#thought • i'm trying hard not to look like i'm trying.

[lostfracturess]

traces of yesterday's scars — satoru gojo

they say the strongest sorcerer can't be broken. but as your fingers trace the scar that once split him in two, you find that even satoru gojo has his sensitive spots.

You still dream about the moment Satoru was cut in half, the memory haunting you even now—that clean, horizontal slice that had split him perfectly in two, tearing your world apart just as surely as it had torn through him.

Sometimes you wake gasping, the image still vivid behind your eyes.

Now, months later, you lay with your head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Your fingers trace the scar that runs across his abdomen, the raised line a constant reminder of how close you came to losing him.

The skin here feels different, rough and uneven and so unlike his other scars. Because this scar tells a different story—one of how death had almost claimed him, how he had nearly been taken from you for good.

You feel him tense slightly as your fingers brush over it, catching the small sharp intake of breath he tries to hide.

"Still hurts?" you ask softly.

"Not hurt exactly," he says, trying to play it casual despite the way his muscles twitch under your fingertips. "More like... muscle memory. Like my body hasn't forgotten what it felt like to be in two pieces."

You follow the scar's path across his abdomen, perfectly straight like a ruler's edge. The mark extends to both sides, wrapping around to his back—evidence of how completely he was severed. Your throat tightens at the memory.

"Hey," he catches your wrist when he notices your fingers have stilled on his scar, trembling slightly against his skin. "I'm right here. Still in one piece, see?"

He tries for levity, but you can't shake the image of him split open, of those endless seconds when everyone thought—

Before that thought can fully form, Satoru moves with that impossible speed of his. One moment you're lying on his chest, the next you're on your back, pressed into the mattress with him hovering above you.

His white hair falls forward, framing his face as he looks down at you with those striking blue eyes. The scar catches the dim light, a silver line across his torso that makes your throat tight.

"Stop that," he says softly, pinning your hands beside your head. "I can hear you thinking too hard about it."

"You were cut in half, Satoru," you say quietly. "That's not exactly an easy image to forget."

"And yet here I am," he cuts you off, pressing his forehead to yours. One hand releases your wrist to guide your palm to his chest, letting you feel the strong, steady beat of his heart. "Feel that? Still beating. Still whole. Still yours." His voice drops lower. "I could never leave you. Not even being split in half could keep me away."

He kisses you then, soft and bittersweet at first, before deepening into something more intense. His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, each press and slide a promise sealed into your skin.

He kisses you like he's trying to prove something, like he's pouring all his certainty and love into this one moment until the scar becomes just another story written on his skin, not an ending but proof that he always finds his way back to you.

His hand cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he draws out the kiss until you're both breathless with it.

"Besides," he murmurs against your lips, that familiar boyish glint returning to his eyes, "being cut in half just means there's twice as much of me to love now."

Before you can groan at his terrible joke, he moves again and pulls you flush against him as he rolls, and suddenly you're on top of him, straddling his waist. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing the bare skin where your shirt has ridden up.

"See?" His grin is absolutely insufferable now. "Still strong enough to manhandle you around."

"You're stupid," you say, but you can't help smiling as your hands splay across his chest, feeling his laughter rumble beneath your palms.

"Stupidly in love with you," he counters, pulling you down for another kiss. His hands slide up your back, holding you close as if to prove his point about his strength remaining unchanged.

The scar moves under your touch as he breathes, but now it feels less like a reminder of what you almost lost and more like proof of what you still have—his heart beating steady and strong, his arms around you, his smile pressed against your skin.

"I love you," you say against his lips, "even when you make terrible jokes about being cut in half."

"Especially then," he says, and you can feel his smile widening. His hands grow more bold as they trail down your sides, and you can feel his breath quickening beneath you.

"You know," he murmurs against your lips, "we should probably make sure everything's still working properly—" His fingers slip under the hem of your shirt, skating across your skin. "If you're up for round two?"

In one fluid motion, he sits up, keeping you firmly in his lap as his arms wrap around your waist. His lips find your neck, trailing hot kisses along the sensitive skin there.

"Just to be thorough," you manage to say, though the words come out shakier than intended as his teeth graze over your skin. And he only pulls you closer in return.

"So thorough," he breathes against your neck, one hand sliding up your back while the other grips your hip. "Need to make sure everything's in working order." His voice drops lower, rougher, as his kisses become more heated. "Every—" Kiss. "Single—" Kiss. "Part."

Your fingers thread through his hair as he continues to map every sensitive spot he knows drives you crazy, making you arch against him. His touch erases all thoughts of scars and fears, replacing them with the burning need to be closer.

And when he finally claims you, his movements leave no doubt about how very alive he is—each deep thrust and possessive grip reminding you that he's here, he's whole, he's yours.

The scar may still tell its story of how close you came to losing him, but tonight is about proving just how completely you still have him—all of him, in every way that matters.

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or copy my work.

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | part twenty-two preview

Five days. They're still here. You realize what's taking them so long; they're collecting food, drying meat into jerky and simmering wild strawberries into jams that Nereida cans. They have quite a lot of supplies with them. One of Kyle's backpack's is filled with ammo and another is stuffed with medicine. 

Kyle is easy to talk to. Nereida, too. Price—however—seems like he doesn't know what to think of you. Or maybe you're too insignificant to have crossed his mind much. 

That's fair. You don't need to all be friends.

Blue seems to like Ari. He's thirteen, two years older than her, which is evident in the way her head reaches his shoulders. She doesn't even say hi to you in the morning. Instead she shows him all her magazines and even the rabbits. He decides to name one Rocky, a friend for Grim. You can't be bothered; she needs another friend. Ghost isn't keen about them alone together, though. You heard him mutter to Kyle—keep an eye on him, Gaz.

The threat of summer starts to invite more and more sweat down your neck. Your hair has gotten so long. After tossing and turning on Ghost's bedroom floor, it became a nest of tangles. When Nereida, Ari, and Blue go for a dip in the pond, you go with them and soak it, then let the water settle so you can stare at your reflection. Blade sharpened, you saw a few inches off. Better. More practical. 

"I thought you were going to cut more," Blue comments.

"I don't want it that short, or else it's harder to braid."

As the two kids keep swimming, Nereida finds bunches of rosemary and seems more excited than you'd be about it. 

"It helps fight off odors," she explains when you ask. "Like when I have my period, so the Greys can't smell it as much."

When she puts it that way, you grab some, too. Then you start wondering about her and John. Do they have sex? They must. You've seen the way they are. Kisses to their shoulder and neck, arms around each other's waist. You've stared a few times only to catch yourself and quickly look away. How do they avoid pregnancy? You highly doubt either of them want to bring a new child into the world. You wouldn't.

Ari and Blue lay in the sun together. You scoot away to give them space, but overhear some of their conversation, anyway.

"Your dad is so cool."

Blue plays with a piece of her hair. "Oh? You think so?"

"Have you seen him? He's a beast. My uncle told me he got his name because no one could see him coming before he killed them."

"He can be a pain in my ass sometimes," Blue mutters. Her nose scrunches. "But he's taught me a lot of things. I'm pretty good with knives."

"Damn, I gotta see that."

She is beaming. "I'll show you when we get back."

Then, she leans over and whispers something in his ear. Whatever it is, he smiles and shakes his head in response.

She pulls away, sighing. "I wish you guys could just stay here."

Or maybe your dad will make us go with them, you think to yourself. In a way, it's comforting, that he is secretive with her, too. He still hasn't brought up the topic again. Either he hasn't decided, or he doesn't actually plan on keeping you updated. You try your best not to ruminate, but it's hard not to, especially when you have a hard time falling asleep on floorboards and are left with your thoughts in the dark. 

Which is why you're not feeling thrilled by the time you go into his room. He's already lying in bed, one hand bent behind his head while the other props open a book. He looks comfortable. Almost normal, even.

"How do you sleep with the mask on?" you remark, kicking off your shoes. 

His eyes lift from the page briefly. "Like a baby."

"How come Kyle has seen you without it and not me?"

His jaw flexes. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, Twix."

"And mental sanity doesn't suit you."

A light huff. Then, "Nice haircut."

When the room is dark, Ghost must get tired of hearing you toss and turn. He flicks on the small lamp, and you squint from the sudden light, stuffing the pillow over your head. There's shuffling before a hand rips the pillow from your face and tosses it onto the bed.

"Just get in the fucking bed. I won't bite." The sight of him standing above you, sweatpants low on his hips, consumes your vision. His voice is low but demanding.

"What, together?"

"I want good sleep. M'not going to get it on the floor, or listening to you up all night, so get in." His eyes peer down at you, half-lidded, before he lowly adds, "I'll be a gentleman, if you're worried."

You lift up and ignore the offer of his hand. "I'm not worried."

To protest would be embarrassingly juvenile when both him and you know you want to sleep there. Yet—your heart thickens. He watches as you crawl into the bed where the ceiling slants, tucking yourself under the quilt and curling against the very edge so that your knees float over it. The springs groan to your left and then heady warmth spills over you. Ghost keeps to his side, flat on his back, with his hands lying on his chest. His elbow pokes into your back no matter how carefully you try to inch away, and his thigh just barely brushes against your backside. 

The bastard doesn't say a word, nor does he make an effort to give you more space so you screw your eyes shut and fall asleep to the sound of his breathing. 

[beloveds-embrace]

Fuck it, we ball, I hope that disrespectful anon gets hemorrhoids and they can't get them removed until next year, AND that their insurance doesn't cover it. I'm here thinking about your Omega idea where omegas normally do the pursuing, but with a slight twist; the boys being the omegas. An alpha who is for sure down bad for the boys, but thinks "ah, theyre out of my league, I should be aiming lower, manage my expectations". Only 141 is just as down bad for them, and they're doing everything just short of screaming "PICK UP ON THE HINTS, COME INTO OUR HOUSE AND BEDS AND LIVES AND STAY FOREVER PLEASE"

Johnny is about to say fuck decorum and just show up in reader's house wearing nothing but a ribbon and a tag that says 'free to a good home' (your home is the good one, please keep him, there is no receipt so you can't return him).

Price has the brain cell normally in terms of trying to gently coax you into getting you to say you're into them, he has a 15 step plan that may or may not involve using his various contacts to get you spending more time in close proximity to them. Also he for some reason is always baking, he always comes over asking you for sugar? (He'll take any kind of 'sugar' you're willing to offer, he loves making a variety of cream pies)

Gaz is always gently inviting them to attend 'friend' things, things that could be a date but that he can excuse as 'well we're coworkers/friends/neighbors, we should get along :)'. It's just a coincidence that various other people seem to bail except for any of the other boys, now why don't you sit beside him so you guys can share popcorn at the movies (you both always seem to be reaching for it at the same time, if your fingers touched anymore you might as well be holding hands)

Simon is chasing off any omegas he thinks are a threat to them getting reader, that is THEIR alpha, paws OFF (rip to anyone reader was halfheartedly going on dates with, this man is gonna become those people's sleep paralysis demon)

Hope you enjoy!! :3 💕💕 i lovedddd writing this sm omg

See, the thing is, you’d always thought of yourself as a decent Alpha. Not overbearing, not egotistical, not a demanding freak- just capable and steady. But you weren’t extraordinary. Not the kind of Alpha Omegas like them would look at twice. And so, while you worked alongside the men of Task Force 141 you convinced yourself to be content with just admiring them from a distance.

You couldn’t help it. They were perfect, as far as you were concerned. Perfect, and fully out of your league.

Surely, Omegas like them would want someone better. Someone stronger. You’d told yourself that so many times it was practically your mantra, the only way you’d be able to stop yourself from pursuing them. They deserved someone more charismatic, more confident- an Alpha who could match their brilliance. Not someone like you, fumbling through conversations with them, struggling to keep your feelings in check.

But they’d already decided. They didn’t need a flashy Alpha or someone who tried too hard. What they wanted was you. The only problem? You didn’t seem to realize it, no matter how obvious they made it.

John took the lead, naturally. He knew you were cautious and perhaps a little insecure when it came to relationships (it was fucking visible in you, silly Alpha. He scoffs each time you draw back, frustrated), so he made it his mission to draw you in- slowly and subtly. His plan was meticulous: get you comfortable, build trust, and create opportunities for you to spend more time with them so you’d see that they only want you.

Maybe then you’d break out of that stupid shell you’ve put yourself in.

He’d started baking regularly, a habit you hadn’t even known he had. At least once a week, he’d show up at your place with a tin of cookies, a loaf of fresh bread, or a perfectly golden pie. “Thought I’d share,” he’d say casually, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips told a different story. He peers at you, letting his scent coil just a bit more. “I hope you don’t mind the amount of cream. I happen to like cream pies a lot.”

The way to an Alpha’s heart is through their stomach, and all that.

If he wasn’t offering you baked goods, he was asking for your help to make said baked goods. “Ran out of sugar again,” he’d sigh, handing you an empty container. “Mind sparing a bit?”

It was ridiculous, downright unbelievable how often he supposedly ran out of baking supplies. But his visits became a highlight of your week, and the lingering looks he gave you left your heart pounding long after he was gone.

The one time he’d handfed you, watching you lick the syrup from his fingers with half-lidded eyes, still lives in your mind rent-free.

Kyle took a softer, more personal approach. He wasn’t above using the pretense of friendship to spend time with you, often inviting you to casual dates- grabbing coffee, going to the movies, or just walking through town and shopping. Every invitation was framed innocently, but there was always a little extra effort behind it. He’d pick a movie he knew you’d like, suggest places he knew you’d find interesting, and ensure that others you unfortunately knew joined just enough to make it seem less like a date.

Somehow, though, those other people always mysteriously canceled. It was never anything dramatic- just a sudden cold, a scheduling conflict, or a “something came up, sorry.” Eventually, it would be just you and a very smug Kyle, sitting close enough that your knees brushed or reaching for popcorn at the same time. Once, right as the bowl emptied and you both reached for it, Kyle simply thought fuck it and held your hand.

On one occasion, you both shared a bowl of spaghetti and ended up with the scene from the Lady and the Tramp.

It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Except you.

“It’s not a coincidence,” Kyle muttered to Johnny one evening after you left, both of them sitting in the spot you were in, bathing in the leftover warmth and scent. “How can they not notice?”

Speaking of Johnny; he’s barely keeping himself together. Subtlety in missions are a must sometimes, but he doesn’t want to that with you anymore. He was just so, so, so frustrated with your obliviousness. What more does he need to do to show you that he- that they- want you?

He’s been dropping so many hints; half-jokes about Omegas waiting begging to be swept off their feet, suggestive winks when you compliment him in that lovely, adoring tone of yours. Once, while watching a romantic tv show, he’d sighed loudly and very pointedly said: “If only someone would claim me.”

“If ye don’t figure it out soon,” he growled at the others one night, pacing back and forth like a wild beast and probably on his way to leave a dent in the carpet, “I’m showin’ up at their doorstep with nothin’ but a red bow, like some bloody Christmas prezzie, I swear to god.”

John sighs, rolling his eyes. “You do that, and I’m leaving you on their porch.”

“That’s exactly what I’m askin’ for!”

Simon took the quietest but most direct approach. Just not exactly direct towards you. While the others worked to get closer to you, Simon focused on eliminating what he saw as obstacles: other Omegas who thought you were free for the taking. It didn’t matter if they were serious or just someone you’d gone on a casual date with- Simon saw them all as threats.

He didn’t have to say much to scare them off. A single cold glare from across the room, sharp bursts of his scent, or a low, menacing comment was usually enough to send them packing. He didn’t care if it was excessive.

You were his Alpha. You were their Alpha, and no one else had a right to you.

But even Simon softened when it came to you. He couldn’t put all his thoughts, all his feelings into words, so he did them with his actions. Quiet protectiveness, gentle, careful touches. Moments of fleeting vulnerabilities shared between you and him.

He was always there for you. Even if you didn’t know you need him with you.

Still, despite all their efforts, you remained convinced that they weren’t interested.

In the end, to no one’s surprise, it’s Johnny who snaps. Johnny, so close to his heat, so absolutely done with your obliviousness and the Omegas that aren’t them talking with you when you should be only focused on them.

He doesn’t care; leaves the carefully made nest with your stolen shirts and none of the others stop him when he just. Drags your surprised self to the nest.

“Johnny! You-“

“I want you.” He hisses, bares his teeth all sharp and desperate. “We want you. And damn it, we will have you.”

And well, who are you to even say no when this is all you have wanted?

[ghouljams]

NIKTOOO STOP TELL READER YOU LOVE THEMEMEM 😭 your recent Aphrodite!Reader and Hephaestus!Nikto is driving me nuts. I'd honestly cry if I got something for my partner in good hopes and then they tell me it's trash and walk away.

Would he have regrets of being so rude afterwards? Once he retreats into the forge? The man would probably try to make something extravagant for reader in apology. Please I can't do this I'm going to whack him over the head (affectionate) He probably ran so he wouldn't have to see the glassy look over taking readers eyes.

Nikto has never had to give you your gift himself. Somehow it makes the damned thing feel worse, less worthy to be placed in your hand than on your pillow. Seeing the jewel muted against your skin makes it all the more clear. Worse still you've seen his face, the mangled mass that he's tried so hard to keep from you. Your eyes linger so long on the scars that cut his mouth apart, surely disgusted by the way his teeth snarl out from the gash.

He's a fool to think anything his hands touch might be good enough for a pretty thing like you. There are too many voices telling him exactly what he already knows.

"This is trash," he tells you, and he can see it on your face that you know as he settles the jewel in your palm, "we do not want it." So you must not either. After all your gaze barely touches the fine jewelry, something in the tight set of your jaw tells him it's even worse than he'd thought.

Your eyes linger on his mask, there must still be skin showing. Like a coward he retreats back to his forge and locks the door. He adjusts his mask, pulling the cords tighter, digging the material into his already chapped skin until it hurts. Pain is a feeling he knows, more familiar in his body that the tight heat that grips his chest when he sees you.

Metal digs into his palm, slicing through the tough leather glove. He lifts the arrow head to inspect in the glow of the forge, metal shavings, nails. The metal is good, craftsmanship higher quality than he'd expect especially when it smells mortal. What do you want him to do with this?

It must be important or you wouldn't have handed it over. A clumsy gift? On par with how you view his own? Hmm. Cruel, but fair.

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[theminecraftbee]

hello second. this week's wildcard got a friend to start reading hgcz and now because of that im back In The Trenches. d. do you have any thoughts. on soup group

Gem thumps her head against the bar and groans. Outside, the 'open' sign is not lit. It is 10 AM, and it is time for neither customers nor villainy. If it were time for customers, Gem would probably be in the secret base in the former-Speakeasy basement (she is, apparently, not suited for customer service). If it were time for villainy, well, Gem would either be there or on the streets, causing the kinds of problems only she and her gun can cause.

No, it is time for none of those things. Instead, it is time for something far worse: paperwork.

"I don't need health insurance!" Gem says. "Or life insurance! Or insurance-insurance! I'm pretty sure I'm like, uninsurable? On account of technically only sort of being a real person? It's not like I can go back to the Farm and go 'oh by the way, I need my birth certificate' now, it's defunct!"

"Everyone needs health insurance," Impulse says gravely.

"No, I don't! We see Doctor Zombie! You know, the black market doctor? The one who half the villains and vigilantes in the city see? I pay her in like, secrets and cadavers, not--"

"Don't admit that, the cops'll get you," Pearl says, throwing a dart at the bar's dartboard.

"You think that's what they're going to arrest me for? Giving dead bodies to the doctor? Because like, man, they're choosing the weirdest crime to finally get me for if so" Gem asks.

"I mean, maybe!" Pearl says.

"None of us are cops and you're getting health insurance. Now choose your most airtight fake ID," Impulse says, and then, seemingly thinking twice about getting trying to get Gem to choose which of her four currently-unburnt fake identities to go with, grabs her wallet and starts going through it himself. She lifts her head from the bar, accepting she's lost this argument.

"My SSN is six," Gem says to him dryly. He rolls his eyes and continues meticulously filling out paperwork. She sighs and turns to Pearl. "Really, can you believe this man? Health insurance! You know, at this rate I'm going to be told I'm a necessary budget cut a second time. And if the identity he chooses gets burnt, you know that'll just lead one of the people hunting us down right back to this bar. Knowing our luck, it'll be Hotguy or Cuteguy. Ugh, imagine."

She expects Pearl to joke back. Instead she's met with Pearl's face, tired and sad and fond all at once.

"Is it really so much to think he just wants to take care of you?" Pearl asks.

Gem listens as, for a moment, the scratch of Impulse's pen against the paper stops. He sighs. A low roll of fog spreads out across the bar. He resumes writing.

"I don't like, need taken care of," Gem says.

Pearl's expression gets a little more exhausted.

"Have you considered that I also want to take care of you? To do something I know--a little impact, while we can? For someone who it won't hurt to give that help to?"

Gem goes silent.

"Think of it as weapons maintenance," Impulse rumbles, and it makes it make sense but before Gem can say so, Pearl stabs one of the darts into the dartboard so hard it rips.

"Stop saying it like that," she says.

"Sorry," Impulse and Gem say at the same time.

"I don't know what I'm going to do with you two," Pearl says. "I'm going to go get the backup. That college group that's real bad at darts normally comes in today."

She stalks to the back of the bar. Gem looks over at Impulse. Impulse looks back. She suspects their expressions are equally apologetic. They're also equally fond, and equally, well...

"You know, sometimes I wonder if she's going to be okay," Impulse says.

"Yeah," Gem says.

"I do actually need an SSN for... Aries Eva?"

"I'll get that for you. It's just--it's not actually the insurance I mind. You sure you want me legally tied to your small business?" Gem asks.

"Why wouldn't I? It's not like she's wrong," Impulse says, and Gem breathes out herself, doesn't comment on the growing fog, and writes down a number. She resolves not to use the health insurance. It's too much of a risk that someone will track it back to these people who think she's worth taking care of.

Still. She supposes it's not that bad to have.

[sevs-corner]

Tf 141: Ghost and his marriage problems w/ you

part 1: Price | Masterlist here! | Inspo playlist here! Angst to comfort

Ghost is a man of few words, the comment of it being 'few and far between' used too often to describe him and his stand-off demeanor with you in public.

Though, he cares not for those things, only ever lending an ear for you only.

Yet you wished he did when manhandles a man that was only trying to talk to you about baked goods you were selling.

You slammed your front door closed after Simon went ahead inside and paced around the living room, before settling on a chair once he hears you stomp in.

"What the fuck was that Simon?"

You seethed, pissed off at how Simon was so quick to assume things, turning things to an eleven when it didn't to be-- making an issue at a situation you were very well handling yourself already.

"He got too close," he grunts with a shrug, "too suspicious for someone just 'asking' a question."

You rubbed your face roughly.

You think maybe he was emotionally and socially stunted but no, he was able to conduct himself just fine at his jobs and during missions-- what the fuck is he on right now?

"What kinda bullshit is that?" You scoffed at him and he huffs, leaning his elbows on his knees yet still making eye contact with you.

"You..." He starts but then breaks off, sighing and ruffling his hair.

Simon wanted to choose his words carefully. He couldn't say it was gut feeling that he gets when someone gets too close to hurt you.

As a soldier, he was trained to always be on his toes, and that type of behavior becomes hard to rub off when all he thinks of is protecting you whenever you guys go out.

He knows that no one knows how his face looks like out in public, but he is still scared-- haunted by the notion, or even the thought of you getting hurt as a means of revenge to get back at him.

He knows his records aren't clean and he isn't proud of some of the things he did either, but he knew it was worth it when the world could have its bits and pieces of peace from it-- especially if you were, and you still had that same gleaming smile whenever you greet him home.

So he tries to keep that all away, to keep the peace, and most importantly-- to keep you happy.

Even if that required him to be on guard 24/7, always wary of the things going on in your life and working double to make sure you were alright.

Even if it gets him the short end of the stick, getting the brunt of your anger.

"He..." he licks his dried out lips, "...he looked like he had ulterior motives, hun."

You stomp to him, hands grabbing his face as you stared down at him, eyes so pointed and open that there were unshed tears at the end of it.

"And who are you to be the judge of that?"

He bites his lip, sucking in a breath, and he just wants to speak--

"Because I've been onto him."

"...What-?"

You were breathless for a moment, letting go of Simon as he whispered words that made it cloudier-- made him more vague and so stubbornly confusing.

But when he doesn't reply for moments after that, you ask him what he meant by that. What he wants to mean by that-- because all these conjured up thoughts swirling in your head were doing no good for the position you were putting Simon in inside your head.

"Simon please..." you breathed out in resign, "...just tell me."

Yet he doesn't.

He sits there, ever so still.

And you think he's stuck like that if it wasn't for the constant soft crunching of his gloves as he grips and releases it.

If it weren't for his chest heaving up and down-- you would have thought you lost him.

"If you're not gonna talk, I'm leaving." You decided, having enough of working today and just... all of this with Simon.

You love him, you truly do, but him shutting himself like this is just so exhausting-- and you couldn't take another moment of it.

"Wait."

His voice rings loud enough from the doorway, where you already putting on your shoes, and you pause, letting him have a couple seconds to follow-up.

"...Its cold out, grab your coat."

You huff, slamming your shoes down again for the second time tonight. Luckily, there weren't your favorite pair, but they'd understand if its them dealing with as stubborn of a partner like Ghost right? You could only amusedly think so for a moment before going close to Ghost, glaring down at him while his face was turned downwards to the floor, no longer making eye-contact with you.

"'s that all you're gonna say to me?"

You ask again, giving him another chance, another out for him just to get it off his chest-- to just,

"FUCKING TALK SIMON!"

Your breaths are heavy and from the way Simon didn't even flinch nor move, you decided to forego that chance. To just leave and--

"He was stalking you."

You turn to him again, facing him with less intensity that you thought when you finally see him.

He's disgruntled, hair a mess, mask and gloves off, disheveled clothing-- face so scrunched with lines, you'd think he was carving the wrinkles on his face permanently.

You wait, nodding at him to continue-- not trusting your own voice at the moment to convince him to keep talking.

Simon breaths in deep.

He had no choice.

It was either he lets you leave him (and fuck him and everything he lives for if he just lets you do so without him even trying) or he talks, and shows... everything and risk you leaving either way.

If both ends at the same conclusion, fuck him for throwing caution to the wind and giving one last damn shot to keep you by his side.

"Remember when you got that weird text?" He starts off and once he sees you nod in confirmation, he continues. "Thought I should look into it."

"I told you it was just spam." You mutter and you see him shake his head, muttering a small- "not to me."

And you kept your mouth shut at that.

"Once I did," he gulps, "started seeing all the nasty shit he had on his computer and what he planned to do..." he paused, breath coming out steady.

"...once he got to you today."

You feel like a bucket of ice cold water just got splashed onto your face, your stomach dropping, your throat constricting.

"..what...?"

Was all you could manage before you see Simon stand, and you could finally see why people were scared of him, the elusive and ruthless man on the field-- the man they call Ghost.

Now you knew why he sat, why he also took the low ground with you, why he showed himself to be smaller than you because seeing him right now-- standing at his full height with a gaze you can no longer call familiar.

It was downright chilling to the bone.

"He was going to take you for himself." He growled, his emotions resurfacing once he saw the guy's search history and the not-so-elaborate plans he shared with a couple of mates on his messaging app. He had the receipts and he was going to fucking expose the guy if it weren't for your interference--.

No. He shouldn't think about it like that. You were worried for him. Yeah. You weren't disrupting anything, you were just looking out for him. That's it.

'Keep it down, Ghost.'

"If I didn't intervene," he grabs your jaw and forces you into his gaze, "I would've broken my promise to always protecting you."

This breaks the dam.

Simon, as much as he was an emotionally stunted man, meant every word he made to you in his vows.

And at the end of it all, he swore, he promised--

'Promise to protect you always.'

Was how he ended that, and how he slipped that band on your finger right now.

You felt so stupid.

Maybe it was you who were quick to assume such things of a man who would no thing to hurt you.

"Shh..." He holds you close, finally closing the distance he wanted to make ever since you guys got home. "I'm sorry."

He whispers onto your hair as one of his hands stroke it while the other was wrapped around your side.

His chin was on your head, and he just lets you sob onto him-- lets you say your apologies, but he doesn't take them.

It wasn't your fault. It was his.

And he wants to make amends.

Even if that ended up with you leaving, he'll still fulfill those vows he promised.

Because he swore it to the only person who accepted him for all that he is.

So, he'll try his best to make it work. For the both of you, or even just for your sake.

"Lovie," he mutters once your sobs turned to sniffles, "your smiles look better on you."

You huff, unable to stop the breath of a laugh from the sudden left hook of a compliment.

"I'm sorry Simon." You finally peel away from his chest to look at him and place your hands- more gently this time- on his heated cheeks.

He shakes his head-- "no, 's not you." He kisses your palms, trailing it higher until he reaches that golden metal on your finger, and his lips linger on there for moments before talking again.

"I should've told you," he admits, "just didn't want you to worry."

You immediately smacked him which made him slightly flinch at the sudden hit on his cheek.

"Dummy," you sniffle, "I still would-- whether you didn't or did."

You pout at him, "you know me Simon, I'll always worry."

He nods somberly.

"Just don't wanna add onto it." He pokes your forehead and you giggle.

"See, its already so big--"

"Shush!" You slapped away his hand this time and you could see a smile starting to grow on his lips.

"I'll remember that for next time." He promises, this time replacing his finger with forehead, tiredly connecting it to yours.

"Promise to tell me next time?"

"I promise."

"I'll worry with you instead."

He chuckles at this, relenting to your whims once more.

"You're gonna make my head bigger like yours then."

[mydarlingclaudia]

every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

[yanderedrabbles]

I’m 🐰 Anon >:3

How would the yandere boys act with a reader that has body dysphoria? A reader who starves herself (I’m going through a hard moment and really wanted to know how they wound react, I wanted, you know, some comfort maybe-)

Oh baby, I'm so sorry. I know exactly how much ana sucks when she comes to visit. But don't worry, the boys will try their best. Unfortunately, their best isn't always very smart.

Skin and Bones - yandere boys when you won't eat

Yandere! Cowboy is predictably mean about it. He'll tug at the hem of your sundress and say he doesn't give a damn how your clothes fit, as long as you keep taking them off for him. At night, he'll bury his face between your thighs and nip at the tender flesh. "You're mine - your pretty cunt, your pretty smile, your pretty body. You don't get to starve what's mine, got it?"

Safe to say, he watches you like a hawk after that. At every meal, he makes sure your plate is sparkling clean. And if you even think about throwing up, he'll have his belt off in a second to teach you a hard lesson about abusing his property.

Yandere! Soldier thinks you're doing it to piss him off. "What? You're worried about being heavy?" He'll grab your waist and toss you over his shoulder in one smooth move, like you weigh even less than his gear. Smack your ass and say that no matter what you weigh, nothing can stop him from throwing you around.

"Now stop insulting me. съесть что-нибудь."

And eat something.

Yandere! Boyfriend understands better than you'd think. He cooks you something incredibly healthy and low calorie, a safe food. He'll stand behind you as you push it around your plate, his chin resting on your head and his fingers kneading your thighs. "C'mon baby, just a little bite?" He'll promise that if you finish it, he'll eat up too. And he doesn't mean food.

Yandere! Incubus notices it when he comes to you at night. He's attuned to every part of you in a way only demons can be. You're hungry, you're ravenous and there's some dark ugliness festering at the heart of it. In the morning, the handsome young priest stops at your table and tells you that you've been looking ill lately, that you should definitely eat some more. He'll tug at his rosary and remind you, "When the flesh hungers, so does the soul."

Yandere! Desert Bandit doesn't understand it. Food is hard to come by, so why are you turning it down? When you explain it to him, he scoffs. "The desert sent you to me. Why would I want to change such a precious gift?"

If you insist on being stubborn, he'll lunge at you and wrestle you under him.

"I've dreamt of you, just as you are."

Maybe he can show you exactly how perfect you are to him and if not...He can always hold you down and feed you himself.

Yandere! Academic Rival will order a ton of expensive dishes and have them delivered right to his apartment. Everything you've ever mentioned wanting to try. He'll rest a fork at your lips and smirk at you. And be suffocatingly condescending when he says, "I thought you were smarter than this. Now open up and prove me right."

[talon-dragonbeast]

Anglocentrism in alterhuman communities: ramblings of a Spanish-speaking dragon and a cat

[original in spanish here, though i have no doubt that this version will be disseminated more widely] • [original en español aquí, aunque tengo la certeza de que esta versión se difundirá más ampliamente]

this post was originally written as part of The Sol System's Alterhuman Writing Challenge. written by @talon-dragonbeast, with the help of my sibling @watcherwingedcat. we hope you like it!

word count: 2422

This writing, which is more of a rant with myself than a proper essay, is one I've been meaning to write for a long time; ever since I first joined an online community, to be more precise. Anglocentrism, according to Wikipedia (and yes, the irony of the article not being available in Spanish is not lost to me), is "the practice of viewing the world primarily through the lens of English or Anglo-American culture, language, and values, often marginalizing or disparaging non-English-speaking or non-Anglo perspectives."

If you are monolingual and your native language is English, chances are you have never stopped to think about the advantage this gives you over those of us who are not so fortunate as to be born with the lingua franca on our lips. Yes, you may have had to study some Spanish in school, but let's be honest, very few people remember what they learn in elementary school. As an English speaker, the whole world is built for you, and it's the rest of us who have to fit your mold. Culture, scientific articles, movies, books, video games, the internet, online communities, technical language, educational videos: even in the most international spaces, everything revolves around English. Which brings me to the subject of this writing: The Alterhuman community.

My name (as I am known on the internet, at least) is Talon. I've been a member of the alterhuman community, and more specifically, the otherkin community, for a little over a year now. Otherkin (a word that comes from other, in Spanish otros; and kin, shortened form of kind, in Spanish tipo) are people who identify as nonhuman in some way. For example, I identify as a dragon (among other things), and that's what I am, even if I look human on the outside and am perceived as such. There are many reasons why someone might believe they are not human, but I'm not here to discuss that, so let's get back to the topic at hand.

Since I've been in this community, I haven't written a single post in Spanish. And not for lack of desire, nor because I am intimidated to share something as personal as my mother tongue. No, the reason is simple: The community does not exist in any language other than English. By this I don't mean that there are no non-humans outside of England or the United States, because of course there are (even if they are on other platforms like TikTok or Instagram), and I'll talk about those later. But simply put, the reason you don't see many alterhuman communities in other languages is because all the resources, the introductions, the chronologies of the (English) alterhuman community, the definitions of the terms, the terms themselves, everything is in English.

I have always been bilingual. Well, trilingual actually, although my third language is not too relevant in my day to day life and I only use it in classes or when someone starts a conversation in the language. It's hard to explain how your brain works when you speak multiple languages fluently, but basically it's like running two parallel systems at the same time, but with thoughts. I don't usually think with words, but when I do it usually happens that some of my thoughts are in Spanish, and others in English, roughly in a 50/50 ratio. Or it can also happen that I start the thought in one language, but finish it in another. Or I may try to use a specific word in English that does not have an exact translation into Spanish, so that when translated literally the sentence does not make sense. Basically, everything I write or say out loud I have to run it through several filters first, one to remove the words from the other language, one to find the words to replace them with, and one to make the sentence make sense. Sounds exhausting, doesn't it? It is. Now imagine if in order to express yourself as you really are, in order to participate in a community with beings who understand and accept you like no other, you had to basically suppress half of who you are, all the time.

The problem is not only not being able to use my native language to express myself. As I have demonstrated in the last year and a half that I have been in this community, I am fluent enough in English not only to be understood when I speak, but also to express such complicated concepts as the self, human nature, the psychology of being, and all that comes with existing as nonhuman. The real problem comes when I try to express relatively common alterhuman concepts in my native language. I'm not just talking about labels like otherkin or therianthrope, which can be adapted to Spanish with relative ease. It's the little things, the simplest things.

For example, the term shift. The word itself is already difficult to translate; during my searches, I found a glossary of terms on the Otherkin Hispano website in which they call them "desplazamientos", which... is an accurate translation, I guess, but impossible to use comfortably in everyday life. There are also terms whose definitions use expressions that simply cannot be translated into other languages. For example, otherkin and otherhearted. In English, the difference between these two terms is that otherkin means "[to] identify as" while otherhearted is "[to] identify with". But this is a purely English expression. In other languages, the distinction does not exist, or it makes no sense to use it; therefore, these terms are totally inaccessible to any international user. Or compound words like "catkin", which are difficult to express in other languages. According to Otherkin Hispano, in Spanish it would be said as is without translation, Soy catkin. But that... is not grammatically correct, since it would be mixing two languages in the same sentence. The most appropriate would be to say Soy gatokin, which sounds wrong and doesn't make sense anyway, because kin is still an English word. Or "hearttype", which in Spanish could be roughly translated as "tipo del corazón" (kind of [the] heart). When saying that you have a specific hearttype, for example "corvidhearted", one way of expressing it could be a simple Soy corvidhearted, which carries the same problems as catkin. Or you could, as Wikipedia advises, say Soy corazón de córvido ("I am heart of corvid"). I don't dislike it, to be honest, but some might find it too metaphorical or poetic.

Finally, and before reaching the conclusion, I want to dedicate a few paragraphs to talk about the alterhuman community that exists in other languages. I mentioned before these communities; that although they do exist, they are very scattered through platforms such as TikTok or Instagram, with which I am not so familiar. But since I can't talk about Anglocentrism without at least talking about the Spanish-speaking alterhuman community, I asked my sibling Watcher @watcherwingedcat what it thought about the topic. This is what they wrote:

Hi guys, I'm Watcher, and I'm here to talk a bit about the Spanish-speaking therian community, which I think is the pristine example of the hate we receive both from people outside the community and from those inside, both Spanish and South American. While this post focused more on the language barriers, I want to focus on the real consequences of this barrier, how it divides us in the way we interact with each other: The social part of this whole thing (as I already said some other time or another and some of my followers know, I am studying Social Education, so from my point of view the social part is very relevant for everything we do). As my sister already said (hi Talon!), the English community is the majority in alterhuman spaces, but, what is the Spanish-speaking community really like?

Not very large, is the answer. The term itself is not very widespread, and the community is quite small. However, after a while of searching, I found it in a little corner of the internet. When I found a community in my own language, I was excited, but my curiosity and joy were soon extinguished... When I saw the reactions to their videos and posts on tiktok mainly. They were packed with hate messages. Packed. If you think hate in the English community is bad, you are not prepared for the hate received in other communities, especially the Spanish one. This is more a matter of culture, a little bit also due to the closed mindedness in countries like Spain, Argentina, or Colombia.

In general, the non-humans of the Spanish-speaking community mostly post about quadrobics and masks. At least, I haven't seen much beyond that, and the community is mostly in tiktok. And the reception of their expression of way of being? Disgusting. To give an example of how bad the hate is, in one of the videos I found (I think it was a therian making a mask or something), humans and non-humans were insulting the therian posting the video, discussions about how we are crazy and sick in the head and should be in mental institutions... It was horrible. The worst were the death threats, even, wishing the therian to die, or hang themselves, or worse (I've even seen rape threats). Comments that said things like, "If my sister told me she was a dog I would take her clothes off and force her to sleep outside and eat animal food, if she wants to be a dog I will treat her like one." Threats of abuse, both physical and sexual... Absolutely disgusting. And the worst thing is that the tiktok platform did not remove these hate accounts, the copy and paste messages of insults, the threats....

I am proud of the Hispanic community for being so open about their identity, don't get me wrong, but there are times when it is safer to just not share that part of who we are with others, especially if you are a minor and vulnerable. That's another issue that concerns me, as I've seen people coming out to parents, siblings, friends, and them just belittling them. That, coupled with misinformation, is a recipe for disaster.

I couldn't help but notice the deep root of misinformation in the non-human community itself. They confuse definitions, the different terms, which leads them to spread even more misinformation. This I don't think is entirely their fault, or that they are so young for the most part, as I have not seen Hispanic therians over the age of 18. I think this is largely due (as Talon already mentioned) to the language difference, and the lack of translation of certain terms. In general, when talking to friends with whom I am open about my non-humanity, I use English terms. It is a little weird to use those words in English while speaking in Spanish, but I am bilingual and for now there is no solution to that. I think the Spanish community would benefit from spreading correct information, and having a platform to express themselves with their own, like tumblr is for the English community. Something my sister expands on in dreir post. As for me here I finish my little comment, I'll leave you with Talon now. Watcher out.

As a conclusion, I would like to talk about the consequences that Anglocentrism might have on non-English speaking alterhumans, and then propose some ideas on how we might begin to address (or at least mitigate) it as a community.

First of all it is the obvious; the vast majority of non-English speaking alterhumans simply never realize that they are alterhumans in the first place, on account of the language barrier. All of the resources for beings who are questioning their humanity or lack thereof are in English, so they are not accessible to people who don't understand the language; therefore, a non-English speaker would have a much harder time accessing them. Another consequence is not being able to express your alterhumanity fully, both internally and externally. Remember when I mentioned that my thoughts are evenly distributed between English and Spanish, always keeping a 50/50 ratio? Well, recently, I have noticed that when reflecting on my identity as a dragon, all my thoughts are automatically generated in English. I find this deeply shocking, as I feel that a fundamental part of my identity is being eroded. It is devastating to feel that you can only express half of who you are, suppressing what could otherwise be a complex and multifaceted identity. Not being able to express myself in my other language limits my ability to explore that part of myself.

Anglocentrism is a cycle that never ends; since all the resources are in English, no members in other languages can join, and since there are no members in other languages, all the resources that are created are in English. And while I wish I could say that I have a solution to end this Anglocentrism once and for all, unfortunately, I do not. I am only one person (dragon), and this is a problem that I alone cannot solve. True, there have been some commendable attempts by the international community (translations of writings, alterhuman blogs in languages other than English, the Eurokin server on Discord are some examples); however, these initiatives often don't often get very far because of the very nature of the community. As I have already said, most of the alterhumans are North American or English, therefore any attempt to globalize the community would be restricted by the fact that there are not many members who would be interested in this in the first place. So what can we do to change this? The answer lies in you, reader. If you have a second language, encourage yourself to create writings in it from time to time. If you come from a culture other than the mainstream, talk about how that affects your identity. If you have traditions specific to your country that you believe are alterhuman in nature, share them. And if you are part of the English-speaking majority, I invite you to contribute in a positive way through simple actions, such as listening to us when we express ourselves in other languages, recognizing that we do not all share the same culture, and keeping an open mind when discussing topics that may be unfamiliar to you. Our strength as a community lies in the diversity of our members; let's embrace it.

[vamptizm]

ii. MISSION JEALOUSY — p. bueckers

pairing: paige bueckers x clover amar (oc)

synopsis : in which paige bueckers and clover amar, two uconn wbb stars, have an ongoing mission of making each other jealous and outdoing the other.

warnings : smut, fingering (oc receiving), brief degrading, exhibitionism if you squint, they’re both assholes, no aftercare. please do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!

word count : 3.5k

note : this is my first time writing this stuff and omfg was it HARD, i cringed at myself like 10 times and this might be bad but everyone starts somewhere ig lol

series masterlist

The team weight room was alive with the rhythmic clanking of weights and low murmurs of conversation, but Paige only had ears for Clover. The two had been switching off sets on the bench press, each girl pushing themselves harder than necessary—not to outdo their personal records, but each other. Ice, nearby and unbothered, worked through her squats, seemingly oblivious to the escalating competition between the two. 

Clover added another set of plates to the bar and smirked as she lay back, her tattoos flexing with every adjustment of her arms. Paige leaned against the rack, her arms crossed, watching with an unimpressed expression.  

"Feeling bold after last night, huh?" Paige's tone was casual, but the edge was unmistakable. 

Clover gripped the bar above her, sparing Paige a glance. "Nah, I couldn't care less." she quipped, her voice light as she lifted the bar. "Why? Did I make your little friend cry?" 

Paige's jaw tightened with a small scoff, but she kept her composure. "You really thought you ate, huh?" She stepped closer as Clover re-racked the bar with ease. "Maybe next time, try not to scare people off before dessert." 

Clover sat up, wiping her hands on her shorts. "Scare her off? Oh, baby. She was hanging by a thread before I said anything." She stood, gesturing for Paige to take her spot. "Maybe don't bring your charity cases to team dinners next time." 

Paige slid under the bar, refusing to let Clover see how much that comment—and pet-name—got under her skin. She grabbed the bar with purpose, her fingers tightening around it as she muttered under her breath, "You're insufferable, you know that?" 

Clover, now spotting Paige, leaned forward slightly, her grin widening. "Yeah, and you fucking love it." 

Paige bit the inside of her cheek, annoyed that she couldn't come up with a retort fast enough. Instead, she pressed through her reps, feeling Clover's eyes on her the whole time. By the time she re-racked the bar, she was already regretting agreeing to partner with Clover. 

When Clover took her turn again, she added more weight to the bar, clearly trying to prove a point. Paige didn't bother hiding her scoff. "Sure you don't wanna just tape a 'look at me' sign to your back while you're at it?" 

"Jealousy doesn't look good on you, Bueckers," Clover shot back, her voice steady as she lowered the bar with perfect form. 

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly closer. "You're not that special, Ma." 

Clover's laugh echoed through the room as she racked the bar with ease. "Sure, keep telling yourself that. I'm not the one who brought a backup date to dinner." 

Paige felt her temper flare, the heat rising up her neck. "You think everything's a game, don't you?" she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper as Jia moved to another station. 

Clover tilted her head, her expression smug. "Maybe. But you love to play, don't you?" 

Paige didn't respond, instead picking up a pair of dumbbells and turning her attention to another exercise. But the tension between them lingered, thicker than the humid air in the weight room.

The weight room grew quieter as the rest of the team filed out, leaving only the steady hum of the overhead lights and the sound of weights being racked. Clover and Paige remained, neither willing to be the first to leave.

Paige pretended to focus on her dumbbells, but her attention kept flickering to Clover, who was at the mirror adjusting the resistance on a cable machine. The gym's fluorescent light caught the sheen of sweat on Clover's skin, highlighting the tattoos curling around her arms and peeking out from the neckline of her tank top.

Clover glanced at Paige's reflection in the mirror, catching her staring. She didn't say anything, but the smirk that tugged at her lips made Paige's stomach twist in equal parts annoyance and something else she refused to name.

"Enjoying the view, Bueckers?" Clover's voice broke the silence, casual and teasing.

Paige huffed, looking away as she set her dumbbells back on the rack. "You wish."

Clover turned, leaning against the cable machine, her arms crossed. "You're still mad about dinner, aren't you? I thought we had fun."

"Fun for you maybe," Paige shot back, stepping closer to grab her water bottle. "I don't make a habit of embarrassing people for sport."

Clover's grin widened. "Oh, come on. Amelia was—what's the word?—forgettable."

Paige glared, taking a long drink to buy herself time. She hated how Clover always knew exactly which buttons to push. But worse than that was how Clover's confidence—the way she carried herself, so effortlessly bold—made it hard to focus on anything else.

"You really can't help yourself, can you?" Paige asked, her voice quieter this time.

Clover tilted her head, her expression softening just enough to catch Paige off guard. "Why would I?"

Paige didn't answer, but the air between them felt charged, almost suffocating. She could feel Clover watching her, and it made her want to walk out—or close the distance between them.

Clover took a step closer, her gaze steady, curious. "What is it about me that gets under your skin so much, huh? Don't act like it's just my big mouth."

Paige's breath caught, her pulse quickening as Clover's words hung in the air. She opened her mouth to respond but found herself at a loss.

"Nothing to say?" Clover teased, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. "That's a first."

Paige clenched her fists at her sides, every nerve on edge. "You don't know when to stop, do you?"

"Not when it comes to you," Clover replied, her tone softer now, less playful but no less intense.

For a moment, the weight room felt impossibly small, the space between them shrinking by the second. Paige could feel the tension in her chest, the unspoken words and emotions she wasn't ready to name.

Paige didn't step back. Her smirk turned sharper, her eyes searching Clover's face for any sign of hesitation—but she didn't find any. Instead, Clover stood firm, her confidence unwavering even as the air between them grew impossibly thick.

"You're looking at me like you wanna fuck me, Bueckers," Clover remarked, her voice steady and cocky grin unfaltering, even if her heart was pounding.

"Good," Paige replied, voice low. "Maybe that's exactly what I wanna do."

Before Clover could reply, Paige's hand moved—lightly brushing her hip first, then lingering at her waist, her grip firm but not overbearing. Her touch sent a jolt through Clover, but she didn't pull away. Paige stepped even closer, their bodies nearly touching, her breath warm against Clover's cheek.

"You're bold today," Clover murmured, her voice quieter now but still laced with challenge.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound deep and confident. "Bold, or just tired of you running your mouth?"

The weight room suddenly felt a hundred degrees hotter. Paige's free hand came up, her fingers gently grazing along the line of Clover's jaw, tilting her head up slightly. The smirk on Clover's lips wavered for a second—not out of nerves, but because Paige's sudden boldness had thrown her off her game for the first time.

"Speechless for once?" Paige teased, her thumb brushing the corner of Clover's mouth.

Clover regained her footing quickly, her cocky grin returning as her hands came to rest against Paige's chest. "Not speechless. Just wondering if you're finally gonna back up all that talk."

Paige's response was immediate. She closed the small gap between them, her lips brushing against Clover's as she pinned her against the cold wall, teasing at first but quickly growing firmer, more insistent. Clover matched her energy without hesitation, her fingers curling into the fabric of Paige's shirt as she pressed closer.

The kiss was nothing short of electric—heated, competitive, and every bit as charged as their arguments. Paige's larger hand slipped from Clover's jaw to her ass, pulling her closer, while Clover tilted her head to deepen the kiss, not willing to let Paige take the lead entirely.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Clover was the first to speak, her voice soft but edged with humor. "So... does this mean you're done being mad about dinner?"

Paige laughed under her breath, her hand still lingering on Clover's waist. "Not even close." She stepped back slightly, her cocky smile returning as she grabbed her towel. "But that's a conversation for another time, Ma."

And instantly, the blonde's lips crashed back against Clover's, her unoccupied hand snaking back up to the girl's face before finding a light grip around her throat. That was enough to ignite the tamed fire inside of Clover, their kiss growing rougher, teeth clashing and tongues meeting— Paige licking into her mouth like she was seeking water in the Sahara desert. A small whimper escaped Clover into Paige's mouth. One that had the blonde cockily grinning against her lips as her slim fingers lightly squeezed the girl's throat.

"Already got you whimpering for me, Baby?" The blonde's grin was taunting, nothing short of confident in herself like she always was.

Clover, however, wasn't as amused as Paige. Too worked up, too hot to come up with her usual and well known retorts. "Just shut the fuck up." She rolled her eyes, barely able to express her annoyance, that could more so be described as frustration.

Paige didn't make an effort to reply, her hand snaking to the back of Clover's neck, pulling the girl into another rough and messy kiss. Her lips slowly began to trail down, peppering wet kisses along Clover's jaw until she reached her neck.

Clover couldn't help but fist the blonde's shirt, gripping it tightly in hopes of grounding herself. Her head tilts backwards, upper teeth biting down on the bottom of her lips to suppress the whimpers that so desperately wanted to be let out. Paige started out with placing soft kisses down Clover's neck, halting at the crook of her neck. Her grip around the girl's waist tightened, tongue darting out to lick along the inked area, down to the collar bone.

The pooling wetness and the growing heat between Clover's legs was hard to deny, even harder to hide. She almost scolded herself for the way her thighs pressed together—it only gave her away and of course Paige didn't miss that. A smirk tugged on the corners of the blonde's lips, darkness clouding her bright eyes.

"You think you're slick, huh? Spreading them for others all fucking week and now you wanna close those legs?" Her tone was mocking, almost degrading and for some reason it only turned Clover on even more.

She couldn't keep her mouth shut, though. When could she ever? Clover Amar was a loud mouth through and through. "Maybe if you weren't all talk I would've spread them for you instead."

Paige had to hold herself back from rolling her eyes, only a small, amused scoff escaping her. "Oh, I'm so sorry I made you wait, princess. Let me make it up to you, yeah?"

And just like that Paige went back to kissing and nibbling on her collar bones, mouth moving further south with each second before reaching her cleavage. Her hands slid up slowly, fingers playing with the hem of the girl's sports bra. "Can I?" Her gaze was back on Clover's face, blue eyes locking with hers and her tone unusually and bizarrely soft and gentle. As if getting permission meant a great deal to her. Clover could only nod her head, too dazed to trust her own voice.

That wasn't enough for Paige, though. She lifted her head up, standing straight as she shook her her head. "You got words, baby. Use 'em."

Clover had to bite her tongue to not curse the blonde out at that very moment. Even in a moment like this, Paige still needed to tease her about it. Typical. Taking a deep breath, she finally complied. "Yes. You can."

A smug smirk made it's way back onto Paige's lips, triumph painted all over her features. It was clear that she enjoyed this more than Clover herself. "There you go, good job."

And oh, how Clover hated the way those words made her stomach do flips.

Paige's fingers finally hooked into the material of the black sports bra, taking her sweet time in pulling it up until Clover's breast sprang free. She stilled for a moment, breath hitching in her throat as she took the sight in front of her in, mouth already watering. If it had been anyone other than the girl in front of her, she'd make sure to shower them in praise and compliments, but she couldn't do that yet. Clover's full tattoo was now in sight— starting from the valley of her breast and ending only a couple of inches above her navel.

The blonde took a subtly deep breath before her hands continued their abandoned actions. "Arms up," she dryly instructed, tugging the clothing over Clover's head and throwing it to the floor after she complied once again. She had to refrain herself from commenting on how well Clover could listen for once.

Paige took her sweet time admiring the girl's exposed chest, hands instinctively finding their way back to her waist, rubbing and caressing the soft skin up and down. Clover was starting to get impatient, her hand finding one of Paige's, guiding it up and placing it over her breast.

The smug smirk on Paige's face only intensified, exuding her all too known and obnoxious confidence. "Eager, aren't we?"

Clover didn't say a word, she didn't have to because as soon as the blonde spoke those words, her mouth was already back on Clover, lips latching onto one nipple while her hands played with the other one. Fondling, pinching her nipples, suckling and biting on them until she got a satisfying squeal out of the girl.

As much as Clover hated this, she absolutely loved it. In some way she was being worshiped AND pleased right? Technically, she was the winner.

Paige continued to suckle and place open mouthed kisses all over her tits, slowly trailing down along the inked skin, licking and pecking.

It wasn't enough for Clover, though. Not nearly enough to coming anywhere close to stilling her hunger for the annoying blonde. But luckily for her, she didn't have to do or say anything. Paige was already on it, hand sliding to the waistband of the girl's shorts while she straightened up. That's when Clover felt her body ignite with fire, the mere thought of being touched in such a public space where anyone could walk in at any given time—despite it being so late—excited her more than she'd like to admit.

"Can you stop teasing?" She asked in an unintentionally low tone, her question coming off as more of a demand or request.

"I don't know, can you behave for once?" Paige countered, that stupid smirk never leaving her face and if Clover wasn't so turned on in that moment, she'd want to smack it off of her.

She hesitated before replying, voice barely above a whisper and a small pout on her lips. "Yes."

That one word seemed to be enough for Paige. Her hand came back up, two digits hovering over Clover's lips. "Suck."

'Is she serious?' Clover thought to herself. She debated it, fighting her pride and ego all for the sake of pleasure before ultimately complying and parting her lips, slowly wrapping them around Paige's fingers.

"Good girl." The blonde hummed as she watched and Clover wanted to roll her eyes. Her tongue swirled around the digits, sucking on and wetting them all while maintaining eye contact until Paige pulled them out again, a string of saliva connecting them. This was purely for the blonde's own pleasure.

Her hands were back on Clover's hips, but this time she didn't seem to have the patience to tease her. Paige's hand slipped right between the material of her waistband and panties.

Clover let out a huffed breath of relief at the touch of Paige's fingers running over her slick folds. The girl was completely soaked by now—embarrassingly so—something that emitted a raised brow from the blonde. "What's got you all soaked, Ma?"

"Shut the fuck up." is all that Clover could muster to say, her words coming out breathless. Her body was on fire and the last thing she wanted, was to be teased again.

Paige could only chuckle, something that would've aggravated the girl if she wasn't so worked up and desperate. She began to slowly circle Clover's clit, biting back that smug smirk as she studied her expression. Clover made no efforts of hiding her face, nor how good she felt, multiple sighs escaping her lips and her eyes fluttering shut. Her leg lifted to semi-hook around Paige's hip for easier access.

"More, please." She breathed. Clover knew that if there was one way to get what she wanted, it was by playing her cards right. By asking nicely.

And it seemed to work when Paige sped her movements up, rubbing tight circles as her mouth latched back onto the girl's chest. It was as if she couldn't get enough of her.

Paige's movements slowed, two digits circling the girl's entrance for what felt like an eternity before slipping in all at once.

A soft gasp left Clover's lips at the delicious stretch, her head tipped backwards as Paige continued the abuse on her chest. The blonde's fingers were pumping in and out of Clover's sopping cunt, and the sound of wet squelching would've flustered her if she'd cared enough.

"Oh- Fuck, Paige." Clover's hands came up to the girl's shoulders, steadying herself. Soft whimpers and the sound of kisses all across Clover's chest was all that could be heard through the weight room.

"Good, huh?" Her voice was low and sultry, eyes looking up at Clover's already fucked out face, who could only nod her head.

The familiar knot below her stomach started to tighten, nails digging into Paige's skin as she continued her abuse on her cunt, fingers curling deep, hitting that gummy spot just perfectly.

Clover feels like she's floating and suffocating all at once, her muscles and senses trembling with pleasure and she can feel her high approaching. This wasn't what she had planned—being at the mercy of Paige Bueckers—but there wasn't anywhere she'd rather have been in that moment.

"You close, baby?" Paige mumbled against her neck that she was now attacking with kisses, almost as if she could sense it. "Clenching on my fingers like a slut. You're that desperate, Mama?"

Once again, Clover could only nod her head, whimpering and whining were the only form of noise she could muster up.

Paige smirked against the crook of her neck before pulling back to get a good look of Clover. Her unoccupied hand grabbed the girl's chin, tilting her head back forwards. "Look at me or I'll stop." She near to demanded as her movements quickened.

Clover barely had any time to register what was happening, her eyes fluttering open only to be met by Paige's hungry eyes. The intimacy of it should've turned her on even more, should've brought her closer and while it did just that, it also scared her. Looking into Paige's eyes was a form of intimacy and vulnerability that Clover had never expected to experience with her, a language so foreign, one she’d never bothered to learn. Her heart was pounding in her chest, stomach fluttering and she didn't know whether it was due to Paige bringing her closer to her release, or if it was the girl's baby blue eyes staring deeply into her soul, almost as if wanting to find a home within.

Those thoughts were quickly disrupted by the sudden feeling of Clover's climax washing over her, everything except the feeling of her all consuming orgasm, vanishing into thin air.

Just as quickly as it happened, it seemed to end when Paige's hand slipped out again, barely giving Clover the time to register anything. All she could do was watch how the blonde casually licked her fingers clean. "Tastes good." She spoke, but it sounded like she was more so speaking to herself.

Paige turned and a towel along with Clover's sports bra were already being handed to her. "To clean up with." She said, as if it wasn't the most obvious thing in the world.

Before Clover could register anything, the blonde was already making her way towards the door. "See you tomorrow." She called over her shoulder, barely looking back as she left the weight room.

Clover could only stand there in shock. Did that really just happen? Did she really leave just like that? It's not as if she expected any aftercare or something as silly as a kiss, but standing topless and still catching her breath, Clover couldn't help but feel ashamed. Feel as if she had just been used and discarded so easily. It wasn't something she was used to. Heck, even she had the decency to help the girls she hooked up with get cleaned up and dressed before ditching them.

She scoffed humourlessly before putting her bra back on, tightly gripping her towel and walking out of the weight room herself in annoyance, and which she hated to admit, tears of frustration stinging her eyes.

[silverskyeline]

I've recently lost a pet, my cat, and greiving quite a bit. i was wondering if you could do a super fluffy wolverine fic of him just saying everythings gonna be ok, it sounds silly now im typing this lol <3

I love your fics btw!!!! :3

hey anon <3 i am so so sorry for your loss, i've been there and i know how hard it is. it's not silly at all!! i hope this fic is okay for you, ily and i hope you're looking after yourself! please take care!

ੈ♡˳ 'grief' - logan howlett x gn!reader

summary: logan wants to help comfort you, the way that you often comfort him. (930 words) tags: logan comforts you, fluffy, chaste kisses, gentle touches, very brief mention of grief, very brief mention of loss, established relationship.

logan's eyes flutter open, almost on instinct. when he glances to the side, his suspicions are confirmed - you've been awake for a while. he can tell by the way your eyes scan the ceiling above you, tracing patterns and cracks in the paint like they're highways you're speeding down to escape the thoughts in your head. he knows that look because he too often finds himself speeding down those same highways.

he turns, wrapping a thick arm around your waist to pull you closer, nuzzling his stubble into the base of your neck. he takes a deep breath, encouraging you to do the same. when your chest rises with his, he exhales deeply, pressing a soft kiss to your skin in praise.

"mornin', bub," he whispers, his voice soft, a tone he reserves only for you, even more so on days like these.

you rest your head upon the top of his in a silent reply, cheek nestling against his fluffy hair. you breathe in his scent, relishing in the way it's so familiar and grounding to you.

his arm squeezes around you, eyes flitting up to your face, taking in your weathered expression. he wishes he could take away those dark thoughts in your head, the feelings that weigh you down - but he knows it ain't that simple, been there himself way too many times to foolishly believe otherwise. logan thinks of all the times you've held him, your gentle reassurances, how easy it seems to come to you to offer that comfort.

he wants to do the same for you.

"it's gonna be okay," he hums, punctuating his words with delicate, chaste kisses to your neck, "i know it. . . it hurts right now, darlin', i know it does. it's. . . alright to hurt."

logan curses himself internally, he wasn't good at this shit - wanted to be as good as you were, saw how the words came naturally to you. meanwhile, he's flipping through every single word he's ever known and nothing feels right.

"you don't need to hurt alone, though," he continues, swallowing the doubt he holds in his abilities, "you know i'm here. . ." lifting his head, he looks into your eyes, "you know i got you."

your eyes meet and you can tell he means it, really means it. he's trying hard, trying so hard. an honest crooked smile curls on his lips, one that's all logan, and it threatens a smile on your lips too.

you take a moment to feel him beside you, to get lost in the peacefulness that his company allows so naturally. his heartbeat is calm yet firm against your arm that finds itself pressed against his chest, the gentle 'thump thump' lulling you.

"that grief you got in your chest," he presses a large palm against your torso as though he can feel it - and in a way he can, you're connected enough emotionally that he can often tell what you're really feeling before you know it yourself, finding clues in the way your shoulders tense or the subtle tremble in your hands, "you can share it with me, y'know."

the palm on your chest travels upwards to cup your cheek, brushing a calloused thumb across your soft skin, "listen to me, everythin' is gonna be okay, you hear me?" his tone turns firm, but still loving, "i've lost enough people to know how fuckin' hard it is, it eats away at you, feels like you're chokin' on words unspoken or things you coulda' done or things you didn't do but. . . in the end, you loved 'em. they knew that."

the words hit you, emphasised by the delicate tone of his voice. you bask in the comfort he provides.

logan leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, lingering there a moment in the hopes that somehow it helps his words sink in. "i know i ain't good at this kinda thing, darlin' - but. . ." he pulls back, vulnerability etched on his face as his eyes link with yours, "i just. . . i guess what i'm tryin' to say is i'm. . . here for you."

and you know he is, sometimes it's hard to believe. logan, the wolverine, a man who once kept everyone at arm's length and vowed never to let anyone in again is here now, in bed, with you, comforting you with thoughtful words and soft touches.

you know he means what he says, because displaying softness is not something that comes easy to him, it's not something he allows himself to be around others. but with you? it's different.

"let's make you some breakfast, huh?" he peppers soothing kisses across your face, over your forehead, down along the slope of your nose, across your cheeks. . . hoping to elicit a smile, something that tells him he's breaking through that tough exterior you've built to keep yourself in that dark place.

and it works, because a ghost of a smile tugs at your lips.

logan smiles in silent victory, finally pressing a kiss to your lips before sitting up, taking your hand in his, "c'mon, let me spoil you today."

you reluctantly ease out of bed, following him - because you know he's right, everything will be okay. the fog will clear, little by little, navigating your way to sunny skies in time. and though the grief remains, it morphs. instead of reminding you of what you've lost, it reminds you of the good it gifted you, and the good that you too, shared with them.

[sweetflanfiction]

Asymmetrical Symphony - Part 2

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written and GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you for the fav and comments!! This chapter isn't gonna have much Viktor in it, but I'm just starting to estabelish some things and get the ball rolling. I'll try and update more Vik x you as quick as possible. :D

Part 1

• ··········· • ············ •

The world was spiraling around you. Noises of the past, the present, of another version of the world, blurred and mixed into a weirdly misshapen music. You tried to stop it, pause the song to figure out what’s what. Pull a thread to focus on something, to ground yourself. You inhaled air into your lungs and then expelled it. Every time you breathed out, the sounds became less confusing, like an orchestra finding itself following the maestro. In the end, only the quick buzzing of the world around you was left, as it settled down in a place and time.

You dazedly opened your eyes to a bright ball of light right before you and someone’s hand on your forehead. The sudden memory of the Hex Angel standing on top of you, extracting your soul from your body, flooded your senses, and you had to get away.

Quickly sitting upright, you shoved the construct away, watching with dread as the angel fell and stood up with ease. Their hands up in mock surrender, the mask emotionless.

“Calm down.” It said, with the familiar accent of a friend. “You’re safe.”

“Vik-Viktor stop…” You mumbled at the thing while it tilted its head at you. “Please”

It kept coming closer, its movements slow and deliberate, palms up to you as if it were approaching a scared animal.

In the haziness of trying to get away from it as fast as possible, you felt the ground give away under you, and once more, you were snapped back to focus when you landed on something hard.

The sound that left your lips was less than elegant as your back hit the cold, hard floor. Your body is now fully awakened to every scratch, bruise, and wound.

The first thing you noticed, as you tried to will the pain away, was the hard, smooth surface under your fingertips. Ceramics, cold hard ceramics. You turned your head and opened your eyes to a wall of floor-to-ceiling tiles, arranged in soothing colors. 

You frowned at the familiar sense of the place.

Tilting your head backward, the minty-colored fold screen was unsurprisingly standing between gurneys, confirming where you were. Pilltover’s General Hospital.

And by the present company, maybe you had gone back to your time? Maybe forward? It didn’t make sense if they were here while you still looked human... something happened... Did you change anything that made the HexAngels different? 

The sound of footsteps clicking on the floor was enough to get your mind back to the situation at hand. You tried to move, but something was grabbing your extended arm.

Your gaze followed the extent of your arm until it reached a cuffed wrist. Your cuffed wrist. They had cuffed your arm to the bed. You pulled at the restraint, testing it. It rattled but didn’t open, as expected.

“It’s alright…” The Herald’s modified voice scrambled into a warm woman's tone, its footsteps coming closer and closer.

That’s new. You snapped your neck to the voice, inching as far as you could from it. 

The shape that appeared from behind the bed shifted from an abnormally beautiful construct to a tall and thin nurse. 

“What the…” You looked at her face. A smile plastered on her face, hands stretched toward you. “Where am I?”

She gave the expected answer, but she did not understand the depth of your question. 

“Why am I cuffed to the bed?” You asked, not moving from your seat on the floor, your backside becoming cold under the hospital gown.

“Officer Caitlyn wants to speak with you. You were found unconscious in the rubble of the attack.” The nurse went to grab you, and you swatted her hand as your vision layered her hand with a gold claw. She frowned.

“The rocket attack..." You mumbled, and she nodded.

“Quite the spectacle. If it had been in the Lanes, nobody would care.” She whispered, but you heard her.

“People died." You snapped, her eyes locking with yours.

“People die every day.” Her face contorted into a scowl, and you noticed a familiar accent in her speech, hidden behind the effort to sound Pilltovian. She’s from the Undercity.

You looked her in the eyes, and her indifference was palpable. She moved to grab you, but instead, she held her arm out. 

“Come on, let’s get you back in bed.”

You wrapped your free hand on the forearm and pulled yourself up, towering over her.

“There we go.” She patted the bed, and you complied, sitting on it. She stood in front of you, grabbing a tiny silver flashlight from her pocket and lifting it with one hand while the other went towards your face.

Reality shifted, and once again her hand transformed into a golden claw with white fingers. You swatted it away and moved your face out of reach.

“No touching?” She asked, and you nodded, her following your movement a second later. “Very well. But I need to check you.”

You felt the corners of your lips turn up at her sass. With the faint accent, it was like you were back at the Talis Lab.

“I’m fine.” you said, and she rolled her eyes.

“You survived a rocket hit to the head. Trust me, you are fine because we gave you drugs.”

She instructed you to pull your lower eyelids down, pull at your cheeks, and even gave you the tongue suppressor to look at the back of your throat.

"Just don’t touch the face.” 

“Very well, then you have to do it.”

“You seem very comfortable around someone in cuffs.” You told her as she gently peeled the gauze from a wound in your arm.

“People talk. From what’s been going around, you ran into the figurative building on fire. Sure, you knocked around a few enforcers, but sometimes they do need some sense knocked into them.” 

You enjoyed it as her accent became more and more pronounced the more she talked. Memories of good old times flooded your mind when another Undercity crossover would talk your ear off as you fine-tuned your instrument. You knew that accent by heart, even mocking him by mimicking it.

“How long ago did you cross the bridge?” You whispered, not wanting to divulge that information to the world. She raised an eyebrow.

“A few years back, before nursing school.” She kept choking your wounds. “How did you figure it out?”

“The way you speak. I knew…know…knew someone, a friend, a close friend who spoke like that. They were…are…from the other side as well.” You cleared your throat and gave her your best Viktor impression. “If you don’t succeed at first, you must try again, after hiding the evidence, of course."

You both fell into a comfortable silence, her checking your wounds and you reminiscing about the old days.

���That’s pretty good, actually. People here judge on sound alone. I’ve been hiding it for years, and you caught it in minutes.” She grinned.

“It does take practice and a good ear.” 

“You.” She grinned. “Councilor Medarda, Councillor Talis, Councillor Shoola, and Councillor Salo.”

“When was the attack?” You asked suddenly, and she looked up from examining your ankle.

“Two nights.”

“What time is it now?” 

“7 AM.”

“Who survived?”

Your ears drowned with the sound of your heartbeat. Did you go through all of this for this to end up the same way? Were you going to lose your friend again?

"Ah, yes, someone else was found in the rubble.” Your eyes snapped open as she got up from her crouched position. “The other Hextech founder... What’s his face? Lanky, tall, always standing behind Councilor Talis.

"Viktor?” You whispered, and she nodded.

“Yes, that one.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. He is alive. For now. The calmness you had from the news was quickly replaced by another violent attack soon.

“Did they announce the remembrance speech day?” You asked quickly.

“I don’t think they even announced the public funeral dates, let alone announce the speech day.” She scribbled something on the board at the foot of your bed. “Well, my job here is done. I hope they go easy on you.”

She nodded, and you nodded back, turning to lay back down on the bed.

You had to figure out a way to stop that speech day. Or stop Mel, Jayce, and Viktor from attending, which would be impossible since Mel would be the one giving out the speech and Jayce was going to follow Mel and Viktor was going to follow Jayce. Or be made to, since these types of events were far from his favorite thing.

Time traveling is complicated, especially when nobody seems to know you.

You frowned. Why did nobody know you? I mean, the enforcers at the hexgate sure, but the ones in the Academy? You were practically a light fixture there, with the amount of time you spent inside.

And then it hit you like a rocket. They didn’t know you because you either didn’t exist or had a completely other life. So there was another possibility to your whole existence in this place. You could have time traveled, yes, but what was stopping whatever did this to you from making you jump through time and space?

What if this was another dimension, another universe, another timeline? What if the gods or whoever was trying to add variants to the timeline and see what got them the best results? 

Your head was about to explode with this new information. Being cuffed to this bed in this brightly lit room was not helping the situation either.

You needed to get out. Without knowing what was the catalyst in this universe for the rise of the Herald, you couldn't stop it. You could warn Viktor; what better way to stop him from himself if he knew the consequences? But what if warning him was exactly what made him go through with it? His magnum opus actually worked for better or worse.

Introducing a single keystroke of a sonata could change the whole tune. You had to warn him, discreetly. Which you couldn’t because you were cuffed to a bed.

Reality moved, and for the first time since it did, you focused on it. It felt like when you’d be in the lab and you could feel a spark of something in the wrong place, waiting for the right circumstance to zap. Another whisper. A soundless gasp reverberated around you. The sound of metal vibrating as it’s struck made waves around you, like a stone that hit the water. 

You managed to decipher, in between the waves, a new rune. 

Whatever powers were drip-feeding you, these runes hadn’t failed you yet. You looked around for a pen, a dusty surface. Nothing. You looked at the hand with the rune scarred into it. Nothing.

You looked at the side table. A glass of water. You tilted it on the table, but as you drew the rune, you watched as it became disfigured. The water wasn’t keeping its shape on the flat surface.

Quickly, you patted the side of your bedding down, making it as smooth as possible. When it was flat enough, you dipped your fingers in the water and drew the rune on the sheet.

Stop the attack. Flick. Nothing.

Did you need it to be broader or more detailed? You tried again.

You flailed your hands around in frustration. The rattling of the cuff on the metal side of the bed echoing around is this wrapped reality. 

Save Piltover. Flick. Nothing

Stop the Herald. Flick. Nothing

"Just unlock, you piece of—"

Growing frustrated, you punched the rune. Something clicked, and your hand was freed.

The world got back to normal, and you inspected your wrist, your gaze shifting from your wrist to the cuff. 

You shook your head to clear it and immediately made your way out of the bed, limping your way out of the six-bed infirmary. Some of the orderlies looked at you sharply, but with the attack they seemed to have their hands full, choosing to effectively ignore you. 

You grabbed someone’s jacket from the foot of a bed and put it on, thanking the gods they had kept your socks on.

The hospital was crowded, and you took that opportunity to make your way towards the exit. You kept your walk brisk and your head down, trying to walk around everything and everybody. Your heart was at your throat. Sneaking was never your forte; the last time you did, your father caught you halfway out the gates of the manor. You sighed, remembering the way he made fun of you more than argued. Footsteps light as a cannonball. You were usually the distraction for the sneaking, being the preferred go-to person for when the boys wanted to sneak a particular piece of equipment into the lab and didn’t need anyone to know. Especially Heimerdinger.

Forgetting your misadventures for a moment, you look up and see the glass doors, and beyond them the street. A couple of more steps. You quickened your pace, breaking into a small, limping run towards the doors.

The fresh air made you stop as it hit you in the face and you realized how damp and dense the air in the hospital was. You took a deep breath and started to make your way towards the sidewalk, looking up at the street, trying to map in your head the easiest way to get to the Academy, maybe even Viktor’s apartment, and if both failed, the Skyward Clinic, the topside private hospital. If any of them was hurt, that's where they would place them.

With your route mentally traced, you turned around to go down the correct route when something—or better, someone—made you stop dead in your tracks.

The Sheriff of Piltover to be, Caitlyn Kiraman, was standing right behind you. One eyebrow raised, arms crossed, eyes red and puffy. The scowl on her face contorting her pretty features.

You are about to run in the other direction, knowing that getting sent to jail would not help in your 'save-Piltover-from-the-Hextech-co-creator-genius-by-saving-said-Hextech-co-creator-genius’ plan when you feel the presence of two people behind you.

“I am not in the mood for games,” Caitlyn said, her voice matching her rigid stance. “If you are well enough to walk, you are well enough to talk. I can bring you in conscious or not. Your choice.”

“Why am I being arrested?” You asked, knowing full well that the trail of unconscious enforcers you left behind two days ago wasn’t exactly lawful.

She simply nodded to the enforcers behind you. They grabbed your arms unceremoniously and cuffed you, shoving you in the back of an Enforcer van.

············ • ············

Groaning, you rest your forehead on the table, the cool temperature of the metal helping the headache. You are sitting inside a concrete room, with your hands cuffed to the table. Caitlyn had left you there to stew.

"I'll be back... eventually." She had spat as she closed and locked the door.

With nothing but time to think, you went through your magic runes. With a limited range of motion, you started by drawing them on the dusty table without any intent for them, pushing them out with a tap of your finger.

Move. Tap. A miniscule part of the table seemed to become liquid, like you had thrown a pebble into a calm river, but nothing shifted or moved.

Unlock. Tap. Both of the cuffs and the door behind you clicked open, and you slowly looked between them.

Before you could get up and walk out, the door slammed open with a very puzzled Caitlyn standing just outside. She looked at the door and then you. Shrugging, you turned back to the table, quickly clicking your wrists together to reclose the cuffs.

“Who are you?” She asked, dismissing whatever thought she had previously.

You answer with your name. First and last.

“Adding ‘identity theft’ to your crimes isn’t going to help you. Who are you?”

Nodding your sighed content. If it’s identity theft, then there is someone with that name. Maybe you’d meet yourself and the dimension would implode. Or they could help you. 

“I would like to speak with my father, Counsellor Rainemour.”

Cailyn raised an eyebrow at your question, setting the folder down and watching you with hawk eyes.

You opened your mouth to answer but didn’t know how to. So, you repeated your name. She groaned and sat down in front of you.

“There is no Counsellor Rainemour.” She stated,coldly.

“But the Rainemours are in Piltover, yes?”

“Enough with this! Who are you? The truth! Now!”

And finally the penny dropped. The reason why it was Caitlyn who was questioning you. She had been such a normal face to talk to, to look at, to bounce ideas with, that it didn’t dawn on you why she was the one talking to you now. The daughter and soon-to-be head of the Kiraman family. She thought you had something to do with the rocket attack.

“Do you know who Jinx is?”

"No.” you lied.

“Do you have anything to do with the attack on the Council of Piltover?”

“Ah… That’s why it’s you. No…”

“Trespassing on government grounds, assaulting several officers of the law, entering a governmental space without authorization, and last but not least involvement in the rocket attack that left several of the councilors dead or injured.”

“Then what were you doing in the council room?”

“I was trying to warn the councilors about it.”

“So you knew about it,” she shot quickly.

“Knowing of a crime and being involved in it are two very different things.” You fired back. “Why am I being arrested?”

You looked at her and made sure she was looking at you, seeing the frown grow deeper as you raised an eyebrow.

Counselor Rainemour liked to argue. He was a lawyer; his whole life was about arguing. Whether it was about Piltover's government or about the ant's right to the sugar in the house. And you loved to argue back. You not only had the patience but also the stubbornness and willingness to argue with your father. You never won, but you also absorbed anything he gave you. Laws, regulations, how the system worked—you were a sponge. If for nothing else, to use it in a following discussion.

“First, I never intended to trespass. I didn't even know I was trespassing. If you don’t know who I am, then I am not in the Piltover's identification system, which means I am not from Piltover. I took a wrong turn.” You leaned back into the chair, the pride and arrogance of a Topsider dripping on every word. You hated to admit this, but sometimes you missed being this person.

“And ended up inside our most complex method of transportation?” She shot back.

“I’m a visitor; how do I know what the inside of the most complex method of transportation in Piltover looks like?”

“You are not a visitor.” She spat and sat down. “It took you 4 minutes and 45 seconds to go from the top floor of the Gate to the Council room. You took shortcuts and straight lines toward the Academy. You are not a visitor.”

You shrugged at her humorless grin. 

“Circumstantial, I may just have a very good sense of direction.” She was about to open her mouth, and you raised a finger. "Secondly, the only officer I assaulted was the one at the gate, and technically it could be considered self-defense. I was confused. He was shoving me. I got scared. He was a very intimidating figure.”

Some part of you was proud to be deflecting all of this; the other knew Caitlyn wouldn’t just forgive and forget. If you got out with even so much as a fine, she would hunt you down.

“What about the other ones?” She gritted her teeth and leaned forward.

“What other ones? I didn’t touch anybody else. Ask them. For all we know, they tripped and fell.”

“Third: "Forcibly" already indicates that it lacked authorization or consent to do whatever you are accusing me of. However...” Now the big finale. “Page 450 of the Piltover’s Government Guidelines, City Emergency chapter, 1st paragraph: any citizen of Piltover is allowed unauthorized entrance to the council chamber if the need to inform the council of a threat to the city is urgent and cannot be delayed. This entrance can be done even if the council is in session.”

You took a little pride in remembering this little snippet. Even if the reason you knew it was not because of your father. In fact, you knew it because Viktor had once made a miscalculation on a hextech concept that Jayce was about to present to the council. So he had burst into the room to try and warn their friend mid-session.

Turns out, saving your friend's face from total academic embarrassment is not a threat to the city.

“You must be really stupid.” At the insult, you narrowed your eyes. "Going on and on with your technicalities, knowing I can use it against you.”

There was one insult that had always made your blood boil. Stupid. You could be called dumb, ditzy, or unintelligent. Anything but stupid. Your Caitlyn knew that; your Caitlyn was the first to punch someone when they did it.

“My father is a lawyer, Miss Kiraman.” Your face turned cold, your tone hard. The shift was enough to make Caitlyn’s eyebrows go up for a millisecond. “He thrived on technicalities. And you can’t use shit from what I just said. You didn’t read me my rights. Nothing I said since you stepped foot in the room can or will be used against me. This…” You pointed between the two of you. “Is nothing more than two friends catching up. Your grief is clouding your judgment.”

For a second, the tension was as loud as a trumpet, and the silence was as thick as a fog. Caitlyn slammed her hands on the table and leaned into it, getting her face an inch away from yours, only to be stopped by someone shoving the door open.

“What are you doing, Miss Kiraman?” An unfamiliar female voice announced from behind you.

············ • ············

Viktor didn’t believe in luck. 

Because if he did, all his accomplishments could have been derived from it. So he just didn’t believe in it much. Sure, maybe finding some coins on the floor was luck, but not much more than that.

Everything he did and does is to make sure nothing is left to luck or chance. Every number on the blackboard, every calculation on his blueprints.

But now, standing in the middle of the destroyed council room, Viktor felt lucky. Extremely lucky.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @adithsaley @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa

[aayakashii]

Finally managed to finish this fic 🧘🏻‍♀️ this one is for the members of Haku Gfs Club™️ @ghoulspaw @kusanagihaku and @pinkaditty

I just gave it a read so it's not properly edited – I apologize if there are too many mistakes in it ;-; I'm not super satisfied with this one, but I hope you guys like it <3 Also, it's a standalone, so there will be no continuation!

The title comes from a Florence+ The Machine song, Addicted to Love.

might as well face it

You never really knew why Haku didn't frequent Rui's bar. And honestly, you never thought of asking either. Among the thousands of secrets every ghoul always kept from you, that one seemed innocuous enough for you to ignore.

So, when Rui called you at 3am on a weekday, you would never guess he would ask you to escort Haku back to Hotarubi.

“Sorry, doll, you're the only one I can ask to help me with this.” Rui's voice sounded sincerely apologetic. “There's no one else here in the bar, I promised Lyca I'd help him with his homework – and you know how he gets when he's expecting something – and Subaru isn't answering his phone.”

You shrugged, as you changed out of your pajamas.

“I mean, it IS late at night and he’s way more responsible than us. But what happened to him?”

“Oh, you know.” You imagined Rui waving his hand dismissively. “Hakucchi can't hold his liquor very well. He's wasted.”

You pursed your lips, trying hard not to laugh. The thought of the most nonchalant and aloof man you knew tripping on his own feet amused you more than it probably should.

“And why can't he stay in one of the rooms like Haru does sometimes?”

Rui sighed loudly.

“He's adamant on going back to Hotarubi. I'm trying to keep him here for a little longer because I'm worried about him just crashing and sleeping in the middle of Obscuary's woods. Who knows, he could legit die on his way back.”

It was your turn to sigh loudly. A dull headache was slowly forming in the back of your head.

“Okay… I'm going.” You grumbled as you made your way outside of your dorm and into the chilly night. “He's lucky I wasn't asleep yet.”

“Thank you, cutie, I owe you one and Haku will owe you his life~” Rui made a sharp kissing sound on his end of the line, quickly hanging up before you could have any change of heart.

And after a hurried walk towards Obscuary and sincere apologies from Rui, you ended up trudging through the campus with a very much inebriated, heavy, limp-bodied Haku leaning on your shoulder – his sultry voice murmuring nonsensical things in your ear as you suppressed a shiver from going down your spine.

His breath smelled like one of Rui's sweet, sparkly drinks – the ones you drank when you didn't want to wake up the next day with a mean hangover.

Haku really was extremely lightweight, it seemed.

“You smell so good” Haku murmured, nuzzling your head as he leaned all his weight onto your body, feet dragging clumsily on the ground.

Not only were you struggling not to trip and fall headfirst onto the asphalt, bringing a grown man down with you; said grown man made the task all the more difficult as he kept on shamelessly flirting with you.

“Haku, please, can't you help me a little bit here? Try to walk a bit too, come on.” You grunted, pushing him away from you, only to have him throw his arms around your shoulders once more.

“But it feels so good like this.” He murmured way too close to your ear and you gritted your teeth, shutting your eyes tightly in order to keep your thoughts from going to places you really didn't want to visit.

Haku's breathy, silky voice had always been your worst and weakest point. Sometimes you wondered if he knew it, consciously or not. If he did, it would definitely explain how he always sounded just a little bit more husky, just a little bit more sultry whenever you two were alone.

“I can't carry you properly like this, though?! Look, we're already at Hotarubi. Try to walk just a little bit longer, please?” You huffed and puffed, the exertion and the warmth of his body overpowering the cold night and causing you to break a sweat.

“Hmm…” he hummed before rubbing his cheek against your hair, then sighed. “Okay… but just because it's you who's asking.”

Haku straightened his back as much as he could, slinging just one arm around your shoulder, and stumbled inside his dorm. You finally managed to breathe properly, relieved of all the dead weight he had been putting on your shoulder.

Still, you navigated through Hotarubi's slippery corridors quite poorly as Haku's head hung low and he blinked slowly, fading in and out of a drunken sleep while you dragged him to his room.

Once inside, you watched with an amused and exasperated look as Haku stumbled towards his futon, letting himself fall heavily onto it, face down, with a loud groan of someone who subconsciously knew he'd very much regret his choice to drink afterwards.

You wiped the sweat off of your forehead while you walked towards him.

“Sit up just a little bit. You can't sleep with your uniform like this.”

He shuffled on his bed, slowly propping himself on his elbows.

“Trying to get me out of my clothes, are you, Honor Student? How bold you are. Thought you'd ask me out for dinner first.” He murmured with a smirk and half-lidded eyes.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose and pushing all of your confusing emotions away. You would not deal with your feelings right then and there. Not when Haku was so obviously out of his mind.

“You can't sleep with your blazer otherwise you'll wrinkle it. Unless you're a Frostheim bourgeois who has a whole collection of these expensive ass blazers. If not, you need to take it off.” you said, exasperated. You held out your hand, motioning for him to give you his clothes.

He raised his eyebrows and nodded slowly, as if you had said something incredibly wise. You very much knew how expensive those blazers were after seeing how careful Kaito was with his. You wouldn’t let Haku just ruin his uniform.

He clumsily took off his blazer and handed it to you.

“You know, rumor has it that I might have been, in fact, a Frostheim bourgeois.”

You were trying so very hard not to notice the scent of sandalwood that clung in his blazer as you hung it on a nearby chair, that you almost didn't pay attention to the little gem of information he seemed to be offering to you. Almost.

“Well... Were you?” you asked with one eyebrow raised.

He grinned mischievously, putting a finger on his lips and shushing loudly. You rolled your eyes at his drunken antics as you scooted closer to help him out of his vest and tie.

“Sit properly so I can help you out of this vest and necktie.”

He pouted, rolling his head back. The sharp pops of his neck made him grimace.

“I think… That you’re enjoying undressing me.” he smirked as his head hung to the side. “You can always do this, you know, you just have to ask.”

You fidgeted in your position and pressed the heels of your hands on your eyes. You rubbed your face, trying hard to erase the tingling feeling on your cheeks and ignore his unabashed flirting.

‘He’s drunk. He’s just fucking drunk’ you chanted in your mind and took a deep breath.

“I’m just trying to help you not ruin the most expensive parts of your uniform, you dumbass.” you muttered, avoiding eye contact.

Haku threw his head to the other side, placing a hand over his heart as if you had just physically hurt him.

“Oh, how cold, Honor Student.” he sighed, head still limp as if he couldn’t hold it upright, but began to shuffle in place as he sat properly on his futon.

You held your breath while you opened his vest as fast as you possibly could, ignoring the heaviness of his gaze. He blinked lazily, eyes scanning your face and your hands as you fiddled with his buttons and then moved to loosen his tie.

You tried not to notice how he licked his lips when you pushed the vest out of his shoulders, but the gooseflesh that pricked your skin was proof that you failed.

“Hey.” He called out to you, voice hoarse and low - the type of voice you had always imagined he would have during early mornings, right after waking up, when his golden eyes would still be glossy with sleepiness.

You shook your head, pushing the thought away, and got up to place his vest and tie on the chair, right on top of his blazer.

“Yes?” you asked, straightening imaginary wrinkles on his clothes only to avoid his eyes.

Haku paused for a moment, as if waiting for you to turn around to look at him. When you didn’t, he took a deep breath and leaned back on his elbows once again.

“I'm so in love with you.” He murmured with a lazy smile on his face and his eyes closed, as if he had just told you the most obvious thing in the world.

You closed your eyes as your breath hitched and your hands curled into fists, gripping the fabric of his uniform tightly and undoing all your efforts of keeping it pristine and straightened.

Despite yourself, you felt a giddiness bubble inside your stomach. You wondered how many nights you’ve spent imagining scenarios in which he would say that exact thing.

Scenarios in which you actually deserved him saying such things while sober and not an overly-affectionate drunk.

You were quiet when you kneeled besides his feet to untie his laces and take off his shoes and socks.

“You hear? I'm in love with you.” He repeated as he nudged you with his knee, opening his eyes for a moment to check if you were actually paying attention. You gritted your teeth, jaw visibly flexing.

“Huh. Is that so.” You answered, bitter and cold, but your dismissal seemed to have gone over his head as he closed his eyes and sighed with a dreamy look on his face.

“Yeah. I love you. So much.”

You shot up to your feet, as if his words shocked you like an electric current, and walked towards his desk to grab his water bottle. You placed it right beside him with a heavy, tired sigh. You really didn't need that at that moment.

“Do you have paracetamol so you can take it if you need it during the morning?”

Haku furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, nose scrunching in a way that he never did while sober. You cursed yourself for thinking he looked adorable.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asked.

“About?”

“I love you.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the leaps of your heart whenever he said those words.

“You're drunk, Haku.” You breathed out, looking at him with exasperation in your voice.

“And…?”

“You're spewing nonsense.” You muttered, dusting yourself off only to avoid his gaze and to keep your hands occupied. “Go to sleep and you'll feel better tomorrow.”

“You don't believe me?” Haku widened his eyes, a tinge of hurt audible in his honeyed voice.

“The alcohol is making you say things you don't mean. Go to sleep.”

“You don't believe me.” Hurt quickly changed to incredulity.

“Good night, Haku. If you need anything, you can send me a message.”

“No, wa-wait.”

Haku quickly tried to get on his feet, but the dizziness still clouded his movements and he ended up tripping, falling on his knees. You gasped and kneeled beside him, eyes trained on his knees that had hit the tatami floor with an uncomfortable thud.

“Are you okay?” You asked, hand hovering over his back.

Haku slowly turned his head towards you. His golden slitted eyes glinted with something you couldn't quite understand.

“Why don't you believe me?” He murmured.

You opened your mouth, then closed it – no words made their way out of your lips.

God fucking dammit.

How could you even begin to explain to him all the reasons why you couldn't believe in him – but mostly how you couldn't believe in yourself – no matter how much you wanted to?

“Do you think I would lie about something like that?” He narrowed his eyes, looking at you as if you had broken his heart.

“I don't.” You found your voice after long, uncomfortable seconds. “I just think you're letting the alcohol make you believe things that aren't true.”

He shook his head vigorously and you couldn't help but think that it probably made his dizziness a lot worse.

“I wouldn't let some alcohol make me confess my love for anyone else.” he grasped your hand with a lot more force than you were expecting him to have. You tried to pull it away, but his grip was that of steel.

“Please… go to sleep.” you felt your throat tightening and a pressure behind your eyes.

“I've thought of you every single moment of my days ever since I saw you. You don't get to dictate how I feel just because you don't feel the same way as I do.” his brows furrowed again, sudden aggravation taking up his features.

You almost gasped. Haku never got angry at you, not even when you were a lot to handle, nor when you made his life a bit harder. What an irony it was that the first time would be while he was confessing.

“That's not what this is about.” you shook your head.

“Then what is it?”

You felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. You quickly bit it hard, in order to keep your emotions at bay, ducking your hand down and shutting your eyes tightly.

You briefly regretted taking Rui's call. Opening the can of worms that was your feelings for Haku was probably one of the last things you wanted to do late at night, in the middle of the week. You had spent too much time closing that can very tightly, vacuum sealing it and stashing it in the depths of your mind, only to have all your effort ruined in mere minutes.

Haku placed his other hand on your cheek, gently tilting your head back up. You kept your eyes shut.

“It's okay if you don't love me.” He murmured, the same tinge of sorrowful acceptance in his voice as the one you usually heard when he talked about his family. “It won't change how I feel. I just want to know from your mouth.”

“Haku…” your eyelids fluttered.

“Just say you don't like me. Look me in the eyes and say it. And I promise I'll leave you be.”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His pupils were blown out and you could barely make out the golden ring of his irises. He looked at you with an adoration that could genuinely make you sick.

“I can't.” you whispered and leaned into his touch.

“Then-”

“I can't just doom you, Haku. I can't take you down with me. You can find someone better, someone who deserves you. Someone who isn't cursed.” you blurted out, the words flowing freely from your lips now that the dam had been broken.

“Don't say that.”

“But it's true. I would… I would love to let you love me.” At that, his eyes opened wide and you could almost see hope forming deep inside them. “But I can't, in good conscience.”

Haku leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Why?”

“It would be selfish of me. What if I die from my curse? You'd be hurt.” You gulped, shaking your head and backing away from him. “And worse, what if I hurt you if I become a monster?”

His hand, still gripping yours tightly, pulled you back close to him. His eyes were wide, wild, searching yours.

“And why would any of this matter?”

You blinked, confused.

“What?”

Haku scoffed, as if you were being absolutely stupid. As if you were the drunk one.

“I already love you. I don't need your permission to feel my feelings. Even if you kept me at arm's length, it wouldn't change how I feel.”

You were quiet as he grabbed your other hand and held both of them tightly against his chest. You could feel the loud and fast thump of his heart against your skin.

“And if you let me, we can look for a solution together. Worst case scenario, we'd be together for less time than I wished for. But any time with you would already be perfect.” He rested his forehead against yours once again. “Even if it was just a second.”

God. Zenji was right when he said Haku was a charmer. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I wouldn't say this kind of thing to just anyone, though. Not sober, nor drunk. I can only say it to you.” he added, finally.

Your shuddering breath was the only sound between the two of you as you allowed his words to sink into your brain.

Deep down, you knew your hesitancy was never because of his drunken state, although it still kept you on your toes. As much as you were aware that your fears were the main source of your insecurity, a small part of you was still terribly afraid of him forgetting it all in the morning.

You felt his breath get heavier and deeper for a few seconds before Haku hurriedly shuffled onto his feet and stumbled fast towards the balcony of his room, which hovered just a few inches over Hotarubi's lake. You winced when you heard the muffled sounds of him throwing up.

After a few minutes, he dragged his feet back to his room, looking ashamed and terribly disheveled.

“Are you okay?” You asked, handing him his water bottle.

“I'm sorry.” He said, voice raspy after the strain. He took long, big gulps of water before sighing loudly.

“It's okay.” You chuckled, leading him towards his futon. “Go lie down and sleep. Please?”

Haku eyed you with utter indignation.

“We will continue our conversation tomorrow.” he stated, seriously, but finally relenting to your request. You nodded, sighing.

“Yes, yes, we will. Now go lie down, okay?” You pushed him gently, helping him as he tried to get on top of his bed.

“And I will repeat every word I said to you in the morning when I'm completely sober just so you can't say I'm lying.” He continued while you fluffed his pillow and helped him get under his covers.

“Even if I have a huge headache and feel like shit, I will repeat everything.” He muttered, eyes quickly getting heavy as you finished tucking him neatly into his bed.

You couldn't help but smile as his eyes so quickly grew heavy with sleep, while still mumbling incoherent things.

“Good night, Haku” you whispered.

Between long, heavy blinks, he turned his head towards you.

“I love you.” He whispered one last time, before finally letting sleep wash over his body.

Your heart twisted inside your chest – a mix of fear, apprehension and excitement bubbling in your chest and your stomach, that could make you scream. Instead, you watched as his breathing got deep and even, before gently pushing his hair away from his forehead.

You leaned in, placing a faint kiss on his forehead, inhaling the comforting scent of incense that followed him wherever he went.

Against his skin, you confessed.

“I love you too.”

[liyue-harbour]

bathroom lies, party truths

sukuna x reader, college au, best friend's brother troupe sukuna's a jerk at the start but he softens up, a little suggestive at the end ++ sukuna’s in his 4th year of college while you’re in your 2nd | masterlist

summary: yuji's throwing a party and you're just trying to survive the chaos when you end up at the wrong door— sukuna's room. your best friend's brother has always been off-limits, but tonight feels different.

you stand outside the wrong door, hand poised to knock as the loud music from the living room booms in the background. you're pretty sure that this door doesn't lead to the bathroom— scratch that, you knew that it wasn't. but before you could bail, the door swings open.

"well this is unexpected." sukuna stands by the door dressed casually in a hoodie and sweats, his sharp eyes narrowing in recognition before a smirk tugs at his lips. "didn't think you were the type to get lost at a party. bathroom's next door, by the way."

you roll your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks. "i know where the bathroom is. it's occupied. i'm just... waiting."

sukuna quirks an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "waiting. outside my door. what, the hallway too boring for you?"

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "thought it'd be quieter in here. but if you're gonna be a jerk, i'll go wait somewhere else."

"relax," sukuna chuckles, stepping aside. "come on. i'll even let you stay, as long as you close the door. music's driving me insane." you slip inside, pulse quickening as you take in his room, chaos of the party muffling behind the closed door. his room is a stark contrast to the outside— simple but clean, with a stack of textbooks open on his desk. the sight throws you off.

"i didn't take you for the studying-during-a-party type," you say, eyeing the open engineering textbook.

sukuna shrugs, sinking back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair. "i'm not here for a party, kid. i've got finals next week."

the nickname stings, even though it shouldn't. he's been calling you that for years, despite the fact that you're not a kid anymore. "you know i'm in college now, right? you don't have to keep calling me that."

he smirks, glancing up at you. "old habits die hard."

you fold your arms, rolling your eyes at him. "yuji mentioned you were turning into a bit of a nerd these days."

now it's sukuna's turn to roll his eyes. "he would say that, that brat...how is he by the way? you're keeping an eye on him right? he's not getting too crazy?"

you smile. "he's fine. don't worry. i left him with megumi and nobara."

"good," he says, nodding. "still can't believe you idiots are in college now. feels like yesterday when you and the other two climbed out of yuji's window in the middle of the night. bet that wasn't your influence."

your cheeks flush. "that was his idea, not mine!"

"sure, sure," he says, smirking. "you had your phase. but now you found the right path, right? being quite good in college i hear."

"how'd you know?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

"yuji talks about you and the others all the time." sukuna's grin softens ever so slightly, gaze lingering on you.

the room feels smaller suddenly, the air heavier. you clear your throat, trying to steer the conversation. "what about you? how's the single life treating you?"

sukuna leans back in his chair, exhaling. "yuji told you about that, huh. we broke up like six months ago or something. it's not bad, i've gotten over it."

you nod and silence settles between you, charged with something unspoken. when sukuna finally breaks it, his voice is just a little softer. "so, what do you think of me?"

the question catches you off guard "what?"

“you heard me,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “you tell me what you think of me, and maybe i’ll return the favour.”

you hesitate, heart pounding. finally, you decide to go for it. "fine. i think you're a jerk sometimes, smart, funny and—" you pause, looking away. "pretty good looking."

sukuna smirks, "wow, you think i'm handsome?" then he laughs, the sound warm and genuine.

"shut up..." you mutter, crossing your arms.

"no, no. i appreciate the honesty," he says. "i always that you were cute, funny, and smart. you got the three attributes down, and a little bit of a brat probably."

you look away sheepishly, unable to continue meeting his gaze. sukuna continues. "when you were in the first year of college i did think of asking you out but you know, you're yuji's friend and i had my girlfriend during that time."

you breath hitches hearing that confession. "you're not just saying that, are you?"

"not at all," he murmurs, voice low as he stands and moves closer to you.

now, you look back at him. taking a breath, you ask, your voice slowly becoming softer. "what exactly are we going to do with this information now..."

before you can second-guess yourself and overthink, his hand brushes yours, tentative but firm. you can no longer hear the music outside sukuna's door slowly fades away completely as you focus and he leans in, his lips barely brushing yours. “yeah, i was right. definitely cute, i’ll give ya that.”

when he pulls back, he glances toward the door behind. he reaches past you, the click of the lock loud in the quiet room. when he turns back, his expression is all mischief, "don't need any drunk idiots walking in on us."

© liyue-harbour 2024 (it's been almost a year since i wrote?? as usual, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated!)

[just-a-ghost00]

Are they "spying" on you? Why?

I just felt called to do this reading very randomly. The theme is also very random. I just thought these pictures were just so adorable.

Group 1

Trust, Love, Surrender rx, Paradox & back of the deck Strength

They try not to. They try so hard. But they just can't resist the urge to check up on you. Watching you from afar is this person's guilty pleasure. Curiosity just gets the best of them. Even if they tell themselves "I should forget about group 1, I have other things to deal with", they constantly find themselves with their nose up in your business lmao Part of the reason why they stalk you is because this person feels a bit confused when it comes to you. They like you but paradoxically they kinda wish they didn't. This person has a hard time trusting others and opening their heart to people in general, especially romantically. They don't want to surrender to whatever may be going on between you but at the same time they just always feel called to come back to you. They just can't stay away from you no matter how hard they try, no matter the number of reasons they try to find to explain why they just should leave and never look back. They try resisting you so hard that it is painful to them. It just feels so unnatural to deny their feelings and attraction. But at the same time, this "love" doesn't make sense to them. I guess that they were surprised to meet you and didn't expect to get attached to you so quickly. And they may be viewing this attachment as a weakness for some reason. I just feel like this person is scared of being toyed with, being hurt and taken advantage of. Which is absolutely legitimate and understandable. Also, I'm getting that they check up on you because they want to see if you're in a similar state. If you too are also confused and feeling messed up ever since you met them. A part of them wants to be reassured and know whether they're alone in this situation or if you reciprocate the feeling. The truth is this person just adores you and somehow has a hard time coming to terms with that. I wonder why that is. Let's pull some tarot cards to get to the depth of this situation.

You got the ace of pentacles, White Numen, 3 of wands, 10 of cups, 2 of swords, Queen of cups.

They just have so many hopes and dreams for this connection that it scares them. Because they feel like it is too much too soon. They're not sure that they're allowed to have such thoughts of you. I feel like they're doubting their sanity in a way. Like "is it even healthy to think of group 1 this way when we don't know each other" kind of inner struggle. Because to this person you mean so much more than what they let on. Not only do they have feelings for you but they hope for a future with you. They want to take the connection to a higher level and see where this leads because they just feel so happy with you and safe. And it just feels like the right thing to do. However, maybe your attitude towards them lead them to believe that you may not be wanting the same thing. So they're puzzled. There's a dilemma going on here. "Should I keep hoping for more or should I just move on?" is what may be going through their mind. I also had the impression that there was another person playing a role in this indecision and confusion. Possibly another interest that they had in the past. And this person's energy is sometimes coming back in their bubble, which pushes this person to try to forget about you. But it's not as easy as they thought it would be. I feel like for others of you that third energy is actually distance. This person is scared of how living at a distance from one another could be impacting the connection. Like "yeah I like group 1 but what if that disappears with time since we don't see each other that much" kind of feeling. Also they may be scared that you end up picking someone else and when they do come in, it's too late for them. So that could also explain why they check up on you. They want to see if you found someone else. This spread also made me feel like this person puts you on a pedestal and feels like they're no match for you.

Group 2

The Weaver, Ask Body rx, Transmute, Shadow & back of the deck Pillar

I wanted to say no but the last two cards made me think otherwise. I feel like this person is not directly checking up on you but is getting information about you through their friends or through their intuition. Also, it could be that they don't actively seek out for you but even if they try not to check up on you, you just constantly appear on their feed or things just remind them of you. Similarily to group 1, I get the feeling of someone fighting the urge not to stalk. And this person is better at it than group 1's person. When they do check up on you, which I feel like doesn't happen very often, this person does their very best for you not to notice. So they could use fake accounts or apps that allow them to see your content without their name appearing in your notifications. I feel the reason why they act this way is because this person is trying to get their control back. It's like they had lost themselves in the connection and they feel like they have to heal from that. So they try to remain at a distance from you and try to keep the interactions at a minimal level. Cause they know that if they open the door, they'll just lose it. I feel like this person just wants to keep a hold on their desire for you. And rather than expressing their passion and pulling you in this spiral of lust, they would rather use this energy as a source of power and inspiration. I feel like they're trying to keep themselves busy and staying on the low. You may notice that this person is less active on their socials or if they do post, they're keeping things very surface level and kind of mysterious. Like they share stuff without sharing too much so it would be hard to really know what they're up to. I also picked up on the energy of someone releasing sexual tension through art or through their work. Or also through physical activity. This person may be hitting the gym more often. You may have noticed physical changes in their appearance. That's because they're trying to distract themselves from the effect you have on them. Since I pulled tarot cards for group 1, I will do the same for you as well.

You got White Numen, 8 of wands, Chariot rx, 9 of cups, Hierophant, ace of cups.

Boy I knew this spread was connected to group 1. If you hesitated between the two groups, you may want to check G1 then. This person got the feels but more importantly they got the hots for you, like really hots. This person is desparately fighting the urge to rush towards you and go down on you. There's so much that they want to say to you but they hold that back because they think you'll think they're crazy. This person daydreams about you 24/7. You're their wish fulfillment. You have everything that they dream of when it comes to their vision of what a partner should be like. This person definitely considers you commitment material and they just love you plain and simple. I have to mention that the 3 of cups is at the back of the deck. Just like in group 1, there's a third party energy here lurking in the shadows. This may be a past connection. But also, this could be that this person is trying to keep things friendly with you because they're just overwhelmed by how they feel towards you and it scares them. It's like they're trying to run away from their feelings and the way they do that is by drowning themselves in work, focusing on various activities at the time to make it look like they're not available for you. Again, I also get that friend group energy like this person's friends know you or something. Maybe they tell this person about how you're doing so that they don't have to feel guilty. Or actually, maybe their friends are trying to get this person to lower their guards down and actually give in to temptation when it comes to you. For some reason, I picked up on a friend saying stuff like "oh group 2 posted a picture, omg they're so beautiful" just to get this person to react. Maybe they even try to make them jealous by interacting with you. That feels a bit weird lmao but I feel like your person's friends are rooting for you and trying to get your person to talk to you. But this person is like "nah we're just friends, group 2 doesn't want me, it's better if we don't talk" and their friends are like "sure, who do you think you're kidding just go and talk to them dumbass".

Group 3

Manifest, Self Love, The Universe, Compassion & back of the deck Connect to heart

No, they are not stalking you. The reason for that is because this person is focused on their self growth, their health and their personal goals. They are doing their best to manifest their desired reality, thus they don't have much energy left to focus on you. This isn't to say that they do not like you. I feel like this person appreciates and values you but they just don't feel the need to check up on you and know every detail of what you're doing. I feel like this person has been through a lot lately and just needs to focus on themselves, to recharge their batteries and do what feels right for them. So they're just not up in your space and they mind their own business. This person is likely to be at a distance from you and you may not hear from them at all. Also I'm getting that this person feels connected to you spiritually so they feel like they don't have to stalk you because they already know deep down you're doing okay. They just intuitively know that you understand them and care about them just like they do. They also trust that you respect their privacy and need for space, so they're not worried and they just do their own thing in their little bubble. They may even have deleted their apps to avoid risking interacting with you. They just don't want to be distracted and they need the time and space to come back to their senses and to heal. I asked spirit for more details so I drew tarot cards just like I did for the previous groups.

You got 9 of cups, 4 of cups, knight of pentacles, 8 of cups, Star rx, White Numen.

This person is focused on their dreams and their emotional needs. They just felt disconnected from you and they didn't see any reason to keep going knowing that they weren't feeling it. So they pulled their energy back and poured it back into their own cup. This person has a lot of respect for you and is thankful for the time spent with you. However they just feel like they have to go their own way for the time being. They didn't see a purpose in trying to make the connection work when they didn't see anything come out of it. They thought it would be hurting you both for no reason. And this person didn't want to hurt you. Also they felt like there was no hope left for your connection and that they were called somewhere else. I'm also getting that their work is taking a lot of their attention and energy so this person just didn't have space for you in their life.