front rocking chair. He was holding a folded piece of paper in his hand, jaw set.

Billy greeted him, removing his hat. "Sir. Is everything alright?"

The man nodded, straightening in his chair. "Yes. Kat's okay. But..." There was a beat of silence, and then he stood up, holding out the paper. "This is for you."

Brow furrowing, Billy took it, confused. Was he in trouble? Had someone come to collect the bounty on his head that had expired years ago? Unfolding the paper, he had the start of his life when he saw the familiar handwriting.

Without taking in a word, his head snapped up, frantic eyes meeting the rancher's. "It's-"

"She approached me in town," he said grimly. "Is it-?"

Billy nodded, forcing himself to look down again. Every emotion possible drenched his heart as he began to take in each word.

Billy,

I know anything I say won't be enough, but I'd be more than grateful if you let me try to explain. I'm staying in the boarding house in town if you want to meet me there.

I'm sorry.

It wasn't real. Billy felt weak as he lowered the letter. There wasn't any way it was true. After a year of nothing, you'd come back to town for whatever reason and put his heart in the worst possible twist.

Heart pounding, Billy stuffed the letter into his pocket, adjusting his hat and looking back up at the rancher. "D'ya mind keepin' Kat-"

"Go ahead, son," the man insisted, clapping him on the shoulder. "My wife would keep her all day and night if she could. Just come on back when you can."

Billy's thank you was flustered and rushed as he hurried down the steps, bounding toward his horse. The adrenaline made the ride rushed, and he was in his head the whole time.

The idea that you were so close in proximity was eating at him. You hadn't left his mind for the entire time you'd been gone, and if it weren't for Kat he'd have convinced himself you weren't real. The memories were hazy, and he'd shoved them all aside up until now. The last time he saw you played over and over, the spark of your eyes nearly real to him.

He asked for you at the front, your name feeling strange and familiar all at once on his tongue. Gliding up to the room, Billy froze at the door, knuckles poised to knock. His heart was pounding, and suddenly he was regretting not going home to change first. He was still in his sweaty work clothes and probably smelled like a horse.

Taking a deep breath in, Billy knocked to the tune of his wrenching heart. Nerves bit him like mosquitos, and a part of him was still convinced that none of this was real at all. It couldn't be you behind that door. No, it must be some imposter, and the rancher had given the wrong man the note. Billy had decided to turn around and get back to Kat when the door swung open.

There wasn't any reaction to have other than stunned.

He'd been expecting you to look better than ever. After all, he thought you'd run away so you would be happy. But the sight that greeted him was anything but that.

The bruise on your cheek caught his eye first. Then a bigger one on your collarbone. Your dress was ripped in several places, and upon further inspection, it was one he recognized. You looked exhausted, and your hair was much longer and completely tangled. And he noticed with a pang how much weight you'd lost. Billy was willing to bet that if he pulled off your dress he'd be able to see every one of your ribs.

"Billy," you said softly. Oh, your voice. It was like finally hearing a song you'd been humming under your breath for weeks.

He could only get out a broken, "Baby-" before you took his arm and pulled him into the room, shutting the door.

Billy stumbled back, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He barely had the sense to remove his hat. A million new questions replaced the ones he'd wanted to ask before. But when you sat on the bed and he followed suit, all he could manage was, " Where have you been?"

You took in a breath, your voice calm. "Billy, I know this is a shock. I know you have things you want to ask and I have things I want to ask you too." When you brought a hand to your unbruised cheek, he saw a long scar across your fingers. "Can I tell you what happened first? And then you can ask anything you want."

When he nodded, you swallowed thickly. "Thank you." He hated the way you spoke. It was so far from the way he remembered you, as if all the life had been drained out.

You folded your arms around yourself. "I was with Kat the whole morning. She was being so good for me." The tiniest little smile appeared on your face, but it was marked by your sad eyes. "I'd finally gotten her to sleep and she was smiling in her sleep. It was so sweet." It was obvious this was something you'd thought about a lot.

"She still does that," he said quietly, and you nodded, biting the side of your cheek.

"Kat," you croaked, brushing a tear away. "Oh-" Now Billy was confused. Was this guilt? Was he about to hear about some epiphany you'd had?

"I heard a horse outside," you continued, your voice wavering the slightest bit. He could hear you trying to stay calm. "I thought it was you. I thought you'd forgotten something or come home early." You looked straight into his eyes, breaths growing shaky. "He came in and started yelling. He was asking where you were and I told him I didn't know. He woke Kat." The last part was said in a whisper.

Billy could only stare at you. This wasn't going the way he had thought it would.

"He pointed his gun at her," you said, and the flash in your eyes told him you were reliving it. "And he t-told me that if I didn't come with him he'd...he'd..." your lower lip wobbled, a telltale sign that you were about to cry.

Billy's old instincts with you were falling short. The inside of him was yelling at him to comfort you, to close the gap between you, but he couldn't. It was as if his body was glued to itself. And his eyes were stuck on you.

"Your ring," he managed. "You left your ring."

"So you wouldn't come after me." You turned away, refusing to meet his eyes anymore. "I knew he was taking me as bait, but maybe if you thought I'd left you..."

A hand covered his eyes, and he bent his head, dropping his hat. The past was reworking itself before his eyes, the truth throwing him into something he never thought he'd see. You were here, somehow, and there wasn't any doubt in his mind about the truth of your words.

For a year he'd tried to make everything make sense. How he could have possibly missed the signs when you were the only language he knew how to read, how you could have given up when things were hard with Kat when you'd never once given up on him. But knowing now what he knew, every wall and excuse he'd built cracked and crumbled.

Lifting his head, he found you looking at him again, the very picture of exhaustion. When he sat up, you winced, and his heart broke all over again.

"I couldn't risk you or Kat," you whispered, nails digging into your own wrist. "It would be better for you to hate me than be killed because of me."

"They held you all this time?" He finally managed to speak, voice scratchy. "Where?"

"Up north. There's a mine in the mountains." You traced the scar on your fingers. "They would have left me for dead after a month or so if they hadn't found another use for me."

"Another use-?" You lifted your eyes to him and he knew.

Billy stood up, pacing the length of the room and trying to get his thoughts in order. You remained on the bed, and he swore you'd never looked quite so small.

He'd expected to be angry. It had felt like a trick, the idea of you coming back so close to the day he'd lost you. The only anger he felt was not directed at the woman he'd been trying not to miss for a year. It was at the monster who'd taken you from him, made you feel like you had to choose between your life and his. He was angry you'd been scared; angry you'd been made to suffer. Closing his eyes, he stopped, standing still as it buried him alive.

"Billy," you said quietly. When he didn't turn around, you came to him, footsteps soft. He only opened his eyes when he felt your hands on his cheeks, soft despite all you'd been through.

Your eyes were haunting. He could see the lifetime of pain lingering, as if it had always been there. Billy lifted his hand, touching your scarred fingers. He kept his fingers light, watching your expression. You sighed, body seeming to slump, and that was when he pulled you into his arms.

The instant your head found his chest, he breathed out, nose dropping to your hair. It was a nostalgic trip. Billy felt his other half meld into him, become his once more. His girl. His love. As much as he hadn't wanted to admit it, the love he had for you had flickered like a dying candle, hidden away but still there.

"You're hurt," he whispered, and you shook your head.

"This is nothing." Billy fisted the shoulder of your dress, as if he could bring you closer. Your voice was muffled by his chest. "It was worse before. I'm okay."

"No." Billy shook his head, pulling back to look at you, but keeping his hands at your sides. "How did you get out?"

"They left me for dead," you confessed softly. "They took the horses. But as soon as they were gone, I started running. I don't even know how long it took me to get down here, but I remembered that town was straight south."

He imagined you sleeping shivering in the cold, living off the meager plants you were forced to eat, no gun to protect you. All this to get back to him.

"I would understand if you hated me," you said, looking up into his eyes. "That's what I wanted you to do. But I had to tell you the truth. And I'll leave tomorrow and never come back now that I've-"

"No." Billy cut you off, cupping your cheek. He looked you over again, the feel of you grounding him. "I don't...I couldn't..." he took in a shaky breath. "I don't hate you and I don't want you to leave."

You were nearly trembling. Billy sat back on the bed, pulling you down with him. He smoothed your hair behind your ears, and you leaned into his touch. "You were protectin' us." He thumbed your bruise lightly, heart aching when you closed your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't come after you. I should've-" Tears were rising in his throat. "I wish I'd have tried to find you."

"He would have hurt you," you sniffled, breathing in and holding his wrist. "You and Kat were safe. That's all I care about."

"But he hurt you." Billy's tone was sharp, and when you flinched he softened it. "I ought to find him and make sure he pays. Treating a woman like that. My girl-" He cut himself off when he saw the first tear on your cheek, and you were back in his arms when the second fell. His nose found your hair once more. "You came back to me."

"There'll never be a time when I don't try to come back to you," you mumbled into his chest. Billy kissed the top of your head, overwhelmed by the feeling of having you again. His wife, his love, practically back from the dead.

You'd pushed through every horror to find him again. What rattled him was that you'd thought there was a chance he'd turn you away after learning what had really happened. And yet you'd found him anyways. Any doubts he'd had about your love for him faded into nothingness, his hidden flame becoming a wildfire.

"I love you," he whispered into your hair. "I never stopped loving you."

"I love you." You clung to his shoulders, as if you'd been holding back before. "It killed me to make you believe that I didn't."

He leaned down to kiss your forehead, your cheek, your nose, realizing everything he'd missed all at once. You held yourself to him, breathing in and out slowly, reclaiming the safety he so badly wanted to give you again.

"Is Kat okay?" you murmured, eyes shut as he smoothed your hair, rubbing his thumb over that special spot you loved.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he said softly, stroking your back. "She's good. Misses her mama, though."

You hummed sadly, holding his wrist tighter. "I've missed her."

"We'll see her soon," he promised, shifting to lean back, holding you to his chest still. "Just let me have you a little longer."

Holding you was a haze of remembering. Whatever woman he'd been imagining since the day you were taken couldn't be less real to him. There was only you, the girl he'd always known, the girl he'd fallen in love with. Everything that had happened only heightened his protection.

"You're allowed to be even a little bit mad at me," you said softly, body snug against his.

Billy's eyes were shut, his arm wound around your waist. He felt at peace, finally back where he was happiest. Your head on his shoulder, your hand held to his chest between his fingers. He was stroking your scar again.

He didn't bother to open his eyes. "I'm not." Billy let his hand at your waist fall to the covers, tugging the end to wrap around your body. "Not even a little bit."

"Maybe you should be." He cracked one eye open. You were angelic in his arms, even with the bruises and scrapes marring you. If he had it his way you'd be put in a bubble of sunshine and wildflowers and love for the rest of your life.

Billy leaned down to kiss your hair. "No. How could I?" He lightly scratched your back, shifting you to be a little more comfortable on his chest.

"I left you," you said softly.

"You protected our daughter," he corrected, stroking your hair. "If I was gonna be mad about anything it'd be about you not giving me the chance to come find you." Billy nosed your temple, lips pressing there. "I could've saved you baby." He touched the bruise on your cheek again, blood starting to boil as he thought of everything you'd been subjected to while he was home trying to forget.

You shook your head, resting your head back on his chest. "It's all over now, Billy. It's okay."

It wasn't okay. He wanted to protest, bring up the proof of your hurt, both within and outside. But you looked so tired, and he knew there'd be plenty of time to dissect it all later. There wasn't any way he was letting you out of his sight again.

So he nodded, smoothing the folded covers over you again. The conversation was far from over, but he wanted you to get some rest more than he wanted to argue. When you closed your eyes, he smiled softly.

Billy wasn't so naive to think that having you back would fix everything. He knew you were hurting, the road to recovery long and winding. But you were strong. You had found your way home and you were all his again, safe and loved in the shelter of his arms. He'd reunite you with Kat in the morning.

Little steps. He'd thought he'd lost you until an hour ago.

Right now, this was enough.

[women-in-ssports]

Ch 1 Alumni Weekend

Ch 2 here

Ch 3 here

Azzi’s gaze lingered on Paige for a fraction of a second longer than she intended, and in that moment, everything around her seemed to blur. The warmth of the room, the laughter of their old friends, the noise of the bustling crowd—it all faded as she watched Paige step through the door, hand in hand with Melody. Azzi had only heard bits and pieces about their relationship over the years, but seeing them together now, something inside her tightened, a mix of old love and regret she couldn’t shake.

It was UConn’s alumni weekend for basketball, and Azzi had been dreading this all week. She’d convinced herself it would be fine, that she could handle seeing Paige, that it was just another event, another few hours to get through. But reality was different. The memories hit her all at once—the late nights talking after games, the soft laughter shared in quiet corners, and the intensity of their connection that had once felt so natural. Back then, they were unstoppable, a perfect match in so many ways. But things changed. They changed.

The breakup after college still felt like a chasm between them. Azzi had been the one to pull away, to make the call to end it, even though deep down, part of her had never really wanted to. She could still hear Paige’s voice echoing in her head the night it happened—confused, hurt, and pleading. It had been hard, harder than Azzi had let on, but she had done it. And now, standing in this room full of old faces and half-remembered moments, it felt like the past was clawing at her again.

Her hand gripped the edge of her chair before she pushed herself up. She needed to leave. She needed space. Her legs carried her toward the door, but her mind raced—tangling between the memories of who Paige had been to her and the painful reminder that someone else held her now.

Azzi stepped into the hallway, her breath uneven. She hadn’t wanted to run. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t, that she was past it, but here she was—her heart pounding, her skin cold with panic. Just go to the bathroom, she told herself. It was the most logical thing to do. She could regroup. She could breathe. But the thought of standing there in front of a mirror, facing herself and that version of her life that felt like it belonged to someone else, was almost too much.

Leaning against the wall for a moment, Azzi closed her eyes, trying to steady herself. She had to get it together. She had to be fine. She had to move on. But as the sound of laughter from the other room drifted in, her mind wandered back to those quieter moments with Paige—the ones they had shared before everything fell apart.

Azzi’s heart was still racing as she stepped back into the main room, trying to center herself. The weight of the moment hadn’t lessened, but she forced herself to stand tall, to act like everything was fine. She was used to this, after all—putting on the mask of calm when inside she was anything but. No one here needs to see me fall apart, she reminded herself. She just needed to get through the night, like she always did.

But of course, as soon as she walked in, she ran smack into Melody.

Azzi’s body froze for a split second, and she couldn’t help but think, Of course this would happen to me. There was no time to brace for it. Melody was right there, staring up at her with those piercing eyes, a flicker of something unspoken passing between them. But Azzi wasn’t going to let it show. She plastered on a smile, her dimples creasing in place.

“Oops, sorry about that,” she said smoothly, her voice light, looking down at Melody as if the collision was just a minor hiccup in the evening.

There was a brief tension, thick enough that Azzi could practically taste it, but she didn’t let it linger. Before it could settle into something heavier, Azzi gracefully sidestepped, avoiding any more awkwardness. She continued on her path back to the table, as if nothing had happened, though she could feel everyone’s eyes on her. The energy in the room shifted when she and Melody came face-to-face. Everyone here knew the story—how Paige and Azzi had been something more once, how they’d been that couple until the walls of their relationship crumbled after college.

Azzi sat down, her back straight, her posture cool and collected. She glanced briefly over at Melody, who was now walking toward the bathroom, and she caught a glimpse of her—unfazed, like nothing had happened. Melody was just a shadow of the past, and Azzi knew it. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.

“Sorry about that,” Azzi said to Nika and Lou, taking her seat and seamlessly slipping back into the conversation with them. She kept her voice light, keeping herself busy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught up in the weight of the past. She was here for a reason—to celebrate, to reconnect, to move forward.

And then, of course, Paige appeared.

“Hey, guys!” Paige greeted, walking up to the table, eyes scanning the room before landing on Nika and Lou. She didn’t seem to realize Azzi was back yet, her attention still on the group. When she finally turned and spotted Azzi, she paused for a second, clearly taken aback. There was an almost imperceptible moment of hesitation before she stepped forward and extended her arms for a hug.

Azzi kept her expression neutral, calm. She wouldn’t let this rattle her, wouldn’t let the sting of seeing Paige with someone else break her composure. I’m fine, she told herself. I’m perfectly fine.

Reaching out, Azzi gave Paige a quick, tight hug, her movements controlled, the practiced ease of old friends who could move past awkwardness like it was nothing. “Hey, Paige,” Azzi said, smiling just a little too easily as she pulled away and turned back to Nika and Lou.

It was important to her—vital—that no one here thought she was falling apart. She wasn’t the girl who had her heart broken by the person she thought she’d marry. She wasn’t that girl anymore. Not here, not now. She’d moved on, or at least, that’s what she was going to show.

Azzi gave her attention back to the table, making sure to keep the conversation going, as though everything were completely normal. Her calm, controlled exterior didn’t reveal the storm she was hiding inside, but she was determined to keep it that way.

As the conversation unfolded, she noticed Paige and Melody exchange a brief glance from across the room, but Azzi didn’t let it linger in her mind. She wouldn’t let it. Tonight was for celebration. Tonight was for reclaiming herself, for finding peace in the space between her past and the life she was building. She wouldn’t let this weekend make her feel small. She wouldn’t let the ghosts of what she had with Paige define her anymore.

She had control over that. And she was going to keep it.

[https-murdock]

you, me, and a white picket fence - matt murdock

heyyy everyone this isn’t a full fic but i wanted to publish anywaysss <3 i hope it’s good for you all!

content - angst

sometimes he lets himself imagine it.

not often - but sometimes - matt lets himself imagine a future with you. what it would all be like, letting himself finally rest and spend his last days surrounded by you.

he lets the idea flow, pictures of you and your shared family behind a little white picket fence, somewhere he could keep you safe and happy.

“what’cha thinkin’ about?” you sing, body crawling up his on the bed, sitting on top of him in a position you found yourself in a lot.

“you.” he simply answers, and when he sees you waiting on heavier answer, he says, “what our life could be like if i were normal.”

“what do you mean?” you ask him, eyes boring into his so far you almost get totally lost in him, zoning back in to the conversation to hear him say lowly, “you know, if i stopped all this ‘daredevil’ stuff, we ran away somewhere, had a little family…”

while you knew matt could never fully give it up, part of you often wondered what it would be like, too. what if he was at home all the time? what if he was the one cooking dinner and waiting on you to come home sometimes? what if you didn’t feel so alone when he was gone?

but you could see the pain, and the knowing behind his eyes.

matt, too, knew he could never give his other half up. it held too much pride for him, too much meaning for him to leave it behind.

“we can do all that one day, when you finally learn it’s ok to rest.” you smirk, but something hangs in the air around you - and you wonder if he also knows the end of this will never be a normal one for either of you.

“can we?” he quietly questions, not knowing if he’s asking you or himself.

“of course, i’d follow you anywhere you went.” you lay your head in the nook of his neck, taking in his scent and bathing in his warmth.

matt knows you’d follow him anywhere - it was something he loved so much about you, yet something he hated all the same. he often wished you’d see how much better you deserve than someone who hides in the evening.

everything he had he would give to you, even if it killed him.

the feeling of your body weight on top of him, surrounded by the pillows and sheets that house both of you at nighttime - everything matt loved about his normal life was here in the moment - so why could he feel the deep pit of guilt growing with each minute?

it would eat him alive, trying to balance the knowledge of what he was holding you back from, to the feeling of being unable to let you go.

sometimes matt let himself imagine, just what it would be like to finally rest with you - but he knows that he has a big imagination.

[wh0smyst1cal]

💙🥛Shadow milk x reader angst fic!!💔

SHADOW MILK FANS COME GET YOUR FOOD!!!

(sorry if this is bad, im not used to writing angst, LMAO, besides english isnt my first language, sooo 😭)

You were currently sitting on the edge of your shared bed. Your partner, light milk cookie, was on his adventures looking for more knowledge, you were reading a book, however, none of the words seemed to stick in your head, you were recalling how you met him, and all the nice moments you have spent with him at this point, hes always busy, so those nice moments were once in a blue moon, however, you always enjoyed when he made time for you

Your thoughts were broken by the sudden screams of chaos and destruction outside, panicked, you jumped out of your bed and went to look outside from the window, to see what had happened. You were only welcomed by utter sufferment and violence, hundreds of cookies either screaming (i almost wrote creaming help) or killing each other, out of ALL the times that light milk was out it had to be now?! where is he anyways?! you looked up to the sky, the sky had weirdly turned black with the creepiest blue eyes, staring right back at you.

You turned away from your window, trying to think about something to do! You didn't want to die! Lost in thought, you didn't realize a weird cookie had entered your room.

"Oh, my dear y/n cookie! Whats with the long face? C'mon! Join me!" You turned around, that voice...those eyes...LIGHT MILK COOKIE? It can't be! He wouldn't be this, cruel! "Light milk cookie?" The words escaped from your mouth without you even realizing, you were scared, no not scared, TERRIFIED. "Tsk. Tsk. Shadow milk cookie now, Princess/ Prince!, Light milk cookie is long, LONG, gone!"

He got you into his arms and twirled you around, it felt like light milk cookie, and apparently it is, but this definitely isn't the cookie you know and love! You know him well enought to know that he WOULD NEVER do this "You're not him...you beast" You try to get out of his grip, but it was impossible "Such words pain me, but don't worry love! The show is just about to begin!"

SORRY ITS SHORT, MY BRAIN JUICES RAN DOWN AND MY HALF BRAINCELL GAVE UP 💔💔

[livviewritess]

Time Of The Month.

Normal!Touya todoroki x Pro Hero!reader

Summary: young touya accidentally burns his girlfriends favorite teddy that she's had since childhood - she's gutted. It doesn't help that she's on her period too.

AU: Touya never became a villain.

Warnings: cute touya, crying, mentions of dark past, touya having a panic attack

Authors note: send in requests.. i need motivation. Enjoy!

"Shit.." touya said, scrambling around to try and find something to fix the teddy with. It was burnt to a crisp, only one side of it barely intact - only one eye, and the plastic nose had melted into the now rough fabric.

In his defense, you spent too much time with your teddy. He patted out the blue flames - you'd be home in an hour - what should he do? He can't fix it, and he certainly couldn't buy another one, he didn't have time. He ran his hand through his white hair and picked up a black pen from the bedside table and scribbled a little note.

He clicked the pen, setting it down next to the note, quickly slipping his shoes and coat on to go and meet up with his family for dinner, while you was on Patrol. He mentally kicked himself for being so reckless, and headed out the door.

-

About an hour later, you opened the door, kicking off your hero boots and quickly waddling to the bathroom to change your pad. God.. the cramps where really getting to you now - the villain you had just fought had gotten the worse side of it. The short end of the stick.

"Such an awful day.." you mumered to no-one in particular and slumped onto the couch.

You sniffed, smelling burnt plastic - unusual. Touya never does his little DIYs in the house, he does them in the garage.

You got up lazily, and headed to their shared bedroom - the room dark, the sunset seeping into the room, giving it a nostalgic feeling. The dark blue walls contrasted to the beautiful paintings touya had drawn, some unfinished, some framed on the shelving units that he put up the moment you said it'd look cool. The bed was made messily, touya probably waking up late and scrambling to get dressed to meet his family like he said he would.

Then, your eyes drifted to a lump in the sheets. You peeled it back - your teddy. Well, what was left of it. "No!.." you thought to herself, and tears brimmed your E/C eyes. "Damn you, touya!"

You looked at the note, and picked it up quite aggressively. You read over it with foggy eyes, and tore it up, chucking it in the bin, doubling over in pain. Your cramps really weren't helping her situation.

You flopped onto bed, softly crying into your pillow, hugging the now burnt teddy.

-

"So, touya. How's life?"

Natsuo said, munching on some Katsudon that Fuyumi made fresh, Rei talking to Shouto who was spacing out. Enji just sat there eating peacefully.

"Alright, I guess, y/ns convinced me to enrol in the hero course, but I don't know. I don't really want to be a hero - I think she just wants to close off any loose ends of me going down the wrong path.. I told her it wouldn't happen, but yknow. She doesn't listen." Touya explained, shouto snapping out of thought, walking over to sit next to his big brothers.

"Touya-nii? Shouldn't she be off Patrol by now?" Shouto said, looking at the clock. It's half 6, and liv got off work for about half 5.

"Yes, shouto, I'll text her," he said, whipping out his phone.

Touya:

Babe, you off work?

Baby?

Are you alright?

You:

No I'm not.

Touya:

Oh

It's because of your teddy right?

I didn't know what to do

I'm so sorry baby

I picked it up while I was having a bad dream and burnt it

I'm so sorry

Babe

Please answer

-

Touyas eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at his phone - you had read his messages, but you haven't responded. He felt his breath catch in his throat, feeling like he was suffocating. He couldn't breathe. His chest got tighter, a burning sensation in his eyes as he got up and rushed out of the front door and straight to their shared apartment. He needed to apologise to you. Now.

-

He swung the door open, and he caught you walking into their room before you shut it.

"Babe, let me in please.."

"Go away."

"Baby, please- I didnt- I didn't mean it, i- I had a really bad dream and I burnt it- please- please open the door!.." Touya struggled to get his words out as his throat closed up, choking back sobs.

The door opened slowly, and you let him in. He was a tall guy, not muscular but not skinny, his big blue bug eyes filled with tears, his eyebrows contorted with pain and sadness. His knees buckled, and he gripped your tshirt, his forehead resting against your stomach as you stood looking down at him, your own eyes puffy from crying.

"I'm so sorry!.. I didnt- i didn't mean it!- Please, please don't shut me out! Please don't leave!.." he blurted out, tears staining your sleep shirt. You ran your fingers through his his hair, and your heart sank with worry as he clutched at his chest, struggling to breath, and crying at the same time.

You dropped to the floor infront of him, taking his chin into your hands, trying to ground him. "Touya, baby, listen- I'm not gonna leave you, it's okay-"

You said, raking your fingers softly through his hair.

"Promise me?.."

He said, his shaking shoulders calming down, now more able to breath. He hiccuped a bit from the crying, and you brought your hand to the back of his neck, gently pushing his face into your neck, and the two of you just sat there in your home, calming eachother down.

"I'm not that sad, touya. I'm just a little annoyed that you didn't wake me up after your nightmare." You said, pushing his hair out of his face.

"I'm sorry.. I didnt want to disturb you.."

He said, and your heart clenched. You hated seeing him like this - but it was one step closer to healing him - you had stopped him from going down that horrible path that he had planned to drive down, and you where there to turn him around.

"Come on. Let's get into bed, yeah? Nice and comfortable." She said, standing up, and climbing into bed with him.

He was almost always little spoon, just wanted to be hugged and loved the way he always yearned for. In his head, his voice was baby touyas. Because at heart, that's who he'll always be. That small little boy, who always wanted to be loved and looked at. And you where there for him, to nurture him and look after him like his parents never did.

"I love you touya." You said, hugging him tight.

"I love you too." He said, before drifting off to sleep.

At least he looked peaceful in his slumber -

when he didn't have to worry about a thing.

-

-

Authors note: cried writing this chat. The end really got me.. MY BOY..

Rip Touya Todoroki 🕊.

[hannahssimblr]

Odd sensation, the tattoo gun. On the internet, they said the forearm wasn’t bad. One of the least painful spots, which is why I try to suppress my wince as the needle buzzes over my skin. 

“It’s more painful when you’re tired or dehydrated, by the way,” says Kwan, the artist, her chewing gum smacking in her mouth over the sound of thrash metal. 

“Right, right. I guess I’m always dehydrated a bit.”

“He never drinks water,” Jonas pipes up from the sofa. “I remind him of it all the time, but he won’t.”

“Everything wrong with my life probably comes back to that,” I grin at Kwan, and the corner of her mouth ticks up. 

“You’re cute,” she says. “Pretty little face. How old are you guys?”

“Twenty,” Jonas says. “At least me. Jude is still nineteen.”

“Wow. Little babies,” Kwan wipes pooling black ink with a tissue, revealing a thin curved line along my forearm. Weird, I think, looking at it. That’s there forever now. Every day until I’m dead, I’ll look down and there’ll be something on my arm. 

“And what brings you to Phuket?” 

“Well, to be honest, Kwan, we came here just for you,” I say. Her eyes flick to my face, and she sighs with resignation. “You’re good, you know that? You’re going to go far. Going to break some hearts.” 

“We’re backpacking,” Jonas clarifies. “Bangkok for a week, Phuket for another, then we’re going to the Phi Phi Islands and Koh Samui. Jude is acting on complete impulse with this tattoo. I think he is probably trying to flirt so that you like him.”

“And the mango,” she says, now delicately inking the leaves. “Is it personally significant?”

“No, I just liked it. Your art is nice. Never thought I’d get a tattoo because I thought they were all, you know, big thick lines and shit, but yours…”

“Thank you.”

“And like, I guess the mangoes here taste really good, so I could say it’s a memento of my time in Thailand.”

Kwan exhales a laugh. “And not too much between your ears, I see, which is good. Otherwise I think you would doom womankind.”

I grin. “God, Kwan, I love when women insult me. It’s my bread and butter.”

The tattoo gun hits a nervy patch of skin near my inner elbow and I hiss through my teeth. “Ah!”

“Too much?” 

Then I laugh. “Yes. No. Maybe it depends, doesn’t it? I hope this is worth it.”

Later, strolling the beach, I take a photograph of my arm wrapped in plastic and send it to my mother. 

Look what I did.  Why would you do that to your body???? 

She gets back. 

Is that permanent??? 

I cackle. 

“What are you laughing at? Did you send that to Astrid?”

“No, to my mom. She doesn’t approve.”

“Oh,” Jonas frowns, as though this is of deep concern. “Doesn’t her reaction disappoint you?”

“No, I knew she’d hate it, and now she’s going to show my dad and he’ll hate it even more. It was the same when I pierced my ears on holidays. He doesn’t think men should do things like that, and whatever.”

“And you like that he is outraged?”

“Yeah, it’s funny. He hates everything I do regardless, so like, might as well lean the whole way in, you know?”

“You should send the picture to your dad.”

“Nah, I don’t really… I don’t, like, text him… or anything like that.”

“Never?”

“Nah. He wouldn’t respond, anyway. It’s better to get a reaction from my mom.”

He hesitates, getting ready to attempt some conversation, no doubt, that I haven’t much interest in having. I feel my defences rise before he opens his mouth. A blanket of emotional exhaustion settling over me. “You haven’t spoken too much about your father before,” he says. “I assumed you are not close, but—” 

“Please,” I say. “Let’s not.”

“But I am just thinking about how—”

“Jonas, it really doesn’t have to be like this. It’s really not a fun conversation to have.”

“Right. It’s just that you’ve even had dinner with my stepfather when he came to visit, and you know all about my father and my half brother and–”

“Yeah, I know. Max was a nice man. It was a nice dinner, but just because you’ve shared stuff with me doesn’t mean I have to share back.”

“But don’t you think since we’ve known each other for months now, and we are friends, that you should tell me something about your family?”

“You telling me personal things doesn’t make you entitled to know things about me.”

“Yes, but just some basic facts. What is your father’s name?” 

“Chris.”

“Christian?”

“Topher. Christopher.”

“And he is American.”

“Yes.”

Jonas leaves space for me to elaborate, and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. How old I do feel when people ask me about my dad? Twelve, every single time. Twelve, and destroying his stupid rare collector’s book purely for attention. He lost his mind and whacked my face with the back of his hand. Wedding ring rapped across a cheekbone. Was exhilarating to see him display an emotion. I remember laughing on the floor with hysterical glee among the shredded pages. A vindictive little winner. 

“He was born in California. He has four brothers. He studied dental medicine at the University of New Mexico, then he got my mom pregnant and married her.”

Another pause. “I see it was difficult for you to say that.”

“It was fine.”

“He was in university when you were born?”

“Yeah. He was twenty-one.”

“And your mother?”

“Nineteen.” 

“Your age.”

“Yes, my age. Terrible for her, I suppose. I don’t know. She’s fine. They’re both fine.”

He nods. “So you are determined to remain a mystery.”

“I’m determined to enjoy my trip, to be honest.”

“Well, thank you for sharing facts about your father.”

My arm is already sweating under the layers of plastic, beaten by the sun. Kwan said I shouldn’t expose the tattoo to sunlight. Then why did I get this thing? On holidays by the beach, about to spend another two weeks island hopping, and how hot is it? Thirty-seven? Forty? Sometimes my own reasonings are mysterious to me. 

“Let’s do something else,” I say, agitated by myself and everything around me. “What’s next?”

“You just got a tattoo, and now you are already looking for more excitement?”

“Yes, come on, I’m bored.”

“Okay, okay, let’s think of something.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[eelliotss]

— A Curse Between Us

Bound by a curse and centuries of longing, he scours the universe to reclaim the woman who once shared his soul, only to find her fractured by forgotten memories and a life that no longer includes him. As he fights to reignite their bond, you emerge—a black box of secrets and power capable of shattering the fragile balance of his kingdom and plan, a new variable that alters the balance of his life.

“I was supposed to be the last of us,” he breathed.

Will she always be his fate, or will your introduction into the picture tip in balance of his destiny?

⚠️ : Spoilers to Sylus’ myth. PS. reader is not MC, and in this story, Sylus is still a dragon!

The story of Sylus and MC, Milena Cross, was a tapestry woven from threads of love, survival, and shared memories. Their connection had been fierce and all-consuming, a bond forged in the crucible of struggle and sealed by a curse. That curse—an ancient, desperate act she had cast upon him before his life was extinguished by the injuries he had sustained trying to free her from the greed and cruelty of men—ensured their fates were irrevocably intertwined.

When Sylus opened his eyes again, flashes of their love, fragments of shared laughter and pain, and the echoes of her voice came flooding back like shards of light piercing a darkened room. Half of his soul still resided with her, tethering him to her existence. With this realization came an unyielding obsession: he would find her, no matter the cost.

He scoured the universe in a ceaseless hunt, toppling regimes, invading planets, and ripping through galaxies like a force of nature. Prisons could not hold him; armies could not stop him. His path was littered with destruction, each step bringing him closer to her. Finally, his journey led him to Earth—to the underbelly of human civilization, the N109 Zone. Here, amidst the corruption and chaos, he found her. His other half.

To ensure her safety, Sylus claimed the N109 Zone as his domain, establishing himself as its unrivaled ruler. If he was the danger, none could threaten her. From the shadows, he watched her every movement, biding his time, crafting the perfect moment to reintroduce himself. He envisioned a reunion as fiery and intense as the bond they once shared.

But before Sylus could act, she came to him. Yet, the moment he looked into her eyes, his heart fractured. She didn’t remember him. The love, the curse, the fragments of his soul that tied them together—she had forgotten it all. Worse, she despised him, her hatred a searing wound deeper than the sword that had once pierced his flesh.

He tried to reignite her memories, to remind her of who they were, but every effort only pushed her further away. The realization that she no longer knew him—no longer loved him—was a torment he couldn’t escape. And so, he resigned himself to wait, as he always had, enduring the agony of her absence even while she was near.

During her presence in the N109 Zone, she struck a deal with him: his assistance in gaining entry to an exclusive auction in exchange for something she had that he wanted: to resonate with him. Sylus agreed. After all, he would stop at no means to bring the world to his woman’s feet if that is what she wanted.

At the auction, he left her to attend to his business as soon as they entered the auction house. “Have fun,” he said with a smirk, handing her his card. “Act as good bait.” While she navigated the opulent chaos of the auction, Sylus was escorted to a private room by the staff. As he trailed, a nagging feeling of unease prickled at his senses, a faint presence trailing him like a shadow. When the door opened, he found himself in a room overflowing with treasures—jewels, gold, protocores, weapons. His eyes swept across the hoard, but his gaze snagged on a single figure standing amidst the wealth.

You were studying a pendant, your fingers brushing its surface as if trying to decode its secrets. Your black dress clung to her figure, flaring out elegantly at your feet. Silver and gemstones adorned her, shimmering like frost under the dim light, but it was you who outshone everything in the room.

Sylus felt a flicker of irritation. Your presence was unwelcome, but she wasn’t his concern—at least, not until he recognized her aura. Dismissing her, he turned his attention to his target. “Hello, Thomas,” he greeted smoothly, his voice a low purr. “I think you know what I’m here for.”

Despite Thomas’ resistance, Sylus was able to handle his business quickly. With his objective achieved, Sylus was ready to leave, but the stranger caught his attention once more. Something about her presence unsettled him. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her.

Then he saw them—her eyes. Midnight, ancient, brimming with power.

A chill ran through him, a primal instinct gripping his core. His sharp eyes narrowed, scanning her not just with his gaze but with something deeper—an ancient sense that stirred within him. There was something about her aura, a pressure that pressed against his chest, not suffocating but undeniable. It was the kind of power that couldn’t be disguised or dulled, no matter how much silver and silk adorned her.

“You’re…” His voice faltered, the single word caught between disbelief and awe as he took a step closer. It was then that he saw it, unmistakable now—a flicker of fire dancing in her midnight eyes, a glint of something ancient and untamed that no mortal could ever possess. The air around her seemed to ripple, almost as if the space itself was bending to her presence.

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. She wasn’t just powerful—she was like him.

A dragon.

His breath caught. It was impossible. Dragons were supposed to be gone, their kind reduced to myth, memory, and him. And yet, standing before him was undeniable proof that he was not the last.

“I was supposed to be the last of us,” he breathed, the words heavy with a mix of wonder and dread. But as he spoke, the corner of your lips quirked up—not in kindness, but in a knowing, almost amused challenge. The room felt smaller now, charged with an energy he hadn’t felt in centuries, and in that moment, Sylus knew the balance of power had shifted.

This was no mere encounter. It was a collision of forces that would change everything.

The revelation was a shock to his core. Dragons were supposed to be extinct, or so he had believed. Yet here you were, standing in front of him, radiating strength. That strength set him on edge, and he dropped into a defensive stance, his instincts roaring to life.

You, for your part, remained calm. You had no interest in a fight, at least not here. Your presence at the auction was merely business—on behalf of your father, the second-most powerful ruler of the N109 Zone. Few had ever seen you, and fewer still knew the extent of your abilities. But Sylus was no fool, and he could feel the weight of your power like a storm brewing on the horizon.

The room crackled with tension as the two dragons faced each other, their fates unknowingly beginning to intertwine.

Note: I gave MC a name because it just felt so weird simply calling a character mc. I want to make this a series, and hope you enjoy the plot as much as I do!

[haveihitanerve]

Ohhhh baby- i lost my mind laughing at this- AJ getting waxed live- idk why they did it, but it was hilarious and I needed to share and I have thoughts-

“Oh god..” AJ’s immediate fear

His scream of pain- and Sam almost breaking because he enjoys seeing his friend in pain

“Its a perfectly normal procedure.” “ok.” AJ nodding like he genuinely wants Sam to comfort him-

“One side of your body still feels something.” “oh it does.” AJ is near tears-

“Thats. Not the right place.” through gritted teeth as sam struggles not to laugh

“Just try and use different methods of- not that one either-” AJ is going through it XD

Sam biting his lip to keep from laughing

“If you're gonna do it, do it!” “Sorry, who are you talking to?” Sam laughing mid sentence

“I need a-hell- i need it done all the way. Not just half the way when you do it” Sam struggling not to break

“All the fuckin way.” 

Sam has tears in his eyes omg-

“We’re gonna count down from three-” *rips* “i-uh one!” AJ is bamboozled, Sam snaps- AJ screams “three!!!” oh glorious day XD

 Sam succeeding at continuing the story until AJ once again gets waxed and then has to break for a quickl laugh

“Doubling down the therapy.” AJ’s eyes go w i d e like ‘sam pls don't do this to me- sam-’

“You want- two applications-” The way he flinches as his “imaginary friend” places them on XD like yeah Aj- start fighting now

“Thats on the nipple?” “fantastic.” Sam just likes seeing him in pain 😭

Ahhh poor AJ XD Lmaooo. Anyway hope you enjoyed this short video! Byebye!

@dawn-speckled @snek-of-eden

[toxiccaves]

<3

[skrunksthatwunk]

last minute pre-grandparent-visit room deep cleaning has revealed that within the drawer i tend to assume just has old, off generic birthday cards and theater/concert programs there are also many, many going away cards and letters and things from the last couple of times i moved away. i guess i always thought of it as such a lonely thing, and i talk a lot about how i don't think i made Real friends until recently, and not to get choked up on main or anything but i think maybe i was completely fucking wrong

[chaos-in-one]

Nah because lately I have seen so many people unironically say “AFABS can’t identify as transfem, only AMAB and intersex people can!” and like

It’s so telling that they don’t know jack shit about what being intersex is or is like Intersex people can be AFAB. In fact it’s SIGNIFICANTLY more common that intersex people are either AFAB or AMAB, only having that they’re intersex listed on their birth certificate and not having male or female put on there is really fucking rare in comparison to the number of intersex people who are AMAB or AFAB

Intersex =/= right in between male and female (in fact the intersex variation that is *exactly* in between the two does not exist in humans from what I understand)

Intersex =/= ambiguous genitalia

Intersex is a term that covers a wide variety of conditions. While there *are* intersex people who where born with ambiguous genitalia (many of which have surgery forced on them to make them fit more in the boxes of male and female so they can assign them one or the other at birth) a lot of intersex people also do not have that. There’s intersex people whose difference is in their hormones, or chromosomes, or gonads, in a way that doesn’t show an immediately obvious difference in genitalia. Hell, a lot of those groups of intersex people don’t have it confirmed that they are intersex for years, sometimes even DECADES. There are several variations that don’t show symptoms until puberty or adulthood, and some who don’t cause overtly outward symptoms at all and the only way people find out is through medical tests.

And guess what? It’s not particularly easy to get a test for that shit. A lot of doctors will not listen to patients who say they suspect they might be intersex unless they believe the person is being damaged by their symptoms. Hell, there’s intersex people who NEVER get diagnosed because of this.

So, long story short, if you think all intersex people are allowed to use a label (like the example given at the beginning), don’t say people of a certain AGAB can’t use the same label as a whole because intersex people can be either of the two binary AGABs.

[ihavebeesinmybrain]

trauma fucking sucks