#should've stayed in my lane

[hozaloza]

My take on Aidlyn is that it's heavily one sided............

Aiden may have feelings for Ashlyn, but I feel like she doesn't reciprocate.

Why? I mean, sure, that one frame she was blushing at the photo....but like people can blush if they're just happy

So....

No this isn't bc I want her to end up with Ben......I'm just thinking in the perspective of what I've observed so far (bc there's nothing to observe in the cranes that I haven't noticed already.........................)

IM SORRY IM SORRY

I'll go back to my crane corner

[arabella-s-arts]

After watching the first two episodes of MAWS season 2 I can confidently say...

Lois what the #$%#!

[ruvviks]

i love this part so much because you have this very intense fighting scene and then it slows down a little into this and then the harsh reality of what's going on kicks in. but it's not over yet. but you can Feel the uncomfortable tension lingering in the audience

[kilojulietsierra]

Just In Case (Dr Jack Abbot x FemaleResident!Reader)

Summary: He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?" Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Warning: all my content is considered 18+ only, smut, age gap unspecified, reader is one of Jacks resident, fluff, smut, angst, happy ending, as always barely proofread or edited plz forgive me

A quick note: I know I promised this forever ago, but I'll be completely honest, this is NOT the story I started out to write! But holy fuck it took over with a mind of it's own and I really love the way it turned out so I hope y'll do too!! also, again, shout-out to the gif creater above because this one's still my fav

ENJOY!

~~~~~

He had given Robby so much shit about Collins. "Really brother? One of your residents?"

Then you had put in a request to move to the night shift and Robby had fucking signed off on it.

Jack liked you from the jump. Smart, witty, a little dark like he was and not afraid to jump into the chaos with no need to know how deep. You had fit right in on his shift and for a long time you were just his best resident. His BEST, fucking resident, because God you were good. Every trauma, every code, every shitty shift you were right there doing the work and it was clear you loved all of it.

Jack had asked Robby one morning, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you let her go? You usually like to keep the star pupils to yourself."

Robby had just made that face at him, that annoying one with the shrug. "Thought I'd make her your problem for awhile."

Then the next night Jack had to split up you and the R4 in the middle of the hub. "What in the actual fuck are you two doing?" His presence had been enough to put some distance between the both of you, but you were pissed and the R4 was not letting it go.

"She walked all over my case."

"Because you were fucking it up! That girl did not have time to wait, and I told you that three times."

"And I told you to stay in your lane, I'm your senior resident."

"You are a dipshit, that was going to kill that girl by lack of action."

"Enough." Jack didn't yell. He didn't need to. He stood, hands clasped behind his back, face hard and waited.

"Dr. Abbot, she has authority issues, and it's interfering with her patient care and everyone elses."

"I don't have an issue with authority," If looks could kill the R4 would have dropped dead. Then you turned that look on him and it didn't have the venom in it, but the fight was there, that unwavering confidence, "I have a problem with misplaced authority."

Jack had held your gaze as you'd said it then nodded. He'd sent you both on your separate ways and excused himself to the bathroom where he took a leak and then stood with his hands braced on the sink as he stared himself down in the mirror. "What the fuck?" He whispered to himself as he rocked side to side and shook his head at his own reflection. He should've been annoyed at you two, not himself, but something about that look you had given him. It was like it had flipped some sort of switch. Like suddenly you weren't just his best resident, you were also…

The bathroom door swung open, "Dr. Abbot, we have a code blue coming in, ETA 5 minutes."

He nodded, "Set up trauma two."

Every shift after that he caught himself thinking things he should not be thinking about his resident. Yes you were his best resident, talented and dedicated, but you were also gorgeous. Not that he had never noticed, but now it was something he couldn't help but pay attention to. In between patients, when you passed by him or stood a little too close, he felt his pulse quicken. He couldn't help but watch you a little closer, the way you were so soft and calm with nervous patients, the way you didn't take shit from the combative ones. The confidence you had in your abilities and the drive you had to be better.

Your eyes. Those beautiful fucking eyes that never shied away from him. Your smile. Not big and bright or soft or sweet. No, the one that drove him fucking crazy? That was the tiny one, the barely there tick of your lips, up to one side before you could fight it back. That one was his favorite, because it felt like he had to earn that one. Like he had done something, just enough, to get you to crack. Like there was something you were trying to keep to yourself and if he said the right thing, did the right thing, you'd show him what it was.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a long night. A long week. Jack had gone up for some air and some quiet. He had his back leaned against the railing and hands in his pockets, eyes trained on the horizon.

The access door opened and he furrowed his brow. Robby wasn't working today.

When he looked over his shoulder the last person he had expected to see was you, just standing there with one of your easy smiles. "Need me, you could have called."

You just shrugged as you came closer. "Don't need anything, Day shift is trickling in." You came to lean next to him. Close enough to touch. "You good boss?"

Jack glanced sideways at you. Your hair was falling down, eyes tired, smile careful. He had to fight the urge to lean towards you, close that distance just to touch, even if it was just your shoulder against his. He shook his head, "Just one of those nights. You good?"

You nodded, leaned over the railing carefully to look down, "Do you actually think about it? When you come up here or is it just... a thing you do?"

He's not sure he would have been more surpised if you had slapped him. He looked at you long and hard. When you didn't flinch, didn't shy away, he shrugged. "Depends on the day." Jack cracks a little smirk for you, to ease the tension.

You smile back at him, unphased, as you stood up a little straighter. His eyes track your every move as you lean across the railing.

Jack had been wrong when he thought he couldn't be more surprised if you'd slapped him. Becuase the last thing he would have ever expected was that you would lean across the railing and kiss him.

It wasn't anything crazy. A quick brush of your lips over his. Not long enough. When you didn't pull back all the way he watched you close. Studied you. "Just in case." You shrugged as you finally stepped back.

You were about to turn and leave when he asked, "In case what?"

You gave him another smile, this time with something in your eyes that you didn't try to hide from him as the sun crept up over the skyline. "In case tonight was one of those nights."

It wasn't. It was one of those nights, but not one of THOSE nights. Jack liked that it hadn't been some big thing. Quick and light. He liked that you hadn't hesitated. He liked that if it had been one of those nights, you thought a kiss would have changed something. It changed everything.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know, the park beers is really more of a day shift thing."

You turned to the side and inwardly scolded yourself for not hearing him approach. "No beer." You shrugged but didn't offer up anything else.

Jack took another step closer, "Thinkin' about that kid?" He shrugged his backpack up higher and waited for your response.

You looked him over and even after the night you'd had, you had to fight back a smile because he looked good. This was your favorite version of Dr. Jack Abbot. Cargo pants, hair a mess and he'd pulled his scrub top off at some point and had worked the last couple hours in just atight, black t-shirt. You took a deep breath, "You goin' to tell me I did everything I could?"

He shook his head, "You already know that."

You nodded, "Yep."

"C'mon, I'll give you a ride home."

"Why?" You looked up at him, skeptical.

The grin he gave you washed all that away, "Just in case."

You thought maybe it would be awkward, letting Jack drive you home after what you'd done on the roof four shifts ago. It wasn't. Then when he had pulled up in front of your building, you thought for sure it would be awkward, but it wasn't. He just put the truck in park and tipped his head to catch your eye, "Go get some sleep okay." When you didn't move right away, he gave you a little nod, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You felt sick to your stomach suddenly, like you had been very wrong. "Jack…If I…"

He draped his wrist over the steering wheel and his eyes were soft, "Tomorrows a new day."

"Get that from Robby?" you tried to swallow down the bile in your throat, force a smile.

Jack shrugged, gave you a smirk. "Maybe. I mean it, get some sleep."

You had started to climb out of the truck, but your hand paused on the handle. You were always something of a go big or go home kind of girl. So, you turned back, leaned across the console and didn't give yourself or Jack the chance to think twice. You kissed him again. More than a quick peck this time and the air rushed out of your lungs when his lips moved with yours, slow and steady.

You were about to pull back when you felt the hand that had been draped over the steering wheel cradle the back of your head and keep you there.

When Jack did eventually let you pull away his eyes locked onto yours. "What was that for?"

You whispered, scared to get your hopes up, "Just in case I don't get another chance."

He dropped his head back against the headrest and held your gaze, "If I promise you'll get another chance, will you go upstairs and get some rest?" When you nodded he cracked a little smile, "I'll see you tomorrow."

~~~~~~

Giving you a ride home became a thing, not after every shift but more and more.

It felt like you both just craved that little bit of time alone, together. It wasn't even something seedy or scandalous, he would just... drive you home.

Sometimes you'd kiss him, sometimes he'd reach out for your hand and hold it the whole way to your apartment. At some point it turned into drive thru coffee. He didn't just pull up out front anymore, he'd park in a spot and you would talk.

Jack told you about his wife first. The broken part of him figured; get the rough stuff out of the way first. If you were going to change your mind that would do it, and he'd rather deal with it sooner than later. He told you and you had just held his hand, your thumb working circles over his palm with tears in your eyes. "I don't have the words Jack, God I wish I did..."

He didn't need you to have the words. The look in your eyes unwavering and the grip on his hand was enough. He had just shaken his head, throat still hoarse and had lifted the back of your hands to his lips. That was enough.

He told you about his leg. You never flinched once and this time it was him that stroked his thumb over your palm. Back and forth, where they rested together on the console. You had just leaned forward, held his gaze and told him it made him more of a man.

He told you about his PTSD, explained his little visits to the roof, told you about his therapist. You said you were proud of him, and leaned over to kiss him and steal the last bagel bite out of his lap. Jack had grinned, watched the way your face lit up to see it, even if your eyes were a little misty. "I want to tell him about you..." Jack waited, watched you like his life depended on it. Because, even then he knew this couldn't be casual, not for him, and if it was real he was going to do it right.

You had laughed and he panicked for half a second before you leaned in to kiss him again. "You mean, we've been working together this long and you haven't already complained about me to your therapist?"

He laughed, and God it felt like a gulp of air. He sank his hand into your hair and slammed your mouth to his. Kissed you like you'd never been kissed before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The morning you had whispered, "Come upstairs?" He'd thought he might combust then and there. He had searched your eyes. Those gorgeous fucking eyes that never wavered under his. He'd never forget the pretty way you bit your lip, or the way your eyes flashed with something he hadn't seen yet when he gave you one more quick kiss and turned off his truck.

Any lingering thought or rationalization that you could be something casual went out the fucking window the moment you let him press you up against the inside of your apartment door and kiss you the way he'd been wanting to for months.

The way you gasped and moaned so pretty for him when he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and slipped the other inside your scrub pants. "Jesus Christ sweetheart..." He murmured into your ear when he felt how hot and wet you were for him.

"Jack," Your eyes fluttered closed as he eased the first, thick finger inside you, "Shit." You fidgeted, tried to chase his hand with your hips, but you didn't fight his hold on your wrists or the way he pressed you into the hard surface. You groaned, showed your teeth in something between a smile and a snarl as he gave you a second finger, but did not change his rythym.

He kept his strokes slow, steady, deep. Kissed every part of you he could reach at this angle. Your neck, the hollow of your throat the shell of your ear, before always returning to your mouth. "Feel good?"

You nodded, frantic, gave him an airy, 'Mhmm."

"Yeah?" He mouthed at the soft spot just below your ear as he finally sped up his movements and felt the way your pussy quivered and clenched around his fingers. Jack smiled as he moved up to rest his forhead against yours, "Yeah..." He answered himself as he studied your face, felt the warm puffs of air as you panted and gasped, his palm resting over your clit as he drove his fingers deeper.

"Oh shit, shit," Your words cut off with a groan as he pressed against the little bundle of nerves harder.

"Yeah?" He licked his lips and fought back a smirk as he kissed you softly, pulled his fingers out and circled them over your clit. Firmer, faster. "Going to cum for me already, aren't you sweetheart?"

"Yeah." You chased after his kiss like you needed it to breathe, your weight sinking into his hand begging for more.

Eyes locked on yours, foreheads together he gave you a little nod, "Yeah, go ahead," He sped up the circling of his fingers until both of you were breathing heavy, "Go ahead, sweetheart, go ahead."

When your eyes fluttered and rolled back Jack didn't stop, only pressed you harder into the door and kissed you in the most unholy way as you came apart for him.

Slowly as you can back down he eased off the pressure of his fingers, slipped them back inside of you and relished in the little convulsions he felt as he gave you long, slow, steady strokes. He teased at your lips, kissing and nipping until you giggled and he finally released your hands from above your head. "Good girl." He whispered as he gave you a final kiss and pulled back.

The look in your eyes told him this probably couldn't be casual for you either.

You laughed when he ducked, lifted you up by the thighs and carried you towards your bedroom.

"Don't laugh, I'm not that old." He chuckled with you into the hollow of your throat. A chuckle that turned into a groan when you carded your fingers into his already messy curls and tugged.

He had laid you down on the bed and stripped you naked as fast as possible. Desperate to get his hands, his mouth on every inch of you until you whined his name and fisted your hand in the back of his scrub top.

Jack smiled against your hip, "What?"

"Off."

"What?" He asked again as he sucked a little bruise into the smooth skin before him.

You groaned, half annoyed and half giddy, and shoved at him until he looked you in the eyes, "Take your fucking shirt off."

He chuckled, gave you a grin and rose up to his knees so he could reach behind him and pull his scrub top and undershirt off in one go. Jack couldn't help but take that half a second, to watch you hum happily and chew on your lip, to let it stroke his ego, before he buried his face between your legs.

~~~~~~

He had put it off as long as he could, shoved the thought aside and focused all of his attention on you. But, eventually, you had pulled and clawed at him until he crawled over you to cover your body with his and kiss you properly again. Jack let you take some of his weight as he kissed you, soaked in the warmth and the feel of you under him.

He knew he'd have to take his pants off, that the prosthesis would be some sort of jarring reminder and this would all be over.

He focused on your hands and how fucking good if felt as you stroked up the muscles of his back, hooked your fingers over his shoulders and pulled him closer. The way your fingertips skimmed over his arms, squeezing his biceps and smiling under his kisses like you enjoyed the way he felt. It had almost been involuntary. The jerk of his hips when you had skated your nails low over his sides, too low, too close to the waistband of his boxers where the band peeked up over the top of his pants. The way he had rolled his hips against yours and gave you a hint of just how badly he wanted you.

You made that happy little humming sound again and stroked your hands up over his back and down again. FIngertips leaving little divots under them as they moved. "Jack," Your voice was soft, airy and tight, "Am I gonna have to tell you to take your pants off too?" You fought for his eye contact and for the first time he couldn't give it to you.

Jack buried his face in your neck and kissed over your pulse, whispered his answer there instead, "Sweetheart," He breathed deep and Jesus you smelled like sex and sweat and soap and everything good in this world. "Only way this really works, is if I take the leg off." He waited. Expected the worst.

When you tugged on his hair he caved, lifted his head and looked you in the eye. You held his gaze and opened your eyes wide like you were about to make a point and wanted it to land, "Then take the fucking leg off," You cracked a smile, "Or I'm going to do it, and I have no clue how it works so..."

Jack fucking loved you. He knew he loved you, because he had said the first thing that came to mind, "Want me to show you?" With a chuckle and a nod you kissed him and with no hesitation answered, "Yeah, kinda."

So, as awkward and unsexy as it was, he showed you.

He showed you how the mechanism worked, grinned at you and shook his head as you tried to pull it off the first time. He'd turned an embarrassing shade of pink when he'd warned you, "It's not going to smell good. You know that right?"

You had scoffed, rolled your eyes at him. "I'm a doctor. I'm sure I can handle it."

Jack couldn't remember the last time he had laughed this hard. Especially not in bed, with a sexy, young woman, where ten minutes ago the only thing on his mind had been fucking your brains out. Now, you were collapsed on his chest and cackling uncontrollably with his prosthetic leg in one hand dangling off the side of the bed. All he could do was cradle the back of your head and try to catch his breath, because even as you were laughing, you were peppering kisses over his chest and he swore that if this didn't scare you away he would never let you go.

When you caught your breath and sat up, you set his prosthesis down by the nightstand and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. "Now, take your pants off."

His eyes followed you as you crawled off the bed and walked naked to the bathroom. He tried to fight down the nerves as he did shuck his other shoe, sock and his scrub pants off, then pushed himself up to lean against your headboard. He listened to a cupboard open and close, water run. When you reentered the room and tossed a bath towel on the bed and crawled back to him with a warm, soapy rag in your hand he furrowed his brow.

"I fucking dare you to make one sponge bath joke. I swear to God." You didn't hesitate as you knelt in front of him and began to run the rag over what remained of his lower leg. Your fingers massaging the aching muscles as you went.

All Jack could do was shake his head side to side as he let his eyes fall closed and his body sink deeper into your pillows.

~~~~~

Jack hadn't meant to zone out, but Christ it had felt too good. Your soft, capable hands working over the tension in his leg after a long shift. The relief it brought, physical and mental, was unbelievable. He barely noticed you had stopped until you had moved to straddle his lap and kiss up the side of his neck.

"Fall asleep on me?"

He chuckled, "Almost." and wrapped his arms around your waist to drag you closer.

"Feel good?" You copied his question from earlier, whispered it against throat.

"Too fucking good." His cock had softened some from the relaxation, but when he pulled you down to settle against him fully he could feel himself harden by the second. "You're too fucking good for me." He caressed from your knees, over your thighs, up your waist and ribcage, until his fingers traced over the line of your arms where they had wrapped around his neck.

"Don't say that." You kissed him, deep, and rolled your hips over him. Whined a little that his boxer briefs still kept you seperated from what you both wanted. The whine turned into a squeal as he flipped you over without warning, Put you on your back like you had started.

Jack hovered over you braced on strong arms. "You still want this?" He rocked his hips into yours and searched your eyes. He could see that you knew what he meant. Not just this, not just the moment, not just sex. Him. HIs past, his baggage, all the complications that a relationship with your attending would bring.

"Yes. All of it." You looked him in the eye and smiled. Cute and sweet. Drastically at odds with the way your hands were shoving his underwear down over his hips.

Then he watched those pretty eyes roll back in your head, because he wasn't going to waste another second not knowing what it felt like to be inside you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack had panicked the first time he'd said he loved you.

He'd thought it from the start, but it had always felt to soon, too real, too say it out loud. To risk it.

Then he had woken up late one afternoon, after a restless few hours of sleep and you weren't in bed beside him. His mind, already primed for the worst case scenario after a long week, worried that you'd finally had enough. That he'd scared you away and you'd snuck off while he was asleep but, then he'd found you in the kitchen.

He paused at the corner and breathed deep as he watched you. Your back turned to him, in some t-shirt of his you'd dug out of a drawer to sleep in, hair tosseled from sleep. You were glaring at the coffee maker, arms crossed and swaying side to side, as if you could force the machine into expedience. He could feel the anxiety seep out of him as he watched you. Made his way to you.

"Where are your crutches?" Was how you greeted him, your voice rough and exhausted like him.

Jack just slid his arms around you waist and kissed the back of your head. Relished the feel of you sinking more of your weight back into him. "Bedroom." He shifted to place a kiss closer to your neck.

"Ja-ack"

"Wha-at?" He copied your tone and squeezed you tighter. He liked that you worried. With one hand he swept your hair to the side so he could kiss your neck and chuckled against it when you groaned. Annoyed, not aroused. "Been gettin' around just fine for over a decade baby."

You had grumbled, rolled your eyes, but leaned into him and smoothed your hands over his forearms, your thumbs traced the furrows in the muscle. "I know."

The coffee maker beeped, but you made no move to reach for a cup. Jack liked that you worried. He liked that you took up space in his home, in his life. He liked that you'd taken over half his bathroom, that his sheets smelled like you, that your car had a spot in his garage. He liked that you'd started teasing him about trying to get out of your lease as much time as you spent at his house. Hell, he'd pay off your fucking lease if it meant he could have you here, with him, all the time.

He wrapped his arms around you impossibly tighter and squeezed, smiled at the content little hum you let you and the way your head dropped back against his shoulder. His lips pressed against your temple, barely a kiss, "I love you."

There was no shocked expression on your face, no teary eyes, or fumbling words. Just that little smile, that ticked up in one corner, the one that he'd loved from the start. "I've been patiently waiting, but you were starting to make me nervous." You stood up and turned around in his arms. Smile wider as you wrapped your arms around his neck and your eyes flickered when he tightened his grip on your waist again. Locked you against him, arms flexing the way you always liked. Your lips brushed his briefly and then you pulled back to look him in the eye, "I love you too."

Saying it, finally, felt amazing. Like a weight off of his chest.

Hearing you say it, knowing that you meant it... felt like CPR, something bringing a piece of him back to life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two of you had mismatched shifts all week because you had covered some days for Cassie while she had court. So, if you saw eachother it was only in passing, at home or at the hospital. This would be your last shift on days before a weekend off and you would be back on nights, with Jack. Where you belonged.

Jack caught a glimpse of you as he walked in, but continued towards the hub where Robby was already packing up his bag like he was in a hurry.

"Hey brother, sorry but I got a thing, I got to run." Robby picked up his bag and met Jack at the corner of the station. "Your girl is goin' to do the handoff." He gave his friend a smug look as he held his fist out.

Jack scoffed, gave Robby the first bump, but gave him a shove with it. "Don't do that, and don't act like I don't know what your 'thing' is." Jack stared him down, "Let me know how it goes."

Robby nodded, "Yeah, I will. Have a good night man."

Lena and Dana looked up at Jack in unison as he dropped his bag into the chair and together they said, "She's in fifteen."

Jack scowled at the two of them, "Why are you all like this?"

Lena just chuckled and ducked out to get to work. Dana grabbed her jacket and wrapped her hand around Jacks arm, "Just a heads up, someone, I won't name names, has been hounding her all day. Playin' twenty questions about Dr. Abbot, so… she might be a little salty."

With a deep breath he shook his head and draped his stethoscope around his neck.

Dana chuckled, "She doesn't know… so, it's harmless. Just watch your step with your girl. she's had a long one." She grabbed her bag and paused as she moved to step around him, "For what it's worth, the sooner you start wearing a wedding around here again the better for all of us I think." She gave him a wink.

Jack leaned down just enough they were eye to eye. "Dana… go home."

She gave him a smile and a wink, smiled a little wider when his scowl cracked, "Fifteen."

Which is exactly where he found you, right outside the room typing on one of the portable stations.

Work had always been work and honestly he loved you even more for that, because there was something sexy about the fact that you had the self control to keep home and work seperate. Most of the time. You were still his best resident, by far, and now his senior resident. It was fun for him to see you thrive with that responsibility. It was also fun for him to occasionally toe that line, get that little rise out of you that he'd pay for later.

Today, he felt like pushing that boundary. So, he took a quick glance around before he stepped up close, bumped your shoulder with his and tipped his head to whisper.

"Think carefully about what you're about to say, Dr. Abbot."

He bit back a smirk, definitly feisty tonight. "Ready to come back to nights?" He leaned a little closer than necessary and dropped his voice, "Where you belong."

You continued to type, never even looked at him, "What's it worth to you?"

"How about you finish up here, go get some rest, and I'll show you when I get home?"

That got you a little, he could tell by the way you bit the inside of your cheek and a little color appeared on your neck.

Jack bumped your shoulder with his again as he turned to leave, "Come on," His voice back to normal, "GIve me the rundown so we can get you out of here."

~~~~~

When he got home he heard his police scanner going and smirked to himself. You had given him shit about it at first, but now you used it like a white noise machine.

He moved quietly through the house until he found you asleep on the couch in the living room in your comfy clothes. Jack knew that meant you had tried to stay up as late as possible, get your sleep schedule back on track. He leaned his right knee on the couch next to you and braced his hands on either side of you, one against the back of the couch the other on the cushion. Carefully he leaned in and kissed your cheek, "Hey sweetheart." Something in him loved that you didn't flinch, didn't jump awake, only grumbled slightly and then smirked as you awoke.

"Hey." Your voice was raspy with sleep and Jack couldn't help but move to kiss the side of your neck. You hummed and shifted to your back as you cracked your eyes open, "How was your night?"

Lips never leaving your neck he gave a simple answer, "Fine." His kisses moved, higher up towards the hinge of your jaw, "Ready to have my best girl back."

You chuckled, stretched under him and let your head roll to one side to give him more access, "Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm." his kisses became more and more involved, mouthing and sucking at your neck until he left a mark.

Wide awake under his attentions your eyes focused, "Ugh, no fair."

Jack chuckled as he pushed himself up, hovering over you at arms length. "What's not fair?"

Shifting to get comfortable you pouted, unconciously letting your legs fall open for him, as you tugged at the front of his tight, dark t-shirt. "I missed a sexy Dr Abbot night."

He couldn't help the wide smile as he shook his head, still not fully comprehending what it was about wearing cargo pants and a Tshirt instead of scrubs that did it for you. Jack was, however, man enough to admit that you liking it did something for him. "Sexy Dr Abbot night huh?" He shifted his weight, hIs left hand settling on the strip of skin that appeared just above your waistband as your shirt rode up.

You rolled your eyes but smiled, tugged on the shirt again, "Mhmm."

Jack caved, still smiling as he moved to lay down over the top of you, his smile widening as your hands moved under the t-shirt and stroked over his back, "Did you miss your sexy Dr. Abbot?" He teased as he kissed you, slipped his knee between your legs and pressed it against your core as he settled into you.

A little groan escaped between chuckles as your fingers dug into the muscles of his back, on either side of his spine. "Stop it."

"You're the one that said it." Jack chuckled with you as he shifted his weight slightly, drug his right hand the length of your body. From your throat, over a breast where he paused for a moment, palming it through your shirt in time with the way his tongue slid against yours. Then your hips began to move, of their own accord, grinding against his thigh ellictiing a moan, your lips separating from his as you threw your head back.

"Mhmm," Jack murmerd into your exposed throat, "Sure seems like you missed me." He smiled against your pulse as your hands scrambled with the bottom of his shirt. He let you drag it up over his head and then before you could pull him back into a kiss he peeled your bottoms off. Taking his time to toss them aside and then slowly caress his way from the arch of your foot, over the back of your knee and higher. "God you are gorgeous." His grip on you changed, hardened as he moved back over you. "Tell me you missed me baby." He mumbled into your mouth, groaning as he felt your hands move to unbotton his pants.

"You know I did." You smiled, nipped his top lip and watched him as your fingers wrapped around his cock.

"Oh, fuck..." His forehead dropped to yours, eyes closed and breath coming out in warm pants. "Fuck." He repeated as you stroked him, hand firm and confident, from base to tip and back. The muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he held himself over you, fists clenching and unchlenching against the couch cushion as his cock hardened to your touch. "Baby..."

"What did you say earlier? Something you were going to show me?" You giggled, closed the short distance to brush your lips over his.

Jack smiled, ducked his head to kiss you properly and moved your hand aside so he could shove his pants and boxers down. Just far enough for him to enter you without preamble. Guiding his now achingly hard cock where it belonged. "God you feel too good sweetheart." He breathed the words into your mouth as he bottomed out, lowered the rest of his weight into you. "Too good."

Your whole body trembled underneath him as you moved to wrap your arms around his neck and keep him as close as possible. You dug your fingers into his hair, into the muscles of his shoulders and back, your legs wrapped around his hips as they moved against yours. "Jack..."

"Yeah baby?" Jack asked as he dropped a hand to your thigh, thick fingers digging into your flesh as he held you closer, fucked you just a little harder. "What's wrong?"

You let out a half chuckle half groan, your nails digging into the back of his shoulder blade, "Absolutely nothing." Your chuckle turned into something like a breathy giggle as he rewarded you with a particularly deep thrust. "Just, shit," you writhed under him as he moved the hand at your thigh between your bodies. His thumb working slow, teasing circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. "Just, you don't wanna take your prostthetic off?"

He smirked against your clavicle as he mouthed his way across to the opposite side of your neck. "Don't need to be comfortable right now baby," He picked up his pace, his thrusts and his thumb over your clit, moved harder, faster, "I need to feel you cum for me." Jack wasn't taking it slow after that, and the sounds you were making for him only motivated him to fuck you harder, faster, like he hadn't had you in a month not just a week. "So be a good girl and cum for me," The hand not playing with you slid under the back of your neck, grabbing it from behind, cradling you and applying pressure in a way that had your eyes rolling back and your back arching up off the couch. Lips against your ear, his own breathing ragged, "Need to feel it baby."

"So close, i'm so close, please, shit, Jack, I'm so close." You scrambled, tried everything in your power to drag him into you.

Jack just grinned, "I know, I know." He dropped a kiss against the shell of your ear, "Trust me," His voice was strained but his tone still steady, still soft and clinging to control. "You know I'm gonna take care of you baby, you know." When you nodded enthustically his grin widened, "Take a deep breath." When you didn't respond, he slowed his thrusts down, short and shallow, and when you whined, jack repeated himself, "Breathe. Relax and breathe."

As soon as you shuddered underneath him and took a long, deep breath, eyes slipping closed as you tried to do as he said, Jack whispered, "Good girl." HIs thumb stroked up the line of your carotid once and then settled over it, applied the perfect amount of pressure that made your head swim.

"Oh fuck...." Your mouth hung open and you moaned out his name.

Slowly Jack picked up his pace again, "Another deep breath baby."

You sucked in the air through your nose and moaned because you knew what came next. Because there was a timer running in Jacks head from the moment his thumb pressed down, and once that timer started there was no more teasing or playing, only fucking you as hard and as fast as he could. The whole time murmering every dirty thought that had ever crossed his mind. How you were his good girl, his best girl, all the depraved things he wanted to do to you, how you took his cock so well, and felt so fucking good. How you moaned his name so pretty, how he wanted to fucking ruin you, fill you up and never let you go.

When that timer in his head hit zero, he'd lift his thumb, let the blood rush back to your head and drive his cock into you as hard and as fast as he could, rubbing your clit furiously until you would shatter.

Your nails would dig into his back and you'd gasp for air, and for more. Then he'd snap, his ears would ring with your highpitched whines and his back would ache and he would empty himself inside of you. His hips never stopping until his vision cleared and he could feel the scratch of your fingertips through his hair, the hammering of your heart against his own.

"Jesus Christ," You whispered it, a sexy, satisfied giggle behind it, "I still don't understand how..." You paused for a deep breath and your pussy shuddered around him, "It happens so fast when you do that." You smile as he mouths at the side of your neck.

"Which is why," He tips your face to his so he can kiss you properly before he manhandles you around, swapping places with you so he's on his back and your draped over top of him, "I only do it when I know i'm not going to fucking last." He laughs at himself, drags you down into a vulgar kiss as he reached down to shift your hips and settle you properly. His softening dick still inside you and mess between you.

Jack laid there for a moment and closed his eyes, listened to you breathing slow to match his, a wave of comfort washed over him as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. You settled into his grasp and hummed, a happy little sound in the back of your throat as you curled around him. Both of you half naked and spent on his living room couch. He smiled, kissed the top of your head, nowhere else he'd rather be in in that moment than right there.

~~~~~~~

His fingertips stroked slowly over your back, under your shirt, when you break the post-coital silence. "Can we talk about something?"

Swallowing down the fear rapidly rising in his throat Jack nods and kisses the top of your head, "What's up?"

"My residency is almost over."

He nods, lays the hand flat and wide over the small of your back like his subconcious is trying to keep you where he felt you belonged. "Thought about what you're going to do?"

"That's sort of what I want to talk to you about." You sit up and the both of you make a face at the way your bodies shifted together. You watch as Jack settles a hand on your thigh and you reach for the other. You take his hand in both of yours and started to massage away the stiffness you knew would be there after a long shift. "There's no guarantee I get the open attending spot here, and if I don't… I just… I guess I just want to know what you think I should do."

Jack took a deep breath and studied your face intently, held your gaze. "I'm hesitant to tell you what I think because, I don't think I can be impartial, not really. I want you to make the best decision for yourself and not let me… being selfish… affect your decision."

That made you take a moment, consider as you watched him. Your thumbs still moved in soothing circles over the knuckles and palm of his hand. "I'm not asking you to be impartial. I'm asking you, someone whose opinion matters to me deeply, to discuss a very important decision I might have to make."

It hits him in the gut to hear you say that, because he knows what he wants. He knows he could tell you. He doesn't know with certainty what you want though. "Okay, well, as your attending. You are an incredibly talented and valuable emergency physician and there's plenty of hospitals that would fight to have you. I think we would be idiots to not fight to keep you here, because you are good, you're steady and fast and you're a leader, but also because we have poured a shit ton of time and resources into developing you. It would be irresponsible to let you go, but you could go anywhere you wanted and be extremely successful."

You had to fight back tears at his praise and he must have seen it because Jack stroked his hand over your thigh with a little extra pressure and a tight grin.

"As the man that loves you…because God I fucking love you and I love working with you, but either way that's going to change soon, I want you here with me. Even if that means something other than the Pitt. And… I acknowledge, as much as it sucks, that might not be what's best for you, or even be what you want."

You're chewing on your lip hard, trying to keep your own emotions in check. You love Jack, but he is also your mentor and you value his opinion and he is honestly the only one you could imagine having this conversation with. "I don't want to go anywhere else, I want to stay where I am… I'm just terrified I … What if I put in for the open spot at PTMC and don't get it?"

Jack gives you the most encouraging smile he can without giving himself away and moves to sit up. Taking you with him as he twists around to sit on the couch properly and wrap his arms around you. "Sweetheart that's fine, if you don't work for us you'll go somewhere else. There's six trauma centers in Pittsburgh, there's 52 in the state. Hell there's over 200 level ones in the country and baby you could run any of them. I know you could." He fidgets for a moment and seems to look everywhere but you before he can get locked in. He looks you in the eye, "If you want my opinion you could go anywhere, but I want you here. I just don't want to be the reason you settle for less."

Your breath caught in your throat, "Jack…"

He can't help the thought that he's going to have to talk to his therapist about the look on your face, the weight in his chest as he sits with you on his lap, dick still just a little hard inside you, the mess you made together sticky between you and every fiber of his being is fighting the urge to beg you to stay because he needs you.

"On what planet is being here with you considered less? Don't say that." You kiss him hard, then pull back, "If I apply for the slot… they're going to look sideways at both of us."

"Let 'em. Baby, that's goin' to come down on me not you."

You scoff, "We both know it doesn't work that way. If they want to raise hell about me being in a relationship with my attending that shit could follow me."

Jack hates that that's true, even if it happens in every fucking teaching hospital in the country. "To be fair, I'm tenured and I make enough for both of us. Worse comes to worse. Fuck 'em."

"Not helpful." You smack him on the chest, but chuckle despite the tension.

He shrugs, "There's ways to go about it, so maybe we haven't made it obvious, but not like we've been keeping it a state secret either, and it's not some abuse of power, hasn't affected either of our performance. I'm still going to be with you when you're an attending, or hell, when you're the chief for that matter. If i'm still around that long. Honestly… if you want to be shady about it between me and Shen, Robby is the chief, I'm willing to bet we can rig it in your favor."

"Also not helpful!" You kiss him though, "I do find it oddly attractive that you're so willing to bend the rules though."

"I know you do." He kissed you back. "Promise to play by the rules for a change."

You smile, "So, what If I told you I wanted to stay here after my residency? What if I want the attending spot at the Pitt and to stay with you?"

Jack shook his head, squeezed you tighter, "Don't ask me baby, tell me. Is that what you want?"

"I want you. If I can have you and the Pitt, perfect. If not, I'd work anywhere if it means we are together." You kiss him again, trying to get your point across, "That doesn't feel like settling to me Jack. Not even close."

How he felt in that moment was something he couldn't name, because no matter how ecstatic it makes him to hear you say you want him a piece of him is drowning in the guilt that you could be giving up something so much better.

You run your hands over his bare chest, his shoulders and then slide them up the side of his neck to hold him in place. "Is that… Is that okay?"

Like so many times before Jack shoves that doubt aside and figures, fuck it. He thinks about that first fleeting kiss on the roof, the one in his truck, all the rides home, the coffee and conversations, the morning you had asked him to come upstairs. All the times you were the one that took that leap of faith, because he couldn't. He'd been trying not to jump for years.

He kissed you, long and slow as he thinks and then whispers against your lips. "Sweetheart," He kisses you again, "Do me a favor and go grab my bag?"

You look confused, rightfully so, but smirk and duck your head to nip at the meat of one of his pecs. "You know, I'm not supposed to be able to walk after you fuck me like that."

Jack groans and feels fucking ancient, but can't help the need to swat you on the ass and give you a little push, "Love to watch you try though."

Because, yeah, you are still a little unsteady and you both trembled as you had raised up and his semi hard dick had slipped out of you. He watched you walk out of the living room and tucked himself back into his boxers before he did up the fly of his pants. The conversation you were about to have was one he couldn't have with his dick inside you, no matter how good it felt.

When you came back his eyes drank you in, shirt askew and hair a mess, a sheen between your legs that made the blood in his veins rush south again.

"Here you go." You hold out the camo backpack as you round the end of the couch.

"Need you to grab something for me, out of the liner pocket on the inside." He smirked at the way you arch your brow at him, but still come back to sit on his lap. He holds his breath as you set the bag on the couch next to you and pulled at the zipper. Jack had to try not to stare at the patch velcroed to the front. Abbot. He lets his hands settle on your thighs while he waits, thumb stroking over your femoral artery.

"What exactly am I…"

"You'll know." He cuts you off.

You stop.

He feels your heart rate skyrocket under his thumb, every muscle in your body goes rigid and he watches as your eyes blink rapidly like you're trying to clear your vision. "That's what I want sweetheart."

Your eyes are the only part of you that moves. They jump from what you found in the pocket, to his face and back. "How long have you had this?" Because what you're holding, it's not something bought on a whim.

Jack can't help but laugh at himself, "Awhile." Is all he'll tell you right now. He fights for your eye contact, but for one of the only times he can remember, it's like you can't quite hold it. Your eyes keep flicking to him and away again.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

You look at him then, really look at him, and don't look away. Give him that eye contact he craves and he sucks in air like he can breath again, head above water for just a moment. You smirk at hearing him repeat your own words back to you from so long ago. Your voice shakes, "Just in case what?"

He smirks right back at you as he moves the backpack out of the way with one hand and then holds it out, palm up. You carefully put what you had found in his hand, unopened, because the simple presence of the small, shiny, sleek, perfectly square, black box had told you everything you needed to know. Jack makes sure to brush your fingers with his as he takes the box from you and pops it open. "Just in case you ever decided to go back to dayshift, thought I might have to bribe you."

You choke out a laugh and Jack smiles, but his throat is dry and the way you look like you're about to cry really isn't helping.

He repeats himself as he pulls out the ring, rolls it carefully between his thumb and forefiner, "This is what I want sweetheart. Then he chokes out a laugh of his own, "I don't give a shit where you work baby, wherever you want. Only thing I give a fuck about is that they call you Dr. Abbot." He cracks a smile when you laugh with him and he can feel you relax, your weight sinking into him as you lean in to kiss him. Clumsy and sloppy and with a smile.

"You're fucking ego sometimes."

"You can hyphenate if you want."

"Oh, I can, can I? So generous."

Every word between you is murmured between kisses. He diesn't have to hear you say it, he knows the answer.

He doesn't have to tell you he's had the ring your entire fourth year of residency. Just waiting for you to say you wanted to stay.

You're really shaking when he slips the ring on your finger and of course it fits perfectly and of course it's exactly what you would have picked, because it's Jack. Becasuse this has never been casual for either of you, not for one single moment.

You pull back from kissing him with a laugh and an evil grin, "You suppose I'd be more or less likely to get the attending position with your last name?"

Jack laughs with you and drags your hips closer, because as soon as this conversation is finished he's taking you to bed and doing terrible, filthy things to you the rest of the weekend. "Look me in the eye and tell me this is really what you want baby."

He can feel the metal of the ring on your finger as your hand presses against his jaw, "This is what I want Jack. This is exactly what I want."

Your noses bump together as he kisses you and nods, "Have something else I need to tell you then." He kissed you again, before you can panic. "You don't need to apply for the attending position."

You put some distance between you and for the first time in a long time Jack has to gently stop you, guide you away from putting too much pressure on his right knee at this angle. You murmur a little, "Sorry." as you scoot closer. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Arms locked tight around you Jack keeps a straight face, tells you something he's wanted to tell you since you started this conversation. "It's not going to come down to whether you get the job or not. Robby already tagged you for it."

You blink, "What?"

Jack rubbed his hands over your thighs, putting in the pressure and the warmth to keep you grounded, "It's going to come down to whether you want the job or not, because they're going to offer it to you once you complete your residency."

"You're fucking with me right now."

He chuckles, "I am not fucking with you right now. It's like I told you; we'd be stupid to let you go anywhere else."

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" He's almost laughing outright now, "They asked us for our recommendations, every single one of us said you. Obviously I'm not supposed to tell you, but…"

"So you were just letting me stress out about all of this!? About the fact that I might lose you, because I wasn't going to get the job, that I was going to have to leave and, and move to the opposite side of the country or something!"

"I was trying to stay out if it. In case being here isn't what you wanted." He left the 'if I wasn't what you wanted' out of it.

"Jack!, I mean Jesus, c'mon! We've been together for almost two fucking years. How would you even begin to think this isn't what I wanted!?" You're yelling at him, but you're laughing and crying and have a death grip on the back of his neck.

Jack takes a deep breath and deescalates. "My therapist says I plan for the worst case scenario as a coping mechanism, as a way to try and protect myself from the pain of unforseen loss."

Taking his lead you take a deep breath, lower your tone. "Yeah, he also says it's one thing to be prepared for emergencies and another to try and plan for the worst possible outcome to a conversation, that you haven't even initated, therefore running the risk of 'planning' that worst case outcome into existence." You scowl at him.

Sometimes he hates that you're so in tune, so invested and involved in his mental health, because it's annoying to hear his therapist come out of your mouth. He smirks though, because he also loves it a little and can't imagine anyone else holding him accountable the way you do.

"Since you brought your therapist into it, have you told him you've been carrying around my engagement ring in your backpack next to a three day supply of MREs?"

He doesn't answer you because you know he hasn't, you're just making a point. Jack smirks and smooths his hands up your back, "Sure you wanna marry me?" His chest hurts at the way you light up as he watches your eyes flick back to the ring he slipped on your finger.

"Very sure." You looked him in the eye like you were daring him to doubt you and gave him that little smirk. The one that had started this all, where it tipped up to one side like you were trying not to show him something.

Jack waited for you to lean in and kiss him, waited for your fingers to comb into his curls and your tongue to chase after his, and then he grabbed you tight and pushed to his feet. Chuckling at the way you still squeaked and giggled, no matter how many times he's carried you to bed that way. Or to the couch, the shower, the nearest wall or flat surface.

Later, when you're both exhausted and the blackout curtains are keeping the afternoon sun at bay, you're laying beside him with your head on his shoulder, one leg draped over his and your left hand on his chest. Neither of you can stop staring at the faint glint that is the ring in the dim light of the room.

"Are you sure?"

Jack chuckles, presses a kiss to the top of your head and murmers, "How many times you going to ask me that?"

You bite your lip and turn your face into his neck, "Just making sure."

He closes his eyes when he feels you trace his collar bone with your lips and he moves to cradle the back of her head, holding you close. Jack thinks again about those first two kisses, about the way you had explained yourself. 'Just in case.' He tips your head back so he can kiss you, deep and with emotion he still can't quite process out loud. "I'm sure sweetheart." He kissed you again.

There was something extremely appropriate about the phrase, 'just in case.' he thought and for the rest of his life, every time he kissed you, touched you, told you he loved you, in the back of his mind he'd think. 'Just in case.' Because he knew better than anyone, there was no way to know what time would be the last.

"Hey," Your voice was soft, half asleep when your hand rested against his jaw to pull him out of his thoughts, "I love you." You said it like you knew where his thoughts had gone.

Jack kissed you, holding you close like he'd never let you go. "Love you too."

~~~ The End~~~

[hikarimiyanaga]

I thought it was me?

Fuck me. I'm in love with Rumi already.

VOICES ARE MY FUCKING WEAKNESS.

Okay. MY FIRST CRUSH HAD A VOICE THAT MADE ME WEAK IN THE KNEES.

Okay. Take this angsty one shot. Because I need to hurt myself apparently.

You freeze in your tracks as you hear their conversation.

"Who? Y/N? She's just an assistant." Rumi finishes it with a chuckle and you quickly hide yourself behind the walls.

Assistant. Right.

So all her promises. All her laughs. All the kisses. All the nights spent together in her bed.

All of those were nothing.

Assistant. That's what you are.

You should've just stayed in your lane.

Should've never confessed.

Should've never fell.

You can't help the big tears as you clutch your heart.

Your heart hurts so much.

You feel your whole world break down.

"Right. I need to quit." You take a deep breath and you look at your phone.

The picture of you and Rumi where she kissed your cheek when it was supposed to be a simple selfie.

You feel your heart clench in itself again.

'This sucks.' You think as you make your way out of the penthouse.

'This fucking sucks.' You chant to yourself as you make your way to the lobby. You take a deep breath and call your boss.

"Bobby? We need to talk."

-

You were collecting your stuff in the penthouse and you groan.

"Why the hell did I leave so many of my stuff here?"

You stack another box and groan.

"In my next job, I'm fucking getting a duffel bag."

You finish getting everything after fifteen minutes and look at the four boxes.

"Two trips it is." You decide and so you carry two boxes down to your car.

You put the boxes in your trunk and hum as you check the Livestream.

You picked this time because you knew the girls would be out.

No tears. No pain. No sadness. No regret.

No one would stop you from leaving at all. Even Bobby was informed already and although he protested it at first. You debated him for hours until he reluctantly agreed that you make your sneaky way out.

Out of their lives.

The thought makes you freeze.

Right.

No more late night bursts of inspirations with Zoey.

No more analyzation of choreographies with Mira.

You weren't just going to lose Rumi.

You were going to lose everything.

But still. Knowing that she only still sees you as nothing but an assistant makes you weak in your knees.

You were patient. A saint, really. After all, she had promised for years that she'll reveal to the public that you were hers but she never did.

And you were okay with that.

Because you know deep inside that Rumi was not someone who you can reach.

Huntr/x is god level status among the groups. Tops all the groups. All the time.

You ride the elevator up to the penthouse again. Not knowing that while you froze up. The Livestream had ended abruptly because Bobby can't keep a secret.

-

You were about to pick up the other two boxes when you were dragged by Mira.

"What- why are you here already!?" She doesn't answer but her grip on your wrist tightens. She makes you sit on the couch and you look at her.

"I left on my bike. Zoey and Rumi are on their way."

"What? Why?"

"Because you were leaving! I asked Bobby why you weren't there and he-" Mira can't stop her tears. Her voice went from angry to sad.

"Why are you leaving?" You panic as she cries.

"Mira! It's not your fault at all, okay? You guys did nothing wrong." She grabs your collar.

"Then why!? Y/N, you fit in well with us. You always supported us from the start so why- why are you just leaving us when we're at the top!?" You feel your heart clench.

"I-"

"Did Zoey make you stay late at night? You know you have your own room here-"

"No- I-"

"Did Bobby skimp out on your bonus? I can give you a thousand percent bonus if you want to-"

"Mira! Stop!" You shout and she freezes as your tears are just flowing.

Mira has never seen you cry. You were their rock. Always calm. Always there. She even jokingly refers to you as the true delinquent of the group.

"Please. Let me leave. I can't- I can't live like this anymore."

"You- have you hated us?"

"No! Never! I just-" you sob as you clutch your chest. Your heart hurts so much. It hurts too much. Everything is collapsing before you. Your heart that was given away is utterly destroyed and in pieces. And now you were about to leave your best friends too.

"Please. Just let me leave. I need to go. I can't- my heart can't take anymore, okay?" You sob. "It hurts so much. So fucking much."

"What? I-I don't understand." You chuckle at that.

"How can you? Please let me go. I can't see her. I don't want to get hurt anymore. Okay?"

"Who-"

"Rumi."

"Your girlfriend?"

"No. My boss. I'm just her assistant, after all."

Rumi and Zoey freeze at the door as they hear you.

"Rumi?" Zoey questions her and Rumi can only stare at you.

You heard her that day. Fuck.

"I- Jinu doesn't know and I had to-"

"This is why I told you to stop fucking around and announce it!" Mira shouts at her and you snap.

"STOP!" The trio looks at you and you look at them with such calm eyes that they instinctively took a step back.

"I'm leaving. Don't fight."

"Wait-" Rumi tries to hold your wrist but you slap it away.

"I'm done." You say with a cold tone and she felt her heart die.

You were done. With everything.

With her promises that never came true.

With her vague flirtations with men.

With her excuses.

With her inaction.

You were done.

Eight years that they climbed to the top.

Eight years since you fell.

Five years since you confessed. Five years of her promises. And now you were just tired.

Done.

You calmly take the boxes by the door and look at the trio. Rumi was crying silently as she looked at you.

"Good luck on the idol awards this year." You say and get out of the penthouse.

-

You take the final box out of your trunk and get inside your house.

You take your phone out and see everyone's art for today's Livestream and the new fandom that emerged.

#RumiJinu

You block every number that had to with them. Even Bobby.

It was time to move on. It was time to choose yourself.

No more vague promises.

You wanted a relationship where you were announced and showed off.

A love that can proudly say that you were theirs.

Theirs to love.

Theirs to keep.

Why would your love need to be hidden?

"Finally." You say as you sit on your own comfortable couch.

-

A/N:

QODBHSVEHS

How's the pain? Doable?

*Insert evil laugh*

I wrote this an hour after watching it.

THE ROMANCE NEVER HAPPENED. SHUT UP.

[mono-dot-jpeg]

born from another timeline - jayce, viktor

summary; "viktor, wake up, hexcore just dropped a hot person" - jayce, probably

genre/extra tags; oneshot, fluff, comedy, maybe some angst, is this considered isekai /j, amnesia?, zauntie! reader, different timeline! reader, the almost too good to be to be true timeline, hexcore knows everything, magic curses, can be seen as romantic or platonic, half baked ending, im sorry this can seen as ambiguous ending

word count; 1.3k

a/n; it's time for some silly silly writing. im changing up some of the request to be a little more interesting. im not great at interpreting long requests like this bc they can be a lot for me, and sometimes, with requesting in excitement, they can have some parts that dont make sense. but i still hope it's enjoyable. also i have no idea if my addition to this request made sense but i was too committed so. enjoy :)

you don't remember a fucking thing. all you know is that something called a hexcore spit you out, and now you're floating in the air with two really hot people. and you're undoubtedly panicking, and they're panicking too.

generally, a lot of panic.

when you finally manage to stop floating, the situation settles a little bit. at least for the two men that were floating with you.

"how did you get here?" but unfortunately, you had to be questioned. which was reasonable, you would probably do the same.

a yordle creature is trying to question you and your origins, but your mind can't seem to conjure up anything that would be a viable answer. "i.. don't know. but where exactly am i?"

the yordle, heimerdinger, informs you that you are in piltover and introduce you to viktor and jayce as well.

"piltover.. i definitely didn't know that this was piltover because i've never been around there."

"do you remember anything about your home?"

"not much. but i'm from the undercity." you answer. and that leaves the young scientists to ponder why exactly the hexcore brought you here. was it really that powerful to just teleport people from the undercity to piltover?

nothing seemed to be clicking. and so, they decide to escort you back to the dark lanes of the undercity.

but when you reach the bridge, viktor can spot the shine of confusion in your eyes.

"wait.. this is the undercity, right?" you looked over at the glum streets. "but.."

"but what? it always has been like this."

"this isn't.." you head pulses with pain as a memory tries to break through. "the undercity wasn't like this. it was-" before you can even speak about your home, it feels like you have the wind knocked out of you. your breath heaving as you cough near uncontrollably. jayce and viktor are quick to offer a hand to help you. jayce holds you steady, and viktor offers a hesitant but gentle hand. "it wasn't like this.." you can only mutter as another cough tickles your throat, threatening to come out. it doesn't take long for the two men to come up with a different thought instead.

"i don't think you're from our world." viktor said slowly.

"but i'm from runeterra, i live in zaun, i know that much." you get a little defensive. "and i know that, this isn't the zaun i live in."

"i think it's much more different than what v is saying. let's just head back."

viktor should've realized sooner as a zaunite himself. you didn't wear any worn-out dirtied clothing or had that scent of undercity smoke and gasoline that always permeated around the lanes. you were different from the undercity he knew.

with enough convincing to heimerdinger, he agrees to let you stay in piltover, but viktor and jayce would have to be responsible for you. which admittedly feels a little offending as you're not any kind of irresponsible pet or kid, but you wave off the annoyance for a more pressing problem.

"i'm from a different timeline?"

"it sounds crazy, i know." jayce immediately tells you, just seeing the incredulous look on your face. "but it seems like the most logical conclusion. you said you were from runeterra, you were from the undercity, and that the undercity you know doesn't look the way our undercity does."

"it could be entirely possible that you can even be from a different universe in general, ehh... i suppose that would be like a timeline, too." viktor sucked in a breath through his slightly clenched teeth as he tried to wonder over the details of what counted as a universe or timeline.

"the point is, this isn't the runeterra you know. and we don't know how to get you back."

and so you basically had a reset button on your life, now living in a world that was close to yours.. but not quite.

heimerdinger had concluded that there was some sort of magic binding on your memories, not allowing you to speak too much detail of them. and there seemed to be no loopholes for it. you would be stuck like that for an unknown amount of time.

that was concerning, to say the least. but not as concerning as trying to remember that this isn't the world you know. you're not meant to be here. but you'd be lying if you said that you weren't curious about how this world functioned compared to yours.

you were naturally really interested in the hextech. and it seemed like the hexcore was interested in you, it spit you out into here after all.

"do you think the hexcore is the reason i can't talk about my home?" you asked the two scientists as you stared at the core of magic and science.

"it would make sense. in a way. it's the only magic you've been exposed to. and directly in contact with.. obviously." viktor said with matter of fact tone.

it seemed like it was the only somewhat reasonable answer. and there was only one solution to you; live this new life. you don't remember everything that happened in your old life, and even if you did, you'd be coughing up your lungs before you can get a word out about it.

alternate reality and timelines really aren't fun, you realize quickly. you live in this.. new piltover and zaun and it's.. really off-putting. like knowing that everything is fine, but your mind is telling you that there's something just so wrong.

your identity blends in just enough with the support of viktor and jayce. but you don't feel right. viktor easily can sense that feeling of isolation. he understands it too well. it's the face he's seen on multiple zaunites like himself. when they don't know if they really belong in this world.

he tugs you away into his side of the lab as the gentle whirring of the hexcore hums with life, mocking you that you have no way home. jayce had left to pick up some dinner for you three, and you stayed behind for the sole reason of not having anything better to do (and maybe even keep viktor company).

the look in his sharp amber eyes is hesitant before he speaks. "how are you feeling?" he asked within the ambiance of the lab. he doesn't look at you, turning to mindlessly fiddle with his work-in-progress hex claw.

you shrugged halfheartedly with a hum, "i don't know. it just..." you let out a sigh. "it doesn't feel right."

"what doesn't?"

"being here." he lets you continue if you want, stopping his tinkering to look at you. your eyebrows furrow with a frown on your lips. "i don't know. maybe i'm just being delusional."

he pursues his lips, trying to find the right words to say. "i'm sorry we can't find a way back to your home." he said softly. "i can't imagine how it feels like to live in a world so similar but so different from home." he takes your wrist gently to guide you to an empty chair next to him.

you sit down slowly. he looks at your disheartened face.

"i'm not great at comfort like this. jayce would probably do much better than me right now. he gives a great hug." he laughed weakly, trying to lighten the mood. "but i'm not going to sit back and let you be alone on the pain." his eyes swirl with warmth. you can tell he's trying his best to comfort you.

"do you think.. we would ever meet back in my timeline?"

before viktor could answer, the door opens, revealing the golden boy himself.

"i got us some dinner!" his smile oblivious and bright, unware of the heavy air as his presence seems more bright than the setting sun.

you don't feel like you belong in plitover, but you know you belong with viktor and jayce at least.

[biancasaidstfu]

I work in corporate PR and I'm not from the UK so I've been staying in my lane and not commenting on the whole papgate affair because it isn't my domain. HOWEVER. There's always been something sus about it. To me personally, the only thing I'd say I'm certain of is that Luke himself didn't have a hand it in, purely judging by his reaction and subsequent withdrawal from public life. The stuff that doesn't add up is why he'd keep his team if they'd pulled something like that, it'd essentially be a breach of contract, not just a breach of trust. Either he's painfully naive and maneuvered by people around him who are only thinking about their cut while painting it as them being the pros who know how stuff works and he doesn't, or it was a deeply misguided group effort that backfired spectacularly (which I don't think it was, but is usually what happens).

Lbr, publicists utilize DM strategically all the time to put out feelers about projects, product launches, relationships etc., especially if they might be controversial, and then have plausible deniability if they pull the plug on it or it doesn't bear out because DM doesn't claim to share facts. There are also idiots in the general public who don't understand they're being baited and used and are voluntarily submitting stuff for the thrill of it or SM clout, which is what I think happened with Nicola and Jake's recent papping. Her team has been trying to suppress both these pics and the festival ones, given that they were only allowed to come out after she'd gone to major events celebrating her, so kudos to them, and there must be a reason why they aren't burying them fully - they might not be able to (again, I don't know the UK market) or they're a nothing burger so not a real concern. It is starting to impact the public perception of her though and imo something should've been done about it already, an indication of some sort at least that there's nothing to narrative the tabloids are pushing. She's in far better hands than Luke though so we'll just have to wait and see what the angle and approach will be there, but I find it strange that Nicola hasn't tried to take more of a control of the narrative. To me, her approach just means that there's nothing there and she doesn't care if people speculate, since it's easily debunkable. But with both of them, I find the lack of preemption and clear personal branding strategy to their PR at the level that they're at deeply strange. They don't seem to know what to do with Luke in particular. Idk, let's see how all of this bears out, there's a lot of information that we don't have in order to be making definitive statements.

.

[taemcains]

do you think requiem's update was weak?

in general, now that there only final episode left, what are your thoughts on season 2?

what a mess.

not one thing i would've predicted about s2 months back is now true, nor does it even feel like the same story. everything i loved about hsr and what made it distinct and unique — the snowy landscape, a desolate small town crumbling under its own history and sins, how the setting perfectly reflected lane's insides, the mystery of the lis, not knowing who we could trust, if we could trust lane herself, her trying to understand and come to terms with the humanity ripped from her — all of it sacrificed for... what?

nothing is eerie, and with how the most horrific events happen so casually and are brushed over in seconds — the shredder, kira's death — the shock value is starting to wear off, and what's left underneath does not hold up. what i'm confused about is why and how it feels like she's both rushing through and at the same time it's snail paced.

i think she has a few major plot points in mind, and is filling the gaps between them with whatever (which is what the entirety of season two has been) which is fine but 1. she could've spread the events out over a longer timeline 2. she could've used this time to deepen our understanding of lane's psyche and her relationships with the lis instead of fitting in every apocalypse fantasy she can conceive of.

everything is stagnant. lane, the plot. i can't even call the lis stagnant because when have they ever felt vivid? they have a defining trauma and she ran with it — dmitry and pavel, greg and emma, and since anna doesn't have any we have a 'i'm a girl and i like girls?!' situation at their grown age in an apocalypse. she's following the same format as s1 for s2, but in s1 it worked as the equal parts allure and wariness made sense for two people born/made closed off and suspicious yet yearning for connection. but in s2, a time to deepen and split open the past, motivations, to provide a solid ground for the basis of their affection, they're staying afloat on physical attraction and half-assed omg their trauma 🙁

a main character like lane deserves character arcs to be treated with as much importance as plot progression. the mercy/no mercy stat feels like a convenient way to wash her hands off actually showing how lane gets to that point. it's unnatural, and it leaves me frustrated with lane who is still the same girl we saw in s1e1.

what has changed in two seasons, both plot and character wise? if s1 was utilized to set the framework for the rest of the story, such as by giving us glimpses of her childhood, then s2 should've delved into the emotional aspect of it. while the impact of it on her views and relationships is shown, nothing ever seems to challenge it. events pass by without a reverberation in her soul; all her inner monologues are some vague opinions she believes as fact about humanity and its nature and nothing, not the plot, not the lis, ever seem to make her question it. i'd thought the whole point of writing a character like her in a setting with high-risk, deadly, tense situations is to force her out of the shell she confines herself to, and make her look at her own light as well as darkness. what is the point if she's never forced to confront them?

so of course the romance routes are lacking in truth and depth. cain has the excuse of subtext and parallels and soulmateism, but what about the rest? i don't know too much about dmitry, but greg's route is both painful and baffling. on what basis does he dream of domestic bliss when he knows as much about her as any random member of the squad? at the end of s2 (2/3rd into the book!) their romance is still based off 'you're a fantasy, you're my reality.' while cute, is that all she can think of for them? some vague unexplained attraction and lane liking to be desired? greg has nice shoulders and a sister, then what?

she could've shown them seeing an aspect of themself in her (where i assumed dmitry's route was heading), or sympathise with her, but how are they falling for her without knowing her depths? based off an inexplicable attraction alone. more than halfway through. it's so unbalanced. does she even like them? does she even know them? (yan 😴) does it make sense for a mistrustful character like lane to fall for some rando? with cain, she shows affection in her own way but greg's scenes are just pitiful.

no need to speak of anna. i'd argue someone shouldn't be telling you to not be homophobic, but let's set that aside for now and look at writers who have at the very least heeded the fandom's criticism and concerns and took a step towards providing better representation. i don't care what vision she has (which isn't even counting how anna hasn't been given a consistent personality – why would she pull away in disgust when she made it abundantly clear she's into women in s1?) if the people you're attempting to represent tell you it's problematic and uncomfortable, you listen. it reeks of arrogance on her part.

the -2 female characters in this book get such... strange treatment. anna appears to plot dump about the infection, or be lane's walking wardrobe. kira... not to be the friend that's too woke but every single man in the squad sustaining some kind of injury and bouncing back but kira had to be explicitly sobbing and sniveling to lane for a chance to live, and still die, after that whole 'i'm going to move on' epiphany? nick and noah who were kidnapped and held by the cultists for forever, lestor who got eyeballed by an infected, but it was kira who had to die by falling into a pit?

the only defense i hear anymore is of the plot and it's unique, twisted charm and. well! we haven't made headway in an entire season, and keep getting dragged off into useless side plots. as a friend @cainlane 🤍 aptly put it,

i was talking to a mutual today ab how funny the plot looks when the entirety of s2 follows the formula of squad finds out something and goes there -> cult is (and by what means i have no idea) already there -> they fight -> cult goes away (once again by what means idk)

the foreshadowing is ridiculously vague, all required information is somehow conveniently preserved in documents, and it's getting exhausting to read it all over again every update, when we all know how the scintillating potential of s1 could've carried over into s2.

i tried very hard to think of a positive, something that has improved from s1 and nothing comes to mind. oh well. i'm still going to be (tentatively) seated for the rest of the book but know it's with a heavy heart.

also the diamond choices are ridiculously expensive for nothing ❤️ suck my dick

[crepey-pastries]

Crepey Discussions #2:

Age in the Creepypasta Fandom

So let's take a step back, go down memory lane. You're 12 years old- You just got 5th grade under your belt. You're growing, you're learning, and you want to branch out. You're not the kid swayed by my little pony or Disney princesses, you're not the kid who likes TMNT or Batman anymore. You want to jump from these things into something new. You want to look under the familiarity and dive into the unpredictability.

Now if you're a little girl there are two paths to walk: You go one path, get into boy bands and kpop and become hyped for them or you go another and get into scary stories and find your way to Creepypasta. (Of course, there are alternative paths, but speaking from experience at this time, there seems to be two ways.) 

But you're just a kid. Regardless, you have no idea what you're signing up for and the lessons you're going to be taking from these phases.

And if you've taken the Creepypasta Path, you certainly aren't ready for the plummet.

What I just described to you is what every kid goes through, picking an alternate phase to describe themselves. Maybe the experience is different or unique to you, but ultimately, at this time, you pick a phase, and it helps you grow and form your identity.

And it's natural. It's normal to go through these phases. However, if you were to go into Creepypasta or have gone through this phase, you know and need to be aware of what comes with this phase, namely risks and unspoken rules.

Which if I could describe them from my experience was:

90% of female characters/The Killer clones are Mary Sues/Gary Stus who don't deserve the time of day.

Femininity is a weakness, and you're stupid for liking pink or being girly.

Don't be a Shipper. Only Ship the *CANON* Ships, and if you don't, you're a demon.

Toby likes Waffles and fuck you if you don't laugh along.

Don't Draw Attention to Yourself. You can/have/always will have potential to be a target. 

As a kid you had to take these lessons and for the longest time you had two choices; Either be laughed at by the older fans who had no qualms talking down to you and targeting you for harassment and abuse. Or you stay quiet; you sneak around like a mouse because drawing attention to yourself is bad.

Realistically, there was no reason you should've been posting in this fandom at that age. Hindsight is 2020, you realize you put yourself in a vulnerable position. But you were just a child- it wasn't your fault for wanting to draw and have fun and it wasn't your fault adults had too much time on their hands to bully you for being a kid instead of modeling better behavior for you.

You were a child. And I'm telling you right now, please stop punishing yourself for having been a child. 

The Creepypasta Fandom is infamous for a number of things but the biggest, and one we see too often in other fandoms, is kids in these edgy spaces and how people on the internet are prone to forget their responsibilities because they feel the anonymity of online protects them from consequences.

WARNING: We are going to be getting into deeper heavier topics such as Grooming, Abuse, and Manipulation if you click to go forward to read under the cut. I am trusting you to be able to handle it.

Read Ahead if Bored and Ready

Creepypasta Fandom was a cesspool, and it might still be one to this day. Unfortunately like many fandoms and because of the internet we have to accept kids are going to go through phases, be drawn to the edginess of Creepypasta and it's going to be one feature they use to figure themselves out and identify themselves. It comes with the age of growing up with internet access, but how we, the older fans, and the fandom, choose to address it is a different thing. 

For this, we're going to be going over the age of Fans, Creators, Age of Creepypasta Characters, and everything in between. So strap in. 

The Age of Fans: 

Growing up in this fandom, you probably went in, hoping for the best or wanting to explore an interest. Maybe you liked writing, drawing, maybe you just liked edgy looking boys and girls because they made you feel cool. Regardless, if you entered the fandom young, you entered to have fun unaware that the fandom was a very tense place. No matter what, for some reason, the creepypasta fandom was a place that claimed it was for creativity when, in reality, it emphasized mediocrity and took word of mouth from older men with a Youtube channel as gospel. You could be a kid trying your hand at writing and drawing and older fans would make fun of you, people would tell you you're not being a fan "correctly", and being in this fandom to explore and figure out yourself would quickly teach you to be silent about it or keep quiet and watch as others get bullied lest you be the next target. Slowly, exploring interests became learning how to not exist in a fandom or how to feel shame for being a kid. (Which on another note, I'm someone who believes people should experience shame in small doses as shame leads to humility and experiences that, though unpleasant, help you grow. But fandoms like Creepypasta breed insecurity, life is all about balance, and this fandom didn't find it for a while, probably still struggles to.) 

But let's say instead of being a target of bullying and ridicule, you were on the opposite end.... Maybe you were good at drawing, but that also made you a target. I cannot personally say if young writers have experienced this, but I do know, this fandom valued two things: 1. Who you were friends with and 2. If you were a good artist. Like any fandom, a young fan is susceptible to grooming by older fans, but it doesn't just have to be for sexual means (And we already know Creepypasta fandom didn't mind sexual means). A pattern that seems prevalent on the internet is targeting young fans, coaxing them to do art for you, and giving them bare minimum scraps. Creepypasta was proficient at that because, as a broader problem, this fandom values good art and visuals more than writing so if older fans and creators could exploit young artists for art, they would do it under the guise of friendship or for association. Essentially, trick young fans to draw for them in exchange for being treated with basic decency and kindness. There was always a motive, and young artists were susceptible to it. 

Young Artists on this end were led to believe that because they were accepted by the older fans, they were seen as better than the young fans who were being ridiculed when in actuality both groups were used by older fans for a motive. One for art, and the other for entertainment. 

Young fans, like in any fandom, are always at a risk to be groomed and manipulated by people who believe that because they're on the internet, they're above consequences. And as jaded as it is, they might be. But Creepypasta fandom seemed to be the place that let things slide because "If it wasn't for the creator we wouldn't have the character"- Not only does this underplay the creator's actions but I fear it also sent a message that if you created a great character or was popular in this fandom, you were absolved of consequences. Essentially perpetuated the cycle that should've never been here. 

That wouldn't be the only message garnered. as stated, because the Creepypasta Fandom had a lot of hostility and was a warzone, it taught people a lot of notions in the fandom that did a disservice in the long run. It taught people to be judgmental; To look at certain creators as the "Tell All"s for what's canon or not; It introduced the "Canon" arguments and "Ships are bad" notions; It encouraged people to color inside the lines and limit their creativity; And lastly, it taught people that no matter how skilled you are as a writer, if you can't draw good you're nothing. Just another person either to ignore or laugh at, and that isn't right. 

Especially when this fandom does want to be known for its creative writing and character concepts.

Age of Creators:

Which brings us to the age of creators. I touched on this a bit earlier but creators who became popular seemed to have been given a gold pass but one of the more insidious aspects was instead of giving advice and helping young fans grow, you would be punished for writing stories as a kid. You could be learning to write, and somehow, adults with too much time on their hands would make fun of you or treat you derisively for wanting to write. We've seen it countless times in this fandom where kids writing a story would be reposted and mocked endlessly. (Crappypasta comes to mind where kids writing Creepypasta stories would have their writing posted there and made fun of by these people). There was no shortage of ridicule, and it seems kids' writings were mocked while adults' writing was ignored. 

Again, you were punished for being young and exploring a passion when adults in the fandom who were big honchos of the community seemed okay to regurgitate the same sludge over and over. Creativity and encouraging others in a compassionate and well-mannered way was punished. 

But that was just for writers. Older Creators, whether they like it or not, had a responsibility to fans. And some of the older creators abused that responsibility. This fandom propped up a lot of bad people, and these bad people perpetuated notions and thoughts to younger fans that would get parrotted on later on, and it wasn't right. Older Fans and Creators lead by example. Even on the internet and especially for creatives. You want to be a creator who is respectful and can be an adult. Otherwise, you're once again adding to the broader problem as a whole that the internet struggles with. People not wanting to take responsibility or act their age online. 

Everybody wants to use the internet to say things they're too cowardly to say in public, but nobody wants to be the better person. Just because nobody was there to be the better person in your formative years doesn't mean you should add to the problem in someone else's. 

Age of Creepypasta Characters

But it's not just that, is it? There's another thing noticeable in this fandom, and something that admittedly to me, is very weird. People seem to glorify youth in this community. There is this strange sense of wanting characters to be young. One could argue it's just because those years are the most innocent, so them being sullied is a potent message. Another could argue it's because they were young and relate to characters their same age at the time. But what is very unusual is this focus on keeping them as youth: Keep characters 8-13 years old, don't let them grow, don't let them experience. 

What this fixation does is it glorifies or focuses on a time that really you shouldn't be glorifying. Much like how young adult books do it, people seem to focus entirely on youth because it's a time you make the most mistakes but also because some people cannot grasp the concept of adulthood or older years. I fear the Creepypasta Fandom partly still villainizes age and maturity when these things are not your enemies. 

Backstories are meant to be the explanation, not the destination. 

Characters, especially those who are alive, should be allowed to grow and experience. And this fandom seems to want to keep people stunted when that's not the point. Much like writing, you limit yourself focusing on one stage of life. Life is full of enriching experiences, and if you hide from them and have the characters hide from them as well, you do a disservice to them creatively.

And if not that, you can make characters in their 20s,30s, 40s. Once again, this fandom seems opposed to letting older characters exist. Much like female creepypastas, it almost feels as if older characters, and we can say older mortal characters, are unwelcomed. They have to be young and they have to stay that way and that is a very.... Disturbing outlook to want to stand by. 

All in all, it is very telling to me Creepypasta Fandom still clings to Creepypasta Characters being young or not touching on older characters. Almost as if making age and experiencing the big bad when that is not true. (Hell, I mean, look at Blue Eyed Masky vs. Tim. Blue Eyed Masky was always drawn younger than Tim, which is another tell tale sign when maturity and growth is important as well.) 

How Creepypasta Plays into Children's Phases

As it goes, I don't bring this all up to rant or vent or make you feel bad, I bring this up because we have to consider our place as people who lived through the early 2010s hell that was the Creepypasta Fandom and do better. Like it or not, kids to this day are still drawn to this fandom. And if it's not this fandom, it'll be adult things like Family Guy and Helluva Boss/Hazbin Hotel (Which, ironically enough, despite claiming to be an adult show, is attracting more kids.). Like it or hate it, Kids are drawn to these places to explore and learn about themselves and they may not be wanted in these spaces but we as the adults of the fandom have to be conscious of it. 

How to Fix It:

But I'm not just going to be your old lady on the porch lecturing you. I'm not doing this to be complaining even though it IS my blog, and I can talk about whatever I want, lol. No, I bring this up because I believe now at this time we should encourage and have the means to be better than what we were given. 

Younger Fans Should-

Be conscious and aware that when you step into a Fandom, you have to be careful with strangers and keep to your passions. Do not let someone try to change or bully you, you are important, you do matter. You may not understand it now, but keep focusing on what you like or what you have to do, and things will ride. Be conscious and careful, but don't feel as if you have to change yourself to keep someone else happy. 

Stay in your section and trust your gut if something doesn't feel right, stay away. If someone tells you you can't stay, there's a reason. I know kids might find this difficult, and younger fans may not understand it. But if an adult blocks you and tells you to leave, do as they ask. You have your place, they have theirs. Be conscious and respectful, your time will come. But for now, trust your gut if something doesn't seem right. Avoid it if it goes against the precautions you were taught. And stay in your lane. Some people in this fandom don't block you because they hate you. They do it because you deserve to be making your own path, not trailing after in places you shouldn't be. Just draw, write, create, and have fun, but ultimately, stay where you feel comfortable. 

Older Fans Should-

Hold themselves accountable and help protect Younger fans from internalizing bad crp messages. We are NOT the people who created this fandom and all its problems. If you are an older fan still here, hold yourself accountable and make sure you aren't perpetuating the nonsense we were taught. You don't have to be a parent or breath down their neck, but you have to make sure to lead by example. Like it or hate it, the internet is technically the place where everyone can watch and learn from you. Be the better person and make sure you're not adding to the problem instead of contributing to it. 

PLEASE, if your space is more mature, make it clear and block kids if you have to- You're the adult now you have no excuse. If a minor/kid is watching you and you're fine with that, you are WILLINGLY making that decision to make your place accessible to minors and children. No one is forcing that on you. But if your themes are more adult, you should be making the conscious effort to make sure younger fans know they're not welcome in your sphere and you have to keep them away. Maybe they'll block evade, maybe they won't, but if you at least try to make your space inaccessible to minors, you're at least trying. And trying is better than perpetuating the 'Learned Helplessness' drilled into everyone's mind when they're on the internet. 

Anyways, that was my discussion on Age in the Creepypasta Fandom. Thank you for reading. A discussion is posted every Wednesday, so keep an eye out for that. 

[prismuffin]

I just watched MI:V and I was searching for Ethan son reader fics and yours was the only one 🥺 I'm really grateful for that one though, it was perfect, wonderfully written. I guess my ask is similar and of course you can completely choose to ignore this too. But, yeah, Ethan comes home to get to know that his son is practically off the rails, has fallen into bad company which has given some bad habits too like maybe Ethan catches him smoking or something. Ethan then realises that he has to fix this and be home more often or it can even be that Solomon Lane captures the son to get Ethan to agree to him, anything works. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this!

A/n: I'm gonna try and filter out some of the asks in my inbox today!! A M:I ask to start off my day- I wrote way more than I planned to with this ask so I just made it a mini fic LMFAO

"You're My Son."

Dad!Ethan Hunt x Son!Reader

( summary: Ethan often worries what affect his absence is having on you and when he takes a break to head home he finds out )

warning?: mentions of smoking and drinking, readers depicted to be a teen of sorts but age is still fluid, semi-angsty? gets kinda sad

!-!more under the cut!-!

Ethan often wonders how his absence affects you, especially during such crucial years of you life and your development. He wishes he was the perfect father, maybe even just a good one but he knows that's easier said than done. On one hand he feels like the world needs him, and on the other, he knows that you do too. The guilt of leaving you to your own devices was catching up to him. No amount of daily calls to home could quell this concerned feeling within him so for the first time in who knows how long he took some time off. It was only two weeks, he just wanted enough time to let you know that he still cares, that he's still there for you, and then he'd go back to work feeling much better knowing that you don't feel like he's forgotten you.

After getting home he was a bit shocked to find you not there but didn't think anything of it, you're young and probably have friends you're hanging out with right now. But after a while it started to get late and dark and you weren't answering your phone so he decided to go out looking for you. He drove around his town searching for you, luckily his job made him very perceptive as it didn't take him long to find you. You stood outside a corner store surrounded by men that were obviously older than you, he watched in shock as you smoked with them, taking a swig of god knows what from a bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. He was furious but that anger quickly turned into something else as he realized his fears were coming true. How could he blame you for something like this when he is obviously the responsible one. He should've been here more.

Flashing his headlights, your group stopped throwing rocks at signs in confusion, and you cursed under your breath as you prayed it wasn't the cops. Who stepped out the car was much worse though in your opinion.

Your father.

He stood by the side of his car with his hands in his leather jacket, staring directly at you with a face that told you, you were in for it. Clicking your tongue, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him before dropping your cigarette and putting it out with your boot before saying bye to your group as you reluctantly walked up to the car. "Get in, y/n." was all your dad said when you got close enough.

The drive home was silent for only a minute before he spoke up. "Smoking y/n? Really?" You just stayed silent, continuing to look out the window, staring up at the moon. "And don't think I didn't see you drinking either, with older guys? Y/n, that's dangerous-" "They look out for me" You cut him off, daring to look at him. He opened his mouth before closing it with a sigh, not taking his eyes off the road. He thought for a moment, letting go the slight anger he felt at the situation, his eyebrows furrowing in concern as he spoke again. "I know I'm not always around and I'm sorry." His tone was sincere and you looked away from him, maybe it was because what he said made you angry, angry at the fact that it meant nothing. He was sorry? Does that even matter, the damage is already done. "But hanging out with men like them can get you in a lot of trouble." He stopped the car and it was only then that you'd noticed you'd made it back home but neither of you moved, he just simply turned to you with a worried expression. "Trouble I don't want to see you in. And look, I know I haven't been the best dad in the world, I know I'm never around but I still care about you. I think about you all day, everyday, whether I'm on a mission or not I wonder how you're doing without me and my worst fear was that my absence was making you bitter or sad and to see that I was right it's…" He trails off and you glanced at him, seeing the tears that had welled up in his eyes, your own looking quite similar as he placed his hand on your shoulder. "I'm gonna start being here for you okay? Not just with daily phone calls, I mean here." Though the angle was a little awkward with you both being in a car, he hugged you- and no matter how much you wanted to tell him to go fuck himself you couldn't, because you realized you missed him just as much as he missed you. You thought about him all day, everyday, whether you were busy or not. Wondering if he was alright or alive, knowing he risks his life everyday to save thousands if not millions of people.

So you hugged him back and let the tears flow, your grip on him tightening as you heard his next words. "You're my son, and I'm gonna take care of you again."

Ethan called IMF Headquarters that night, requesting much more than two weeks off.

----!----

( This was gonna be an ask but it turned out so long I just kinda made it a mini-fic )

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[ohmigoshiloveu]

Okay so like. I still haven't managed to get myself to finish episode 9, so I don't fully know how Theo's glow up finishes, but regardless I fucking love relistening to Emizel's section of episode 1 and like. Fuck man Theo does a lot of growing. Like he's a little bit pathetic at the beginning of the series. He's so, so brave during the alleyway fight, but he sounds shaky and scared and like a sopping wet pathetic baby the entire time. Charlie specifically describes him as not very alert, not a great fighter, and gives him this little moment where it takes him a second to manage to crush a soda can. He botches the check to beat Emizel in Smash Bros so there's a chance he sucks at the related skills (dexterity and computers I think?), but also after he loses Charlie specifically has him sound super frustrated and conclude that he should've 'stayed in his lane'. When Emizel says 'We'll do what we do best,' and Theo immediately responds with 'drink soda?' so fast that the other players notice it. Charlie might've had that as a predetermined character thing. Theo drinks soda. There's not much else to him.

Which creates this interesting dynamic between him and Emizel, because Emizel is so much better at him at all of these skills that the people around them (a FUCKING GANG) value. Emizel's perceptive, and agile, and strong, and a great fucking fighter irl and in videogames AND he always sounds badass. He's the top dog, the apex predator in their social circle. And I think that colors their relationship a lot? Like Theo has to look up to Emizel. I bet that Theo's looked up to Emizel since they first met, maybe Emizel came crashing into his life doing something epic and Theo thought it was the greatest shit ever.

On the flip side, I was getting a few hints of resentment? Hear me out! It's that 'should have just stayed in my lane' line. He's painfully aware how great Emizel is, compared to how much he's (from his perspective!) just a one trick pony. He's here to drink soda and say funny things, that's all most people want from him and he fucks up whenever he tries to do anything else!

And later in the segment Theo snarkily brings up a medicine check that Emizel had just fucked up in like this super backhanded, super passive aggressive way. That could be him wanting to rub Emizel's one singular fuck up in his face (especially because Theo was having a Moment about how he feels like people only see him as the soda guy, so any feelings of inadequacy would've been dialed up to eleven, so if there was any time for him to resent Emizel it'd be then), but it could also be that he was frustrated with Emizel being an ass (Emizel had just guessed that Theo's dream was to be a nurse, which was flat out wrong, and that's literally what set up the backhanded comment. Theo was saying something like 'thank fuck you don't wanna be a nurse cuz you sure fucked up with nursing that guy earlier.' It could also be that Emizel literally almost forgot Theo's name. Theo literally gave him the 'th' sound, it might've just been a bit Charlie was doing or it could've been Theo being AWARE that Emizel almost forgot his name. Or! It could be that in this moment, where Theo was confiding in Emizel about feeling like being the soda guy was all anyone ever saw in him, Emizel said something to the affect of 'well yeah Soda's the fun one.' Emizel doesn't think before he speaks and literally has a 1 in empathy. Just because he loves Theo doesn't mean he's not gonna blunder into being a complete and utter asshole to him. I'd hazard to say Emizel accidentally being an ass to people he cares about is a running theme).

But also all of that might come down to Charlie still getting the character down. Or, because I've theorized before that Theo might not've been supposed to survive the first Gabriel fight, the little hints of bitterness might've been intentional (even if they were completely improvved and Charlie didn't mean to add that to Theo's character) because Charlie was trying to shove as much character into this character before he was gone, but once it became clear that Theo was going to stick around longer he dropped it. As far as I remember, that bitterness is completely gone in all later interactions we see with Theo. OR! It could be that the bitterness drops because they've both got bigger fish to fry from that point onward, what with Theo's Shilo Incident TM, Emizel's vampirism, the Weylin twins. He doesn't have time to be bitter, he's too busy worrying about losing a cornerstone of his identity or helping his best friend adjust to being a fucking vampire now. And then after he learns to live without soda that basically negates his feelings of inadequacy- like, getting over the idea that he's nothing if he's not the soda guy would be required for him to give up on being the soda guy. And then Emizel would drift back into JUST being a guy to aspire to instead of also being a reminder of Theo's short comings, and then drift even further down into being 'guy who is actually going through it and has to overcome his own demons just like I had to overcome mine'. Like, I think we got to watch Theo slowly start to take Emizel off this pedestal in real time (he still definitely thinks Emizel's hot shit tho. Emizel's his boy, after all.)

Regardless, even if Theo did resent Emizel a little in the beginning, it's so fucking clearly overshadowed by how much he fucking loved him. And like, how could he not? Imagine you're Theo, critically low self esteem, and the literal coolest guy you know fucking LOVES you. Like, Emizel keeps consistently going out of his way to pull Theo up to his level and to treat him as an equal (mostly. Sometimes protectiveness bleeds through, like in his hypothetical fang scenario in ep 1 where he predicts there being five Fangs to fight and he says he can take three and Theo can take two (which in itself is still incredibly kind to Theo. Like, boy, you thought Theo was gonna be able to take out two whole guys? Hell no.) But that could also be chalked up to Emizel just being a cocky ass who wants to show off). Like dude, c'mon. Emizel might be a reminder of everything that Theo's not, but he's also probably Theo's biggest cheerleader. He wholeheartedly thought he was being supportive when he said he thought Theo'd make a great nurse! In all seriousness, though, even if it ultimately discourages him, Theo playing that Smash game against Emizel was at least a little bit of proof of him decidedly not 'staying in his lane,' and Emizel seems to inspire that! Later in that segment he challenges Theo to see which of them can break one of the Fangs kneecaps first! I bet Emizel challenged him to stupid competitions a lot, and that got Theo fired up and competitive in return!

And even when Emizel's not building Theo up, he's still giving Theo special attention, or readily receiving any attention Theo gives him. If nothing else, even at his lowest points that might've made Theo feel cool by association.

On Emizel's part, I think he's like, possibly completely oblivious to any turmoil Theo's going through? Like he thinks Theo's the shit and genuinely sees him as an equal. I'm 99% sure that Theo being his right hand man happened because Theo would've put himself into the role (in episode one before he gets all of his character development he's pretty much always looking to Emizel for what to do, and still more or less does whatever he says up to where I'm at in the series, with refusing to leave the alleyway being the only exception I remember). I think if Theo'd had higher self esteem or been less eager to defer to Emizel, Emizel would've happily gone about his business slotting Theo into more of a partner role. He tells Theo to run from that alleyway because Theo'd taken a fucking devastating hit and Emizel was sure he could handle himself, not because he knows Theo sucks at fighting. He tries to turn Theo into a cool vampire. He convinces Shilo that Theo'll be a valuable asset to raiding the Weylin warehouse and they take Theo with them instead of having him stay behind with the car like Grefgore, despite Theo being the one who actually knows how to drive. He tells Theo about being a vampire even though he keeps it a secret from everyone else, confides in Theo that 'yeah he might absolutely be susceptible to going into a frenzy like Shilo did.'

When you get down to it, Emizel pretty much tells Theo everything he would think is relevant, with two notable exceptions. Maybe three if you count him not telling Theo he has nine lives like a cat but tbh I think he might've just forgot. Or maybe he gets to it later, or maybe he did tell him and I forgot! idk man! But! Those other two things. First off, he like. Pointedly does not tell Theo that he's a prince. Like when they were doing the recap on the way to the Weylin warehouse, there's like. Charlie gives Condi an opening to say it, a little 'is there anything else?' and Emizel just. Doesn't. And the second one is that (at least where I'm at) Emizel never comes clean about bloodbonding Theo. Maybe it just hasn't come up yet, but still. It fits a pattern of Emizel not wanting to admit something that makes him, like, ABOVE Theo somehow. He sees Theo as an equal, and a precious one at that, he doesn't want things to get weird between them because he's literal royalty, and he doesn't want Theo's life to literally revolve around him like it would under a level three blood bond- and doesn't want to admit that he even considered it, even if he did it without really understanding what it was.

And Emizel backing off from ghoulifying Theo after Arthur explains what it actually entails kinda leads into a far more headcanon-y relationship analysis thing so um. Feel free to skip the next paragraph.

So! Like. Why the fuck was Emizel so attached to Theo being Soda. Like he gets over it decently quick, cuz that's his buddy and it's what Theo wants, so like. Whatever. But like, if I'm right about Theo always looking up to Emizel from the moment they met, there might've been some wiggle room between when they first became friends and when Theo became Soda. And like, before Theo became Soda, being Emizel's buddy would probably be the only thing he'd feel he had going for him? Which would've made it even harder for Emizel to get them both on equal footing, and I think that's just... really unappealing to him. Like! Don't get me wrong, I'm sure Emizel loves having people kiss up to him and respect him and blah blah blah, I just think Theo being his boy and Emizel treating him like a partner go hand in hand. Either they weren't best friends yet or Emizel was just. Kind of uncomfortable and eager to push Theo into growing into something more than a hypeman. And then the soda incident occurs, and it gives Theo SOMETHING to define himself by, something people like him and know him for that's got nothing to do with Emizel, and maybe the initial soda incident was bad, but having that sense of identity and falling into what kind've feels like a class clown kinda role might've helped get Theo over his self esteem issues long enough for Emizel to go 'oh you're actually super cool. sweet.' and then blah blah blah they get super close like they are in canon. And then whenever Theo seems like he's backsliding into what he was before the soda incident, Emizel tries to course correct not because he doesn't think Theo's any fun without soda, but because he's made the mental connection that Soda without soda turns into less of a best friend and more of a follower, which as stated before he probably really doesn't want from Theo specifically. but idk. pure conjecture here.

Anyways, above all else, Theo's important to Emizel. I really, really like the idea that Theo was supposed to be like a brother to him (which. Again pointing at my 'Theo was supposed to die in episode 1' theory, can you IMAGINE the angst Emizel could've had about that? Lose one brother and then someone else claiming to be your brother shows up? It would've felt like some hellish, not-worth-it trade. Like a betrayal, like accepting Shilo might mean replacing Theo, and how could he ever?)

And Emizel's important to Theo! But unlike Emizel (who I'm 99% sure is gonna have some kinda moment with Theo but I genuinely cannot see him loving Theo in any other way than the way he does now), Theo has the bonus of having his view of Emizel have a clear trajectory to evolve over the course of the campaign. Like I said, he seems to be getting more confidence in himself and like, not gonna get into the stuff I've had spoiled beyond episode 9 but it seems like Theo's gonna get a lot more comfortable being a proper leader and not just a number two. He's gonna have an easier time seeing Emizel as an equal, and I think that's fucking awesome!

I could be completely off base, but if I never watch another episode then I'll never be proven wrong. So. Ya know.

[gingersnaptaff]

Comprehensive list of couples that need therapy - Mabinogion edition:

1. Rhiannon and Pwyll - Famously stupid dude marries famously smart woman. Nothing bad happens. (Oh, ur son's mysteriously disappeared, and ur wife's maids say ur wife ATE HIM?! Punish ur wife for seven years, make her become a horse, and give people rides like an uber. Don't think twice about this.) 6/10. I think couples therapy would probably help. At the very least Pwyll might fuckin think about things.

2. Branwen and Matholwch - Um, well, their marriage causes a war. And Matholwch is an ASS. I don't think couples therapy would've saved them. I think Branwen should've been allowed to fuckin deck him. 9/10

3. Brân and the Pair Dadeni. Um, the couple that slays together stays together. WAIT! NO, NOT LIKE THAT! WKDKDKF (The Pair Dadeni got blown up. They cannot have couples therapy.) 0/10

4. Manawydan and Rhiannon - They Do Not need couples therapy. They are very well-adjusted. Manawydan makes shoes, and Rhiannon just chills. They talk a lot. Rhiannon calls Manawydan a bad bud to Pryderi, though so there is that. In his defence, Pryderi was stuck to a golden bowl at the time and unable to speak. 4/10

5. Cigfa and Pryderi - Both idiots whom I love. Both snooty. Pryderi takes offence to shoemaking, and Cigfa takes offence to farming—match made in heaven. 0/10

6. Gwydion and Gilfaethwy - They fucked. They're brothers and they fucked. Their uncle made them become animals and they fucked. I think they just need therapy, never mind couples therapy. 100/10

7. Blodeuwedd and Lleu - Woman made out of flowers marries man who doesn't pay attention to her. Woman kills man. Man becomes eagle, and woman becomes owl. It's a tale as old as time. Yes, they NEED couples therapy. 1000/10

8. Arthur and Gwenhwyfar - Honestly, they kinda need it. There's no Lancelot, but Arthur is still an idiot. Plus, he has a list of worldly possessions that are super important to him, and his wife is like seventh. 5/10

9. Cai and Bedwyr - They do not need couples therapy. They just need naps because they're tired of dealing with Arthur's shit. 0/10

10. Peredur and Angharad - Manic pixie dream boy and exasperated golden-handed woman. They're also cousins? 6/10

11. Geraint and Enid - These two need therapy. Geraint so he can stop being an abusive sick and Enid because she's spent so long putting up with Geraint's dickishness. 10/10

12. Owain and Luned (and, by extension, the Lady of the Well) - Do they need therapy? Not they just need to work out their misunderstandings. Still, therapy would kinda benefit them. 4/10

13. Macsen and Elen - Roman Emperor who saw pretty lady in dream. He needs therapy. 7/10

14. Gwenhwyfar and Edern ap Nudd - MY GOD, THEY NEED THERAPY! Edern sending a dwarf to whip Gwen's lady? Edern whipping Geraint? Insulting the woman who is sometimes seen to be his lover? BRUH, 10/10

15. Gwyn ap Nudd and Creiddylad - Ehudjfjfjf Gwyn tries to kidnap Creiddylad and then is forced to fight for her. He kills a man in the battle that Creiddylad's fiancé wages to get her back and then makes the son of the man EAT HIS HEART?!?!? (Gwyn still has a cute dog, though) A million out of 10.

16. Dylan ail Don and the waves - 0/10. Dylan is in his lane. Moisturised. Flourishing. (Just don't do an Uncle Gofannon and smash his head in with a hammer.)

(This is supposed to be funny. Pls don't yell at me.)

[stormycs15]

⸻ Topside, Male Oc x Reader ⸻

Chapter Three: (Not Much Time)

Characters: female reader, Vi, Powder, Mylo, Claggor, Vander, Oc, Enforcers, Vander

genre: fanfiction, Arcane season 1

summary: Life has been hard for you're friends and family in the Lanes. Doing odd jobs to get by is second nature for you, but will one job topside really change your lives?

word count: 2522

Previous / Next

Your POV

I run my hand through my hair before entering the bustling bar. I'm not looking forward to talking to Calyx—I have no idea how he'll react. With a lecture? A disappointed speech? The place is packed tonight, no doubt buzzing with rumors about what happened in Piltover earlier today. I'm sure my mother is busy gossiping with strangers, trying to stir up rebellion among Vander's followers.

As I enter, I spot Calyx working behind the bar. With a sigh, I hop over the counter to join him. He glances at me through his shaggy, brown, medium-length hair before returning to mixing drinks for patrons. Before I can even don an apron, orders start flying at me. I wince while shaking drinks—the pain isn't too bad—and carry on. We work in silence for a few moments before Calyx speaks up.

"That from the explosion?" I hear from my left. I look over to see Calyx, his eyes still on the drinks. I frown as I pour one. I knew I had no idea how he'd react, but I wasn't expecting this. I sigh, getting some ice for the drink.

"No, some idiots who were waiting for us at the border," I grumble, pouring a beer from the tap. I hear him pause, and I turn to see him looking down at the drink in his hand, emotions clearly bottled up. I roll my eyes and go back to making drinks. "I'm fine, Cal. It barely hurts," I say, handing some drinks to regulars.

"Why didn't you guys wait for me?" he finally asks, a slight hiss in his voice. I stretch my arms, tired from today's excitement.

"Violet really wanted to go. They were going with or without me... I didn't want them to get lost in Piltover, and Violet said you'd tell Vander no matter what. It wasn't my plan—you would've been on my list." I look at him, and he finally meets my gaze, raising an eyebrow smugly. I roll my eyes before pouring more drinks.

"We'll talk about it after the shift. I'm glad you're back in one piece, though," he says. I can't help but look down at the drink in my hands with a small smile. I hand it off, mulling over his words. We work the rest of his shift in comfortable silence amidst the bustling bar. I honestly enjoy it—I don't need to talk to have a good time with Calyx. It's why I like hanging around him. A few hours pass, and as we near the end of the shift, Vander emerges to take over for Calyx.

"Calyx..." Vander says, making both Cal and I turn to his father. Vander glances at me before focusing on his son, his expression grim. "Make sure they lay low and stay safe," he says in a low voice. Cal nods seriously to his father, then turns and motions for me to head to the back. But I frown and step forward instead.

"I'll catch up with you, okay?" I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. I notice his eyes flick to where my hands disappear. His gaze meets mine briefly before he nods and walks off. I turn to see Vander surveying the bar, clearly waiting for me. I take a seat on a stool, feeling his eyes on me. It's slightly uncomfortable. I swallow, resting my arms on the table, trying to hide behind them a bit.

"I know why you went with them," he finally says, and I sigh. "Even if it was in vain... why didn't you talk them out of it?" he asks, sounding tired.

"I tried to... I even tried to stall them so Cal would find out, or we'd run into you. But Vi had her mind made up, and I knew if I didn't go, they would've gotten lost or caught," I grumble, knowing I should've tried harder. Vander is silent at my words; I can tell he agrees with me.

"I don't know what to do with her... She has a different kind of fire than Cal does... he at least listens to me. She just reminds me of her father," he grumbles, pouring more drinks for customers. I just sigh. I never met them...

"She's unhappy with how we're treated down here. She wants to change that. She thinks she can be the one to do it," I say, watching as Vander fills a cup with beer and hands it off before turning to me.

"I was like her once," he says, looking down at me. "I thought I could solve our problems with my fists. But life only gets harder when you live that way. And it hurts the people around you more." I avert my eyes at his words.

"I'll try to help Cal keep them in line," I say, starting to get up from my seat.

"Hey, [y/n]..." Vander says, making me turn back. He doesn't look at me as he speaks. "I'll try to talk to them."

I sigh with a huff. "You don't have to. It won't change anything." I turn to go downstairs and meet up with Cal.

At the bottom of the stairs, I find Mylo, Vi, and Cal. They all look at me, and I quickly scan the room, gathering this wasn't a happy conversation. I avert my eyes as I walk down the steps.

"Oh, and don't forget about her," Mylo says, trying to deflect attention. "She gets hurt on every mission we go on." I raise an eyebrow at his words.

"Mylo, will you stop?" I say, halting a few feet away from him. He looks up at me with furrowed eyebrows. I rarely raise my voice.

"Yes, Powder made a mistake. Yes, I made a mistake. You make mistakes too, Mylo. There won't be another mission—can't you wrap your thick brain around that? What we did today was a mistake. Half of the underground—no, half of Piltover knows what we did. While Vander does his best, he can't hide us forever. It's only a matter of time before someone snitches on us." I growl, poking his chest as he gulps.

"[y/n], calm down," I hear Calyx say. I don't look at him, keeping my glare locked on Mylo.

"Instead of talking, maybe you should make yourself useful. I don't know, try to pick some locks or something." I turn and jump up, grabbing onto one of the beams to pull myself up. I grunt as I haul myself onto my loft, slamming open the hatch door to show how angry I am. On the roof, I look down at my bandaged hand and sigh, moving my good hand to my side as I close my eyes.

"You know, it's extremely hard to get up here. Not everyone is as acrobatic as you," I hear. I look up to see Cal. I huff, amused, and crawl over to hold out my good hand. He takes it, and I help pull him through the hatch. He sits down next to me silently and starts to unwrap the fabric on my hand. I watch as his delicate fingers prod my swollen wrist. I wince a few times before looking up at his face. A look of concern shows, and I can't help but stare. He's always so quiet, but never shy.

"I'm sorry, you know," I mumble, earning a look from him. "I didn't say it earlier, but I really wanted to at least tell you."

"I know how Violet can be, [y/n]. It's okay. Everyone's safe," he says, shaking his head.

"No, it's not, Cal," I say sternly but softly. "You deserve an apology either way. You won't be getting one from Violet, so you're getting one from me."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asks. I quickly avert my eyes, and he reads my silence. He sighs, rewrapping my wrist. "Where?" he asks. I don't move, causing him to furrow his brows further. Slowly, I move my good hand to my stomach, near my ribs. He sighs, drooping his head.

"Is that from the explosion?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. I nodded slowly, eliciting an exasperated sigh from him.

"How did it even happen?" he inquired, absently fiddling with the edges of my shirt.

"I'm not sure... Something about that place was weird, Cal. This inventor—I've never seen anything like his plans. I went through some of his journals; whatever it was had to do with these small blue stones. I saw Powder playing with a few before that jerk came back." I grumbled, finally lifting my shirt just enough to reveal the large bruise on my side. "As I was trying to get everyone out, something exploded and I collided with something," I added quietly, earning a silent, worried stare from him. I avoided his gaze, but I could tell the bruise was bad. He took what remained of the bandages he'd brought up and began wrapping them around my stomach.

"You need to be more careful," he finally said, taking my hands and lowering them, my shirt falling back into place. I looked at him, studying those green eyes carefully.

"That's why I'll be sticking around with you," I smiled, earning an eye roll from him. I just smirked, squeezing his hand that hadn't left mine. He didn't say anything—he didn't need to. I could hear a commotion from the bar and frowned, looking away from him, knowing they were here.

"Let's go find the others. We were told to look after them anyway. They're probably at the arcade—let's go," he said, already knowing who I'd sensed entering the Last Drop. Pulling me up, I followed him down to the hideout. There, I saw Vi using the boxing machine, Mylo and Powder at the shooting range, and Claggor just standing around. It was eerily quiet when we arrived. I surveyed them all as they continued with their individual ways of passing the time. I walked over to a spot under the rafters, jumping and quickly pulling myself up with my good hand. I turned and offered my hand to Cal; he quickly took it and joined me on the loft.

"Remind me why we even bother with this dump?" I heard Mylo ask. I started bouncing my leg, listening to everything going on.

"Vander said to lay low... Enforcers never come down here, so it's as good a place as any," Violet replied, throwing a few punches at the machine.

"What's the matter, Mylo? Scared Powder's going to beat you again?" I teased from my perch, smirking. I heard his mocking grumble in response.

"I'd win if she didn't keep fixing these things up," he said defensively. I rolled my eyes, lying down with my legs dangling over the side. I closed my eyes, trying to relax a bit.

"You know I wouldn't take you guys on a job you couldn't handle, right?" I heard Violet ask, making me open my eyes and turn to look at Calyx. Our eyes met at her words, and neither of us said anything, knowing it would be an unpopular opinion. We loved Violet, but her anger sometimes clouded her judgment, putting us at risk. As they continued to talk, I sat up, narrowing my eyes. I pulled my legs up from their dangling position; Cal noticed my sudden focus and followed my gaze, though he couldn't see anything. I started to see enforcers harassing some people and frowned. I didn't notice Powder getting closer to the window, and before I could say anything, a man was thrown out, landing motionless on the ground.

I turned to Cal with a worried look, which he returned, shifting closer to me to watch the unfolding scene. I observed the enforcers entering the arcade through the now-shattered window. As they started to circle the rest of the group, a blue shine caught my eye. Blinking, I saw Powder hide her pouch where I'd spotted the blue glimmer. My eyes widened as I reached out, clutching Cal's shoulder. I slowly began to piece the information together. Those blue stones... the shock I felt. The energy that had been pulling at me. Those weren't stones—they were Arcane crystals. I'd only heard of them before, but it made sense now: the explosion, the blue flecks in my vision. I'd thought I was just seeing stars from the blast.

Those things were dangerous. As my mind filled with worry, a hand placed itself on my arm. I looked up and nodded at Cal. We needed to find a way to get them out. This wasn't good—what if they found what Powder had? I tried to get into a good position, but just my luck, the enforcers walked right under us. I looked to Claggor, noticing him already eyeing Vi. I shifted, ready to jump, and just as the lights switched off, I leapt down onto the back of the enforcer below me. I turned to Powder and ushered her over the counter. Jumping after her, we both dodged the illuminated moving figures with ease.

I went to duck when I was yanked back by my wrist and pulled face-to-face with an enforcer. I tried to tug away, but his grip only tightened. He started to drag me back through the arcade. Scanning for anything I could use to break free, I spotted one of Powder's new experiments. It had big jaws with spiky teeth, and we were walking right past it. Using the little momentum he gave me, I pulled him back so his arm was between the jaws. I reached up, trying to slam it down, but quickly realized my bandaged hand wasn't strong enough. I heard his triumphant laugh. Looking up into the enforcer's face, I gasped at the chilling glint in his eyes. Suddenly, the jaws snapped shut on his arm—enough to leave a nasty bruise. That was definitely going to hurt later. I felt a gentle hand grasp my good arm, pulling me away from the enforcer. I started running, my knees wobbly.

I turned my head to see Calyx practically dragging me out the back door. Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, I fell into pace with him. I needed to stay focused until we were safe, so I intertwined my fingers with his as we ran after our friends. I didn't want to trip or accidentally lose him, but in the haste, I couldn't tell if he squeezed my hand back.

[belladrawschstuff]

The struggle is real

I swear bro this fandom is good but like their are some real bad disadvantages.

no.1 when someone asks you what fandoms your in cause fr I'm in so many but all of them are terrifying to talk about because there will never be a way to explain countryhumans to someone, you either love it or you hate and also like it just feels so weird to talk about like

"oh so what fandoms are you in"

"oh well I'm in the countryhumans fandoms, basically the country becomes alive and then they bang and stab each other and everyone's chill with that and you get to draw art of it."

no.2 when you have a CH Tumblr account, you can no longer give ur opinion in like real life stuff, like I saw a post about something and I was about to give a witty comment, and then I realized I have my PFP as Britain and 13 colonies and I immediately changed my mind. Like at least with my other profile picture was better because it didn't show CH it just showed that one meme of " WTF IS A KILOMETER"

no.3 you have to hide your art or like you gonna get banned from the internet by your parents like I remember I used to be REALLY obsessed when it was like 2021 and I used to watch videoes ( idk how cause now anytime I here any of the meme songs I immediately cringe) and then my mom went through my last seen videos you should've seen how sweaty I got. I mean ofc none of them were crazy but it just shows just how weird it is, like thank God she didn't ask me about it she was just like ok this is what shes watching I guess cause I did not want to explain what it is

no.4 you just get bullied for liking it. personally it hasn't happened to me yet because literally no one knows me but like there are some people just being like " why do you like this weird shit, get a life you *enter unoriginal insult*. Like I didn't bully you for being weird, your literally in the corner of the internet, you wanna also know who's in the Corner, the weird kids, stop acting like you don't have a strange fandom or 2, Ill say it Im also in the Minecraft, Hetalia, and even sky cotl ( Its got weird ass lore but in all honesty its pretty fire, just know some people are mad at the developers for putting every cool cosmetic as IAPs so yeah) hell, I even accidently got back into Henry Stickmin and I'm a history nerd (probably why I'm here) and I'm obsessed with any internet drama like the lunchly drama with KSIs new song getting cooked. Listen you stay in your lane and I will too. I also used to be in the Baldi, Sonic and Mario community. This is not the weirdest shit I have and I'm sure its not yours or anyone's in this community.

[remnants]

oh yh i asked and my manager said he'd train me (whether this would be for the higher paid position or just to do the shit i should be doing but have been successfully avoiding having to do due to not ever being taught idk) and that i need to show more excitement at work.

life isn't going the way i want and nobody wants to hire me so now i have to ask about a possible promotion at the job that makes me want to kms

[isacksteban]

First Kiss (Race 5)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.9k words, angst, description of a car crash, drunk lance, fluffy ending) [@v3lnys @biancathecool] {I picked David Coulthard to be the cause of the crash because he DNF in Europe 2006 and bc he's no stranger to being yelled at for crashes, LMAO}

last part - masterlist - next part

Lance walked back into the paddock, engaged in a conversation with Nico. He had yet to get his actual drivers liscense out of pure laziness so the German was left to drive them almost everywhere together.

"Thanks again" Lance laughed, feeling slightly bad for making Nico be his personal chauffeur.

"Don't thank me, I only do it so people believe our PR friendships real" He joked, nudging the taller man with his elbow

"Ow" Lance frowned, clutching his heart "Words hurt, Rosberg" He looked down, trying to hide the smile on his face

"Cmon, daddy didn't tell you he's paying me for this?"

"No way, are we both being paid?" Lance looked up, the fake shocked expression on his face earning a laugh from his teammate

Qualifying was okay, Nico secured 9th and Lance got 12th (after a minor chassis problem that caused him to have to pit for half of quali)

Lance should've been upset but he didn't mind, he'd been in front of Nico most of the season so far so he was looking forward to letting his teammate shine.

Of course he wanted to win like everyone else in F1 but the last thing he was going to do was let it ruin personal relationships he was building, work was completely different than home, his friends were different than the coworkers he knew.

He greeted Nico warmly, congratulating him as Quali ended, wishing him good luck on the race the next day.

Fernando came over not long after, having secured pole position.

"Lancito, good job today" He hummed, patting the Canadian on the back

"I'm convinced I could get p30 and you'd still congratulate me" Lance laughed, wrapping his arm around the Spaniard

"It takes a lot of skill to do so bad they have to make a new space for you" Fernando shook his head, his lips slightly curved up as he spoke

"I'm just saving all my energy for the race when I overtake you"

"Oh, really? I'll keep an eye out for you then, mi sol" He said, eyes only leaving Lance when he heard his name being called, his engineer needing him "Good luck tomorrow, Lancito. Let's get you points again, eh?"

Lance nodded, watching as the older man left, feeling his heart flutter in his chest as he thought about how he was looking up at him. It felt nice having someone to admire in the sport as much as Lance admired Fernando, he was a great driver.

Time passed faster than Lance thought it would, before Lance knew it he was lined up on the grid, eyes scanning the cars around him, David Coulthard in p11 next to him.

As the lights went out and the race begun he sent it, overtaking into p10 almost straight away, Coulthard close behind him.

It stayed this way for a few laps, the Brit almost on his rear wing as they raced, he was just trying to keep him there.

It seemed as if everything was going according to plan until the pair reached turn 14 once more, Coulthard was sure he'd be able to overtake, speeding up and reaching Lances side just to be met with their wheels touching, Lance could feel it in his body as the drivers car made contact with his, his left back tire practically flying off his car as he spun out of controll, David losing his front wing as Lance spun of the track, causing him to pull off as well, tire losing air as both cars came to a stop.

They were on opposite sides of the track, the asphalt between them stopping any conversations from happening.

Once he reached the Racing Point garage he was quick to storm down the pit lane, tearing off his helmet and balaclava as he found his way to the Red Bull garage, Brad trying to stop the fuming Canadian

"Lance, Lance stop it. Come back to the garage we need to-"

"Fuck off, Okay? This is a fucking sport and a part of that is talking it out after shit like this happens. Believe me, I have some things to say to Coulthard." He practically spat, not meaning to take his anger out on his engineer but he was the closest one there

They reached the garage, a crowd forming as the two began speaking

"Do you feel better now? Fighting with me over tenth place knowing damn well neither of us were in the position to earn points anyways?"

"I know you're a rookie so you might not get it yet but part of RACING is OVERTAKING, I was doing what I'm here to do."

"You're here to destroy my car and run me off the fucking track? Really? I find that hard to fucking believe, Coulthard."

"Oh come on, Lance. We all know your daddy doesn't have a problem with fixing your mistakes. That's how you got the seat, right? Daddy knew you fuck up too much to get a seat so he bought two for you and Keke Rosbergs son."

"You have a lot of fucking nerve, Coulthard. You know that?" Lance got closer, he already wasn't finishing the race so how much harm would a little physical contact outside of the car cause?

By now both of the teams where trying to stop the drivers, yelling and trying to get between the two men, blinded by anger towards one another

The race was slowly finishing, Fernando ending up in p2 as the fight was still going on, Lance screaming into the 35 year olds face as he scoffed, refusing to apologize, Lance didn't think of himself as a violent person but he wasn't going to stand around and let some ugly arrogant prick disrespect him and refuse to admit the crash was his fault.

"YOU RUINED THE RACE FOR THE BOTH OF US." All he wanted was for that to get through the Englishmans thick fucking skull "God, you're a fucking fils de pute." He spoke under his breath, astonished at the audacity of the racer "You know, for someone who's been racing for twelve years and hasn't even come close to a world championship you sure are a stuck up cunt."

And with that Lance was finally pulled away from the garage, David Coulthard having nothing to say in response.

Lance felt like he was getting scolded for hours, even if it was only 15 minutes, the team trying to explain how he shouldn't have done that even if it was Coulthards fault

"Lancito?" He heard a familiar voice, being snapped away from his thoughts as he shot up, leaving members of the team in the middle of their sentences to go to Fernando

"Thank fucking god you're here. Are you thirsty? I'd kill for a drink right now"

"Lancito, Are you sure drinking is the best thing for you to do now?" He questioned as if he wasn't still following behind him

"What, do you think I'm being dramatic too?" He scoffed, stopping in his tracks to turn back to Fernando, he looked mad to anyone else but Fernando knew he was just hurt, Lance hated crashes, hated not finishing, hated disappointing people, and even though the last thing Fernando was was disappointed in the boy he knew Lance would still think he was.

"Let's get you that drink, mi sol. Getting your mind off it will help, eh?"

Lance expected to be taken to some cheap place around the city but instead Fernando drove them back to his hotel, deciding it'd be better to let Lance cause a scene in his hotel room rather than in some German bar.

The two drank together, Lances lack of experience and tollerance when it came to alcohol being painfully obvious.

"He's such a prick" Lance slurred, his voice more whiney than usual

"I know, Lancito, He really is." Fernando hummed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes stayed on the Canadian

"You're like my guardian angel, Nando, y'know?" Lance looked at him, lips slightly curved before he began speaking again "Never stop congratualting me, please, it-" hiccup "It means a lot"

Fernando just nodded, setting down his glass

"I-" He stopped abruptly, drinking more "I love doing good, when I do good I know you'll be proud of me" He ran his fingers through his hair, annoyed at the long strands covering his vision "I'm sorry- I'm sorry I'm not the best, Nando" He confessed, looking over at the Spaniard "I don't deserve my seat, but- but it's okay because I get to see you, I love seeing you win, it makes what people say about me worth it when I'm the first one you come to after the podium"

Fernando just listened, not saying much as it became more and more evident Lance would forget it all by the next morning anyway

"I-" hiccup " I love seeing you walk to me, passing all the girls, they're so pretty, it makes no sense why you walk past them for me, but i love it, seeing you ignore them and look at me like I'm prettier than all of them" hiccup

He smiled, not being able to help it as he heard the younger ramble on, glad he was no longer stuck on being upset about the crash

"Don't stop, Nando"

"Hm?" Fernando hummed, watching Lance set down his glass. He took that as a chance to stand up and snatch it away, figuring the younger man had drank enough. Fernando and Lance were now closer, Fernando looking down at Lance as he awaited a response

"Looking at me like this, taking care of me how you do, please don't leave me, Nando" He begged, reaching out for the Spaniards arm "Promise me you'll never stop congratulating me after races, please Nando, I need you."

He was taken aback by the sudden change in tone Lance had brought to the conversation. Fernando swallowed dryly, staring back at the Canadian, he looked gorgeous, the waves of his hair messily laying across his face, the lighting hitting him just right to show off the gorgeous colour of his eyes

"Let's get you to bed, Lance." He whispered, helping him stand up as he walked with him to his bed, pulling back the covers with one hand while he held Lance with the other, surprised at how light the Canadian really was

He sat Lance down, kneeling to take off his shoes before instructing him to lay down and pulling the covers back up.

"Goodnight, Lancito" He whispered, brushing the hair from his face as the Canadian hummed a response, not fighting sleep as it took over him surprisingly fast

Fernando on the other hand was fighting, not sleep, but the feelings Lance brought to light with his drunken words. He hadn't thought much of it before, sure he felt different with Lance than he did with his other friends but he was so much younger that he figured he was just taking a more mature role in the friendship. Now he wasn't so sure.