#this is not me saying that i have it worse but that i think this conversation is nuanced and can easily be different from person to person

[choslut]

# PUSSY TALK !! (vi x reader)

$YNOPSIS. you’ve been feelin’ a little insecure about yourself lately. good thing you have a girlfriend who’s head over heels for you, no matter what! // wc. 2.4k

warnings. insecure!reader, talk of body image + weight, face sitting, spanking (ass + clit), praise, dirty talk, stripping, oral sex, size kink (?), teasing, fingering, begging, squirting, overstimulation, mirrors, awkward aftercare, spooning, pet names

NSFW below the cut. minors, stay away. enjoy your read!

Dresses aren’t your favourite piece of clothing. They never have been and they never will be, and even as you stare at yourself in the floor length mirror of your bedroom, you absolutely hate how this dress looks on you.

When you asked for something flared that would hide your curves, you didn’t expect your tailor to make you look like an overstuffed cream puff. The flared sleeves hang off of your arms like misplaced scraps of fabric, and the material pools at your feet, surrounding you in an unceremonious circle. You look frumpy, you feel frumpy, and nothing in the world could have convinced you that this is the dress you were going to wear to the annual Councillor’s Gala.

“What the fuck…” You turn around to inspect the back, and it’s even worse than you thought. It seems as if the tailor has attempted a daring backless design, but to you, it just looks like a gaping hole, the fabric tight and loose in all the wrong places before messily accumulating just above the apple of your ass. It looks horrible, and if you weren’t insecure enough, this dress makes you feel like a laughing stock. 

And that’s when the dreaded words come out of your mouth. “I seriously need to lose weight.”

Someone doesn’t like that, because out of nowhere, you feel a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and a sharp chin on your shoulder. “And why’s that? I think it looks perfect.” 

Vi loves seeing you in dresses. She thinks they make you look so graceful, no matter what shape you choose. It solidifies the fact that you are her perfect princess, and she will never understand why you hate them when they make you look so pretty. 

She also doesn’t understand this whole weight thing you have going on. If anything, one of the things that first had her on her knees for you was your body, and like now, she always feels a need to be touching it, whether it be stroking your thighs or kissing your collarbone or, like now, wrapping her arms around your perfect waist and pulling you into her chest. 

“‘M not perfect though, Vi,” you grumble, hands running along the sides of your chest and resting over where her hands cradle your tummy. “I look like a creampuff.” 

“Creampuffs are sweet. I like creampuffs,” she says, her eyes making contact with yours in the mirror as she noses your neck. “I like you.”

You roll your eyes and whine. “I know you like me, Vi. But that’s not gonna change the fact that I hate this dress.” 

“Take it off then.” She says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like you’re not going to be stuck in it for three whole hours, playing the part of a member of high society whilst trying your hardest to ignore the obvious stares at the atrocity which is your outfit. You want to tell Vi that it seriously isn’t as easy as that, but you’re distracted by her hands slipping into the open back of your dress. 

“I can help you,” she whispers in your ear, and you can feel the cold metal of her nose piercing against your heated skin. “Take it off, I mean. Relax.” 

“Vi…”

“Can we try something?” She begins to kiss your neck slowly, and you whimper when you feel the rough scar on her lip brush against your heated flesh. “I know you’ve been feeling some way about your body lately, and to be honest, I have no idea why because your body is already so fucking perfect…” Her hands slide up the insides of your dress, and you lift your shoulders automatically as she slips those god awful sleeves off of your shoulders. “There’s something I want you to do for me.”

After all this time, she hasn’t broken eye contact once, and you notice her eyes go dark when she shoves the front of your dress down, only to find your perky nipples staring right back at her. “What is it?” 

“Sit on my face,” she states simply, hands coming round to rub at your tits. “I want all of it, baby. Your whole body. I want you to fuckin’ suffocate me.”

You probably will. You stare at your girlfriend in the mirror incredulously, because there’s no way in the universe that you’re going to sit on her face. Not in a million years, and certainly not today. “No.”

“Give me one good reason why not.” She has a point, because it’s getting increasingly hard to refute her when her hands are making their way underneath the front material of your dress, letting it drop to the floor and revealing your regulation panties. “Go on, give me one good reason why you shouldn’t sit on my face.” Before you can open your mouth to protest, Vi smiles and bites your shoulder. “And your weight is not a valid answer.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Violet.”

“Yes, baby?” She acts like nothing is wrong, like asking you to crush her skull in between your legs a couple hours before the most important event of the year is a completely normal request. And she continues to act this way, even when she slips her hand into your panties, fingers eagerly in search of your clit. “So what I’m hearing is you don’t want to sit on my face, and you don’t want me to make you feel so good that you forget all about this stupid dress and that stupid gala?” 

Your back arches into her chest when she starts rubbing your clit in small circles, lips widening into a smile as she watches you unravel against her. “That’s not what I said.” 

“So why are you acting like you don’t want it?” She’s taunting you now, fingers halting all movement on your clit and sliding down lower, tips starting to tease your quivering hole. “Because I know you want it, baby. She’s telling me you want it.” 

You hate how Vi can read you like a book. You do want this, but you’re worried, and she makes sure to eliminate of all of that worry by slipping her fingers into your cunt, mouth dropping open in wonder when you begin to crumple against her.

“Vi, please.” 

“No.” Stubborn. “You’re not cumming unless you’re where you're supposed to be, princess. My game, my rules, and no amount of that pretty begging is gonna change that.” 

You bite your lip as you feel her palm grind against your clit, fingers speeding up and continually assaulting your sweet spot. It’s so hard not to beg her to let you cum, especially with the way she’s holding eye contact with you so intensely. 

“Say the words, and that orgasm’s yours,” she mumbles, smile ever present as her fingers alternate speeds. “Come on baby, I know you can.”

You can, you will, and you do. Your pleas to cum are replaced with nonsensical begging and whimpering, your hands futilely clawing at her biceps as you try to rip her fingers away from your weeping hole. “I’ll do it, I’ll do it, just let me cum, Vi, please-”

All of a sudden, the pressure building up inside of you dissipates, and you notice Vi licking her fingers clean as she backs towards the bed. “That’s what I like to hear,” she laughs, sitting down on the bed in a way that has you weak in the knees. “Come take a seat, princess.” 

Embarrassingly enough, that’s all it takes to have you stepping out of the pool of fabric on the floor and crawling onto the bed towards her, legs planted on either side of her hips as you bend over and catch her lips in a heated kiss. It’s loud and it’s messy, her hands sliding up your thighs and onto your covered ass as you grind down onto her knee, tongue intertwining with hers in a clash of passion and need. 

“Good fucking girl,” she groans, squeezing the flesh of your ass before slapping it hard, drawing a quiet gasp from your lips. “Come on, baby, c’mere, come sit.” 

Your hands splay the surface of her chest as you push her back onto the bed lightly, chest heaving gently with every heated breath you take. Vi looks up at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, because to her, you are, and she wouldn’t want to be underneath anyone else. 

“There she is,” she whispers as you situate yourself comfortably on her chest. “My pretty girl, huh?” 

“I’m nervous,” you mumble, hips beginning to move slowly as you plant your hands on either side of her head. “I… don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Trust me, you won’t.” She captures your hips in her strong hands and pulls you further up her body, letting you hover just above her collarbone. “I’ve lifted this perfect body with my own two hands before. What makes you think a little face sitting will hurt me?” 

In a way, she’s right. Vi is strong, more so than most people. If it got too much, she would be able to move you effortlessly, and-

You’re pulled out of your train of thought by the feeling of Vi’s nose nestling in between your legs, rubbing up against your pulsing clit under your panties. “Vi…”

“You’re thinkin’ too much, baby,” she groans, voice muffled in between your thighs. “Just do it.” This time, she doesn’t leave you any time to think, because she’s now mouthing at your cunt through your panties, strong arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling you ever closer. You gasp in surprise, one hand coming up to grip onto the headboard as you fight not to lose balance. 

Another thing about Vi: she’s impatient. And when you hesitate to begin moving your hips, she does it for you, fingers pulling the seat of your underwear to one side and arms pushing you down hard. 

“She’s so wet, baby, I don’t know how you can say you don’t want this.” Her tongue darts out to lick your throbbing clit and you whine, hips stuttering as you stare hazily at the mess of pink hair in between your legs. Vi is staring up at you with lust swirling in her eyes, and you can feel her smile on your cunt as her tongue slides downwards to your entrance. “I mean, she is practically begging me to eat her out. Is that what you want?”

Before you can answer her, you’re caught off guard by her hand slapping at your clit playfully, sending pleasured shockwaves throughout your system. “ ‘M not talking to you anymore, silly,” she laughs, thumbs rubbing at the area she just assaulted. “I’m talking to her, since my girl doesn’t seem to know what she wants anymore.”

“Stop it,” you grumble, but Vi pays no notice, resuming her languid licks on your pussy. Your protests are quickly turned into prolonged whines and whimpers of her name, the pressure once taken from you beginning to build in your core with each shallow thrust of her tongue into your hole. 

“Not until she’s satisfied, angel.” And she means it, because the grip she has on your thighs is nothing next to lethal, and you feel yourself begin to shake as the pressure builds more and more. “And she’s getting close, don’t you think?”

She is. Your head begins to swim and you tangle your fingers in Vi’s hair in an attempt to stabilise yourself but it proves futile, mouth dropping open as you beg her to let you finish. “Vi, please, please, I’m sorry, I-”

“Nothin’ to apologise for, angel, you’re doing a great job.” You have no idea how she still manages to speak when she’s being all but crushed in the trap that is your quivering thighs, but her voice drives you ever closer, your hips grinding down onto her happily awaiting tongue as you chase your orgasm desperately. You want it- no, you need it, and when she begins to massage your ass sensually, you think you might just squirt.

“Vi...”

“Yeah, baby? Is she telling you something?” She loves playing this game, delaying your orgasm as long as possible whilst making it impossible to hold yourself back. It feels like her hands are everywhere because suddenly her thumb is massaging your clit, and you’re begging her like there’s no tomorrow.

She seems satisfied by your begging, because she takes one arm off of your thigh to use her fingers to fuck your needy cunt. “Cum for me baby, c,mon. Give it to me.”

And give it to her, do you, and in gracious abundance at that. Your juices drench her face unceremoniously as you twitch above her, spine shaking as you hold on to her hair for dear life. You’re all but riding her tongue, and she’s moaning profusely into your cunt, the vibrations only heightening your sensitivity. And try as you might, you can’t pull her away, her mouth a suction as she pushes you unforgivingly into overstimulation.

When you’re all but ready to surrender your stability to her relentless assault in between your legs, you feel a strong pair of hands lifting you off of her mouth gently, and light kisses being littered all over the expanse of your thighs. Vi’s mouth travels along your skin lazily, her powdery blue eyes looking up at your shaky form with nothing but love etched into her irises. You barely begin to register the sweet praises she gives you, instead basking in the afterglow of your intense climax mixed with the feeling of her hands stroking your back.

Moments later and you’re laying down on the bed next to her, curled in a foetal position as you fight the army of sleep threatening to overthrow you. “Are you tired?”

“Mhm.”

“Why don’t you… skip the gala? Stay here with me, I’ll cook, and…”

You think the difference between the Vi laying next to you now and the Vi who made you climax to the brink of passing out is a cute one. She’s never been too good with aftercare, instead trying to make awkward conversation in an attempt to divert from the fact that she just rocked your world in more ways than one. “We can stay home. I’ll tell the organisers I wasn’t feeling too well.” That, and the fact that god awful dress made you want to bust a nerve.

Vi smiles at you gently, and you wish you could stay like this with her forever. “Sounds good. I’m looking forward to it.”

© this work belongs to choslut. do not copy, translate, repost or feed my work into any regenerative ai system.

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[writingmeraki]

patch you right up — a r.c drabble.

★ pairing: rafe cameron x frenemy!reader, enemies to ?? ★ genre: hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings. ★ warnings: cussing, mentions of being drunk, violence, mentions of wounds and treating them. ★ a/n : urm very...random, silly, might not make sense but it was rotting in my mind, lmk what you think <3 ★ w.c : 1.1k

“This was very fucking stupid of me.”

Hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with your torn knuckles on your hand, you held your bruised jaw with the free hand and looked away from the blood glistening because of the light above.

“Oh you don’t say?” His voice was mocking, nothing new but it held an underlying annoyance you could somehow detect. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand abruptly, which earned you a sharp turn of his head in your direction and his dark blue eyes glaring at you, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this-”

“Shut up.”

“No I mean it, Rafe. It’s my fault, ‘ll patch it up myself.”

It did not help how horrible your head seemed to ache as you shut your eyes briefly, everything felt overwhelming, especially with him being this close to you. Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

“Look at me.” You hated how easily you complied as you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, only this time, they were much softer.

That wasn’t hard to do, considering the position you were in. On his impossibly large bathroom counter as he stood between your legs, really you didn’t have much to look at. 

“It’s not your fault, alright?” You spited it when people would always give you fake sentences for the sake of being ‘kind’, it was all sugar coated shit to you. But somehow when Rafe Cameron said that to you, your heart felt like it would combust then and there.

It didn’t help how the daziness was elevated as you scanned his features up close. He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

Because he was who he was, you knew he meant what he said. For all the time you knew him, he was one to be honest. About how he felt, about what he felt and for who he felt. Though, when you questioned yourself what he might feel for you now, you’d say you don’t know.

Nodding along to his words, you leaned to your left, luckily having a wall to support you and not embarrassingly falling, you’d done enough that night. 

Without more words, he gently grabbed your hand and finished cleaning up the burst skin and spilled blood. You once again shut your eyes, this time tightly as you clenched your jaw when he applied ointment.

“ ‘hurts.” The treating part made you wince even more than when you were getting the injury. Probably how most of the adrenaline wore out by now.

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

A quiet silence filled the space for a moment, and even though you did feel out of it, you could sense he had something to say.

“Why-why’d you do it?” He said as he finished with your hand, instructing you to sit up straight. His hand on your jaw did make you more alert even though he was very…gently doing it. It was colder than you expected, and you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting when he was slowly caressing it with a delicate touch.

“That’s outta bruise badly.” His eyes held remorse and his frown deepened. You didn’t even realize your own gaze lingered on his lips.

Gulping, your eyes darted away from his face. Maybe it was the guilt or the buzz, but you murmured out,

“...I- it was well…It was stupid but I- couldn’t control myself. I got mad.”

His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was new. 

“They- they were saying stupid shit. I knew they were doing it to rile me and well they did that just right. It was fine when it was about me, I ignored it but I couldn’t stand the rest.”

Something in his chest flared as his confusion was slowly turning into realization but he continued letting you speak,

“They began talking shit about…about you.” You recalled the tone they used, the words they called him and you could feel the familiar annoyance and anger build up as they replayed in your mind.

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

He blinked a few times to make sure he heard you right. You’d looked to the side, scowling as you clicked your tongue.

“Next thing I knew, I’d just hit someone and then the same happened to me. I guess maybe I deserved one but you should see the other idiot’s face.” You finally looked back into his eyes, a slight smile on your face when you recalled hearing the other dude’s nose definitely crunching and you were sure it would never be the same. You’d made it very sure.

He did not know what to feel. Amusement? Shock? Disbelief? But over them all, his heart fluttered wildly as his eyes scanned your face. The same one that had been haunting his mind since the first time he’d seen you, the first time he’d ever have someone make him more mad than anything yet made him want you closer. You were simply driving him insane since he’d met you. 

He just never realized, until now, that maybe he was never the only one who felt the same.

Tilting your head, you licked your lower lip, his gaze moving there for a brief moment, you said, “But you know what?”

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

His tongue felt heavy as the words clogged up in his throat, he gulped down the knot formed as he clenched his hand that was beside you, over the counter edge. He stared intently into your eyes, you could feel your heart beating faster as you leaned closer. 

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you fluttered your eyes shut, hand going over his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His hands moved to your hips, pressing into them as if he was afraid you’d disappear and it was all a dream.

It was messy as you’d expect from two people whose own feelings were a mess, your non-injured hand ran over his hair and he groaned into the kiss. You might as well have just combusted then and there. 

Feeling the need to breathe, you gently pulled away, resting your forehead on his as his hand came up to your face, caressing it gently.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?” He breathed out as he tried to steady his own breathing and rapidly beating heart.

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

extra a/n : ...yeah I'm sorry if the uhm kissing part sucked...it's been a very whole while.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | misc masterlist | main masterlist | info !

[fleurvi]

Sick!S/O | Arcane Women

request for arcane women with a sick gf

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characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: fem!reader

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Ambessa Medarda

Ambessa doesn't really take care of you when you're sick. She's a warrior, not a doctor. But we're delusional here, so I'll go with it.

You are not allowed to lift a finger. You need to recover properly so she'll have guards around you at all times so you can order them to get things for you. She visits you regularly to check up on your health and make sure you're being doted on. In a rare occurrence, she offers you a massage to relax you.

“How are you feeling?” Ambessa asks, heavy hands working against your shoulders and neck. You nod, thanking her for her service. “Maybe a bath would do you good.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman

Cait panics. She can't think rationally at all. You cough once, and she's writing a eulogy. When she's sure it's not super serious, she's diligent in her care. She makes sure you stay hydrated and get plenty of rest.

“What are you doing? You should be resting,” says Cait as she notices you getting out of bed.

“Babe, c'mon”

“No. Don't you ‘babe’ me. You should be taking care of yourself,” She fusses, ushering you back to your bed.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson

Grayson believes that if you mope around In bed, you'll just make it worse. She lets you rest when you need it, but she encourages you just to take some painkillers, hydrate adequately and go about your work.

“Here you go,” Grayson says, handing you medication and water. “We've got a busy day. If it gets too much, just let me know, and I'll send you home to rest,” She says, pulling you into a hug and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Mel Medarda

She just wants you to get better. Mel checks up on you but doesn't spend much time with you because she doesn't want to catch whatever you have. When she does visit you, she makes sure to ask if you're getting what you need and making sure you get it. She's mostly concerned about you resting, so she stays with you, talking softly with you until you fall asleep.

“Are you sure you're okay, my love?” She asks, running her hands over your back.

“Yeah, I think I need to sleep off. Thank you for coming to visit,” you say, closing your eyes.

“You're welcome, My Love”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika

Sevika loves you, but she's not going to baby you. She'll ask you if you're on your deathbed, and if the answer is no, then you can get off your ass and help her with whatever business she's been called on.

If you want Sevika to help you with anything, you've got to turn on the whining. She likes being useful, so if you really need it, she'll sit with you until you fall asleep, but she won't wait for you to wake up. You're tough, like her, so she leaves you to it until you wake up and are ready to get back to work.

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi

Vi thinks her immune system is “built different”, and she's not entirely wrong. She'll stay with you, hold you while you sleep, and make sure you eat as well as you can in Zaun. If you tell her you're not really hungry, she will lecture you until you give in and at least try to eat.

“C'mon, pretty girl,” Vi says, leaning in to kiss you. You feel gross and push her head away.

“You'll get sick”

“Babe. My immune system is made of steel. I've never gotten sick in my life. Now come here and give me a proper kiss,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“Fine. If you get sick, I'm not gonna baby you.”

“Yes, you will”, she laughs, and you know she's right.

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Thank you for reading!

This was a request! My main interests right now are arcane and attack on titan so please keep dropping in my inbox!

[your-resident-boat-person]

Also, kinda prophetic considering how many people acted like any kind of endorsement of the cannon ending makes you a bad person + genocide enthusiast.

Like, "Wow! This show for children which consistently had prominent themes of redemption and forgiveness REDEEMED the big bad at the end?! Who would have expected this?! They should have killed them to death! SURELY they're not trying to say that THE REAL LIFE ADOLF HITLER can be redeemed, right?! Kind of problematic, actually."

Like, this also ties in to people's lack of understanding of nuance too. Is the big bad of SU comparable, if not worse, than many real-life dictators? Yes. Are the showrunners trying to impart the moral that being kind to genociders can and will make them stop genociding? Absolutely fucking not. You need to understand that this is a show for CHILDREN. Children encounter lots of people on a daily basis, especially other children, who they earnestly believe to be completely irredeemable and evil for extremely benign reasons. Children are not fully developed emotionally, and this is meant to prime them to try and handle these situations that they PERSONALLY encounter with some level of empathy and understanding. Steven universe is not making a statement to the president of the United States that they think evil dictators just need a hug. People need to understand the intended context of who the show will be watched by, where, and when. A show for adults like Bojack Horseman MIGHT be trying to make a statement about society at large, and geopolitics, and things that concern adults. But shows for children are not. Steven Universe contains some pretty heavy shit for a kids show, but again, these are typically in relation to a given persons personal relationships, and not politics. For example, Steven Universe tackles lots of different kinds of abuse. This is useful for children and adults alike, twice as much for children who will grow into adults. I think part of the problem is that people were primed by the discussions of serious themes like this into expecting more "realistic" handlings of other things. Like space dictators.

Like, I just can't help but think of this meme.

Like, the sentiment of "I am angry that [children's show] was written with children in mind in terms of both theme and execution" will never cease to baffle me, in regards to any show. Some of my favorite shows are made for children. There's no shame in enjoying media for children, but expecting it to cater to adults merely because adults enjoy it is just unrealistic. Teaching children that some people just have to be killed and can't be redeemed just isn't a good idea. Most children, even once fully grown into adults, won't be dealing with Hitlers on a daily basis.

So anyway, yeah, I thought Steven Universes ending was fine.

discourse.jpg

[missingininaction]

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.

[dreameryfics]

JJ MAYBANK x READER

Summary: The Kooks show up on the beach and JJ defends you

I was with the Pogues all day, like any other day. The sun was shining and the waves were awesome. We woke up that morning and quickly went to the beach. It seemed like everybody had that idea, the beaches filled up within ten minutes it seemed. We got the Twinkie to the beach, well John B did, but not without almost crashing since he was drinking. I tried to tell him to stop, but there was no telling that kid what to do.

I never really was taught how to surf, but that didn't stop me from going out there and just sitting on my surfboard. JJ has tried to help me, but I'm just not very coordinated, to say the least, but he still loves me. I watched everybody surf for a while before deciding to go back to the beach. As I was walking back to the Twinkie, I saw a Jeep start driving over my way. I knew it was Topper and his goons as soon as I saw the vehicle. I sat down on one of the folding chairs we had set up before going to the water, trying to ignore them. I watched as he parked next to us. "What the hell is he doing?" I heard someone ask, looking to see Kie walking over to me.

"I have no clue," I replied, "I just hope no drama happens. It's a nice day and I would hate to have it ruined by them.” I looked over to see Topper, Kelce, Rafe, and Ruthie. I've never liked Topper, but I don't think he's a bad person. I think he's so focused on Kooks versus Pogues, that nothing else matters. It's always been a competition between the two. "I don't understand how he goes from Sarah," I gesture over to Sarah, still surfing, "to Ruthie." I look over to where the Kooks are and see Ruthie glaring at us.

"Well, it's simple," Kie started, "he had the best with Sarah, and now he's just, well, desperate." We both chuckled. I looked over at Kie and saw her grabbing a beer from the cooler, she raised one up to me and I shook my head. I know that there should be at least one of us sober to drive home. "Kie, we're being real mean girls-esque right now," I pointed out. She shrugged her shoulder before responding to me, "Trust me, she's said way worse about us." Kie came over and sat next to me. We sat there for a while before we heard someone walking over to us.

"Hey, can you tell your asshole boyfriend to stop hogging all the waves?" I look up and see Ruthie talking to me, not even acknowledging Kie. I look out and see JJ standing up on his board, noticing Topper doing the same thing before jumping off into the water due to JJ getting in front of him. If it was any other situation I would mention something, but I also know JJ wouldn't do that to someone else. "Ruthie, I can't control what he does," I look up to her hovering over me, "he's out there and I'm over here." She rolls her eyes at me, "You're such a bitch. Can't you just do something for once in your life?" she asks me, it was more of a statement than anything.

"Ruthie," I stand up and walk in front of her, "if JJ comes over here, I'll say something, but until then, how about you go back to your friends and leave us alone." I turned around and started to walk over to the Twinkie, looking at Kie and rolling my eyes at the whole interaction. I didn't get too far before I felt hands on my back, pushing me forward. "What the fuck," I heard Kie shout before coming over to me. I looked back at Ruthie and rolled my eyes at her. “Can't believe you were ever a Kook," she said with attitude before walking away from us.

Kie started to go after her, wanting to protect her friends, but I pulled her back, "Kie, it's not worth it," I told her, "they'll just turn it into our fault if you do anything." She tries to argue with me, but I just sit back down in the chair, trying to forget the interaction. I'm fiddling with my nails when I hear someone ask, "Hey, you good?" I look up to find a shirtless JJ jogging over to me with his board under his arm. I look over and see Sarah and John B getting some drinks from the cooler. I didn't even notice they were back. I nodded my head at JJ and gave him a small smile. He came and squatted down to be level with me, he took my hands, "What happened?"

"Ruthie," I replied looking back down, "she came over and was talking shit. Normal Kook behavior." I looked up at him before I heard Kie, "She pushed her, but your girlfriend over there decided to take the high road. Wouldn't even let me go after her." I looked over at Kie and gave her a look, not wanting her to have said anything. I look back to JJ who is looking over at the group of Kooks. "JJ, it's fine," I tell him placing my hand on his cheek, trying to calm the storm that is forming. He quickly stood up and started walking over to them. I quickly got up and went after him to stop him, but not before Topper yelled over at us, "Oh, look who it is, the Pogue prince and princess."

I took JJ's hand in mine, trying to calm him down. I felt him squeeze my hand tighter, letting me know he was fine. "Topper, let's cut the bullshit," JJ said in an annoyed voice, "all we wanted to do was enjoy the waves and the nice weather but you always seem to be right there, ruining it; your girlfriend too." Topper chuckles at JJ and gets closer to him, "I'm not the one ruining it. You pushed me off my board, and Ruthie here was just defending me."

"I didn't push you off your board, you jumped off," he stated with a small smirk on his lips. "Plus, you had been getting in front of us every other time, I thought it was a competition." Topper scoffs at JJ. I had only seen JJ get in front of Topper that one time, but it didn't surprise me that they had been getting in front of JJ beforehand. "Yup," Topper dramatically throws his hand up in the air, "it's always the damn Kooks fault with you guys."

"Seriously Top," I interrupted getting closer to him, "You've always hated the Pogues, don't act all high and mighty. You've started shit with them so many times I can't even remember. Even when we were friends you were an asshole to them." He looks at me with wide eyes, "I can't imagine what Sarah ever saw in you." As I turn my back away from him, I'm quickly pushed to the ground. "What the fuck!" I hear JJ yell before helping me off the ground. I wipe the sand off my legs and turn to face them. Ruthie was smirking at me, proud of herself. Topper was staring at her with a hint of anger in his face.

"Don't ever fucking touch her again," JJ said to Ruthie, but it was directed towards the entire group. I started walking away, not wanting to even be on the beach anymore. I overheard JJ add, "Don't even come near her or I'll fucking end you."

I heard his feet shuffle in the sand to catch up with me. He took my hand and faced me towards him. "I'm so sorry princess," he said before he engulfed me into a hug. I wrapped my arms around him and he placed a kiss on the top of my head. "If they ever bother you again," he says and places his hands on either side of my face, looking at me, "please tell me." I shook my head at him before he put his arms around me and pulled me into another hug. I've never felt more safe than when I'm in his arms.

We walk back to where the rest of the group is standing. They started asking questions about what happened and we told them. "How was I ever with him before you," Sarah asks looking over at John B. He shrugs his shoulders before we all chuckle at her, trying to in fact imagine what she saw in Topper. We packed up our things and left soon after, not wanting to be on the beach any longer.

We drove home and quickly unpacked our things before we went to the house. We were stopped at the door by Pope, with bloody hands. The atmosphere taking a drastic change from earlier.

I started this with a different ending in mind, but it didn't go in that direction so here we are... Not my favorite but it's what I got lol

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-one of “obligatory sugar baby Kon” ( no cut today, we die like Steph's tolerance for her dad's bullshit ). prev: (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He should be taking notes, Tim realizes. This is a new and unprecedented level of supervillain behavior that his fifteen-year plan can only aspire to reach. 

“Asdfghjk,” he says, which is apparently actually an actual sound that an actual person can actually make, go figure. Learn something new every day. 

Kon laughs at him, the fucking bastard. Tim would probably swear vengeance but unfortunately Kon looks way too damn pretty and way too damn happy doing it and is not wearing a single thing he didn't buy him and bought him a camera with his first allowance and wants to see him skateboard and has also laughed so many times tonight that Tim is starting to develop the opposite of a tolerance for it. Like, he's getting weaker and weaker to it the more exposure he gets, which is in his opinion total bullshit and totally unfair but is unfortunately still happening. 

. . . well, not necessarily unfortunately, since it’s specifically happening because Kon keeps laughing and looking happy about it, but that’s besides the point. Somehow. In some way. Just–somehow. 

“You’re so fuckin’ cute, babe,” Kon says, grinning at him again. He keeps doing that too. He keeps laughing, and grinning, and just–just all these things that Tim is not prepared for and honestly doesn’t even know how he could’ve been? There’s having five minutes of prep time and there’s situations that are just impossible to prepare for because how could he have fucking KNOWN. How?! How could he ever have?!?!

Literally not possible, Tim is certain. 

“You’re actually incorrigible,” he says, quickly flipping his dropped board onto its wheels with a foot and then giving it a quick pop to the tail and hooking a foot underneath it to kick it up into his hand. Kon looks delighted, his eyes immediately lighting up. 

“Sick!” he says. Tim felt like maybe he was getting in a win for a second there, except Kon being genuinely delighted is actually even worse and he thinks he’s just, like, kind of screwed in general now? Kon’s not supposed to be genuinely delighted by things, he’s supposed to pretend to be too cool to be impressed or just jealous that someone else is getting attention! 

Tim really, really could not have ever been prepared for this. 

“So like, do you know any cool tricks?” Kon asks with a wider grin, still looking way too genuine about his excitement. Tim is resigned to ruining his best non-funerary/non-gala slacks and possibly also his shirt and definitely also his dignity. His dignity is as scuffed as the shoe he just dropped his board on, and frankly that’s being optimistic. 

Extremely optimistic. 

“I know a couple okay ones,” Tim says, since Robin-level parkour doesn’t count as either “tricks” or anything he could show Kon, and also he’s screamingly out of practice, and also he was never really that good a skateboarder even when he had the time to do it regularly, plus skill decay is a thing and– 

“That mean you’re gonna show me a trick or two, daddy?” Kon asks, grinning slyly at him.

[multipleoccupancy]

Theo saw Violet's smile fall and he paused, almost frozen as he considered what to say or do to remedy the situation. In the moment he was once again too nervous to reach out to comfort her, something that might have been picked up on in his cautious check of the doorway. Luckily Samantha was there to help and Theo nodded for her words while he watched Violet, sensing there was more there that he wasn't seeing, alarm bells going off as he studied her.

Even with Samantha talking of the last time the pair had met Violet did not smile nor really engage with her. Her only response was a reply into her soup as she tried to hide her face behind the bowl. Feeling a little lost, Theo was again grateful for Samantha's presence as she clearly worked out what was going on while he struggled. Was she blaming herself for what was going on?

"Samantha is right, none of this is on you." He insisted, though he had to think of something else to reassure her other than just his word, he knew he had to get her to follow some sort of verbal path to understand that he didn't blame her at all. She was unfortunately a trigger for him but that too was not her fault. "You were sent there, against your will and made the best of a bad situation as you always try to do. You were invaluable company for me, remember." He drew in a shaky breath because it was so long ago but so very recent too, it made his head spin in thought.

"Something would have triggered it, I imagine it would have been much worse if you hadn't told me and I remembered anyway." His eyebrows dropped into a small frown as he thought about what might have happened if he had been away on a mission with such a revelation. Really, he was fortunate in his circumstances. "It's better this way," he tried to voice that train of thought without really explaining it. "I'm safe at home." Though he didn't sound all that convinced it was again just a matter of jumbled delivery of his tone.

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐎 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"I wanted to help," explained Violet, blushing a little bit, because surely her dad knew that she always got restless around the house when she was trying to ignore what was going on in her mind. She smiled at his thanks.

But her face fell at his response. Her dad wasn't feeling better. She immediately blamed herself for looking so defeated, but she couldn't find it in herself to smile again. "Your dad just needs time," chimed in Samantha with a gentle voice, "but you're helping a lot, Violet." Oh, how she wanted to believe that she was helping. But it was also her fault if her dad was so rattled. She had broken something inside him, and what if he could never fix it?

"We met before, but we didn't have much time to talk," said Samantha, giving Violet a friendly wink. Violet tried to smile, but she just couldn't. She took a sip of soup instead. Even her father's thanks didn't seem to cheer her up.

"You don't have to thank me," she replied, her eyes planted on her soup, before taking another sip, mostly to hide her face behind the bowl.

While Samantha agreed that no thanks were needed, she could tell this was not the issue. "None of this is your fault, Violet. Anything can trigger repressed memories; there is no controlling them. Even if you hadn't told your dad you were Mauve, something else would have brought back his memories eventually."

[neuvilette-tea-party]

₊ ˙ ⊹ Mon coeur, mon coeur don't cry₊ ˙ ⊹

Neuvilette x F!reader

You shudder in pain in your bed when your husband comes home to take care of you

Tags : hurt and fluff, periods pain, Neuvilette is a soft king, uses of "maman"

You curl up in bed and whistle in pain. 

Those damn periods! 

You shiver as another wave of pain and nausea comes shaking your body. You are absolutely miserable right now!  

“Mon amour?” You suddenly feel a gloved hand brushing a strand of hair off your face, “Are you all right?” 

You weakly open your eyes to discover Neuvilette looking at you with concerned eyes, caressing your temple and cheek. His long strands of white hair frame his delicate face as the light accentuates the violet color of his eyes. 

You growl, pulling on the cover. 

“My periods...  could not go to work today...” You manage to say between gritted teeth, pressing your knees against your chest in a desperate attempt to soothe the pain and tense muscles at least a little bit. 

His hand cups your cheek softly, his thumb grazing your cheekbone as he tilts his head. 

“Does it hurt so much, mon coeur?” He inquires, his worries identifiable in the soft tone. 

“It’s like a machine blending my organs!” You push your head in the pillow, tears behind your eyes. 

He leans forward to let a soft kiss on your temple, savoring the sensation of your skin against his lips. 

“Stay here.” He orders, standing back up. 

You look at him exiting the bedroom in silence before closing your eyes, swallowing back the torrent of curses at the gates of your lips. How liberating it would feel to scream them at the top of your lungs but Neuvilette’s delicate ears would be scarred forever! 

You shiver once more as the pain decides to head toward your lower back. It’s only 7 days, get it together! 

It’s only seven days... 

It’s only 7 days but holy Hydro dragon those are long, rough 7 days! 

You sigh lamenting for yourself, thinking about the earful you will receive at work tomorrow... You reopen your eyes at a delicious smell and the bed tipping. Neuvilette came back with a tray with a fuming hot chocolate with some Viennoiseries on a plate and a glass of clear, fresh water.  

“Sit down if you can, mon coeur.” He gently orders. 

You wince, trying to sit down, taking support on the pillows, and making yourself as comfortable as possible with your periods. You manage with more or less success. Once you are set you try to smile at him and not just wince unelegantly. 

Neuvilette smiles back gently and slips a pill into the glass of water that he hands to you. You sip the effervescent painkiller trying not to gag at the bitter taste of the medication, but the fresh water makes up for it. A water specifically chosen by your dragon lover, obviously. 

You finish the glass and Neuvilette puts the tray on your knees for you to feast on. You bite down the pastries and gulp down a big sip of chocolate with glee, getting a little enthusiasm back. He looks at you eating your only food of the day with a tender expression before opening the dresser to take out your fluffy plaid that he lays on you and a hot water bottle that he goes to fill and heat up. You sigh of pleasure when he lifts the cover to slide the hot water bottle inside and lay it on your upset lower tummy. 

“Thanks the Hydro...” You mumble. 

“I am here, mon coeur.” He shoots you a mischievous smile, “No need to pray for me, I am solely focused on you.” 

You feel your cheeks heating up and dive your gaze into the fuming chocolate cup. You are used to dating the Hydro dragon of Fontaine, but old habits die hard.  

“I called your workplace, mon amour. Your entire week is free.” He placidly announces, tucking you in bed correctly. 

Your bite almost goes the wrong way. 

“An entire week?!” You choke. 

He raises an eyebrow at you like he doesn’t understand. 

“You are not one to miss work for a simple cold, mon coeur. It looks worse than usual, you should rest and mend.” 

“I just have my periods, it doesn’t matter that I bleed to death, I have to be here!” You bitterly fight back. 

“No, you do not.” He simply closes the matter, “They were very understanding when I called them. You can stay in bed and rest.” 

“Of course they were compliant, you are the Iudex!” 

He sniggers, booping your nose playfully.  

“What good is my title for if I cannot even help mon doux amour during her time of distress?” 

You melt before his tender expression, abdicating entirely before him and- 

“MAMAN?!” A little girl’s voice resonates suddenly, making you both jump out of your skin. 

Horrified and trembling, Sigewinne stands in the doorframe, looking at you like you were dying in front of her. 

“Maman, are you okay?! We could smell blood from the garden!” She cries. 

“She is alright, Sigewinne. We are both here to take care of maman.” Neuvilette comforts her. 

She sobs hard and rush to you. Neuvilette has just the time to grab her to stop her as she helplessly extends her arms to you. 

“Maman is very sensible and uncomfortable right now. Be careful alright?” He explains. 

She turns her head to him and nods frankly, promising to be good. He releases her and she crowls in the bed to sit next to you, hugging one of your arms as you finish your cup and viennoiseries. 

“Go back to sleep, mon coeur. The painkiller will soon soothe you.” He kisses your forehead before taking your empty tray, and putting it on the bedside table. You wriggle your way under the blankets with a relieved sigh, followed by sweet Sigewinne, letting her snuggle against you. Neuvilette skirts the bed and slides under the covers with you, not even taking off his pricey jacket, and he hugs you tight, caressing Sigewinne’s head gently. 

“Make yourself comfortable, mon amour. I will be here when you wake up.” He promises, kissing the back of your ear. 

You hug your adoptive daughter and the hot water bottle as Neuvillette’s tall body spoons yours gently, shielding you from the rest of the world and the pain. 

You take one of his hands in yours and he intertwines your fingers together; letting a low purr arise in the bedroom, lulling you to sleep and peace. 

At last... 

[thinemoonshine]

୨୧ 𝓼𝐮𝐥𝐤𝐲 𝓼𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲! ୨୧

—⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ where enhypen messed up and has to turn (y/n)’s frown upside down…or they get the unfathomable horror: the silent treatment

enhypen hyung line x fem!enhypen 8th member content(s): light angst, dramatic members, clingy lovey enha, sunghoon gets bitten, (y/n) being doted on, fluffity fluff, they are so lovesick boys coded here type: imagines

note: this work is based off of ૮꒰ྀིthis꒱ྀིა ask! i tried to make it ot7 but i cannot, for the life of me, imagine (y/n) arguing with the maknae line. so sorry about that!! </3

⋆˙𐙚 L.HEESEUNG 𐙚˙⋆

heeseung's large doe eyes shift towards (y/n) from the TV screen much too frequently as they both sit at opposite sides of the couch. their distance is only a leg's length away but the frostiness in which (y/n) portrays makes it seem as if a single inch will give him frostbite.

who knew that eating the last ice cream could create such catastrophic casualty?

heeseung. heeseung knew. and yet he still did it.

it was a fair deal, the eight each get their own flavour of ice cream so that no arguments would ensue but (y/n), unlike the others, had to leave hers because she had a schedule—excited to have a cold, refreshing dessert after coming back.

but lo and behold, she comes back to a freezing, barren freezer—much like her stomach.

the culprit: lee heeseung himself, who claims that he assumed that (y/n) didn't wanna eat it.

and what did that get him?

pure, utter silent wrath—which he finds much, much scarier than the loud.

"(y/n)..." heeseung tries for the fifth time in the past 15 minutes and still, she's managed to act as if he isn't there. never before has she been so upset and it daunts him. how long is she gonna stay like this? it's only been minutes and he's already feeling like he's about to perish from her frigidity. "(y/n), i'm sorry. i'll buy you more! what ever type you want, as much as you want!"

now that gets him a reaction—although, different than what he expected.

she turns to him and he's just about to smile only for the corners of his lips to drop at the sight of her glare.

"you think that's gonna fix everything? of course, we can buy some more, that's obvious! that's not the problem! the problem here is you eating my food!" (y/n) seethes, brows knit and eyes sharpened. "do you know how exhausted i was after my schedule? i was so excited to go home and rest with my cold sweet snack to freshen me up but then suddenly, GONE."

heeseung cowers, hands gathered on his lap as his big, round eyes widen guiltily, brows droopy and bottom lip subtly sticking out. "i'm sorry...i just thought that you didn't want it anymore..."

the sound of her exasperated sigh only increases the weight in his chest but it becomes ten times worse when he sees her slumping back against the couch to not speak to him again.

no no no no, she was already talking to him! now, it's just gonna get worse.

"i should've asked first and i should've told you that i ate your ice cream," heeseung quickly says, fully determined to gain her forgiveness despite being just slightly prideful before.

he bites his lip, practically chewing on it but then perks when he sees her glancing at him. mustering up his courage, he scoots a little closer and feels hopeful when she doesn't seem to mind. "and! and i'll let you do yaja time for the whole day if i ever do something like this again."

now that, she likes. turning her head slowly with her crossed arms loosening, a small cheeky smile appears and gosh, does the sight of it lightens him so much.

"no take backs," she confirms to which he nods at with a tight lip grin of surrender but the moment she cheers and wraps her arms around him, he knows he'll let her have yaja time anytime if she only just asks.

heeeseung chuckles against her ear as he reciprocates the embrace before she pulls away to lie on his lap to which he takes advantage of to play with her hair. he knows how much the gesture relaxes her—hoping that it'd be enough to rid off her exhaustion.

⋆˙𐙚 P.JONGSEONG 𐙚˙⋆

this is it. this is the end for him.

never ever had he ever thought the day would come—the day that (y/n) and him argue.

it’s not as dramatic as he makes it seem but it sure is for him considering how he and (y/n) are always on the same page. so to have them turning the other way from each other is disastrous.

this morning, the two were making breakfast together alongside sunghoon and riki after they lost a game. jay and (y/n) were in the kitchen while riki and sunghoon were getting the stuff from the nearby mart.

all (y/n) wanted was to wash the dishes but jay, ever so gentlemanly jay, insisted that he do the dirty work while she just get the tools ready.

call it morning moodiness or whatever, but (y/n) was not having it.

“what’s wrong with me doing the dishes?” (y/n) asked, brows knit with slight irritation.

“nothing. it’s just better for me to do it while you get the stuff for cooking ready,” jay answered.

(y/n) crossed her arms. “and why is it better for you to do it? oh, so apparently i’m bat at cleaning now.”

“i never said that!” the other denied, a frown present as well.

“then let me do what i wanna do,” the girl adamantly said to which jay sighed heavily at followed with a frustrated, “can’t you just stop the attitude?”

and that was when the horrible, bone-eating, mind plaguing, day-nightmare started: the silent treatment.

it’s afternoon now and jay can’t seem to find (y/n) anywhere around him—like he’s some sort o f personal virus to her. the clothes he’s folding has never felt more heavier and the stacks he’s made are messy, barely proper squares of folded clothing.

usually, (y/n) would be around to accompany him—making hot drinks and bringing snacks to feed him since he has to keep his hands clean. he’d be sitting with soft hums leaving him every once in a while as she talks his ears off.

and sometimes, when there aren’t any undergarments in the basket, (y/n) helps with folding too—undoubtedly making even prettier stacks to which jay is both proud and jealous of.

her absence is palpable. and the silence is anything but tranquil—stifling and ridiculing him for being such a coward.

beep beep beep beep!

his head snaps towards the door at the sound of their automated door lock. are the members home already?

and in comes a—no, the member: (y/n).

she nearly pauses in her tracks when she steps into the living room, inevitably making eye contact with jongseong but she’s quick to feign indifference—and it hurts. little does she know that he feels the same if not more.

“…where are the rest?” jay initiates a conversation and (y/n), with her back on him as she puts down her bag on the counter of the summer house’s bar, subtly loosens up. her stiff shoulders relaxing just at the mere sound of his voice.

“they’re filming some tiktok challenge. didn’t feel like joining,” (y/n) answers and jay intends to ask more about it but is interrupted by her swift “i’m sorry.”

his eyes widen subtly, brows raise and he watches as she slowly turns to face him with her hands pressed on the counter she leans against.

“i know you were just trying to give me the easy work by doing the dishes. i shouldn’t have been so worked up,” she apologizes sincerely, tone heavy with remorse and jay smiles softly at that.

then, he puts away the towel he’s holding to spread his arms wide open—tender gaze melting her significantly so and she approaches his airy steps before being pulled by jay into him.

jay sighs as he buries his face into her hair while his fingers comb through comfortingly. his other arm is securely wrapped around her waist as she reciprocates the hug.

“don’t. don’t apologize. after all, i should’ve let you do what you wanted,” jay assures as he leans back slightly so (y/n) can comfortably rest against him—his arms practically engulfing her whole into his chest and he can’t help but feel a flutter.

it feels…nice to just hold her close like this. to feel her warmth, to hear her gentle breathing, to be reciprocated so endearingly and just be so uncritically affectionate of one another.

he smiles at that as he feels the life being rekindled in his soul and spirit, arms tightening around her.

“…i don’t feel like doing the dishes now, though.”

“we’ll dump it on the rest.”

⋆˙𐙚 S.JAEYUN 𐙚˙⋆

he’s never felt such anguish before. sure, this situation’s reminiscent to when the members cast him aside for his birthday surprise but that ended on a happy note.

this? this he doesn’t know how it’s going to end.

he didn’t mean to, he swears. he just go too competitive with the game that he ended up neglected (y/n)—pushing her away when she wanted to share some insight because he thinks his way is the best.

sure, he got his victory, but at what cost? in the end, it still feels like he lost.

they’re now hanging at (y/n)’s apartment during their once in a while visits considering she lives separately. but the hostess herself isn’t around. she’s locked in her room ‘to sleep’, she said, but jake’s not buying it.

he knows she’s probably mad at him for this morning’s en-o’clock recording and is refusing to even look at him. the thought makes him nervously gnaw on his bottom lip as he distractedly stares at the others playing with the jenga block.

cheers and groans erupt in the room when the build falls and jake stands on his feet, unable to take the tension in his form and the loud noises in his head, and heads to the hallway where (y/n)’s room and bathroom are at.

away from the members’ eyes, he then softly knocks at her door and her instant, “who is it?” solidifies his theory of her being fully awake and avoiding him.

his brows knit and tilt at the ends, dejection growing, before he answers. “it’s…jake.”

a pregnant pause before the door swings open to reveal (y/n) who seems rather indifferent, a complete juxtaposition with the other with shifty, nervous puppy eyes that plead for entry.

her stepping aside and widening the gap of the door mean permit to which he quickly yet gingerly accepts.

she hasn’t even closed the door yet before he instantly spouts, “i’m sorry.”

the door clicks behind her and he leans at it to face jake who’s sitting so politely at the edge of her bed—legs pressed together and hands on his lap as he looks up at her through long overgrown bangs.

“i’m sorry, (y/n). i-i didn’t mean to…” is all he says before lowering his head and clenching his fists.

the sight both warms and aches her to which she reacts with a sigh—instantly alarming the other who snaps his head back up to see her approaching. he tenses, ready to apologize again, ready to mention the full details on how he shouldn’t have been so hard-headed and selfish and—

oh.

his eyes shut unconsciously when her fingers gently rake his hair back to free his beautiful eyes and forehead. he nearly forgets the words in his head from the pure relief and delight that fills him.

lashes flutter as he slowly opens his eyes back to sweetly gaze up at (y/n) with a look she truly believes to be criminal with how overwhelmingly adorable it is—puppy eyes searching hers for comfort, cheeks glowy and lips pouty.

he makes her want to physically squeeze him until he pops!

so she does—as much as she can, anyways.

hands cup his pretty face as she squeezes just enough to put pressure and make his lips stick out like a pufferfish’s.

a little confused “hm?” sounds from jake as he furrows but at the sight of the smile on her face instantly evokes his own—breaking into a wide grin with the corners of his lips curling as he stays between her palms practically buzzing with glee.

“just don’t do that again,” (y/n) warns and he nods vigorously before shutting his eyes again to fully melt into her hands.

if only she knew how close he was to just bawling his eyes out if she rejected his apology. he can’t imagine living without her attention like this.

⋆˙𐙚 P.SUNGHOON 𐙚˙⋆

ice and ice. truly ice ice baby—but with a negative connotation.

sunghoon and (y/n) almost never argue, the two always having similar outlooks or just accepting the other but this time, that wasn’t the case.

the rarer the arguments mean the heavier they are whenever it happens. and it’s so painfully blatant because everyone can sense and see the tension that stretches between sunghoon and (y/n).

one slight pull and it might just snap!

it’s hard to miss, of course. the way his eyes narrow at her and the way her gaze shifts to a glare, the way she steers clear of his space just as he does to her and the most obvious one of all: he doesn’t dote on her like how he usually would.

sunghoon, self-proclaimed (y/n)’s big brother, would always show his affections in one way or another. whether by making sure she’s fed, or by doing his favourite habit of putting his whole hand on top of her head—fingers sprawled and all as his palm covers her crown.

it doesn’t even have to be a pat or anything—just grabbing her scalp and voila! that’s it.

so the fact that he hasn’t done it at all today, is a dead giveaway on their argument.

and so obviously, the members had to send them both on grocery duty. sure, they all went together but they’re so adamant in asking sunghoon and (y/n) to search for some specific stuff on the list together.

“what type of sauce do they want again?” (y/n) asks monotonously, not even bothered to look at sunghoon while stands a few steps away with his hands in his jacket’s pockets.

he pulls the list out. “***** brand.”

the girl hums and chooses it before passing it to the other without making a single eye contact. sunghoon, obviously, returns the favour.

and this routine goes on and on until eventually, sunghoon’s had enough.

he can’t do this. not anymore. not another second of this torture. he feels as if his heart is being torn apart before being harshly shredded to pieces and finally being blended into a juice of depression.

seeing (y/n) so unfeeling around him is so foreign. he hates it. he doesn’t want her hating him. no, that’s the last thing he wants. he can’t digest that.

it’s clear when it starts bothering him because sunghoon’s beginning to glance at her every once in a while. when previously all he wanted was to ignore and be ignored, now all he wants is to see and be seen.

whenever (y/n) puts stuff in the trolley, his eyes follow her every movement. when she asks him for the things on the list, he answers with his gaze set on her—hoping she’ll turn away from the shelf and onto him. and when he sees her favourite snacks, he quietly yet excruciatingly slowly puts it in the cart with a silent plea for her to notice.

and she does. but she doesn’t comment.

still, she isn’t heartless. so she asks, “we finished the list. you want anything else?”

“for you to forgive me,” sunghoon murmurs but the emptiness of the isle they’re in amplifies it.

she finally looks at him, surprised, and it’s doubled when she sees him already looking at her.

he wears a solemn yet sad mien. the bobs of his adam apple expose the vulnerability he feels and (y/n) lets out a deep breath before walking towards him.

“i’m sorry,” he says genuinely and his hand twitches by his side as he restrains from reaching out to pat her head.

it’s not overlooked by the other however, and instead of verbally responding to his apology, she instead cups his hand in both of hers—his flinching at the sudden hold—before she lifts it up to put it on her crown.

sunghoon breaks into a slow grin—eyes upturning and one corner of his lips lifting higher than the other into an endearing smirk—before he ruffles her hair, only to fix it back after.

he chuckles from relief but it’s cut short by a brief grunt at the sudden chomp on his arm. his eyes are wide and lips agape as he stares at (y/n) who’s latched her teeth onto his arm that’s raised to caress her head.

he blinks. she blinks back before slowly pulling away.

“forgiveness tax.”

and all he can do is shake his head with an amused scoff at her absurdity.

“i guess i deserve that.”

[iwasntstable]

n.s. | is it true?

🗀 C:/PROJECTS/MYWORK/ONESHOT/ISITTRUE [projects] ﹂ [my-work] | in-progress | favourites 　﹂ all | series | [one-shot] | blurb | head-cannons | ask 　　﹂ … | if-im-there | happy-birthday | [is-it-true]

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➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

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summary: Always stubborn, Noah refuses to take a break when he's sick, but everyone's convinced you can persuade him.

content tags: fluff, like a smidge of angst, slight miscommunication.

word count: 3.1k.

note: I started this in September and have been thinking about it ever since so it was about time I finished it 🖤

All the text from Jolly said was, “Hey, can you come down to the studio?” And the first thing you hear as you approach the door is raised voices. 

“You tell him!”

“Tell who what?” You ask, entering into the chaos as the hum of noise is reduced to silence and every face in the room turns to look at you.

“Tell Noah he needs to stop pushing himself and go home and rest in bed,” Matt is the first to speak up.

"I don't need to fucking rest," Noah sighs, rubbing his brow.

"And why do I need to tell him that?" You ask.

"She doesn't need to tell me anything!"

"Noah, you're going to make things worse,” Jolly stands with his arms folded like an impatient father.

“Make what worse? What’s going on?” You look between the men in the room, searching each of their faces for answers.

“He’s sick, but he keeps pushing himself even though he can’t sing properly right now. He needs to go get some fucking rest at home or he’ll fuck up his voice!” Jolly explains.

“It’s fine!” Noah protests from his desk chair. Though he was only half facing you, you could see the dark circles under his eyes and the greyish pallor to his skin. “If I need to re-record it, I will, but it’s fine right now,” he continues, and you can hear the hoarseness in his voice. Matt pulls off his hat and runs his hand through his hair in frustration, then replaces the hat back on his head with a sigh.

“Noah, you’re not going to be able to re-record anything if you lose your fucking voice,” Jolly turns to you and states your name firmly. “Tell him.”

“Again, why do I need to tell him? Why would he listen to me if he’s not listening to you?" You know they’re right, but he’s stubborn; you don’t understand what would make your instructions different.

“He'll listen to you because he's fucking in love with you!" Matt shouts.

It was like the air suddenly became thick, and nobody says a word more as your eyes widen and flick straight to Matt. Then to Noah, where he sits wearing what you guess is the exact same expression as yours. Your eyes lock, and you can feel the panic radiating from him. Just as you’re about to speak, the question on the tip of your tongue goes left unsaid as Noah abruptly stands and shoulders his way past the other men. “Noah,” you try, but he’s steadfast in his pace; his shoulder brushes yours as he passes, and not once does he look back.

You watch as his silhouette grows smaller through the window in the door, watching even as he disappears around the corner and out of view. You only turn when Matt calls your name quietly.

"What the fuck was that about?" you all but shout. The men shuffle awkwardly on their feet and struggle to meet your eyes.

"He's sick and losing his voice, but he keeps pushing anyway. We kept telling him to go back home and rest, but he wouldn't listen." Jolly tries to avoid the question.

"Yeah, I get that,” you cast a glance at him. “What did you mean?" You ask Matt directly.

"What?" He responds like a deer caught in headlights.

"What did you mean when you said he'd listen to me because..." You couldn't say it; just the thought had your face growing hot.

"Look, Dierkes, you go. We're gonna go talk," Jolly nods at his friend and spins around the desk chair Noah was sitting in, taking the seat for himself at the computer.

Matt enthusiastically makes his exit. Gathering his bags, he all but runs out of the studio, out from under the weight of your gaze. When the door closes behind him, you sit in the chair next to Jolly, and he turns his own chair to face you.

"He's crazy about you," he starts without hesitation. You pick at the leather of the armrest as your heart begins to race. "He talks about you all the time. Honestly, I don't know how you haven't noticed. He's liked you for months."

"You're serious?" You ask, meeting his eyes, which hold nothing but sincerity.

"You can't say you haven't seen it even a little!” He tilts his head and leans back against the chair. “The way he looks at you, he drops everything for you. Always coming to your side whenever some weird guy flirts with you. He hasn't gone on a date in ages because he's waiting for you!" You bite your lip, unwilling to believe what you're hearing, until Jolly says quietly, "I know you feel the same too."

"What?!" you raise your voice automatically, wishing immediately that you didn't when you see him smiling knowingly at you.

"I see the way you look at him too, when he's not looking. You go bright red when he teases you. Just like you are now. You know I see everything.” You press your hands to your cheeks, and they feel like ice compared to the heat from your face. "You should go talk to him. At least convince him to take a fucking week off," he spins around in his chair, waving his hand and going back to the piece he was working on before all this.

You sit frozen to the spot for a moment trying to process what he'd just said. Noah likes you. He likes you back.

Jolly's voice rings in your head as you stand. "He's liked you for months." You head for the door, out of the building, and into your car on autopilot. Taking a deep breath before turning the key in the ignition and pulling out onto the road in the direction of Noah’s house.

The whole way your mind is racing. "He's crazy about you." You had no idea what you were going to say when you got there. "He talks about you all the time... the way he looks at you." You were telling yourself it wasn't true; it couldn't be. The man you've admired and apparently not-so-secretly adored all this time felt the same way? It was crazy. It couldn’t be true. And yet the concept still makes your heart race, and that treacherous heat makes your skin flush.

You find yourself parked outside his house, your car neatly on the drive right next to his. For several minutes, you go back and forth on whether to go in or just leave. The idea of really confronting him about this situation brings you nothing but anxiety, but the fact that he’s unwell and pushing himself so hard, the need to check on him and at least make sure he’s okay, brings you to his front door.

When you knock, there’s no answer. You wonder if he's watching you from the doorbell camera and choosing to ignore you. After knocking again, you decide to just use your key instead, hoping he won’t be too mad.

Inside, you find no signs of life. All the lights downstairs are off, and the house is statically silent as though it were totally empty. You’d think it were empty if not for Noah’s car parked outside.

You finally figure out where he is when you head upstairs and see the glow of purple LEDs leak from underneath his bedroom door. Your hand hesitates in a fist before you pluck up the courage to knock. No response. You knock a little louder, but still, no response.

Pushing the slightly ajar door open, you peek into his room, finding him lying in bed. Curled up under a blanket, fast asleep. You can’t help but smile at the peaceful sight. He must’ve been exhausted to fall asleep so quickly and deeply. You back out of his room and close the door softly, treading lightly as you go back down the stairs to the kitchen. 

You jump up to sit on the counter and rest your head back against the upper cabinets, closing your eyes. How could you be in this situation? You were content to never tell Noah about your feelings for him, and never ever did you expect your feelings to be reciprocated. You’re still convinced this is all some joke or a misunderstanding. He ran from that studio because he was humiliated by the thought of liking you. There’s no way Noah could want you the way you want him. But after what Matt and Jolly said, you’ll never be content until you know the truth. Even if he denies it, you still have the chance to salvage this friendship that’s so dear to you. He doesn’t know how you feel. It’s not too late to save this, and if he confesses... Shaking your head, you can’t even entertain that thought.

To distract yourself from the feeling of impending doom and to make yourself useful, you decide to cook. Pulling your phone from your pocket, a quick Google search suggests chicken noodle soup as a good option for someone who’s unwell. Warm, high in protein, easy to digest. You slide from the counter to rummage through the kitchen, mentally thanking whoever went grocery shopping recently for having everything you need for the simple recipe.

Following the instructions on your phone, you work quickly, having the food prepared in just over thirty minutes. After preparing a serving in a bowl and buttering some bread too, you balance both on a plate, almost forgetting the spoon before you go carefully back up the stairs.

You weren’t expecting him to be awake yet, but when you knock, he answers.

"Yeah?" His voice is hoarse and quiet even through the door.

"It's me," you say.

There's a brief moment of silence that has anxiety clawing at your throat before he replies, "Go away."

"Noah, please. I just-"

"Just go away," he rasped louder. "I don't wanna talk."

You sigh, feeling the urge to run, but you suppress it. "But I made you soup," you try, but he says nothing. "Can I at least come in and leave this for you?" Again, no response. You can’t help but sigh quietly. He can be stubborn as a bull at times. "I'm coming in. You better be decent," you try to joke. Once more, no response.

You toe the door open gently, stepping into the dim room to find Noah now rolled over in bed, his back to you, still cocooned in the blanket. Moving over some of the items on his desk—a coaster, a book with a dollar bill sticking out as a bookmark, a half-empty bottle of water, the TV remote—you set the food down. Seeing his phone next to him on the mattress, you take it and check the charge, 12%, and a text from Matt that read, “I’m sorry man.” You crouch down by the bed and put it on to charge, then replace it next to him on the mattress.

You stay there for a moment. Internally warring with yourself on whether you were really about to broach this topic. Ultimately, you decide you just have to know the truth.

"Noah, I know you don't wanna talk, but-"

"Good. Go then," his coarse words sting. True or not, sick or not, he had no right to snap like that. 

"Stop being so fucking harsh with me. I didn't have to come here for you, I didn't have to spend time in your kitchen making food for you, but I did. The least you could do is say thank you.” You wait for him to respond, waiting for an apology, but he says nothing.

The urge to run like Matt ran from the studio was strong; your legs flex under you, and you almost stand, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction. More so, you don’t want to leave him when he's unwell.

"What they said back there," biting the bullet, your voice is quieter now. "Is it true?"

You didn't expect him to answer, what with his commitment to silence. So when that silence stretched on, you resigned yourself to his will. Standing and heading for the door, hand on the handle, you're stopped by his voice, "That's not how I wanted you to find out."

You pause, waiting to see if he'd continue, but he goes quiet again. "So, it is true?" But he returns to his silence. You go back over to his bed, crouching down again. "Will you talk to me? Please."

Noah doesn’t yield.

"I'm not mad or upset. I just want-" You cut yourself off, struggling to say the words out loud. "Jolly told me he sees the way you look at me, how you go out of your way to do things for me and talk about me all the time," he curls in on himself a little tighter under the blanket, hiding from your words. "He also said... how he sees the way I look at you when you're not looking... and how flustered I get when you tease me..." you trail off. Feeling your heart hammering so hard inside your chest that you can hear it in your ears. You honestly can't believe you just said that out loud.

Noah shifts under the blanket, straightening his legs and rolling onto his back, arm over his face, obscuring his eyes. "You're just saying that," he mumbles.

"Noah, I'm here in your room with homemade chicken noodle soup, even after you told me a million times to leave. Who else would I do that for?"

"You'd do it for Nicholas."

"I would not let Nicholas talk to me like that and walk away unscathed."

He laughs, rubs his eyes, and moves his arm, finally looking at you. He has a despondent expression on his face, but somewhere underneath is a slight smile. You smile softly, happy to finally see his face.

"I'm sorry," he tries, but you shake your head.

"Don't be,” you say, taking a deep breath. “I'd probably freak out too if you found out I love you like that."

"You- What?" He sits up a little straighter.

"Don't make me say it again," you groan and rest your forehead on the mattress.

Feeling the bed move, you look up to see him sitting upright and staring down at you. You move too to sit on the end of his bed. Silence once again fills the room, neither one of you knowing exactly what to say next.

Noah closes his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair. "Jolly told me so many times to just tell you, but I convinced myself there's no way you felt the same," he confessed.

You almost felt sick from the adrenaline racing through your veins. Looking down at your lap and playing with the sleeves of your hoodie. "Well, I do. He said the same to me too," you let out a bitter laugh. "Seems as though Joakim has been playing cupid." When you look back up, he still seems tense. "Noah, I'm not lying," you hold out your hand to him, which he takes and laces your fingers together. "I was never going to tell you because..." you hesitate again, but it’s too late to turn back now. "I never thought you'd like me back. I thought you'd laugh in my face. I don't deserve you."

"Don't say that. It's me who doesn’t deserve you. You're always so kind and generous,” he glances at the bowl of soup. “Even when I really don't deserve it."

"You do deserve it. You deserve kindness because you give so much kindness. Jolly was right, you do so much for me even when you don't need to. You drove me everywhere before I got my car, even when you were busy. Which I felt so fucking guilty for because I knew you had enough on your plate as it was."

"You know, I hated when you got that car," he smiled shyly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I wanted to drive you everywhere, all the time. Whenever you needed. I loved those times when we could just... be alone together," he sighed, not in sadness but in relief. A small smile on his lips.

You don’t think you could handle your heart racing any faster than it already was and decide to change the topic slightly. "How are you feeling, anyway?"

"Terrible, honestly. My throat is fucked. I don't know how I'm gonna finish recording."

"Yeah, you're not," you state. "You're gonna eat the delicious soup I made you, and you're gonna rest. No recording vocals until you're better. I’d say no producing until you’re better, but I think we’d have to detain you. Lock you in the bathroom or something,” you sadly break your hand apart from his and reach for the food on the side table as he chuckles under his breath. "What's so funny?" You ask.

Shaking his head, he says, "nothing. Just, they really were right, I do listen to you.”

Handing him the bowl, you smile teasingly at him, "because you love me."

"Yeah, I do," he smiles genuinely, caressing your hands briefly as he takes it from you to set it on his lap. "Can you stay?” he asks quietly. “I don't want you to go away. Will you sit with me?"

Your heart warms at his sincerity. “Of course I will.” You climb onto his bed and rest back against the headboard next to him in the space he made. A comfortable, familiar setting you’d both been in numerous times before. He leans over to the side table and tosses the TV remote onto your lap.

“Find something for us,” he says. You press the power button and load up Netflix to scroll through the categories as he eats. “Mm,” he hums with a mouthful of food. “This is so good, I should get sick more often. I didn’t know you could cook like this.”

“Yeah, don’t you dare,” you smile as you continue to scroll. The options turn into blurs as they pass by on the screen. Your mind was well and truly wandering at the thought of what was going to come next for you and Noah. Were you dating now? Did he even want that right now, or would it take time? These were all questions that would have to be asked and answered tomorrow. For now, you settled with the contentment that your current relationship wasn’t completely ruined and felt thrilled at the prospect of it becoming something more. 

“Oh!” Noah’s exclamation breaks your train of thought. “Remind me to beat the shit out of Matt the next time I see him.”

You break out in a laugh and lean in closer to his side. “Not if I get my hands on him first.”

This fic was inspired by the following randomly generated prompts, from this post!

꒰ 2 ꒱ “what they said back there. Is it true?” ꒰ L ꒱ relief ꒰ 𓅫 ꒱ the bedside of someone who doesn’t want you there

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✉ C:/SYSTEM/APP/TAG

ᯤ 𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 (28) :　 ⌞⬤ 10 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning | @english-fucker @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard | @seven-glass-kids @runadaggerthroughmychest

@lma1986 | @shayzillaaaa | @madamaaubergine @thewrstinme | @amourtoken

⌞⬤ 9 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒⌝ @livingdeceasedgirl | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @thecoyotescry | @romanreigns-supreme | @slutforcoffein

@dethroneackerman | @bluestdai | @fadingangelwisp @broken0mens

⌞⦵ 5 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻⌝ @ferduttini | @fadingintothegrey | @lovesick-evangelist @missduffsblog | @anything-more-than-human

⌞◯ 4 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾⌝ @thisbicc | @sadbitchenergy | @iconic-taurus @queen-foraday

　+[MSG : join the taglist!]

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[kyrosion]

Ranking NATO alphabet for name potential:

Alpha - I will judge you but admittedly it will tell people something Very Specific about you. Aleph is infinitely cooler tho just sayin.

Bravo - Sure, lil weird, but I could be convinced. You're the kind of person who might wear a cape as streetwear tho.

Charlie - Extremely mid for a guy but very sexy for anyone else.

Delta - Triangles are hot, rivers are sexy, frats/sororities are not my thing, 2/3 rating but complimentarily so.

Echo - Might be trying too hard but there's worse options here already.

Foxtrot - I will think you're weird but hey if it speaks to your soul ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Golf - DO IT (do not do it)

Hotel - Baffling as a name tbh. May afford many options for tasteless jokes re who's welcome inside you if that's your jam.

India - I've met at least one person named India but I've always held that names that are wellknown placenames are a bad choice. This is the kind of choice that results in things like my cousin Denver who lives in Denver.

Juliet - Sure, unremarkable but maybe you'll feel classy about the Shakespeare reference.

Kilo - Confusing but I like it. Admittedly I'm a sucker for K's.

Lima - EXCELLENT despite what I said above about India, I'm willing to be a hypocrite for this one; I WILL call you Beans.

Mike - That's my uncle ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

November - All the nominative sex appeal and sense of mystery you'd miss out on if you were named April, May or June.

Oscar - You'll need one of a handful of particular personalities to pull this off but if you do manage it's kind of a major win.

Papa - Absolutely. Not.

Quebec - No this is where I live, plus it's already confusing enough being a province AND a city, disqualified.

Romeo - See OP, incredibly butch and very highly recommended.

Sierra - See OP, trans energies off the charts, beautiful choice.

Tango - This is already a gay-adjacent penguin, you don't even have that much work to do. Pluck that low-hanging fruit.

Uniform - Okay yeah no but hear me out - does not make a cogent argument but is clearly getting into it

Victor - You're gonna need to be either a consumptive-lookin' academic or just like. Incredibly jacked.

Whiskey - You're nonbinary, we know.

Xray - YES, WE KNOW, YOU'RE NONBINARY.

Yankee - Disallowed, do Not do this.

Zulu - I don't feel qualified to judge whether this is appropriate but I will say it has visual and auditory swag.

if you're transgender and need name ideas, may I direct you toward the nato alphabet because like. delta? november?? echo?? romeo is like the butchest name. please consider foxtrot. being named whiskey would be cool as hell. I know multiple transmascs who were a bit too into english lit and are named victor now. I've met people named sierra who were trans in every direction. maybe don't name yourself golf

[beanarie]

of course 3/3

1/3

2/3

entire fic on ao3

in which tommy finally admits he should maybe see a therapist.

thanks again to @mooshkat for the original concept

(tw: heart problems, hospitalization, self loathing)

~

Bobby is the next to show up.

"Hi," he says, disconcertingly tall as he stands over Tommy's bed with a small tupperware. "I figured you can't have anything we would normally bring for someone stuck here, but there's this recipe I liked after my heart attack. It's just chickpeas tossed with olive oil and a bit of curry powder."

"That's very thoughtful," Tommy says, touched and confused. He starts tucking in immediately. The food here could be worse, but he never has much appetite when he's unwell. Maybe eating something will make the nurses frown less often. They're very frowny in this unit. Makes sense, as they probably have the highest proportion of deaths in the building, but it's shit for patient morale.

Bobby's still standing, so Tommy tilts his head at the chair and continues eating.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, once Tommy has left the now half-empty container on his tray table.

"Fine? Tired, mostly." Which is probably for the best when the only change of scenery he gets is the regular trips to imaging. All the napping doesn't leave time to develop cabin fever. "You?"

"I'm good. A little concerned."

Shit. So he's just jumping right in. Tommy works on his breathing. "Oh?"

Bobby nods. "Buck is getting released in the next few hours. He'll probably be up here as soon as they hand over the discharge summary."

Tommy doesn't eye the monitors, but he has a brief fantasy about ripping the leads out and smashing everything on the ground. It's been a long time since he's felt this exposed for this long. "That's good."

Bobby puts his hands on the armrests of the chair. "Hen seems to think you don't want to see him, which is interesting since Buck is behaving like you're pretty much back together."

Keep him away. Do it so I don't have to see his face. "I- I'm-"

Bobby looks at him like he's a spooked horse. "I'm not just here for him, okay? I wanna help you get clarity on what you're actually looking for before it blows up in both your faces again."

It's such a brazen offer Tommy can't help but laugh. "You're welcome to try?"

Bobby smiles a little. "Kid's got a heart the size of Alaska, but--or maybe because of it--he's like the La Brea tar pits. Once you're in, that's all she wrote. It's fine, though, great even. If that's your choice."

Tommy tilts his head, reconciling this man with the friendly, new in town captain who had a veil behind his eyes. In the last eight years, everyone at the 118 figured out how to open a vein for each other, and here's Tommy. Out, flying, and only able to meet his own eyes in the mirror half the time. "What if I'm a bomb," he asks. "Or... whatever destroys tar."

"Is that how you want it to be?" Bobby presses gently.

Tommy rubs at the side of his neck. "I'd be a monster and an idiot if I said yes, wouldn't I?"

Bobby spreads his hands. "There's no relationship jail, Tommy. Doesn't matter to me if you're either or both those things. All I ask is that you keep it away from people I care about."

"No. It's-" Tommy shifts his gaze, his vision blurring. "It's not- That's not what I want. But it's not that easy, Bobby."

"Didn't say easy. Didn't even imply it." Bobby moves a box of tissues from the nightstand to the tray table. "You're no stranger to tackling something hard because you thought it would be worth the effort. Maybe give yourself a little credit."

There are oval-shaped bruises in a roughly circular pattern on Evan's forearm, resembling a school of fish. Those weren't there after the crash. Tommy flexes his right hand, which has been stiff and sore for no apparent reason. "I did that," he says.

"Yeah?" Evan frowns in confusion. "You were suffocating. It wasn't on purpose."

It can be an omen if Tommy lets it.

"Tommy?" Evan says.

Omens are stupid. "Hm?"

Evan fidgets with his free hand, pulling at the edge of his sling. "You said of course you love me, like it was easy. Like it was a given. People don't- haven't said it like that."

"How did they say it?"

"Like they were surprised. Like it was the last thing they could've expected."

"I knew it was a possibility the first time I kissed you," Tommy says, tired of choosing between truths.

He looks up. "You did?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs, "you're the fucking sun."

His beautiful eyes widen and get wet at the corners. "I didn't want the first time I said it to be when- when you were dying in my arms." A shadow passes over his features and Tommy's fingers curl, gathering a handful of his blanket. "I wanted- needed to believe that I'd get another chance. I love you, too, Tommy."

Tommy is so grateful this conversation is taking place today, when he's recovered enough to not cause an international incident every time he does anything more stressful than looking at the color green. The specter of the alarm still looms, but he's done okay so far. "I might not have heard you, if you had said it then." Tommy gestures at his chest. "The wheezing, it was very loud."

"You heard some things, though? It felt like you- you were reacting."

"Yes, Evan. You kept me going."

Evan beams. Tommy aches from the inside like someone sprinkled salt in his IV bag.

"I need," he warns, "so much therapy."

Evan shifts forward in his seat, grunting softly in pain. "I can get you some recommendations."

"Of course you can." Tommy smiles.

Evan is inches away, practically falling out of the chair. "Can I touch you?"

"Do you have the slightest idea how many medications I'm on right now?"

He ducks his head and laughs. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Oh, well, show me what you m-"

Evan lays his free hand lightly, ever so lightly, over Tommy's battered heart before leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. "I'm so proud of you," he whispers. "I asked you not to run, and you stayed."

Right after the alarm goes off, Tommy pulls away just far enough to capture Evan's mouth with his own.

[local-lamppost]

Act 3 Thoughts

Watched Wicked, came home, waited 20 minutes, binged Act 3. I do not recommend this lifestyle. Anyway...

I was so satisfied with where we ended up, but I would have also appreciated about 20 minutes to an hour more. It felt like some beats were skipped over, they wanted to get to specific endings and didn't have the time to wrap them up as neatly as I would've liked.

Maddie is a good example. She's a plant for Ambessa, okay but when and why did she become one? She couldn't have been one before Cait being named commander and when we next see her she's pushing for Cait to take power back from Ambessa. Did Ambessa just message her right after Cait and Vi started working together again as like a "the woman you love's actual love is back in the picture, you can either wallow or get revenge with me", but also made a smarmy remark about Cait 'at least being warm' or something. We didn't need to absolve Cait or villainize Maddie for their 'relationship' because they didn't even have a relationship-just a coping mechanism for Cait, similar to Vi's drinking. At best it was all unnecessary and at worst a waste of time.

Away from that, I want to focus on some good.

I am officially a JayVik shipper now. Them disappearing into a void together, encircled with each other, after Viktor spend however long within timelines/multiverses in hopes of finding a Jayce able to bring him back to his humanity? Come on, they needed to kiss. Especially after Jayce and Mel's low key break up. Honestly we were denied the three of them working together, because they would have been unstoppable.

Speaking of Mel, I love her. I love her design, her powers, her matricide, her taking command of Ambessa's armies, etc. I wish we could have seen more of her adapting to her new powers, finding peace with what she now is. There could have been a cool interaction with Viktor over how Arcane power has changed them both for better and worse.

I don't think Mel's story is done. With other characters, I can see them coming in for future story arcs as like, cameos or background details, but if the next LoL story is in Noxus I fully expect Mel to be a major player again.

Back to Jayce. I like Jayce, that could be my Arcane hot take, and I definitely want to write something more in depth on him. On all the characters really. For now, I'll just say that his determination to destroy everything he has built, because the only creation worth saving is his relationship with Viktor is just... glorious.

Viktor was amazing. I love Viktor in the lore, and they took his traits from the lore and amped them up to eleven. His body being destroyed and rebuilt, the process of which has chipped away his humanity and mutilated his dreams. He lives up to his own quote: "In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right."

Ekko is a character I never realize I miss. That sounds mean, it probably is, but I am never the less so happy to see him every time. It's like finding the missing piece you didn't even know was lost: that is Ekko to me. His mini adventure in the parallel universe was adorable. Us getting to see what could've been alongside learning what matters most to Ekko, him getting a taste of a near perfect life and still choosing to return to his own time. That's why Ekko is the true hero of this story.

In terms of Jinx, I'll just say I'm not a hundred percent sure she's dead. The airship leaving at the end followed by her scribbled sign off, plus not getting a dead body shot. It was definitely left open ended. Her looking to do something good, to not mess up, alongside her fear of not wanting to try again because she is just tired of failure, of being a Jinx, was too real in many ways. I will go in depth on her at a later date.

Caitlyn's arc is going to be argued about, no question. It needed more time (see the start of this long post) to make her point of her anger burning away, of it not being sustainable, hit harder. I would have made her realize what her anger was doing to Vi, have Jinx point out that they really are acting the same in their treatment of Vi, and use the whole Ambessa was literally stoking the fires of her hatred to help fit what time they had left. Honestly just have Cait learn Ambessa was the one behind the memorial attack, that would be a much better way to explain her anger diminishing enough to look beyond her own hurt to realize and take account of her mistakes.

Vi, as usual, needed more screen time. Not necessarily because her story would've been helped by it like in act two, but just because I wanted her to have more time to enjoy her life. I went into act three with the sole hope that Vi would have a nice day, only for her to loose everything again. The only people she has left are Cait and Ekko, and god help anyone who tries something against those too now. Her ending being the chance to finally rest, to lean on someone else, was beautiful. She is my favorite character and please let her have only good things in the future, she was traumatized in almost every scene this season please-

Nobody tell Vi that in a universe where she died young everyone else ended up living. It would destroy her.

Vi and Cait relationship was great. I wouldn't say it was rushed in act three, because it felt like it was where it should be for a final batch of episodes, if that makes sense. It felt like the set up was Cait being genuinely remorseful and Vi just wanting someone in her life who wanted her in return. It helps that they have great chemistry and that when given the chance they fit so neatly together. I think Jinx encouraging Vi to be with Cait is what sold it to me. Jinx realizing how much Vi has given/sacrificed and giving her blessing for her sister to be happy with someone she disapproves of; not to mention Cait pulling the guards from their posts to give Vi the chance to actually meet Jinx in order to have that conversation. All in all, it comes down to Vi's "I don't care" because that's really all there is too it for them. Vi is done being miserable and Cait makes her happy, vice versa. Cait is someone Vi can rely on, Vi is someone Cait can find strength in.

Spitfire round:

Sevika being made a councilor

Every single one of Mel, Cait, and Jayce's designs were 10/10s

Vi not being given an actual uniform, just armor and the gloves

Jinx cutting her hair further to match Vi

Ekko getting his crystal sword/bats

Heimerdinger dying after living a life where he could make his city something to be proud of

I was fully expecting Vander and Silco to kiss in that one shot

Everything with Benzo

Loris' name being said

Vi humming the song and the song being their mother's lullaby

Viktor being held within the Herald

Sky leaving so Viktor was free to bring Jayce to his space mind palace

Caitlyn's rifle never surviving

Fishman McBlue being the only one of Cait's soldiers to stick to his guns and stay loyal

Sevika and Shoola side eyeing each other

Vander and little Vi and Powder with the bunny

The bunny being a passenger on Jinx's balloon

Singed's messed up family getting a happy ending

[webslingingslasher]

ohhhh j new fear unlocked for everyone

yk how being on your period and leaking in someone’s bed isn’t ideal? esp if they aren’t ur bf? screw the bed - it got on HIM and he’s not my bf. he’s a cuddler in his sleep and pulled me in and I just saw🤠🤠🤠 nightmare. I’m building up the courage to wake him up rn lol. it’s not that deep but this is pretty horrific bc it’s only my second time staying over and we are very much Not Dating

*cleaning out my drafts - this is an old one!

there have been several times in your life when you've said 'this is the worst thing to ever happen to me.' today takes the cake and you'll never have the urge to say those words again.

period blood? a nuisance to deal with.

period blood on your partner? humbling.

period blood on your hookup? downright mortifying and coma inducing.

it'll only get worse the longer you wait. counting to ten, you take a deep breath and gently shake peter awake. he whines and swats you away, you feel terrible that you're about to ruin his sleep.

'peter, i got my period and i leaked.'

peter sucks in air, the words are registering and he's blinking awake while looking you over. 'in my bed?' you nod timidly, feeling awful about it.

'and on you.' it's a defeated whisper, you turn to the side so you don't see his reaction. you feel the blankets lift up, a two second pause before peter settles back into bed.

'i don't have anything to plug you up so you gotta figure it out.' you stare down at his face, he's going back to sleep?

'did you hear me? i leaked.'

peter sighs, he's more upset that you woke him up than being doused in your monthly. 'yeah, like a quarter's worth. it's a dot, trouble. wrap it up and come back to bed.'

'but i got it on you.'

peter huffs before picking his head up and opening an eye to look at you. 'what do you want me to say? do you want me to be mad? you're the only girl in my bed so if you wanna stain the sheets that's on you.'

you stop a smile from forming, 'are you suggesting i did this to mark my territory?'

'it wouldn't surprise me. it also explains the leg.' he tugs his comforter up to his chin while letting sleep coat over him. 'are you cauterized yet?'

'yeah, i stashed some stuff here.' peter searches around for your hand under the blanket by little taps. 'good, cuddle with me.' you almost squeak when he drags you into his side, always impressed by his casual strength.

'are you sure -' you're halfway through your question when peter takes initiative and hitches your knee over his hips. 'i refuse to answer stupid questions before eight am.'

'i'm sorry i stained your sheets.'

peter's dimple pops out when he smiles. 'bloody nice reminder you were here.' you poke it, he peeks an eye open and acts like he's about to bite your finger. 'you're proud of that one?'

'o-h i'm positive.' you gag before hiding in his side and groaning. 'you're not allowed to make dad jokes before eight am.'

'oh yeah? well you're not allowed to bleed... just kidding, trouble. you can expel your moon cycle anywhere you want, what's mine is yours.'

'wow. you're so romantic.'

'only for you.'

he says it like a joke but you think peter would be a whole lot less cool if it was with anyone else. 'thank you for not making me feel bad. you're kind of the best.'

'i know.' you narrow your eyes at him, as if he can sense it, peter nudges his hand under your shirt to splay his hand across your lower back. his warm palm eases tension you weren't aware of yet. 'i was about to say don't get a big head, but your hand feels very nice so i'll refrain.'

'want me to rub your tummy?' you lean forward to press your nose against his cheek. 'say tummy again. it's cute.'

'no.' 

you whine at his refusal, 'i'm shedding my uterus, be nice to me.' peter smiles at your pout. 'tummy.' hiding your face in his neck you let out a quiet squeal. 'i like when you're cringy with me, it makes me feel like you like me.'

you can see how fast his mind is working, he's hesitating on what he's about to say. peter decides to throw you a bone, you're still embarrassed from giving him a wake up call.

'my baby is feeling so icky, isn't she? her tummy and back hurts and she is being so brave.' you nod softly, he's spot on.

'so icky.'

'so brave.'

'say tummy again.'

peter takes a deep breath, 'you're on thin ice, trouble.'

'just one more time. please?' you plead with him and follow it up with a yawn, his hold and heat is making you drowsy. 'if you tell anyone that i asked to rub your tummy or that i said tummy this many times, you'll never hear me say tummy again, deal?'

your eyes seal shut, his warmth is going nowhere. 'deal.' 

[lovelytayforce]

I agree with this comment here so hard, I remember getting blasted for calling readers who don't comment "leeches" on R/Fanfiction and I'm glad people are seeing that for what it is even if it's four years late

So, I'm gonna share my own little story here because discord has actively ruined communities for fanfic (and art too I'm not gonna leave y'all out cause my bestie @zoetiger-1106 is an artist who deserves way more praise than she gets!!) The reason why authors and myself see the "I'm shy" shit as an excuse is because the same people will type long ass tirades on Discord without a single thought. YOU CAN EDIT AO3 COMMENTS PEOPLE! If you make a mistake, read it back over and edit it. I've watched it happen in real-time with one of my favorite commenters on my one-shot where they left a short gushing comment and then came back and wrote more, you have no excuse much less reason to go "Man fandom keeps telling me to not critique and I might make a mistake so I will say nothing and consume like the average TV and Streaming consumer who thinks there doing something!" YOU have a lot of power with comments and even those bookmark tags hell just copy-paste what you put into those bookmark tags as a comment I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT USE THAT LIL BOX TO VOICE SOMETHING!!!! God this is all over the place idc but I read back at those bookmarks, and saw people call my works the best and super cool and I APPRECIATE THAT but tell me! Stop taking the easy route, I been blasted for misunderstandings over comments multiple times cause people take my "tone" terribly cause it sucks being black and emotive online yay and for some reason people think !!!! Is bad? yes, I've been hit with that but I keep on trucking cause fuck whatever some weirdo thinks about exclamation points! Anyways back to discord and why I hate it now, I was in a small fandom, KFP got invited to a discord cause ONE person commented on my works and saw they talked about my fic, and at first, I was happy and people TALKED about my chapters at length in the fanfic channel. I basically was the ONLY ONE posting consistently in that channel and it was great but also I wanted that on my fic to show I improved so guess what I did? I went all in trying to one-up myself to be noticed, to have the acclaim my peers did so it would evolve outside of discord channels but it never happened. And Imma tell y'all now; it never will. Readers prefer convenience over your hard work, they are not gonna take time for you no matter how much you improve. People told me over and over while I looked for solutions for this; "We can't make commenting look like an obligation." "Add more prose, space these paragraphs better" all this just for no one to take the initiative and say something SINCERE towards a work they love on it. I've had to tell my own ex-friends now to go leave comments on works they called Masterpieces while ignoring me. Despite the fact they wanted Gen content in which I WROTE. Or met people who have very weird "I don't review" rules for themselves despite getting motivated by reviews themselves!! We're in a shitty time for creatives much less community cause we don't see each other as humans much less want to treat each others as we desire to be treated. Fanfic readers want to treat authors like showrunners and I hate it. But then your peers will tell you 'not to worry about engagement" and no I am because why is my hit count going up every day but ain't no one saying shit? Make it make sense!! I sat in that community commenting as much as I could, especially on long fics; it wasn't all perfect but I TRIED. I didn't expect shit back but hey it would have been nice but it never happened and again I learned; it never would. That's the real issue, no one wants to give no more; just take and take and take til you're sucked dry of passion worse than any corpo out right now. It's why I thankfully switched fandoms. I got ONE consistent commenter and they are better than that ENTIRE SMALL CLOSED COMMUNITY!! So, to any discord reactor for fanfic you better skip on to that message you made and copy and paste it in this box right here and never utter "I'm shy" ever again cause we see you, our friends tell us about you. You are not as anonymous as you think! 🫵🏽

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.